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Dear Hermione,

I know you must be shocked to hear from me, and for me to address this letter using your first name no less, but considering how much I hope you will read this letter I thought giving you a small part of the respect I’ve owed you the last 10 years by addressing you properly was the best way to start. If you do not read this, please know I understand completely; I do not deserve even that much from you, but I had to try.

In truth, Hermione, this is the (approximately) hundredth draft of this letter, and while it may not be the best one, I am simply done being too much of a coward to actually send it. I am writing, first and foremost, to apologize to you. I owe you more apologies, I think, than any one person or dozen people should ever have need to make in a lifetime, and while I know that words on parchment may not mean much, know that I write this with every sincerity and no agenda of my own beyond it being what is right, what is true, and long, so very long overdue.

To say, ‘I’m sorry’ without context, though, feels inadequate because anyone can say that, can’t they? The words need to have meaning, and for that I believe explaining some things, while they might be painful, is necessary.

Every moment of pain I ever caused you, from a sneer of condescension to the cruel words, the vitriol that I allowed out of my mouth directed at you are genuinely the things I regret most in my life, and your face reflecting that pain haunts me. First, it is important you know that each and every cruel word I uttered toward you was a lie and even at the time, I knew it. You already know this, most likely, but I was born and brought up to believe those lies.

My father taught me from my earliest memories, often and without any room for doubt, that muggles and muggleborns were less than nothing and that purebloods were superior to everyone, Malfoys the most superior of all. I was told through my entire childhood that muggleborns stole their magic, that their blood was literally dirty and that I was to be held to those beliefs or be punished severely. I had never met a muggleborn witch or wizard before we started at Hogwarts, if you can believe that… I honestly look back at my childhood, at the sting of my father’s words and hands, and am baffled and disgusted…

It is no excuse for me to say, ‘I did not know any better’, despite it being true for so long; there is no excuse at all for how I treated you and I will never forgive myself… but I thought perhaps you’d want to know not only how deeply I regret it but that I owe you so, so much, Hermione. It is because of the privilege of knowing you - despite how I treated you I always found every moment with you to be a privilege - that I was able to un-learn the hate instilled in me. You taught me so much just by being you, and instead of appreciating you at the time, it made me furious and made me lash out at you that much more, especially in the early years. That sounds crazy as I read it back, but I will try to explain.

Everything I was taught about the inferiority of muggleborns was blown to pieces by you at every turn… When you first entered the train car our first trip up to Hogwarts first year, you were looking for Longbottom’s toad. You were a witch I didn’t recognize, which should have tipped me off, but it wasn’t until after you’d left the car and my friends were teasing me mercilessly about how I obviously thought you so pretty that someone mentioned you were muggleborn. I had just seen a pretty girl on a train and thought, excitedly, that maybe you’d be sorted into my House and I could know you - according to Blaise I had a ‘dopey-arse look on my pale-arse face’ after you left, you see.

I was furious at myself and embarrassed for the teasing - I wasn’t used to being teased and didn’t take to it well - the irony, I know… It made me angry at you; in my 11 year old logic, you were somehow at fault for ‘making me’ like you and were therefore ‘to blame’ for the fact that I was being teased. Then that feeling just… exploded. I couldn’t beat you in any class, no matter how hard I revised I was always number two and was punished for it at the end of each term by my father - that I, a Malfoy and pureblood, couldn’t beat the (insert that horrid word beginning with M here) made me a disappointment to the family, to him. He would send me back each time telling me to make sure I put you in your place, if you can imagine that. After all, according to what I’d been taught, you were not supposed to be so brilliant, so talented, so naturally gifted in your magic… it was a trick, it was a ‘wrong’ and I was the ‘wronged’ party…

That’s what my brain would be insisting to me every time I was awful to you - that you deserved it. But I knew you never did, and would often find myself casting silencing charms in bed at night so no one would hear me when I cried over my shame for being that person to you. While at first it may have come from a place of confusion - I couldn’t understand how my father, whom I trusted, could be right while someone like you existed in the world - it stopped being that rather quickly. I had such a crush on you the whole damn time, you know, which made it worse…

I was so jealous of Potter and Weasel for getting to be near you, for being on the receiving end of your smiles and laughter and bravery and loyalty… Jealousy of those two made me angry - just the concept of not getting everything I wanted infuriated me at that age, I was such an entitled prat as you know  - but them getting what I wanted? That just felt ludicrous, even conceptually; that wanting something I could not have anyway should make me hate those that CAN have it, well… that was yet another bit of idiotic rationalization on my part.

It made me furious that I couldn’t shake off my feelings, knowing that if my father found out I’d be black and blue over it. I was taught that feelings for a girl like you made me wrong and sick and disappointing and a failure… and it made me want to lash out at you that much more, and I am so terribly sorry.

I was furious that you would put yourself in danger for Potter and Weasel, that they took advantage of your brilliant mind, that you had feelings for Weasel, oh that killed me… it killed me nearly as much as seeing you dancing with Krum and him fishing you out of the freezing lake… but I had no right to those feelings and no right to treat you with anything but respect. Every time I hurt you I hated myself a little more and a little more until my misery became all your fault and Hermione… I am so, so, so sorry. For being a bully and a prat and an idiot and… all of it. For failing you.

I know, I am rambling; now you see why I have gone through so many drafts, this is the abridged edition! (I wanted to say ‘condensed version’ but I thought using more of a literary reference might make you laugh… was I right?)

Every time you bested me, every time you proved one of my father’s insane ideas wrong, I questioned everything more and more… I stopped going home for breaks because I couldn’t look at my father without disgust and getting a beating for it; my mother never believed any of it in the first place but felt helpless to mediate; I learned that later. At the time I thought she felt as he did and it was lonely and confusing. The final time I went home voluntarily was after Yule of Fourth year; by then, every time I saw my father he would ask about you, whether you were still beating me and making me an embarrassment to the family. (He was on the Board of Governors so he saw the grade rankings, you see.)

I don’t know if you remember this, but a week before Halloween of that year, you fell on the front steps and scraped your knee pretty badly, and I just stood there, staring at you. You were already upset and hurt but me staring incredulously made you think I was laughing at you somehow, and you cried as you ran off. I wasn’t laughing, Hermione…

I was staring at the blood seeping from your knee and feeling everything my father ever said crumbling into a heap of lying bullshit rubble around me; you bleed the same blood I do, and seeing that fact up close tore my heart out. I wanted to apologize right then but didn’t know how, I was so ashamed. So I never approached you, though I did try to stay away, where I couldn’t hurt you… I went home at Christmas that year, after the Yule Ball, and confronted my father over ALL of it - the lies, the prejudice, how fucking wrong he was and couldn’t he see that?

My mother had to stun and then Obliviate my father mid-beating and told him I’d decided to remain at school after all… otherwise he might have genuinely killed me; as it was I spent a week with Madam Pomfry afterwards. Mother told me something that was more painful than the beating I had just taken, though, by far… she told me I had to keep being awful, pretend I still believed my father’s lies, for your safety of all things. I guess all the times I complained about you in my letters to her were more transparent to a mother than I’d thought and she knew how I felt about you, how I truly felt.

I was shocked and horrified by her instructions but she explained that my father got reports about me from the parents of other Slytherins, Vincent Crabbe Sr. and Claudius Flint and others… The man was having my ideology and behavior monitored, as were all his friends about their own children. If I was kind to you, it would put you in genuine danger.

That was the night I found out my mother saw things as they are, not like my father… and that she thought you rather amazing and admired you very much, so I believed her when she said that if I wanted to keep you safe, I’d stay away from you, no matter how pretty you looked at Yule or how desperately I regretted every word I’d ever said to you, I simply had to be smart about it. She even suggested using a codeword if I wanted to write home about you from then on; I was speechless.

Then… my life fell apart. The Dark Lord’s return was my father’s dream back then, and our house became the headquarters of the worst kind of evil. I honed my Occlumency so that they wouldn’t find you in my head… my feelings were strong and messy and my mother and Uncle Severus were adamant in their insistence I hide you away in my head so deeply that when that evil psychopath tore into my mind - which he did, so many, many times - he wouldn’t find you.

When you were cursed at the Department of Mysteries that night, my father bragged to me, taunted me about it, but thanks to Severus and my mother’s lessons, he found he couldn’t get a reaction about it and began to believe I’d come back ‘into the fold’ despite his supposed failure there… I can feel bile rise in my throat every time I remember him telling me he was proud of me for that, for agreeing with him about witches like you… because I didn’t agree, Hermione, I promise. I hated my father as he was then, and I hated the person he was trying to turn me into… someone with a cold heart and blackened soul and I simply could not do it. I could not hate you…

Hermione, I never, ever hated YOU, especially never you. You have no reason to believe it and I am not asking for anything here, truly… My mind healer assures me this is not selfish, writing all this to you, because it is your choice whether to read it, yet it feels selfish… selfish to inflict myself on you, or try to justify the unjustifiable. Yet you know me… I am selfish, I admit that freely. So… here I sit, hand-cramping and stomach roiling, writing all this. Merlin only knows what draft this is, I’ve lost count… but here goes:

The thing I am most sorry for, more than every insult and slight combined times a thousand, is what happened to you in my home. I’ve often wished, selfishly of course, to show you my memory of that night so you could know what I am about to share with you… I know it looked like I stood there doing nothing, uncaring, as you were tortured on my drawing room floor… and I know you have no reason to believe this, but I am going to tell you anyway.

I’ve always wondered, actually, if you already know this… though I doubt it. I know all too well what the pain of the Cruciatus curse feels like so I can’t imagine you noticed anything else. It is all-encompassing.

I couldn’t outright save you that night because it would have resulted in my mother’s swift torture, rape and perhaps even death as punishment to me… likely followed by own. But I could do something. I had to do something.

The reason I know you use Occlumency too, Hermione, is because while my Aunt was shouting ‘Crucio’ she was also trying to break your mind… my eyes were not focused on you, unblinking, because I somehow felt mesmerized by the sight of you in pain, they were focused on you because I was desperately trying to fortify your Occlumency walls, your beautiful library, to keep her out and keep you whole.

Bellatrix, like my mother and many in our family including me, was an immensely powerful Legilimens, and she was tearing through your books and papers looking for the information she wanted, not caring what destruction she left in her wake… but she couldn’t find anything because every book was blank, I made sure of it. I know it will never make up for anything I did, but I made sure the library she saw was not yours, but a fake, a copy I created and put in her path.

I couldn’t keep you from pain, but I could keep you from the Janus Thickey ward… or I hoped so, I didn’t know if it would work and I didn’t know if she’d realize… I didn’t know. I just… entered your mind without permission - something I would never, ever otherwise do - in an attempt to keep her out of it. Knowing that you didn’t lose the thing most beautiful and special about you, your mind, what makes you YOU, was everything to me and… it was the only way I could ever stand up for you. I understand if you don’t believe me, but I want you to know that I would give anything for that night never to have happened, but that I did try, I didn’t stand by and do nothing. I couldn’t.

I don’t know that this rambling letter will even be opened or, even if you do read it, whether it will make any difference, but I would be remiss in ending it without one last bit of honesty - though it most certainly crosses the line into selfish now. While I am sure you think you have seen the height of my selfishness, I assure you, you have not… telling you the following will exceed it, and yet I must. I just… have to.

Despite acting the exact opposite, I never in my life have admired anyone more than you, Hermione Granger. You probably thought all those fights we had over the right way to do things in Potions or the meaning of Ancient Runes were real fights, were me trying to put you down like I did when we were younger… but they weren’t. They were me being selfish and using the only method I could at the time to enjoy your brilliant mind and your fire… You are indeed brilliant, Hermione, but you are pure fire when you argue and debate and it was like a drug, an addiction for me. Just being near you was an addiction for me.

Sixth year, when I was a ghost of a person who dreamt of killing myself daily due to what the Dark Lord was forcing me to do, threatening me with, the only times I ever felt like myself or felt… happy, were the times you’d engage with me. And I selfishly poked at you all the bloody time, searching for that feeling - where I was just a normal kid, teasing the girl I liked… even if just for a moment, you kept me ME… you are what kept me alive that year, and I wish I could have been honest about that with you at the time. That you were the witch that owned my heart and always would. That the only light in the darkness that was my life back then was whatever time I had with you, even from afar. Truly, I wish I could have told you these things then, when it counted. When it was everything.

You are also funny - though you never caught me laughing at your jokes, I made sure of that… You’re incandescently, stunningly beautiful, too... and I had to pretend I was staring at you out of hatred, not besotted nonsense, because my friends noticed it daily. You’re brave as hell, though I'm sure you know that… and while I do not deserve to say these things to you, I somehow feel compelled to anyway since I never got to when it really mattered. I never got to tell you, or even act as though YOU really mattered, Hermione, and you do… you did, always. More than anything, more than anyone. And I will be sorry forever for being your bully, so so sorry.

I hope you’re happy… I doubt I will ever get to see you again, so… just know how important and loved you truly were and be happy like you deserve. I will always be grateful to you for testifying for me and for Mother, but so much more than that, I am grateful to have been in your orbit at all. You deserved so much better than me, and I hope you find happiness, Hermione Granger.

Yours - as always and likely forever,

Draco Malfoy

Hermione read the letter over and over, mouth open in shock and tears streaming down her face. She didn’t know how the hell the enormous eagle owl had even found her, let alone… how the letter in her hands could be real. The second that the owl had appeared on her window sill, she’d recognized it. Phillipe? Something French… Or no, a Greek God, maybe? Hermes?

That sounded close but not quite right… it was too common for Draco, he’d definitely picked something more… intense. Ugh, why couldn’t she remember! She’d seen the giant bird deliver mail to the Slytherin table hundreds of times over the years, while pretending not to look, of course… Merlin, she’d seen Draco Malfoy baby talk to the damn thing in the owlry! She shoved over her entire breakfast plate for him as she read the letter he’d brought her, the one that had been sealed with shimmering hunter green wax and the Malfoy crest…

No one knew where she was, though… Certainly not specifically, anyway, not at the moment. Four people, a grand total of four bloody people, knew where she’d been… but even that had been a bit of a surprise after she’d come clean about what had actually become of her parents during/after the war. Everyone else of her acquaintance in Wizarding Britain likely assumed she had been and was still in Sydney because she was a lying liar who lied… Ugh, coming clean about all that to Harry and Ginny had been awful and was still just roiling like a icky pool of guilt in her stomach. She’d never even been to Australia! Never sent her parents there, never Obliviated them, she was an awful, terrible person… for the lying. Sooo much lying… years of it… who she was, who they were… The look on Harry’s face when he’d said ‘So… they’re not even dentists?’ would haunt her forever.

But on the plus side, her parents were doing great! Better than great, and after months upon bloody months of her convincing/cajoling/begging, they were actually coming back home to England! With her two new adopted siblings in tow, too… and she was addicted to them, Merlin, they were the cutest…

Between ten months spent in a mud hut in Mali with her parents where they’d been doing charity work the last five years and the last month milling about in France on solo-holiday before returning to work, Hermione had only met up with the two girlfriends who knew her secret once, in Paris, right when she got there to catch them up. Ginny had forgiven her before she’d left for Mali and Pansy hadn’t been friends with her during or before the war so had never really been lied to in the first place, but still, Hermione had a guilty conscience. Three days at an outrageously expensive spa on Hermione’s dime had eased that guilt, been a good time with her friends after too long apart and it had been nice to pamper her body after Africa.

Other than that girly mini-break, though, she’d been an utter recluse from the world, sending postcards only to Kingsley every other month from the village in Mali to ensure he knew she wasn’t dead; he knew the truth too but he was more of a mentor-type friend and her boss… plus, he liaised with the muggle government and was therefore subjected to her grandparents, poor man. Ginny and Pansy were her besties and knew her inside-out but they struggled, so far, to comprehend her other life. Harry was baffled by it… She supposed maybe that was unfair, she’d only really revealed who she was to them after the war and in limited explanations, but… still. It was hard being two people.

After leaving Paris, she hadn’t even planned an itinerary for the last leg of her trip before her eventual return home, she’d found her cottage in the South of France on AirBnB the night before she arrived… that’s why the idea of Draco Malfoy’s enormous eagle owl tracking her down here, in the middle of beautiful muggle nowhere, to deliver an apology/love letter… or any letter at all… was so bloody bizarre!

Why was she focusing on that… the logistics of delivery didn’t matter! What mattered was the letter itself… and how it was the greatest most romantic letter ever written?!

He loved her...? 

She couldn't decide if she was more shocked or more furious that he'd never told her or... what. 

One thing she did know was that she was suddenly very ready to go home.

Quickly, she penned a short note and handed it off to the giant, sleepy bird to take home with him whenever he felt rested. “Bring this to Draco? You know… when you’re up to it. Long flight, I know… At least this time you know exactly where to go…”

The owl finished eating her entire breakfast and then nudged her hand for more pets for a bit, sitting serenely with his eyes drooping closed as she massaged his head in the morning sun. He stayed about 45 minutes before taking off with her letter… so surreal. Her morning was so surreal…

Hermione tried to think whether her reply was a bad idea or not, but decided… not. She was going to be back in England at the end of the week and… she definitely needed to understand what in the name of Merlin had prompted Draco Malfoy to write to her now, out of nowhere.

And if he really meant all the lovely things he’d said.

Draco Malfoy never expected to get a reply to the letter he’d taken over three years to write. He’d also not seen his owl in over a week, which worried him more than slightly. When Perseus returned late on a Sunday, he took the scroll from his foot and sat at his desk staring at it for ages, too scared to open it. When Perseus then picked it up again and dropped it on him like a seagull with an oyster in the road, he sensed it was in his best interest to man-up if even his owl was calling him out…

…But nothing could have prepared him for what he read.

Dear Draco,

I can’t say I understand it all yet, but I truly want to know more… to know you. There are things about me you don’t know either and perhaps… we can start over. I’ll be back in country on Thursday, though no one else knows that yet… If you want to talk, I’d like that very much. If your owl can find me in rural France where no one knew I was, I am sure he can also find my London flat if you decide to write back. I really hope you do.

-Hermione

Draco didn’t know what to make of the missive; what did she mean ‘no one knew’ when she’d return, and… he agreed that his owl was rather impressive finding her in another country no one knew she was in… But why did no one know? Her two sycophants, for example! And Merlin, he’d never been more intrigued in his life than by the statement ‘there are things about me you don’t know’… Obviously! He wanted to know everything…

But was he brave enough to actually see her?

She said she wants to know him… to start over!

That felt like insanity…

Yet it was the part that left him not only the most stunned… but with the biggest, goofiest smile he couldn’t seem to get rid of. He smiled until his face ached with it, for days.

Chapter Text

“Hermione… welcome back.” Kingsley Shacklebolt smiled; he’d been worried when she’d needed to extend her trip for so long, wondering if something had gone wrong with her parents or if she’d been considering relocating herself, but he was happy to see his fears had not come to pass. His protege was safe and back in her rightful place - at his side, thank merciful Merlin… He’d missed her advice, he’d readily admit it, and her company.

“Thanks, Kings… and thanks for… your patience, with everything. My stubborn parents took a lot of convincing… but they’ll be back by the end of the summer.” Hermione sighed happily.

“That’s great! Truthfully the Muggle PM might have gotten a little testy with me if they’d decided to not come back at all…” Kingsley chuckled.

“Aww, that wouldn’t have been your fault! I’d have let you take the blame of course…” She teased, smiling. “I think I mentioned in my last postcard but maybe not… I have a new brother and sister. Mummy and Daddy adopted, while they’ve been gone. Here, look at these and tell me you’ve seen cuter and I’ll call you a liar.” She handed Kingsley two muggle photographs and watched his face go slack with awe; Aya and Leo were almost otherworldly in how beautiful they were, she readily admitted it, and more loving children surely never existed, either. She couldn’t wait until they arrived.

“If you need some more time before coming back, it’s yours. Just say the word… Merlin they are beautiful kids…”

“I know, aren’t they? And ridiculously sweet, too… But no on the time, really… I’ll have the staff to help have the Grange Hall and the house in town opened and ready for them when they get here, and that won’t be until late August; we’re fine, but thank you. They send their best, too, by the way, and will of course want to see you when they’re back. You’ve been beyond accommodating, Kings, I appreciate it more than I can say. I honestly can’t believe you held my job for me.”

“How could I not? I created the job for you, without you it doesn’t exist… Plus, you’re brilliant, invaluable, you’re my friend, and you needed the time off, so, hey.” He smiled, happy for his friend to be getting her family back… with extras. And, selfishly, he was happy to not have an inter-governmental incident on his hands now that the Duke and Duchess of Ashford were officially coming back to UK soil… thank Merlin… He never wanted to pressure her but he’d been getting questions from the muggle cabinet at meetings recently and he was thrilled to know those would stop now. He’d been running out of excuses since the Duke’s own mother seemed to enjoy leaving him to sweat, the old bat…

“Still… I know the legislative session starts back up in two weeks so I promise to have at least some of the docket reviewed by Monday, to get us started.”

Kingsley cringed as his good mood vanished, remembering one folder on that docket in particular. “Ugh… I should give you a heads up… on one measure specifically. You’ll want to start with it for sure…”

“Oh? Uh-oh, you sound guilty… You’re not passing a law that all Hermione Grangers are barred from libraries or something, are you?” She teased, trying to make light of how worried she could tell he was about it. “You know that counts as cruel and unusual, if so.”

“I would never… though… it will affect you. However, your Grandmother may throw a fit and demand you be exempt and I be beheaded for not pre-exempting you, I dunno… The situation is a bit… fucked, but I truly say this, fully and honestly, we can’t do a damn thing to stop it because it’s first on the docket and already passed in closed session. They’re only voting openly on amendments, now… and…” He couldn’t find the words to explain the bullshit about to hit the fan. She’d never seen him so flustered, not by half, and it really worried her.

“Kingsley, my Gods… how bad could it be?”

“You can’t even… I mean, its… necessary… I admit that much in theory, but its pretty fucking archaic in practice, and I sure as shit will lose re-election if the public thinks I approve of it, which for the record, I do NOT. So this is going to be delicate for me politically, not to mention for us just doing our jobs. And living our lives… that too.”

“You’re starting to freak me out here, Minister…” Hermione shifted in her seat. She knew he couldn’t stop the Wizengamot from passing something; if he tried to not sign it into law over personal feelings on it, he’d be recalled… so it must be pretty bad.

“It’s a Marriage Law… they looked at my Unity platform and decided to take it to a level of ‘too fucking far’. Hermione… it’s insane, but it’s a done deal. Barring a miracle or one of your most genius think-outside-the-box moments, the best you can hope for with this thing now… is amendments.”

“A Marriage Law? What does that even mean?”

Kingsley sighed and leaned back in his chair, feeling a century older than he was and ten-stone heavier, weighed down by guilt and stress and… pressure.

“It means we are having such a population crisis thanks to the casualties of two Wizarding Wars, and of course you have pureblood families dying out or birthing squibs due to their insistence on inbreeding, that unless we can reverse it now, Wizarding Britain will cease to exist in a century, a century and a half at most. You’re the one who noticed the rates of squib births, remember? Well… in your absence, they took that and some other research and decided to fix it by forcing a baby boom free of squibs, or as close to it as possible…

Purebloods between 17-45 will be given 6 months to marry a muggleborn or they will have their wands snapped. Half-bloods will be given 9 months to marry either another half-blood or a muggleborn. All marriages will have a year to eighteen months to get pregnant, I think… And must produce two children in five years before they can legally split up, something that normally is unheard of in our world by the way…

Dunno if you knew that, but divorce isn’t really done without a major reason in the Wizarding World, so them building it in as a 5-year escape hatch, to me, is just advertising that they know these marriages aren’t going to work for most people… like they’re just fine with setting up failure on a grand scale or something, it feels insane to me… I dunno, you read it, get a feel and tell me, maybe I’m crazy… The draft is in the folder… It just isn’t how I wanted to Unite, you know? But… I amazingly have almost no power to stop this thing.”

Hermione was shocked, her mind flooded with so many reactions she wasn’t sure where to even begin. The entire thing was so… fucked…

“Wowww… so, you’re saying that two weeks from Monday, the law will be up for amendments only and made public?”

“Likely in that day’s Evening Prophet, yes.”

“And… I have to marry a pureblood. How nice… Do I at least get to choose which one, or are they pulling names out of a fucking hat?” Her eyes were wide but she felt past the ability to be shocked anymore - she’d moved to sarcastic and are you fucking kidding me eyes.

“Yes, lucky you… you can pick your own, they’re being so generous like that… You can choose one yourself like… a normal relationship?” Kingsley snorted; none of this was normal and they both knew it. “That or… apparently you can submit to what they’re calling ‘a matching service’ and be assigned a spouse, but they’ve not released their plan on that to me yet… Supposedly I’ll get that on Monday. Basically, the draft states that you’ll be in compliance as long as you meet the deadline and marry within the blood purity group designated. As if the war to eliminate caring about that shit hadn’t even happened…” The pair shared a disgusted nod.

“Merlin, Kingsley, you’re only 43… This will affect YOU!” Hermione cried suddenly, still barely registering the insanity as it pertained to her, let alone anyone she knew or cared about.

“I am painfully aware of that… Too bad you and I are such good platonic co-workers, huh? We’re both such catches!” He gave her an exhausted rueful smile; they both really ought to have earned the right not to have to deal with shit like this, right? And yet… here they were, puppets on strings. Again.

“Seriously… Though I’d say you’re more like family than my boss most of the time, really.” She scoffed with a little smile. The man was a father figure and a friend and she felt awful he’d be subjected to this too. “But won’t purebloods just, I dunno… all rush to marry each other to get out of it?”

“Hmm, yeah, you too. And as for purebloods rushing to inter-marry, no, they can’t… We can’t, I should say, don’t forget that’s my grouping in this little chess game. Once the law is announced purebloods will be unable to marry, and couples already married without a child will be under a procreation mandate along with everyone else.” Hermione blanched at that.

“That is insanity! You can’t force people…”

“Agreed, but they’re using the ‘dire circumstance’ clause in passing this… Take a look at the draft this weekend, see if that big brain of yours can come up with amendments you think might mitigate the insanity… let’s meet Monday. If you need more time, fine, but we can check in at least and you can give me your thoughts.”

“Right… shit… There really are glaring holes in this, Kings, I just… need to figure out how to make them make sense…”

“Agreed. It’s certainly not fair, or morally right by any stretch… Selfishly, I am so glad you’re back. That’s terrible, isn’t it, now that this is happening…”

“No, Kings, it’s nice to be missed and appreciated. I’ve missed you as well. And despite what you said, you know I’d never ask for or let you give me special treatment… or let my grandmother reopen the Tower of London, so don’t worry. I will, emm… see what I can come up with. I assume this one is the priority?”

“Definitely… The rest can wait. Have Linda pencil you in for Monday at an hour where drinking during the meeting will be acceptable.” He grinned and Hermione snorted a short giggle.

“Nooo kidding. See you Monday.”

“Thanks Hermione.”

Hermione ignored the pitying glance from Linda as she made her appointment for Monday; the woman obviously was aware of the law, too, since her goodbye included her mentioning, yet again, her single pureblood nephew Roderick. Flooing home immediately after purposely bypassing the Auror bullpen, Hermione ordered nearly the entire sushi takeaway menu and flopped defeatedly onto her sofa, putting the meeting with Kingsley resolutely out of her mind for the moment.

She knew she should owl Harry and everyone to say she was back, but she just… wasn’t up to it. She couldn’t even bring herself to let her mum know she was back in England, despite knowing it would bring a wrathful text upon her later. Besides, if Mum found out, Granny would find out and that meant committing to plans… she was too knackered. She was too knackered with doling out updates, too. Closing her eyes and waiting on her food delivery, Hermione almost fell asleep before hearing the incessant tapping of a beak against her window.

It was Socrates or… JeanGeorge or whatever. She couldn’t help but smile… the bird was good, the bird was very, very good indeed. He found her in France and, as she’d hoped/expected, he found her flat in NewQuay, a muggle area through and through.

Handing him some treats, she quickly unrolled the parchment he’d held out to her.

Dear Hermione,

Though I still insist I do not deserve it, I could not imagine turning down the chance to see you again and spend time with you in any capacity. Dare I ask you to dinner? Or would you prefer something else? You tell me and I’ll make it work.

Yours always,

Draco

She smiled as she felt adrenaline rush through her, waking her up and she made an involuntary swoony-noise, rolling her eyes at herself and making a split-second decision, grabbing a pen and paper.

Draco,

If you like sushi, join me at mine for dinner? My floo is open now.

Hermione

Changing into 3/4 leggings, a bralette and a drapey scoop-neck t-shirt in a soft cotton-silk with cap sleeves that was long enough to cling to and cover her bum, Hermione wondered if he’d take her up on it. Her mind, she decided, was certainly lost… but she flopped back onto her sofa with a smile, hoping he would. She was practically in pajamas so perhaps she was testing him, testing the veracity of his claim to finding her pretty… or perhaps she just was more confident than she’d been at 14.

She hadn’t a clue why, but while she didn’t feel up to see her closest friends, inviting her childhood bully over for Tuna Sashimi and Rice Crackers gave her a pep in her step big enough that she didn’t even feel the need to bother with touching up her mascara.

Yes, she’d officially gone mad… especially since the minute she heard her floo activate, she grinned, truly grinned, for the first time in Draco Malfoy’s presence. He made his own swoony-noise at the sight.

Chapter Text

Draco Malfoy didn’t give himself time to second-guess the invitation, he went with his gut. He didn’t know what to expect, whether it was simply to be yelled at in person or even what she looked like these days… but whatever he could have come up with, the sight that greeted him as he stepped out of the fireplace at Hermione Granger’s flat wouldn’t have even come close, on any front…

Finding himself staring at the witch of his dreams, live and grown up and in person right in front of him, Hermione Granger, wearing the world’s tightest muggle trousers (seemingly cutoff just below the knee and showing off smooth and sexy calves) and lying flopped like an adorable fish on her disproportionately enormous sofa and just… grinning at him, hair wild and feet bare with toes painted bright pink and… so fucking gorgeous he could just faint like a victorian fucking maiden… he couldn’t help himself, he grinned back.

Grinned like a fool.

“Hey, Granger.”

“Hey, Malfoy.”

He just stood there, and she just lay there -  both simply grinning at each other without a clue how not to.

“Hermione.”

“Draco… I’m glad you came.”

Hermione finally stood up to see him properly and could hardly believe her eyes; she’d never seen him dress so… casually before… it made her mouth literally water. The man was wearing dark muggle denims, boots, and a white v-neck t-shirt fitted just right, like he knew her weakness or something… He wore a muggle watch she happened to know cost the earth and had on a necklace of some kind tucked under his t-shirt… And gods he looked so bloody good. Tall… and broad, all lean muscle and still managing to ooze ‘old money’ despite the casual clothes, a disguise she was more familiar with than people knew. He’d grown into his features, too… more handsome than ever. Shit. Whyyy was she grinning so hard… like she had no control over her own face.

“You surprised me with your invitation, but… I’m glad too. Very.” Draco wasn’t sure what to do or how to act, but he’d promised himself he’d be totally honest no matter what. No occluding, no evading. The most he allowed himself was sticking his hands in his pockets.

“I surprised myself, I think… but your letter… just made me really want to see you.” Hermione really couldn’t manage to school her face; the sight of him after reading his letter made her feel… giddy, somehow. Like maybe he could want to start over, but… keep the good part where he said really romantic things, that part of him could stay… stay and snog her later.

“I never expected that when I wrote it, but… as I said. Very glad.”

“Do you actually like sushi?” She didn't actually care if he did or didn’t, she just wanted to gauge his reason for coming so quickly, maybe? She wasn’t even sure… Looking at him was making her feel things. Like her magic humming under her skin, asking to be let out.

“I do…” Draco was telling the truth but left out the part where he blurted out ‘but I’d have come either way’ since he was still so wary of her reason for wanting him to come at all.

She nodded, trying to put her smile away. The flat being buzzed broke their bizarrely intimate eye contact and she excused herself to go pay the take-away guy; seeing him emerge from a private lift in her hallway was impressive, making Draco even more curious. He took the opportunity to look around a little; her flat was nothing like he’d expected and he had to admit, he loved it. He saw signs that were utterly Granger, but the flat itself was unexpected and strangely, a turn-on.

The flat was one of the largest and nicest lofts he’d ever seen and so… masculine and modern, yet with such traditional accents and antiques to make it unique… Not what he’d have expected at all, but also somehow so utterly perfect for her at the same time. Navy walls and it seemed to be split into several rooms by the middle wall branching out around the lift in the center…

One massive main living space seemed to dominate the side of the flat he'd flooed into, whereas open pocket doors, the lift and a hallway seemed to be the demarkation line of where Hermione's more private spaces began. 

The main living area was dominated by the most comfortable looking piece of furniture he'd ever seen... and perhaps the largest: Her enormous L-shaped velvet sofa that partially faced the seemingly endless wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city and the Thames. He noted to himself how sexy hed looked sprawled out on it and had to physically shake off the image before he became even more wracked with nerves.

Looking around some more he noted the open layout kitchen that took up an entire corner of the loft. It lay beyond a dining room area that had a dark wood table big enough for fourteen with a set of art deco light fixtures suspended over it. The kitchen boasted gleaming slabs of white marble counters that stood out beautifully against the dark walls and soothing grey cabinets… it was gorgeous. Bookcases made up the wall behind her sofa and arched over a doorway into what looked like a library or study, more built-in bookshelves filled to the brim there too and it had a piano piled with sheet music, obviously well-loved and used, not merely for show… He didn’t know she played. It was something they shared, apparently. It made him smile.

Hermione smiled, catching Draco trying to take in every detail and utterly failing at subtlety.

“Drink? I was planning on a glass of wine, but if you don’t want that then there’s seltzer in the fridge or, if you feel like mixing spice with fire, there’s also a few different types of whiskey on the bar over there; your shot of saki is non-negotiable, though, it goes with the meal.”

“Wine would be lovely… thank you, and I would never negotiate good saki, Granger, don’t worry. Do you need some help?” He asked, following her into the kitchen.

“You could pour, if you’d like. Do you mind being informal? I ordered way too much because I wanted everything and couldn’t decide. It happens when I’m hungry. I get indecisive.” She handed him a bottle of white wine with a label he recognized as one of his favorites… exclusive and extremely pricey. Curious… He schooled his face and began to open it.

“I don’t mind… I have to say, I love your flat and… am quite jealous, in fact. How long have you lived here?”

“Thank you. I bought this place not long after the war… This whole area is just now being made partly residential and I really liked the feel of it, the industrial vibe, the view… I love it, how it's turned out so far… When I bought it, it was a shell, no walls or fixtures or anything, so turning it into something has been an ongoing labor of love. I own the top two floors and the roof terrace, though I haven’t begun any work on upstairs yet at all and haven’t decided what I want to do with it. If you’re nice to me I’ll give you a tour sometime, maybe you'll have some ideas. What about you? Do you live at the Manor these days?”

Draco briefly wondered how on earth she afforded it, knowing with the exchange rate it would have cost her millions of pounds, maybe tens of millions, even… but that wasn’t his business, he reminded himself… He put his desperately nosy nature away for later. It was chafing a bit, though… he had so many questions…

“I do, yeah, my main lab is there, so…”

“Potions?”

“Yeah, I got into my Mastery program right after I sat my N.E.W.T.s the Autumn after the war. It was abroad and I only just moved back about 8 months ago…”

“You were always amazing in potions, had such a natural feel for it I did NOT have… drove me nuts.” She smiled, sipping the glass of wine he’d handed her and sitting down at the table. She’d ordered way too much… but she hadn’t had good sushi in forever and knew it wouldn’t go to waste.

“Yet I do believe you still outranked me… even in potions.”

“Ah, check your facts, Potions Master Malfoy… it was the only class you bested me at.”

“Did I? Huh…” He shivered at the sound of her voice calling him that and needed a drink to cool him off. “This saki is great.” He feigned innocence, as if that one GPA victory was no big deal, yet he knew it actually did drive her crazy… nope, he just innocently enjoyed his food with the tiniest hint of a smirk, trying not to give away how much he was still entranced by her every word and move.

“You know you did… And yes, this saki is from my last trip to Tokyo and is ridiculously good. I’m glad you like it. Now tell me… Where did you get your Mastery?”

“Venice.” He was positively desperate to ask about every little nugget of information she dropped about herself without context but felt too shy, still scared that a second shoe might drop on his head any minute. If he thought her fascinating before it felt as though she was trying to torture him now, dropping bits of information like that then just moving on… ‘my last trip to Tokyo’… honestly was she trying to kill him?

“No way! Under…?”

“Yep… Saliano. Interesting bloke…”

“Famous bloke! The man invented Skele-gro! That’s so cool, Draco… You’ll have to tell me all about that, I’ve always wanted to meet him.”

“Sometime, maybe; he and I have a few ongoing projects together so he does visit fairly often. Tell me about you, though… You said you just got back, what, today?” He tried to sound casual, but was having a hard time. She seemed so… friendly, so pleased to have his company… he’d never had such a normal conversation with her outside of his dreams so… what the hell was happening…

“Yeah, this morning… Just popped into the Ministry to check in, but haven’t seen or spoken to anyone but Kingsley… Not really ready to be home, officially, if that makes any sense…”

“First-name basis with the MM? Fancy girl…”

“Ha, hardly… he’s a friend from the war, and my boss. I’ve been on sabbatical for a long while, which was kind of him to give me. I stopped in to pick up some work and… you know, prove I’m alive.”

“Was that in question? This is excellent, by the way…”

“The crab roll is good too, here, try.” She handed him the container and pretended the brush of his fingers against hers affected her not at allll… but it did. His entire presence did, and he smelled entirely too good, it felt almost cruel how good he smelled… He was too handsome for real life… he’d been handsome at school, infuriatingly so, but now… it was just unholy to fill out a t-shirt like that. She wondered what about potion-making gives a man biceps like that… And the tattoo he’d gotten that covered his Dark Mark was possibly the sexiest thing she’d ever seen! The dragon scales undulating and changing color in the light, her knickers would be ruined if she looked at it for too long, and she wasn’t even into tattoos! It was impossible not to notice it since he used chopsticks with his left hand. Merlin she’d mentally wandered off again… shit. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed.

“Thank you… and you didn’t answer my question. Was your being alive… not a given?”

Hermione sighed, full for now and sitting back with her wine. “Not in the literal sense, but… I was gone a year.”

“A year?!” He choked, obviously worried and it was… endearing as hell. “It’s not my business, and I know I have no right to even ask, but… Are you alright? I mean… putting past how bloody thrilled I am to see you, you choosing to see me over your friends after being gone a year…?”

“Yeah… odd, that…”

He laughed, sitting back himself now and studying her. What on earth was she so amused about? And why was she letting him be with her?

“You know I’m dying over here, right? Come on, Granger… give me some parameters here so I don’t step in it? I don’t want to mess up whatever this is.”

“What do you want it to be?”

“That is not a question I get to answer… I don’t get to want things, here, Granger, I am at your mercy… I’m not after anything.”

“Liar.” She grinned, pushing her plate away.

“What?! I treated you horribly, spent almost three bloody years drafting the world’s most nonsensical apology, a third of that time you were apparently MIA from your life for reasons unknown, and after reading my nonsensical letter, you… invite me to dinner before seeing anyone else. Now you want to know what I want this to be?”

“Hmm… yup.”

Draco tilted his head back, chuckling. “Alright… Not the only time we do this, how’s that?”

“Excellent answer.”

“Is it?” He asked, incredulous and grinning and so confused by her demeanor.

“It is.”

“Why, though?”

“Did you really have a crush on me all through school, or were you… Fuck, I dunno. Help me understand that part.”

Oh he did not see it going like this… but he resolved himself to be honest and transparent. “Yeah… still do, which you know… and are putting me on the spot about after lulling me into complacency with fantastic saki, so… Yes, Hermione, alright? Why… Why do you ask? I thought you’d be waiting with an adorably alphabetized list of things to yell at me about, color coded by subject matter, maybe, or of things I’d done and still needed to apologize for and forgotten to include in my letter… I genuinely didn’t anticipate my years of pining to be your biggest takeaway.” His bafflement was just about the most adorable thing she’d ever seen on a man, she decided, and she was having a wonderful time. Life was strange…

“Come on, Malfoy, you’re a smart guy…”

“Apparently not, because… well, so many reasons, really…” He had such a handsome, honest smile… and she liked it. A lot.

“What do you think I was most upset about every time you were… an arse?”

“I was more than an arse... I was cruel.” He reminded her a bit sadly.

“True… but I wasn’t a crybaby just because my feelings were hurt, Draco. I was also… furious at you! Because I knew you were better than the way you were acting and…” Hermione took a deep breath, trying to figure out why the hell she was doing this… fuck it, she knew why, she just didn’t know how…

“I’m so sorry…” He’d say it a million times if she needed him to.

“I know… I know that now, truly I do… Your letter wasn’t nonsensical, Draco, it was… perfect, in fact. I just…” She took a long sigh, really having trouble wording what she wanted to say.

“You just… what?” He asked quietly. He was dying, dying to understand and yet was terrified of upsetting her, so didn’t know what to say… didn’t want to make any sudden moves. Hermione must have seen his sincerity because she finally sighed again and found the words.

“I wouldn’t have cared so damn much… I wouldn’t have cried or felt so hurt every time if it had been anyone else saying those things… but I liked you, Draco! You were my dirty secret for seven fucking years, my huge crush on the boy who liked to torture and tease me… I hated myself for liking you, for feeling so sure you were better than how you were behaving. It made me feel pathetic and weak…” He was officially stunned. There was nothing, nothing she could have said he would have been more surprised by or been rendered more humble by.

“You…? Gods, Hermione… I don’t know what to do here. How do I make any of it up? I can’t possibly… I’m so… sorry.”

“Draco, I forgive you. I had, already… but your letter provided a lot of context, you were right about that, and I appreciate it… but I had no idea that…”

“Should I not have said anything?”

“No, you complete git! Gods I remember you being quicker than this… I’m saying… I’ll give you a chance, now, if you want one.”

He stared at her, not sure he could possibly have heard right.

“I want one.”

“Great…” She smiled shyly at him, happy they’d worked that out, amused by his wonderment over it.

“You giving me a chance? Yeah, Granger, it’s fucking fantastic… I just need a minute to recalibrate my understanding of the entire bloody Universe and I will… be right with you.” Hermione raised her eyebrows and burst out laughing, thrilled the tension had broken and finding him adorable.

“So…” He hadn’t a clue what to say… or how to speak, really… not now that he knew he had a shot. His brain seemed to just melt a bit.

“Sooo… what are you doing with your Potions Mastery?” She asked, continuing their date as if the world hadn’t just shifted on its axis a moment ago. Hermione Granger, going with the flow… better catch up or be left behind, as usual.

“Ha! Right… Normal conversation…” He grinned at her and shook his head briefly, needing that moment to catch up. “Well, I focused on what I now know to call ‘pharmaceutical applications’, most in our world still refer to it with the blanket term of ‘healing potions’… you know like for diseases as opposed to cuts and bruises, that sort of thing… But it’s so much more, it has so much more potential than that… Technically it’s a dual Mastery, the second one being in something called ‘Innovative Medicine’, where Magical Healing and Muggle Medicine meet. Anyway, um… I’ve had some successes, actually, come to fruition since my return to England. I’m partnering with a clinical research team at St. Mungo’s; we’re wrapping up a phase one trial working on counteracting the effects of the Cruciatus Curse on the Central Nervous System by rebuilding damaged and broken neural pathways in the brain to restore access to memories thought to be lost or even motor function, dealing with tremors… I also have a few research fellows working for me now on various projects there to improve upon some various commonly used potions, especially ones with unwanted side effects… including Skele-gro, actually, in children.” He couldn’t look her in the eye and felt so exposed after that total word salad; he had never cared so much about anyone’s opinion as much as hers in that moment and it was a terrible feeling, he decided, being vulnerable, absolutely awful…

“Draco, that’s… incredible!” She was floored… so impressed she teared up. He felt so naked… in the bad way. But it felt nice that she was impressed, at the same time…? Ugh he wanted to hide under the sofa.

“We’re hopeful. About… things.” He hedged, accepting a slice of fresh mango from the dessert and topping off her wine.

“You said you’d had successes… can you tell me?! Or is it hush-hush?” She wasn’t sure how else to word that and hoped it made sense; medical records and clinical trials were private, after all.

“Yeah, some I can… In fact, I normally wouldn’t be able share this, but… you’re a very specific exception, strangely enough. You remember Neville Longbottom, obviously? I mean, of course you do…” He asked nervously.

“Of course I do, indeed, silly, he’s a close friend…” She didn’t catch on right away, but… then she saw his face, and… He couldn’t mean… could he?

“His parents, Alice and Frank… they umm… they went home… they’re emm… They’re home, now.” He shrugged, blinking a lot and examining his lap closely.

“Draco… Are you… are you telling me you found a cure for Cruciatus Curse-induced brain damage that extreme? The madness?” Hermione was breathless with amazement at such a thing; it wasn’t supposed to be possible…

“As I said, we’re hopeful, especially for long-term versus short truly retained success… I mean they’ll never be who they were, but… Maybe, yes.”

Hermione wiped tears off her face; the implications of what he had just said were so massive and he seemed nervous to admit it! Neville’s parents hadn’t been able to leave St. Mungo’s in over twenty years, hadn’t known their own son! She needed to take deep breaths in order to speak calmly.

“Draco… I hope it’s okay to say this… I am so fucking proud of you, oh my gods… And grateful! I can’t even imagine how Neville feels… I mean… how are they? Do they have full function, or memory?”

“About 95% function for Alice; closer to 80-85% for Frank, so far, at their last appointment… this morning. I’m not a healer but I do attend the appointments of patients in my trial, so I was there this morning. Memories are being recovered daily and they have a healer as well as a medi-witch living-in to help for now, navigating that… In a way it is not unlike a long-term coma patient for Frank, you know, he was nearly catatonic so those muscles will take longer to rebuild, but Alice was up and about, just… not quite there, you know? But now they both… are coming back to themselves, slow but sure… It’s very fragile still, and they tire easily. Nev’s good, he’s… it’s a lot, for him, especially with Augusta gone now. He’s on sabbatical from Hogwarts and will be for the foreseeable, I think. You should… I mean, when you’re ready of course, I know he’d love to see you.” Draco had to change the subject before he either cried or retreated behind his Occlusion walls to hide like a frightened child. “Umm… tell me about you, though, please? I’m not very good at this and I am dying, a little, to know everything about you, or anything, really… Fuck, Hermione, I never thought I’d see you again and I don’t know how to do this. I’m feeling very anxious, I’m sorry…”

“What don’t you know how to do? Other than accept well-earned praise or admit you’re also now friends with Neville Longbottom…” He chuckled at that but she could tell he really was nervous. “Come on… come sit on the sofa with me… do you want a stronger drink, maybe?”

“Desperately, yes, thank you… and sure… sofa. Excellent…” His throat felt tight and it was… all a bit much.

“Here…” She handed him a few fingers of fire whiskey and curled up on the sofa, smiling a little at his nervousness; this was not the Draco Malfoy she’d ever gotten to see but always hoped was in there. The brilliant, kind, sweet one… who wore muggle denims. “So what do you want to know about me?”

“Everything… You were rather cryptic in your note making me feel like I knew even less than I thought, but… how about your work? You said you work for the Minister directly but not what you do. Maybe start there?”

“Okay. Well, this time of year I spend most of my time researching and helping write or fix legislation, but overall I'm an advisor to Kingsley… I also liaise with the Muggle Prime Minister's office and Cabinet from time to time. I stopped in today to get the ‘Pendings’, meaning the docket for the Wizengamot legislative session that starts in two weeks. Actually… There’s one that, umm… almost made me hand in my notice and move to America or, I dunno, fucking Finland, anywhere but here… because it is… Orwellian, if that means anything to you.” She could see that it did, which intrigued the hell out of her, but now she’d gone and scared him so she’d have to circle back to her questions on his newfound interest in muggle literature later. “Fuck, can you keep a secret?”

“You mean can I keep your secret? Because we both know I am rather capable at secrets in general, Granger… and the answer is ‘of course’. I’m on the edge of my… cushion.”

“Remind me later to question you on your newfound knowledge of muggle idioms, and books, it’s intriguing… but yeah, okay, so… here, let me show you. It affects you as much as me…”

“Some new law, I assume?”

“Oh… you could say that, yeah… Though ‘new’ is subjective since I think they fished it out of the 1400’s reject-barrel. It didn’t even occur to me to mention it earlier but then again, I’ve only had that folder for three hours, over half of that time I’ve been with you… Kings gave me the highlights but I’ve barely glanced at it; I can say, however, the point will stand out pretty quick.” Hermione handed him a manilla folder with the passage date and ‘Marriage Law’ on the tab, watching anxiously as he flipped it open and his eyes went very, very wide. “Yeah, that was my reaction, too… even Kingsley is going to be affected, look at the age grouping… he’s furious, but mostly helpless here. I mean the birth rate decline is down dangerously low, I get it, but they haven’t even tried other alternatives! This is… insane, right?”

“Hermione…”

“Yes?” She leaned comfortably into the cushions, studying him. This was nice, talking about their work over dinner and a drink… more than nice, really.

“What, if I may ask, is your plan, here?”

“Well, it already passed in closed session apparently, so once I review it thoroughly and any relevant caselaw already on record, I can hopefully find amendments to present when they come back into session in two weeks.”

“Right… good… I meant… as it effects you…” He was a little surprised by her matter-of-fact tone about it all, considering the impact…

“Truthfully, I hadn’t gotten that far… just… got hit by the news like it was the Hogwarts Express going full speed at the end of my meeting with Kingsley, then immediately when I came home I find your insanely large owl, Hercules or… Zeuss or whatever his name is… and I was hungry… and I wanted to see you. That’s my afternoon.” Draco skimmed the folder’s contents again before looking up at her, so damn pretty lying against the cushions looking at him like that, like she was so happy he was there with her.

“You said this already passed? So… it’s just… fiddling with details at this point, yeah?”

“Sadly, it seems so, yes… and Kings has to sign it if he wants to avoid being recalled, but he’s coming out against it overall… People are going to freak… Wait, how are you not freaked? You’re calm, eerily so.”

“Oh, I am freaked, but… I just… well… if my maths is correct, I have six months and, what, about 16 days to convince you to marry me? No… that’ll put us over… Call it 14 days, but even that feels like pushing it.”

Hermione blinked a few times, eyes wider with each pass of her eyelids. “Please know that I didn’t invite you over to entrap you with sushi… I literally got that thing like, a half hour before you came! You’ve read more of it than I have!” Draco chuckled, dispelling the horror of worry on her face back into a smile.

“Oh I get that, and didn’t think you did, don’t worry… I am just…” He huffed out a little sigh, his tone sobering as he shut the folder and turned his body to sit so he was facing her, and a bit closer to her. “Hermione I hear myself sounding insane, truly I do, but holding this folder makes me feel like you’ll forgive me… Please tell me you were serious, before. Please tell me I have a chance, here…”

“Are you… serious? I mean I know what you said in your letter but I am pretty sure you never thought you'd have to-” She was giving him owl eyes, genuinely not having seen this coming after… apology sushi. Shit, maybe he really did mean it, she realized. The thought thrilled her.

“Completely. Completely serious. I meant every word, in the letter and now.” Everything about his eyes and his tone told her he was being completely truthful. If anything, he was laying himself bare by putting himself out there like this for her. It left her rather amazed. Humbled, even.

“Okay, but… you’re just… fine with this lunacy…?” She wafted her hand vaguely the direction of the folder.

“Oh, no… I could never be fine with the idea of coercing you into doing anything, which the timeline of this fucking thing makes me feel like I would very much be doing, I agree, but… you are the only witch I have ever wanted in any real way… so… yes, I’m asking you to let me court you, for real, let me… try to win you. Let me prove I’m a different man than you knew…”

Hermione really hadn’t seen the night going this way… though to be fair, she’d given her night about ten seconds of thought before it began, so…

“Kiss me.”

“What?” Draco was frozen; there was no way she’d just said that, was there?

“Yeah, really.” Sure she’d heard the rumors, the man had a reputation, and he certainly looked like said reputation would be accurate, but chemistry was different… He looked so gobsmacked at her request, though, almost frozen… She decided it was better to just help herself. Hermione leaned over and plucked his drink and her work folder out of his hand and put both on the coffee table before crawling over and straddling his lap. Draco was barely breathing, her perfume was still that same one that smelled like his 6th year Amortentia potion and suddenly she was in his lap, for Merlin’s sake… Thank Salazar he’d worn thick denims.

Hermione took her time, looking him in the eye, gauging his response as she ran her fingers through his hair. When his hands slid up her thighs, squeezing a little, she felt that pull between her legs, especially seeing his eyes raking over her like that, like she was everything he had ever lusted after, even in his dreams. Draco allowed himself to do something he’d fantasized about for years: plunge his hand into her curls. Pulling her down to him he paused, just briefly, nuzzling her face and looking her in the eye up close with so much emotion before he kissed her… and he didn’t just kiss her, he snogged her within an inch of her sanity until she literally whimpered with need before letting her go, leaving the taste of fire whiskey and mango and spice on her tongue. It was the kind of kiss that spoke to years of hunger, years of desperation for her and only her. It was reverence and heat and it left Hermione stunned.

“Gods... I have always wanted to do that… You’re so beautiful, you know, and… if I had a leg to stand on here, I would also tell you these stretchy little muggle trousers are very cruel… and amazing… fuck... come here.” He pulled her in and kissed her all over again, start to finish. The more she melted into him, the more he gave in to it, creating a storm of lust and emotion that fed on itself and only increased the longer they touched. He'd always imagined that if he ever got to kiss her, it would be magic... but this? This was so much more, and it overwhelmed him.

Even the fact that it was happening at all overwhelmed him.

Honestly, Draco was having an extremely surreal night, and he wasn't the only one.

In fact, it took at least a full two minutes of blinking and deep breaths before Hermione could speak again afterwards, because her brain was mush.

“So… umm. Obviously, I think we both support the outcome of that experiment, yes?"

Draco eyed her like she was insane before realizing she was teasing and pinching her playfully on the bum. "Yes, I think so." He answered drily.

"Mm, good. Happy to re-run it, if need be..." She smiled, then became a bit more serious. "So, what does you courting me entail, exactly?” Hermione felt dazed and ridiculously turned on; she certainly wasn’t planning on relocating herself anytime soon.

Draco huffed a huge smile, hardly believing he was having this conversation. “Am I in competition with anyone?” Please don’t utter the Weasel’s name… or ANYONE’S!

“No… but I think I should probably make you work for it anyway, despite how much that kiss makes me really want to skip to the good part…”

Draco squeezed her hips lightly and chuckled to cover up a whine, be it of frustration or gratitude, he wasn’t even sure. “Me too, but… law or not, I’ve dreamt of this forever and the idea of messing it up terrifies me, so… I shouldn’t skip anything. You deserve to be romanced and spoiled and shown how special you are… let me do that?”

“Okay.” She’d never been spoiled before. Maybe once she’d have protested, said something feministic, but now it sounded rather lovely. She felt drunk. She wasn’t… not on alcohol, but she felt it.

“Hermione…” Draco hoped pointing this out wouldn’t ruin it. “If I take you to dinner it will be on the front page of every newspaper in our world; the public has missed you and I’m still me and… I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Her heart melted, hearing that.

“I won’t be… I’d rather go public now than wait until the law comes out and have people think we aren’t real.” Draco took her words in and took a deep breath, blinking away his prickling eyes and pulling her down to kiss her senseless again. He couldn’t help it, hearing that. It was no small thing, the Golden Girl, Gryffindor’s Princess dating him of all people… and she wanted to make sure to be seen now, so people know she means it…?! He was astonished by her, yet again… and Merlin she tasted and felt like… fucking perfection. He didn’t let her go for ages and she wouldn’t have let him, anyway. Something had shifted between them, and in their lives, and for the longest time it felt like this was the only way to breathe.

However-long later, with her forehead resting on his, Hermione’s mind found traction again. “So… shit… Draco, before you commit to wanting me, there are things you need to know about me. More than just my job. Things that… might make you change your mind.” She hoped to God not, but his comment about pictures in the newspaper brought it home for her.

“I can’t imagine that… but I do want to know you, Hermione. Whatever you have to tell me.” His eyes were so earnest as his fingers ran up and down her spine that she couldn’t help but believe him.

“How much do you know about my… background?” She asked with a slight wince, the wording of it feeling mildly condescending but she wasn’t sure toward who.

“Umm… I’ve actually always suspected you kept that private for a reason… I wondered once whether your friends even knew much, or cared to ask even… but then thought myself presumptuous and… wrong, I’m sure.” He shrugged, eyeing their entwined fingers instead of her face, missing her shock as to his intuitiveness.

“You’re… right, actually. No one ever asked, not really, and I was always vague or outright lied whenever anyone did. It wasn’t until after the war that anyone knew anything true about my… life, or… identity, I suppose, in the muggle world and even now, only two girlfriends and Kingsley know the whole truth. Not even Harry knows all of it… not quite. I mean he does, but he doesn’t understand.” She felt horrible saying it, but it was true. Draco was shocked and didn’t hide it well, stumbling over his words.

“What about… Weasley?” He practically choked out the name.

“Certainly not… he and I… We don’t speak anymore. Nor will we again.” He wondered at that, and her stiffening at the mere mention of his name, but could tell something was wrong there and so didn’t push. He squeezed her hand and hip, catching her eye until she looked at him and relaxed in his arms again with a small smile. “Sorry…”

“No… no sorries, love… I’m here for whatever you want to tell me, and I don’t want you to feel pressured to tell me anything you’re not ready to. I was just surprised, that’s all, as long as you’re okay…?” His rabid curiosity was no match for how much he cared for her, he knew that much, and somewhere along the way she’d been hurt in a scary way… he was just happy she relaxed again.

“No, I mean yes, I am… I’m fine, and you need to know this.”

“Okay.” He could see there was so much more there, but for another time. He was reeling.

“You said, earlier… if we were together, we’d be in every newspaper in our world.” She reminded him.

“Mmhmm.”

She nodded, stroking his neck absently. He really was stupidly handsome. “What if I told you that… it wouldn’t always just be the Wizarding World tabloids interested in us… because sometimes we would be expected at events with my parents or other family that could land us on the front page of a newspaper seen across the muggle world by… millions and millions of people? We won’t be as famous as we are here… but we won’t exactly be no one either, certainly not in Britain.” Draco sat up a little straighter, pulling her closer.

“I suppose I’d simply ask… who are you, Hermione Jean Granger?” He smiled in a way that calmed her immensely and tucked a curl behind her ear. “When you’re not wielding your wand and saving the world for others who do so… Who are you?” She couldn’t help smiling back and settling in, somehow so comfortable in his lap, in his arms. Despite the bomb she was going to drop on him, she somehow knew he was likely the only wizard she’d ever known who could handle it with her… she just felt so… sure… But still, it wasn’t easy to explain.

“The Malfoys never gave up their muggle peerage title, did they, like so many pureblood families did?” She asked, hedging. Understanding vaguely began to dawn on him and Draco quirked an eyebrow. “No… but unless I take up my seat in the House of Lords soon it is likely in danger. Why?” He felt her relief the moment he said it and wondered why… perhaps because it showed he had some understanding of how it all worked? That he wasn’t ignorant of the muggle world? Suddenly he had a feeling he’d be adding a lot of muggle morning coats to his wardrobe…

“Well… would that be so bad? Or… hard?” She asked, an octave or three higher than before.

“You’re hedging, Princess.”

“Ha!” She snorted, falling into him in a fit of maniacal giggles. “Thank Merlin I’m not that at least… Do you know the time and security shitshow that would be?! Merlin…” Draco turned his head and kissed her cheek.

“But…Oh, love… I’m not far off, am I?” He whispered, feeling her rather crazy-person laughter cease and her draw a heavy sigh against his neck as she shook her head. He took that information in for a moment and let it trickle down over everything else he knew about her… all the little things he’d always noticed and wondered about; her perfect manners; how well spoken she was; how well read she was; how graceful she was; that… aplomb she had… yes, it made perfect sense that she was high born.

“You don’t have to explain now… but someday, I hope you’ll feel comfortable enough to tell me why you made yourself smaller. To me you are the most lovely and beautiful person, you’re such a force and it pains me that you put yourself in a box… I know you had your reasons and I’m not judging you… just know you never have to do that with me, okay? Please?” He peeked beneath her hair where she was hiding in the crook of his neck. She stared at him, a bit shocked that he so completely understood her. Lost for words she simply nodded and kissed him, feeling her heart stutter a little when his thumbs brushed across her cheeks, taking her tears with them.

“I, umm… I’m sure you have to work tomorrow…” She murmured.

“I could get away… if I have somewhere to go.” He saw the instant his words made her worry turn into a grin and felt like a true wizard.

“Yeah? Well… umm… I have to go to our main estate in the country to let them know my parents are coming home… You could come with me, if you want.”

Draco had sooo many questions, but knew not to push. It seemed he’d be getting answers tomorrow. “I’d love it.”

Her heart felt so full it might burst. “I mean we won’t have time tomorrow anyway but... you don’t… ride, by any chance, do you?” She bit her lip and squinted, feeling like she was really asking for too much. “I know it’s so muggle but-”

“Yes, Granger, of course I ride… given your fear of broom-travel I dared not ask if you did, but I’m pleasantly surprised.” He quipped, pinching her on the behind again and enjoying her squirming and giggling immensely. She was just so damn cute.

“Horses stay on the ground you prat!”

“Not all horses… my grandfather raised Abraxans.”

“Yeah… we’re not going to be riding those at the Grange. Or anywhere ever, in my case…” Hermione looked horrified at the mere suggestion, making him chuckle.

“This estate is where you grew up?” She nodded shyly. “Then I can’t wait to see it.” There was nothing much to say to that except to snog him, so that’s what she did… getting lost in the feeling of his hands splayed across her back and in her hair, the taste of him, it was intoxicating… he seemed pained to pull himself away.

“Hermione…” His voice was somewhere between tortured and thrilled to be alive. “Don’t misunderstand me when I say that I do want to come tomorrow and I do want to see everything that made you who you are… but… I’m all in, already… no matter what you show me or ask of me, you understand that, don’t you?”

“You don’t know what you’re committing to…”

“But I know what I’m getting, it's something I've dreamed of for years... You're worth slaying armies for, Granger, so... please take my word for it, for tonight at least?” Hermione nodded, the tension easing from her shoulders as she smiled softly.

“Alright.” She told him, making him flash her that grin she was rapidly becoming addicted to.

“So… You plan something for tomorrow… Does that mean I get to make a plan, too? Perhaps take you to dinner Saturday evening?” He felt her relax again in his arms and it thrilled him.

“It does, yes.” She grinned.

“And you… you’re sure about this, then, too, from your end I mean? It’ll be in Sunday’s Prophet…” He just couldn’t help but ask again; his life was never this good.

“I’m so sure.” Until now, apparently…

“You know, you should still fight the marriage law, for everyone else’s sake, they need your brilliance, but… speaking for myself, I’m… fine.” He deadpanned, eyes twinkling up at her. Hermione burst into giggles and hugged him, happier in that moment than she could remember ever feeling.

After talking and snogging and smiling like loons at each other for another two hours, Draco flooed home with a massive grin on his face. He’d had possibly the best night he could remember and couldn’t believe any of it… He’d said as much and gotten pinched pretty hard by the curly haired witch ‘to prove he wasn’t dreaming’. He’d probably have a bruise, the girl had tiny fingers but they were very strong… And a laugh he hoped to hear the rest of his life… they’d both marveled at that, actually, their wonderment and love of each other’s laugh and how they’d always wished to hear it before. He knew the Wizarding World would lose its collective mind on Sunday but they decided they were going for it and he’d court her like she deserved, starting the following day.

Both fell asleep smiling.

Chapter Text

At 9am sharp, Draco came through the floo to Hermione’s loft bearing flowers and dressed like the perfect toff headed home to the family seat in country for the weekend. He still didn’t know details of where exactly they were going or just how high born Hermione actually was… they’d let the subject rest the night before once they’d made plans for the day’s travel and once he’d made it clear that nothing, no detail or protest, could change his mind about wanting her. 

It was true… she could be the next Queen with all the duties that required and he’d still be madly in love with her. It would still be too soon to word it quite that way, but something about the way it had felt when they’d been together, the agreement they’d made, out loud and in every look, to forge a future… the way she was allowing him to court her and show her how much she meant to him, how he’d changed after and despite everything… he was hoping she knew, and if not, well… it was his job to show her, was it not? And it was a job he planned to take very, very seriously.

When she came rushing out of her bedroom in dark hunter green, skin-tight riding trousers, black leather field boots and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up while finishing the tie to the french braid she’d done to her hair, Draco literally choked on his own spit. Hermione cracked a grin that turned calculating and slowed down to more of a saunter, teasing him as she eyed him up. “Hello you.”

“Hiii… I thought you said we weren’t actually going to be… riding… today… just… touring the place?” He managed, tilting his head as far as he could to try to see her arse without actually falling over.

She grinned with pure smugness and gave a little twirl for him to put him out of, or perhaps further into, his misery. “Yes… I did say that, didn’t I? But on the off chance my baby is getting exercised while we’re there, I’m not turning down the opportunity for ten minutes with him and you sir can just be patient… It’s been a year, almost… and either way, I can change back into normal clothes at the house.” She said with a shrug.

“You look…” He let out a small whiney noise and shrugged his defeat with a smile, snagging her by the wrist and pulling her the rest of the way to him, tugging her braid to bend her head back as he kissed her senseless, practically devouring her whole. She liked his style and hummed a happy noise, wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning into him on her tippy-toes - which felt odd in field boots but whatever, he was just so deliciously tall…

“Mmm…” Hermione vaguely forgot the plan of where they were going or why, thinking maybe just standing in her kitchen area and snogging was an excellent way to live. The man was fucking gifted… and he smelled so good…

Draco smirked, leaving one last kiss at the tip of her ridiculously cute button nose. “We should get going, Princess, if we’re going…” He smiled, watching her blink her way out of her kiss-coma.

“Hmm? Right… We should… do that.” She nodded, taking a second to regroup. “You… good?” She asked weakly, not even caring that he gave her a full-on smug grin in return. She supposed she deserved it.

“I’m great. You?”

“Great. Good. Shut up.” Hermione shook her head with a laugh and playfully shoved off him, letting him have his smugness. Handsome bastard… “So…” Suddenly she noticed the stunning floral arrangement behind him, sitting so beautifully on her kitchen island. “You brought me peonies.” She stated, struck a little dumb.

“I did.” He smiled.

“In a Baccarat crystal vase.”

“…Yes. Wow, good eye.”

“Peonies are my favorite.” She looked and sounded so adorably confused, he loved it.

“I know.”

Hermione looked up at him like he’d grown a second head. “You… know…”

“Yes. It’s why I brought you some.” He smiled wider and bent to kiss her again. She’d figure it out eventually… He really did mean all the things he’d said. He really did pay attention.

Hermione felt a ridiculous blush consume her face and another one of those stupid grins take over that she couldn’t shake, so she decided it was high time they left before she started giggling or swooning or something else embarrassing. Petting his perfect biceps maybe.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful…”

“Of course, darling. I'm glad you like them. Now... Ready to go?” Draco asked. Hermione again felt like she was in some sort of weird trance with the way he was looking at her and holding her and talking in that low sexy voice and Holy Merlin she had to snap out of it…

“Right! We’re going… to the Grange… Merlin you are too handsome for your own good, you know that?! Ugh…”

“'Ugh?' Please... You love it…”

“That… Is not the point… at the moment.” She couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off her face and she just gave up trying, opting to  roll her eyes in protest. She was so fucked. “Prat… So, normally, we’d never get away with this, but, a large part of the estate has been mostly shut, especially the outbuildings in the far sections, since back at the end of our sixth year with my parents being away - meaning, we’re in luck. We’re going to floo into what is ostensibly the carriage house and save ourselves a lot of travel hassle.”

Draco tilted his head in confusion, following her to the fireplace. “Why would we never get away with that normally?” Hermione chuckled but didn’t answer, just grabbed some floo powder and took his hand, calling out their destination.

“Ashford Castle Folly!”

Draco didn’t have time to process her words before he found himself stepping out of a fireplace into a darkened room, the only light coming from between the slats of the shutters on the windows and highlighting the dust motes in the air. No one had been here in a long while… wherever here was…

“You good?” Hermione asked, siphoning them both clean with her wand and coughing a little.

“Fine… Where are we, exactly? It feels abandoned… and there aren’t any carriages in here.” Draco fought a sneeze that never came, just comically tickled his nose in passing.

“Come on Sneezy, you’ll see…” Hermione chuckled hard behind her hand, leading him to the side door he hadn’t seen that was just to their left. She grabbed a set of keys off the wall before shutting the door behind them, letting Draco go ahead of her and watching him as he looked at his feet for the three steps down and then looked up, seeing the view for the first time… the park, the magnificent house in the distance. It was a hell of a view and it packed a punch, she knew. From this vantage point you couldn’t see the gardens or the stable block or the lake or the orangery or the church or the maze or any of it… only the grand avenue through the forest and part of the imposing, massive bloody house, really. But she knew it cut an imposing figure, and the look on his face was rather priceless.

“Salazar’s Ghost and Merlin’s tits as well, Granger… NOT a princess, you said?” He quipped, giving her a bit of a sardonic smile before turning back and admiring the view some more.

“Mmm… Yeah, not a princess, I promise… It is a bit… much, I know…” She hedged, feeling self-conscious suddenly and unsure how to act in the moment. She’d never brought anyone magical to this home, only to her parents' London townhouse… this was a big moment for her and she felt… vulnerable and naked. It was ridiculously important to her, she realized, that he accept this half of her… that this go well…

Draco turned and quirked his brow at her, wondering how he could put her at ease; he was honestly impressed by her ability to have downplayed all of this before their arrival, especially to this extent… She’d used the word ‘estate’, sure… but this… He had no suitable word coming to mind, he was struck dumb… a new feeling for him, that was certain. Between the Black and the Malfoy fortunes, his was the wealthiest family in Wizarding Britain, by far, and one of the top ten in Wizarding Europe. There was literally nothing within reason on the planet he could not afford to purchase should he wish it; he owned two separate islands, for fuckssake… but still! This ‘house,’ as she called it, intimidated the shit out of him.

“It’s… something, alright. It’s beautiful, certainly.” He said, taking her hand and sighing. He was wowed, he couldn’t deny that. “Come on, love… show me where you grew up; tell me all about it.”

Hermione let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and smiled, jingling the keys in her other hand. “Yeah? Okay… Follow me around to the garage. We’re driving.”

Draco paled. “We’re… what, now?”

Fifteen minutes later, Draco decided he was definitely going to learn how to drive one of these cars… bloody marvelous! He’d spent enough time in muggle London and Paris and various Italian cities that he was fairly used to being around them but not so much traveling in them… That was new. But surprisingly, they were fun! He didn’t even care that his witch was laughing her pants off at him as she drove, either, he was fascinated… once he’d stopped being scared shitless, anyway.

It took almost twenty minutes of driving through the park, her pointing out trees she’d climbed and streams she loved and various things… it was so beautiful... twenty minutes before they finally passed through the gates and Draco got an up-close look at ‘the house’ as Hermione called it… and what a house it was. She pulled the Land Rover to a stop just past the main gate, putting it in park and turning the engine off, and looked over at him, steeling herself for the talk.

“So… You asked me last night who I was.”

“And I hope you know what I meant, Mi.” Draco said seriously, reaching over and taking her hand, his worry eased immensely when she smiled.

“I did… I think you know who I am deep down just fine in fact. It’s where this… thing between us comes from.” Draco nodded, his eyes a little prickly. He threaded their fingers and sat back to listen. “You intuited something impressive, too… about how I kept my non-magical life separate from everyone, and did so for a reason. I know you mentioned taking up your seat in the House of Lords but we didn’t speak on it beyond that, so I’m not sure how much you’re actually familiar… with the muggle government or the Royal Family…?”

Draco realized after a few seconds she was actually asking him a question. “Oh… Well, I understand the basic structure and the major players… I actually skim the Financial Times each week and… if you swear you’ll never repeat this, my mother might even have a secret subscription to the Daily Mail.”

Hermione wondered if she’d just had an stroke… Narcissa Malfoy… reads… the Daily Mail?!

“I’m sorry…” She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut, convinced he hadn’t just said that because it wouldn’t be possible. “Did you just say those words?” Draco laughed and nodded.

“I did… and she… does… But seriously, it is such a shameful secret to her, she’d have me burned at the stake and blame you, or no, she'd have you up there with me, if you ever told anyone or admitted to knowing, so… guard that knowledge with your life, Granger.”

“I believe you… and that is somehow both refreshing and hilarious… and scary… and hilarious…”

“It’s all those things. I think, since the war... my father even reads it when she's done.”

She looked at him like he was insane and he shrugged. Silence sat heavy in the car for a moment with the exception of birdsong through the open windows as they each sat with that ridiculous tidbit of gossip.

“So… why did you ask, love?” Draco ventured, squeezing her hand.

“Right! Sorry… Quite the bomb you just dropped, you know.” She chuckled nervously.

“Mmm. So come on... How far off was I?”

“Hmm?”

“Last night... 'Not a princess, but…'”

“Oh… No, true… Thank Merlin for that… But…” Hermione sighed and turned to him. “But… My mum’s dad is Prince Edward, the Duke of Kent and the Queen's cousin. And my dad is the Duke of Ashford.”

Draco stared at her, his gaze unwavering in how adoring it was as he waited to be sure she was finished before he replied.

“Okay.” He smiled and tucked a curl behind her ear.

“...Okay?” She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but her feeling like Draco was the one wizard who wouldn’t run - or apparate - at her truth might just have been correct!

“Yes… I told you and I meant it. I am all in, sweetheart, and I just want to know you… all the parts you have to play and all sides of you. I’m honored you’re trusting me with this, and I’m listening.”

Hermione couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry or jump his bones… possibly both, but neither sounded like fun while still behind the wheel. She let out a watery laugh and pulled him over to her for a quick kiss, anyway.

“Thank you.” She murmured against his lips.

He loved her… Merlin he loved her… and the second he’d finally sent off that damn letter he’d unknowingly given them both a chance at happiness and he was not going to waste it or blow it, he was not going to fail her again.

“Always… now tell me about this heap…” Draco gestured toward the half-refaced and imposing castle home looming large in front of them, making her burst out laughing.

“Ah yes, the family heap!” Hermione giggled. “Welcome to Ashford Castle… We just call it The Grange… Ya know, because we’re the Grangers.” She shrugged at him with a smile and turned the engine back on. “I want to check the stables before lunch and it will make the tour easier to do the outdoors by car for today… then I can show you some of the house while I speak to Fitzy.”

“Fitzy?” Draco quirked an eyebrow. He'd swear she'd never own a house elf, would she?

“My father’s steward… runs everything and has an office in the house. All the staff are human and muggle, no elves, no magic, but oh gosh you just made me think of it, one thing I find hilarious and have never had anyone to laugh with about this before… the nicknames of the British no-maj aristocracy, Draco… they all sound like bloody house elves!” Hermione burst out giggling - snorting, unladylike giggling that Draco could tell she’d been holding in for a looooong time…

It was contagious, especially given his immediate reaction to the name Fitzy...

“Oh love, more examples please!” He laughed, adoring this side of her. He was trying to take in their surroundings, it was all so stunning, but also be attentive. He figured she’d play tour guide on the way back so just listened.

“My mum, for one! Her name is Helen… She was born Lady Helen Ariana Jean Windsor… so posh! Yet the woman insists people call her Kitty!”

Draco was laughing so hard he was actually wheezing. “Your mother is Duchess Kitty?”

Hermione stopped the car and laughed so hard she cried. “Yes! And it’s totally normal! There are Bunkies and Twinks and Mum’s cousin, with an absolute straight face, goes by Fancy! That woman’s husband goes by Tip, a word that literally also means 'giant garbage receptacle'. They are both royals as well. I'm not kidding! It's Fancy and her husband: Rubbish Bin... I mean Tip.”

Draco waved his hand in surrender he was laughing too hard. Her comparison to the names of house elves was spot on and he was dying.

"The best was the time my father wrote me at Hogwarts to tell me, and I quote, 'So sad you won't be home at Easter, darling... Rubbish Bin is being knighted.' I literally spat out my pumpkin juice I laughed so hard and I had no one to laugh with!"

“Oh... my gods... stop!" He cracked up. "Where do these nicknames come from?!” He wheezed, wiping tears from his face.

“Boarding school, family… either/or. It feels so good to have my judgmental feelings validated, you’ve no idea… I'm practically the only one without a stupid nickname and get called out for it but now I have you on my side!” She grinned at him, resuming the drive.

“I'll always be on your side... And thank you for the warning, too! If anything, now at least I feel prepared not to burst out laughing when you introduce me to people…”

“Don’t be so sure… When someone says ‘just call me Twink’ it is really fucking hard not to laugh, warning be damned.” She shrugged with a grin.

“That’s likely true… Salazar, Granger it is so lovely here…” He commented, looking out the window as they were approaching a paddock and barn. He spied several gorgeous horses grazing and itched to inspect each one up close. Draco had grown up with horses before the war and loved them, just hadn’t gotten to indulge that love in far too long… he was excited.

“It is… I’m glad you like it. You’re the first person I’ve brought here…” She admitted, parking the Rover.

“I’m honored.” He smiled.

“You think you’re honored now… You’re about to meet Merlin himself.” She winked, getting out of the car.

Draco chuckled; of course she named her horse after the wizard so famous even Muggles had heard of him. He followed her into an impressive stable facility, eyeing over a dozen gorgeous horses of various breeds coming and going with various stable hands. It was the first part of the estate where there had been any activity and there was quite a bit.

Hermione checked her watch and knocked on the stable’s main office door, hoping…

“Come in!” Yes… luck!

“I’m back!” She grinned, popping her head in.

“There she is… with bloody impeccable timing! And a friend?”

Hermione hugged the paunchy old curmudgeon who had taught her everything she knew about horses and turned back toward Draco. “Sam Steiner, this is Draco Malfoy. Draco, meet Sam Steiner, our Stable Manager. He’s been with us for what… 26 years or something like that now? Sam taught me to ride and everything I know about horses.”

“Good to meet you, sir.” Draco was mildly alarmed by how close the man came to crushing his hand, but he had a friendly smile.

“You ride, boy?”

“I do, indeed, sir, yes. You have an impressive facility here.”

“Hmm… Dunno what Missy here has planned for you today but you come back dressed for it and I’ll show you around right.”

“I’d like that, sir, thank you.”

“Sam… where is he?” Hermione was practically bouncing on her heels.

“Ring five… you’ll catch him if you’re fast.” Hermione squealed and kissed his cheek, grabbing Draco’s hand and dragging him from the room.

“Good to-”

“You too!” Sam chuckled, waving them off. He was happy his girl was back… he’d see what could be made of the whelp she’d brought another time, if he made it that far.

Draco skidded to a stop behind Hermione at the entrance to an olympic-grade arena, panting a little.

“There! There he is!” She pointed, patting his arm and gesturing toward the far end. Draco’s jaw dropped a little… he’d have named him Merlin, too… for he was magical… wow.

“That’s your baby, huh?” He murmured in her ear, unable to help the smile when he saw her so happy. She was childlike with it, practically glowing.

“Yeah! Gods I’ve missed him… He’s gorgeous, right? Dutch warmblood, almost exactly 16.2 hands, such a good jumper, look at that… That black coat, so shiny, I dunno… just had to name him Merlin -  the original dark wizard - I entertain myself way too much, I know…” She chuckled, her eyes bright.

“I can’t blame you, there, he’s gorgeous and… you entertain me, too.”

“Do you mind terribly if I… just five, ten minutes tops?” She asked as if he’d actually mind, which was ludicrous since he was dying to see her ride.

“Are you crazy?! Go!” He swatted her bum and laughed as she squealed with happiness, running out to meet the trainer and extend Merlin’s morning a bit. Draco leaned on the doorframe and crossed his arms, watching in wonder as he got to see a totally new side of his witch… one he never would have imagined and one that made him almost uncomfortably turned on. She was incandescent on a horse, like nothing he’d ever seen. She didn't need magic to be magical... She seemed to communicate with him so naturally, and for such a tiny witch with a fear of heights she jumped the course cleanly with no fear at all. It was… beautiful, really. He could have watched her for hours, but she rejoined him within a half hour, at most, joined by the trainer leading Merlin behind her. He was even more gorgeous up close.

“You looked great out there.”

“It was all him, I was just along for the ride.” She smiled with such joy he’d never seen, it made him determined to ensure she felt it more. “Draco, meet Ari, one of our trainers and Merlin, my one true love; sorry you can’t compete Draco but facts are facts. Ari, this is Draco. We went to school together.”

“It’s nice to meet you… Mia, all these years you’ve been holding out. Are all the gents from your school this handsome?” The girl laughed as she led Merlin for a bath and rub down.

“I’m one of a kind, thank you.” Draco answered with a joking haughtiness.

“He’s not wrong.” Hermione smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Ari, he’s looking aces, really… I’ll be back next weekend and we can spend some real time then, yeah?”

“Sounds good, girl… Glad you’re back. It was good to meet you, Draco.”

“You too.”

“Bye, handsome…” Hermione rubbed Merlin’s nose. “Soon.”

She turned and leaned into him, steering him back toward the entrance and the car. “Ready to head up to the house?”

“If you are. We can stay longer though, if you want.” He loved seeing her happy and he could tell this was her happy place.

“No, it’s alright. We can always come back. Thanks for indulging me, though, it felt great.”

“You looked great…” He leaned down and kissed her cheek, lingering a bit. “Happy, too.” She nodded, smiling.

“I pretty much grew up down here before Hogwarts, so…”

“So, happy childhood?”

“For the most part, yes. I grew up very loved, very privileged, as you can see…” They were getting back into the car now and she gestured all around her, at the stunning beauty everywhere they looked. “But like I imagine there was for you, there was pressure for me growing up. Expectations were high and they weighed heavily…” She looked to him as she started the car and he nodded; he remembered.

“How did your parents react to your magic? How did your mum’s family react?”

“Well I wasn’t the first in the extended Royal Family with magic overall, so it wasn't as shocking as it might've been… I was just the first to convince their parents to let them go to Hogwarts in generations.” She almost enjoyed the shock on his face over that one. “Yeah, it seems surprising… but think about it and you’ll realize it makes sense. You said it yourself how you understood why I hid who I was… imagine if I was one of my cousins.”

Draco tried to imagine that and… couldn’t, really. Not in the time from before the war, anyway. From before people had been forced to rethink their views on muggleborns and blood purity… nope, it would have been crazy…

“You’re right.” He shrugged. He didn’t know whether she was being hypothetical or not about one of her cousins, technically she had… a bloody infinite number of them, anyway, but still…

“But to answer your question, my parents were great about it for the most part. The only requirement they had was that I keep up with my non-magical schoolwork as well, which despite how daunting a task, was truly the right thing to do, so.”

“Wait… are you telling me you… did both muggle and magical school at the same time?”

“Yep. Now look over to the left, that’s the maze… The Manor has a maze, too, right? We should compare sometime. Past that is the orangery and the pool and if you look out my window you’ll see the stepped gardens and the lake.”

Draco just stared at her, though, amazed. She’d accomplished two people’s worth of schooling and no one bloody noticed… but they did tease her for all that studying, him included. She still managed to be top of the class, too…

“You’re bloody brilliant, you know.”

“Says the future of Magical Medicine…” She smirked, preening on the inside that he was impressed.

“Still couldn’t beat you in school though, gorgeous, don’t forget that.”

“Don’t worry… I’ve a perfect memory. It’s how I beat you.” She grinned, parking the car and enjoying his laughter.

They were getting out of the car when another, similar Rover pulled up. Draco could see it being driven by a tiny old woman with a scarf tied under her chin and he saw Hermione go pale as a ghost.

“Oh bollocks…”

“Problem?” He came around and put his hand on her lower back.

“No… Yes… I apologize in advance…” She sighed, just as the old crone turned off her engine. Hermione put on a fake smile and opened her car door for her. “Gran!”

“Don’t suck up I know you weren’t expecting me…” The woman shooed her away and Hermione shrugged, returning to Draco mouthing ‘Fuck it, I tried’, making him have to cough to cover his laughter.

“And this? Who is this young man? He’s handsome, he has that going for him…” Draco had never been so intimidated by a muggle and this one was easily a thousand years old. Something about the way she commanded herself, he wasn’t sure… but he’d bet her stare could melt a horcrux.

“Gran, this is Draco Malfoy. We went to Hogwarts together… Draco, this is my grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Ashford.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Grace.”

“Humpf… Malfoy… You’re Cissy’s boy, aren’t you?!”

Both Hermione and Draco froze for at least ten seconds. “Yes, Your Grace, I am… You know my mother?”

“I know everyone.” She sniffed, dismissing the mere idea that that might not be so. Draco looked at Hermione and she shrugged, nodding that her Gran did know… possibly… all humans. Weird, but not impossible.

“Gran are you here for lunch, or…?” Hermione asked.

“I hadn’t planned on it but now I am. Your young man shall escort me.”

Draco would not have dared do anything else; he offered the old bat his arm while Hermione rang the bell for Fitzy.

“Hermione, dear, you are dressed entirely inappropriately for lunch. You will change.” Her grandmother informed her as they waited.

“Of course, Granny.”

“YOU will remain downstairs with me.” She told Draco cheekily.

“I’d never dream of abandoning a lady.” He informed her, making her shriveled mouth twitch.

The door opened revealing a man with salt and pepper hair and pinstripe suit. “Your Grace! My Lady… Welcome. Sir, please come in.”

“Hello Fitzy.” Hermione hugged him. “It’s been too long.” The man chuckled and agreed.

“Fitzy this boy appears to have designs on my granddaughter and I’ll be interrogating him over lunch, if you please… Hermione, you smell like horse…”

Draco once again had to cough to cover up a bark of laughter… he bloody loved this old bat!

“Traitor!” Hermione hissed in his ear, heading up the stairs. He shrugged, helpless against good manners and hilarious old ladies as he watched her go… unfortunately he couldn’t watch her go forever since the little grandmother clocked his line of sight and beaned him on the back of the head with her purse.

“Subtle.” She cackled. “Now come… Draco was it?” She asked, her eyes entirely too bright. She’d been planning a day of cutting flowers and that was it, but this was much more fun… she’d stumbled on some real mischief for once. It had been too long.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Odd name, that… I like it. Family name?” She’d led him through a maze of rooms that made Malfoy Manor look quaint… they were in some sort of solarium now, sitting on sofas in an informal lounge area with a view of the gardens.

“It’s a tradition in my mother’s family, the Blacks, to name children after stars or constellations. She was, for some reason, the only exception to generations of it with the name Narcissa.”

“And will you and Hermione continue that?” Bloody hell this woman was forward…

“Ideally… but I can tell you that I haven’t brought it up yet due to not having proposed yet… so, there’s that.” He smiled, refusing to be baited. She grinned and sat back, deciding then and there that this boy had real potential. He wasn’t scared of the little old Duchess like bloody everyone else was… so boring. No, this boy had some fire in him, that was good.

“And do you work, Draco? Or are you one of those… well dressed lazy ones?” Draco barked a laugh, not bothering to cover it up this time. “Happy to hear you approve of my sartorial choices, Your Grace.” He chuckled. “I do work, yes. I took today off to spend with Hermione since she’s been out of the country for so long but normally I’d be in a lab coat right now. I work in medical research.”

This piqued the Dowager’s interest enormously. “A wizard in medical research, eh?”

Draco nodded, grateful as hell for Fitzy bringing in tea at that moment. “Her Ladyship asked to let you know she’ll be down shortly and asks where you’d like to dine, Ma’am?”

“The Yellow Dining Room will do, Fitzy, thank you.”

When the man had gone again, Draco learned where Hermione had inherited her ability to raise one eyebrow so perfectly.

“Well?”

“What, in particular, intrigues you?” He hedged.

“Don’t play coy with me, young man, I know all the tricks. Tell me why a wizard is fobbing off an old lady’s questions using, what is it, muggle vernacular… What is it you do, young Draco Malfoy, tell me that, hmm?”

Hermione walked in just then and caught Draco’s eye. “Muggle vernacular, ay? Fancy talk, Gran… What are you accusing Draco of, exactly?” They shared a grin as she cozied up to him on his sofa, calming his nerves spectacularly with her closeness and the smell of her perfume and her smile. She had on a white chiffon wrap dress with lavender flowers on it and lavender peep-toe heels. Her hair was out of its braid and half-up in a clip… She looked so bloody beautiful that she took Draco’s breath away.

“Hermione, dear, while I appreciate you returning to us appropriately dressed and no longer smelling of your prized beasts, your intention of ruining my interrogation shall be thwarted, I’m an expert on a roll, here.” Her grandmother toasted Draco with her tea cup and he genuinely adored her. She was a lunatic, but she was hilarious.

“Oh, well in that case… Do carry on.” Hermione looked up at him and smiled, letting him decide how he wanted to react and letting him know she’d play along. He was amazed how good a time he was having.

“Lunch is served, Your Grace, in the Yellow Dining Room as you requested.”

“Thank you, Fitzy, we’ll be along.”

Draco escorted his new bestie on one arm and Hermione on the other, once again amazed by the sheer vastness of the house as they passed through grand hallways and galleries and at least four drawing rooms before reaching the dining room, one of several from what he understood. He got a running commentary the entire journey from the Dowager on whose ugly mug was painted by Reynolds and what Duke cheated on his wife or lost his inheritance at the races but got it back by marrying an heiress with an unfortunate face but a good head on her shoulders.

He’d never met a more entertaining old person and part of him wanted to take her home for running commentary at parties simply for the perfection of her dry wit. She’d have made an excellent Slytherin for the quality of her insults alone. When they finally made it to lunch, though, she descended again, on grandmother duty. He expected no less, though, and was ready. Ish.

“You thought I’d let you get away but I’m a skilled fisherwoman. Spill it.” She demanded, gesturing with her spoon. Hermione’s cheeks hurt from laughing and she just shrugged. She still hadn’t a clue what the original question was but could see no need to truly interfere - her Gran actually liked Draco… she didn’t like anyone… but, crazier things had happened in life, she supposed. She couldn’t think of any offhand, but she was sure, at some point in Earth’s long history, something crazier had occurred.

“So what was the original confusion again? That I’m a wizard yet also work in medical research?” Draco asked, unsure if it was possible to be both so amused and scared at the same time.

“Yes. Sounds like a line to sell you to the Grandmother if you ask me.” Hermione again burst out laughing at this, ready to beg for mercy, and Draco just grinned. Yes, definitely possible… Before he could answer, though, Hermione did, and her words stunned him.

“No, Gran, it’s not a line you old lunatic. He’s very serious, in fact… Draco’s rather a genius in his field, pioneering the mixing of Magical and Muggle Medicine. He made an incredible breakthrough this year that…” She huffed, looking at him like he hung the moon and stars and Draco knew it would be a memory he could live off of for eons, a memory worthy of a thousand patronuses. “Imagine, Gran, if… someone discovered a cure for Parkinson’s Disease and Brain Cancer all in one fell swoop after there had been an outbreak of it across the entire country a few years before. That’s what Draco did for the Magical World, and he did it his first year out of school from his dual Masteries, so… be sold, Gran, and stop torturing him.” She smiled, holding his hand under the table. He didn’t say anything, just squeezed her hand back. Praise was… hard for him, and coming from her, it meant everything to him. The combination was a little overwhelming.

“Hmm.” The Dowager pursed her lips, happy for her granddaughter and finding this boy more interesting by the second. “I suppose he’ll do.” Draco huffed a laugh, thrilled to have passed the test, unaware he’d actually passed it an hour earlier.

“I’m grateful to hear it, Your Grace.”

“Oh, tosh, you young people do what you want these days… Speaking of which, Hermione, is my son ever returning to me, or has he gone native down there?”

“Good God, Granny… Yes, Mummy and Daddy, as well as my new siblings… will be back in the UK, in your clutches to torture like you’re torturing Draco and I now, in August. It’s why Draco and I came by today, to tell Fitzy to ready the house.”

“Oh, but no one felt like telling me did they? What if I need to ready myself?”

“Well I’d planned on calling round next week for tea, if you must know.”

“Lies.” She huffed, smirking.

“You could always call Daddy yourself you know. The telephone in your house does work.”

“Humpf.”

“Good argument, Gran, excellent points made.” Hermione toasted her grandmother as the old woman barked a laugh.

“Mi, did you say, ‘new siblings’?” Draco asked, unsure he’d heard that part right.

“I did! I don’t have the photos with me, they’re back at the flat so remind me to show you later. Mum and Daddy adopted while they’ve been in Mali, a boy and a girl. They’re so beautiful and so sweet it is ridiculous, Draco… Leo is just turned three and Aya is five. Aya has some recessive gene that gave her ice blue eyes with her ebony skin, she’s stunning and the sweetest girl. Leo is a little love, just wants to cuddle and be with everyone, read books and help with whatever you’re doing. You’ll adore them, it’s impossible not to.”

Hearing her talk about them, seeing her face light up made his heart do funny things. He wondered if she wanted a big family the way he did… He wondered again about that insane law and what it would mean for them. He knew it was wrong for everyone else but for himself, he struggled to care what he’d be required to do as long as he got to be with her.

“I suppose I’ll have to love them, this Aya and Leo.” The Dowager sighed, resigned to her fate as a Grandmother in perpetuity. It was a tough life… not really, she loved it.

“Poooor you.” Hermione quipped, making Draco chuckle. He liked how she was with her grandmother, a side of her he’d never seen he’d call ‘deferentially snarky’. It was very entertaining.

Lunch conversation continued to flow easily, the Dowager asking about Hermione’s job with that ‘dashing but confounding Shacklebolt magical PM’ of theirs. They did not tell her about the marriage law of course but chatted about more surface things and social nonsense she seemed to enjoy best. At the end of lunch, the Dowager eyed Draco with a smirk and a critical eye.

“You will walk me out.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Hermione, dear… Tea. Next week. Do not disappoint me.”

“Of course not, Gran.”

“Hmpf.” The Dowager exchanged cheek kisses with Hermione and set off for her Rover with Draco.

“I will be seeing you again.” She told him.

“I very much hope so, Your Grace. I enjoyed our conversation.”

“No, young Draco, you misunderstand me.” He opened the door to her car and she turned before getting in. “Don’t buggar it up, boy. Now whether you do or don’t, you shall see me again. Trust me, though, I’m far more fun as a friend.” She smiled and patted his cheek. “Don’t fear, I’m rooting for you. Now buggar off dear, I’ve things to do. My regards to your mother!” She hopped into her Rover, surprisingly spryly he thought, and drove off with a wave, leaving him gobsmacked in the drive.

After a solid minute or two, he gathered his wits and went back in, only to nearly knock Hermione over in the foyer. She’d come looking for him after hearing her grandmother drive away.

“You alright? I wondered if she’d changed her mind about you and run you over.”

“Hmm? No… But she’s got a mouth on her, that woman!”

Hermione burst out laughing. “Let me guess… ‘buggar off dear, I’ve things to do!’”

“Yes! What, is that her ‘go-to’ line or something?!”

“Yes! It’s how she says goodbye to family.” She smiled and it was like sunbeams, despite the utter ridiculousness of the sentiment.

“Well in that case, I feel much better…” He huffed, taking her in his arms and kissing her temple. It had been quite a day and their late lunch had taken them well into the afternoon.

“I spoke to Fitzy, we’re all set. I know you have to get home for dinner with your parents tonight so we should probably start heading back.”

“You don’t need more time with him?”

“No no, it was just a quick conversation letting him know my parents were coming back and about the children's rooms. Mum has entrusted me with decorating them, but they need to be cleared out first. I could have done it over the phone if not for wanting to show you around a bit. I know meeting Gran was…unexpected, but… you were wonderful. Thank you.”

Draco took a minute to collect himself and enjoy having her in his arms, looking around the grandness of the hall they were standing in. It was at least two stories tall and the walls boasted dozens of portraits and landscapes, some taller than he was. He estimated a quarter of a quidditch pitch could fit in this entryway…

“Nothing to thank me for, love, she put me through my paces and threatened my life on her way out. I adored her.” He laughed a little, drawing her back and kissing her. “And I adored coming here, seeing a glimpse of this place, of where you grew up. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

Hermione nodded, humbled by how well it had all gone. “Did we ever figure out how Gran knows your mother?”

“No… her excuse seemed to be that she knows everyone and that was that.”

“Right… you have to find out!” She laughed.

“Oh it’s my first priority, no question.” He agreed.

“Home, then?” She asked a little sadly.

“And dinner tomorrow?” He reminded her, loving how she lit up at being reminded.

“Yes, dinner tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Saturday morning came and Hermione felt more energized than she had in over a year. She felt… hopeful, a feeling she had genuinely thought lost to her since the war, she realized… She hadn’t ever noticed it but it was as though apathy and a sense of ‘getting by is good enough’ had settled into the soul of her personal life since then with nothing truly good to counter it. There were bad things, though, and blah things… and otherwise she just plodded along, pretending to be doing better than she was for other people’s comfort. The best thing to happen had been convincing her parents to come home and meeting Aya and Leo, but romance? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that… thing.

She'd certainly never felt it like this... Sometimes she’d even wondered if she ever would.

But no more of that nonsense. She felt… fantastic, really. Giddy, even.

The man who had shown up for dinner on Thursday and accompanied her to the Grange on Friday was one she’d longed for since she was 11, sure… but so, SO much more. He was everything she’d hoped from his letter and so much more than that, too. He was brilliant and kind and funny and the best kisser on earth and he wanted her, found her interesting, he listened to her…

Gone was any trace of malice or harsh edges to his voice or his eyes; instead he looked at her with… reverence?

She was walking on air. She had no misconceptions or memory lapses of who he was in school, but she knew he wasn’t that guy anymore… and she felt like she was about to be treated like the princess he called her, too… She’d never had that before, someone who saw her like that. Someone who wanted her happiness, who cared about her and who she really was.

Yep.

Walking… on… air.

There was just one person she could think of in the world that she feared could damage some of her happy, a person she hoped to never see again despite that being utterly unrealistic.

Ron Weasley.

He had betrayed her and betrayed every minute of their yearslong friendship with his actions…

…and Ron was going to lose his shit the second her relationship with Draco hit the papers.

Of course he would… but, then, he’d never gotten over her rejection and was likely still convinced it was only a matter of time before she came crawling back to him, begging to be a housewife. He was so delusional… sometimes she thought she missed her friend, but she’d come to realize that the friend she’d once known no longer existed, if he ever really had… She often wondered how thick her rose-colored glasses had been to have ever been friends with Ron at all.

Then, ever since the battle and their one kiss (that he had initiated and she had not wanted or allowed to last more than a second) he’d been… different with her. He was demanding of her time and attention before that, but after that it was like he felt some claim over her, like he was entitled to own her, to touch her, and he never seemed to hear her all the dozens of time she said NO. Then, when she got fed up and made it as clear as she could that he was mistaken and he would never have her, he’d gotten violent. He’d tried to take what she would not freely give.

Ron Weasley hated only one thing more than being told ‘no’… and that thing was Draco Malfoy. So this was a potential disaster if he was out there harboring one of his famous grudges…

More than anyone she knew, Ron Weasley was incapable of changing his mind about anything, especially Draco… She shuddered imagining his reaction once he heard, the damage he could potentially do...

That might have to be proactively managed, she decided, letting the issue percolate in the back of her mind for the moment. She decided to focus on the happy though, and not fall into old patterns of focusing on the ‘what ifs’ of life that brought her nothing but grief and pain in the past.

Like Harry, for instance. Harry was a permanent resident in her Happy column.

Harry always supported her, through everything… He’d been the one to pull Ron off her when she was pinned and crying with torn clothes and had knocked him out. She felt like she’d ruined their friendship, like he would hate her, but he’d done the opposite; he’d taken her side, he’d protected her… He was the best friend she’d ever had. Her brother in all but blood.

She just hoped he would support her in this, too… She owled him first thing to see if he could meet for lunch just the two of them and that yes, he could tell Ginny and to say she’d see Gin on Sunday or sometime next week. When his head appeared just half an hour later in her fireplace, she was thrilled.

“Look who’s back!”

“I am indeed... How are you?”

“Good… great, really. Listen, I cancelled on Gin and the family for lunch at the Burrow since it got switched from the usual Sunday thing to today this week - she says hi and ‘welcome the fuck back, witch,’ by the way, her words, obviously… But I don’t want to be caught out by someone seeing me and it getting back to Molly, so can I come to you? Hide in Muggle London?”

“Ha! That girl has class with her sass, as always. Tell her thank you, I think? And of course you can! Floo’s open and then we can go find a Pret A Manger or something.”

“Great… See you at noon?”

“Perfect.”

Harry was a sight for sore eyes and his hug felt like a balm on her soul.

“Missed you, Mione.”

“Me too…”

Harry shrugged off her guilt, telling her for the hundredth time that he understood about her parents and the lying and wanted her to let it go and tell him about how Africa went and catch him up without worrying. It was hard, forgiving herself for the lying, but in the face of her friend’s unmitigated forgiveness she didn’t have much choice. It wasn’t about her.

It was when she ran out of details about that and started to repeat them, suddenly avoiding eye-contact, that he caught on that she perhaps had more to share but didn’t necessarily want to.

“I have to say, Mione, you seem like you’re… stalling. You only stammer and pick your nails when you’re stalling, so what gives?” He asked with a gentle smile, gesturing to her ravaged cuticles with the hand holding his sandwich.

“Have you spoken to Neville recently?” Hermione asked, trying to sound casual.

“Random… Not in a couple weeks actually, he missed the last two pub nights. Why? And I thought I was first to talk to you since you got back!” He teased.

“You’re second, actually… but I haven’t seen Neville yet, either… though I can’t wait to, so I can congratulate him…”

“Congratulate him? On what?”

Hermione took a deep breath. “His parents… Apparently they were the first patients in a clinical trial to reverse the brain damage of the Cruciatus and it’s been really successful so far… they’re home now. After what, nineteen years? Twenty?”

“Holy Merlin you’re joking! That’s amazing! Wait, how do you even know this?”

“Umm… funny story…”

“You’re picking your nails again.” Harry chuckled.

“Ugh, fine! I know because I heard it straight from the mouth of the man who invented, or discovered… created the cure… however you word that, I’m not sure… the man who I… am now… dating.” She was truly amazed at how much her maturity regressed during conversations like this. She felt 13 again.

“You’re seeing someone? That’s amazing! You deserve to be happy, Hermione, so… what are you still hedging for?”

“It’s Draco Malfoy.” She blurted, mentally kicking herself.

Harry’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, but he didn’t say anything. For ages.

“Are you going to… say words, Harry?”

“Ha, sorry… How did this come about?”

Hermione had debated about this, but felt it was the only way he’d ever truly understand, ever really believe Draco was serious. “If I show you something, I need your word, and I really mean it Harry, YOUR PROMISE TO THE DEATH that it stays between us that you ever saw it, understand?”

“Uhh. Alright, I promise.” Harry took the letter from her and read it, eyes flying up to her every five-seconds. He must have read it multiple times since, once again, he took forever to respond while Hermione sat there decimating her thumbnail. When he finally handed it back, he simply looked surprised. “I guess… If he hurts you, I’ll kill him, but… yeah. Wow…”

“Yeah, wow?”

“Did you want me to be angry? I can try that, but… I’m not. I’ve seen him a few times over the last, I dunno, 6 or 8 months at Pub Night you know. He’s different now. Surprisingly so are many of his school friends, the Slytherin group you know… I mean, I work with Nott sometimes since he’s an Unspeakable, and remember Pansy Parkinson?”

“Hard to forget…” Hermione quipped, amazed. She was actually sortof best friends with Pansy but they kept that on the down-low due to how they’d become friends in the first place… but apparently she no longer needed to keep that from Harry? She’d find out…

“She redecorated our house… she’s kindof hilarious. Intense, but totally different than she was at school. She and Gin hang out and go shopping sometimes. Spa weekends and such, I dunno what girls do…”

“Ha!” She knew that already, they’d portkeyed to meet her in Paris for their spa weekend and stayed for the shopping. Pansy was rather awesome… Mildly abrasive and never took the word ‘No’ for an answer, but… awesome. Hermione was surprised, but appreciative, that Ginny had never told Harry about their friendship. It was born from trauma and she’d want to check with Pans before going wide with it now that she was back. If she was dating Draco, though, it might come out on its own… shit.

“Exactly! I think you deserve to be happy and if you think he can do that, I will make more of an effort to be friends with him and the other snakes.”

Hermione stared at him for a moment, tearing up. “Thank you, Harry… that means a lot.”

“You know I’m always there for you.”

“I know, but I figured if anything could put that in question it would be dating Malfoy!” She laughed, wiping her face.

“Nah… the war is over, school’s over… And fuck, Mione… Neville’s parents? That’s bloody amazing… Tell me more about him. All I know is that he got a Potions Mastery and moved back last year from… somewhere I don’t remember. We don’t chat, really, just have overlapping friend groups now I suppose.”

Hermione was stunned; she would most definitely be asking her new beaux about that fact this evening…

“I’m surprised Ron lets him come to pub night…” Hermione hadn’t wanted to bring him up but it did concern her a bit.

“Ron doesn’t usually come, not for a long while.” Harry said quietly.

“Why not? Isn’t it a DMLE thing for the most part?”

“Ron got fired, Mione… got canned barely a month after you left for Mali.”

“Whoa! I had no idea…”

“It was for the best.” Harry said, ending the subject.

Hermione left lunch with so many questions, but still happy as hell… Her best friend supported her new relationship and their friend groups were already mixing. Maybe this would work out easier than she’d hoped. It was hard not telling him about the marriage law; keeping anything from Harry anymore felt icky and wrong after everything but until she met with Kingsley again she wasn’t able to tell anyone else - she really shouldn’t have even told Draco, but he was a special case. The only knowledge making her feel even slightly okay about it was that Harry and Ginny were already married. They made plans to have Sunday Lunch at Potter Cottage the next day and Harry promised to keep her secret about Draco from Ginny until then. She knew her friend wouldn’t let her get dressed for her big date that evening on her own if she knew and Harry agreed, taking pity on her.

When she arrived home, Perseus (she would have remembered it eventually if Draco hadn’t told her, she swore!) was waiting, sunning himself sleepily on her kitchen windowsill with a note.

Dearest Hermione,

I hope you know how much the last two days have meant to me, and how happy I am for any chance to spend time with you. I’ve made us reservations for 815pm but thought it might be fun to get a drink first. Shall I floo over to pick you up at 730?

-Your Draco

Hermione smiled, giddily excited, and sat down to write back, signing it the same way.

Draco,

Hello Handsome. I hope your day is going well and that knowing your feelings are reciprocated makes you smile, as your note made me smile. 730 sounds perfect; I’ll leave the floo open for you and wear something devastating, so be prepared.

-Your Hermione

She had the perfect dress in mind, too…

Chapter Text

Hermione smoothed out the black bandage dress and checked her makeup one more time; she’d bought the dress in Paris for an ungodly amount of money given that she had no occasion for it in mind - and it was certainly the kind of dress that one buys for an occasion; thankfully, for once she had been a capricious shopper and let Pansy get her way, because for tonight, it was beyond perfect. With a light smokey eye, bronzer on her tanned cheekbones and a 1940’s-esque cherry red lipstick charmed to last 12 hours, her face was done. She was leaving her hair down, she decided, since the right potions and its long length had made her hair more ‘wild and sexy curls’ these days rather than the bushy frizz of her youth, thank Merlin, and she was rather proud of it.

Her only nod to dressing up her jewelry for the evening was switching out her usual gold knot stud earrings for the diamond studs her Grandmother Windsor had given her for her fifteenth birthday - her 'go-to' earrings for all special occasions because diamonds go with everything. She was just stepping into her second sky-high red-bottomed heel and brushing perfume behind her second ear when she heard the floo activate. Perfect timing…

Smirking to herself and grabbing her clutch bag, Hermione walked out of her bedroom to see the world’s most handsome wizard standing in her hall in a fitted cut, obviously bespoke black muggle suit and his jaw unashamedly on the floor, like a stunned James Bond.

“Hello you.”

“…Wow…”

“You too.” She smirked harder if that were possible, quirking her eyebrow at him; his reaction made her feel just so… deliciously smug. She knew how good she looked, but the look on his face was a lovely affirmation, indeed, from a man who’d never openly admired her before - quite the opposite, in fact - until recently.

And she… She’d been dead inside, since forever it seemed, but his letter, him looking at her like that… she suddenly felt so fucking alive and it was intoxicating, it was a high feeling beautiful for him, and she bloody-well deserved it.

Draco had never seen a more naturally beautiful, sexy witch, nor imagined Hermione Granger to own a dress like… that. He wasn’t sure he remembered how speaking worked, looking at her in it. Hermione just smiled, feeling truly beautiful for the first time in a long time, or ever, maybe, in the eyes of the person she desired in return. It was intoxicating, and she'd swear her magic was humming with excitement for tonight.

“You have ten more seconds to stare, then you can either kiss me or take me to dinner. Preferably both.” She smirked some more with her cherry lips and squinted with her long, blackened lashes and totally, completely and utterly owned him.

He didn’t need to be told twice, sauntering up to her and sliding his hand around her waist, the other plunging into her hair to tilt her head back. Her curves were beyond comprehension and it took all his willpower not to get entirely lost in the moment and skip dinner altogether. He kissed her slowly, languidly even, as he held her tight against him, his tongue stroking hers in a way that made her melt and whimper, eventually ending the kiss with a soft, guttural ‘hmm’. Draco then took another minute to appreciate the visual up close, the feel of her in his arms, and get himself together before trying for words or using his brain. The witch was intoxicating… and she made his magic hum.

“I, em, brought you a gift… I’m hoping you’ll let me put it on you before we leave.” He murmured, still holding her, still a bit fuzzy. The idea of letting her go just yet felt almost cruel.

“Hmm… I just might. I am a sucker for presents, actually.” Hermione admitted, knowing this would surprise him. She was right.

“Really? Here I thought I’d have to beg you to let me spoil you the way I want to… Are you saying you’re… amenable, to such attentions?” His fingers brushed up her back as his low, sexy voice was destroying her knickers.

“Yup.” She grinned, making him chuckle and pull her a little closer, just because. Despite the discomfort in his trousers, he felt happiness on a level that was almost too bizarre.

“Well… This gift I brought you is rather significant to what we spoke about the other night. After yesterday, speaking for myself, I am more sure than ever about us, but it is not only about what I think. So… let me ask you one more time. Are you still sure about this, with me? Letting me court you, going out and being photographed so everyone in our world sees how I look at you… like you’re mine? That’s what this present will say, so if you’d prefer, we can wait, it doesn’t need to be rushed…”

Hermione wondered if it would be weird to request a moment to run back to her bedroom for a change of knickers altogether… because him just saying all that was enough to turn her into a submissive, soaked, begging puddle of desperate romantic fuck-me-now-ness… wow…

“I’m sure, Draco… and please consider this my official request for you to stop asking… because I’m sure.”

Draco looked at her for a few seconds, her eyes like fire whiskey, and took a breath. He didn’t deserve her, but… he’d never take this gift for granted. Nodding, he reluctantly took his hand off that perfect spot where her lower back and her arse met and reached into his inside jacket pocket, pulling out a long, skinny velvet box and watched her reactions carefully.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but… culturally speaking, the way a wizard like me would announce to both you and to the world that I’m truly serious in my intentions with you… that I am courting you with the intent to marry you, is with a bracelet chosen from my family vaults. I consulted both my mother and a very scary goblin curse breaker named Bog at Gringott’s this morning and, after being told I am both sappy and indecisive by both, though apparently ultimately have acceptable taste… I chose this one… hoping you’ll like it, that it isn’t ‘too much’. It seemed like you, to me… but…”

He’d been nervous and not meeting her eye by about halfway through that explanation, but before Draco could open the box he’d felt her hands on his face and her mouth on his again, rendering him defenseless and speechless and once again under her spell. She tasted like mint toothpaste and a hint of chocolate and tea… and he sighed, the kiss turning into him smiling against her smile.

“Sorry… I interrupted you.” Hermione blinked a few times, trying to sound like she really meant it and hiding her smile badly, if at all.

“Yes… I’m so insulted by your lack of decorum and manners. Terrible… Perhaps I’ll just keep it.”

“What?!” He grinned, chuckling at how easy that was… too easy, really, enjoying her swat against his arm in retaliation for teasing, neither of them even a bit serious… just happy. He wondered if it would always be even half this fun. He huffed out a laugh and mustered some courage, watching her eyes twinkling at him, and opened the box; he watched the twinkling eyes widen, rise to meet his, then promptly abandon his in favor of the sparkly-sparkles. Phew… This had been such a fucking gamble… but with the guarantee of front-page press coverage and what she’d said about wanting people to know she ‘meant it’… he wanted her to know he did too, and that she deserved the world. And damned if he didn’t want to spoil her like this… and make her make that very strange and adorable little squeaking noise she just made… that was… adorable…

“Do you like it?” He asked hesitantly. The look of ‘Are you a moron?!’ made him inclined to think yes, she did. He’d chosen yellow gold over platinum or white gold since that’s all he could ever remember her wearing in all the times he’d looked longingly from afar - it made sense with her coloring, too… The bracelet was a stunner, far more literally so than if he had given such a gift to her back in their school days when she would have been young and not ready for such large stones on a daily basis. His mother had helped him narrow it down to three choices and this was the only one with just diamonds, but he’d felt good about his pick in the end, it was classic and diamonds go with everything. The staggered pear shaped stones jutting out in alternating left-right were perfect color and clarity and just under .75 karats each. Lifting the bracelet from where it was nestled against the navy satin of the jewelry box, it felt like the first step toward what could be his whole future with her, glittering and reflecting in her wide, happy eyes. It was a surreal moment.

“Draco, my gods… I… love it… I… I love it.” Hermione was stunned. She’d expected more peonies, maybe… She vaguely remembered hearing about courtship bracelets at school and thinking the entire practice was barmy, but… nope, it was awesome and amazing and whoever said differently was stupid. She kissed his obviously thrilled, puppy-dog grinning face quickly and held out her wrist, watching with awe as he happily put it on for her, dealing with the delicate clasp rather admirably she thought. Must be all the practice with fiddly cufflinks… She’d never mention it - it was crass - but she knew for a fact she was wearing at least fifty-thousand galleons-worth of diamonds on her wrist like it was no big thing… Her wrist was about to become a Wizarding World celebrity in its own right. She took a small moment with herself to analyze that being insane and moved on.  Once her identity was made public she’d have to get used to stuff like this… (It was insane… but she was good! She was fine… She had Draco…)

“You look so beautiful tonight, and now you’re wearing this, with that dress…” Draco murmured, running his finger lightly over the inside of her wrist before putting it down but looking her in the eye. “How did I get so lucky…” She cut him off with another kiss, letting herself indulge one more time before promising herself she’d be the adult, stop kissing him and care about dinner, any minute now; it was just so easy to melt into him when he looked at her like that, apparently, and the man really was the world’s sexiest kisser, Holy Merlin…

“Thank you… for my present.” She managed. “I think we should go show everyone how proud I am to wear it… and I think being a bit insufferable while we’re out and about, too, might be fun.” Hermione quirked her eyebrow and smiled, issuing him a challenge.

“I’m very glad you like it, since I like you in it…” Draco dragged his nose along the shell of her ear, dying a little with the scent of her perfume. “Insufferable, hmm? Yes, yes that might be fun… After all, Granger, we’ve never done that together… imagine how successful we could be as a team.” He grinned down at her, liking her mischief. “Alright, before I officially get too carried away… Ready to go then?”

Taking one more appreciative look at her, head-to-toe, and shaking his head a little with a grin, Draco took Hermione’s hand and lead her toward the floo.

The hottest new restaurant in Wizarding London was Elysium and reservations were needed months in advance, so how Draco had managed to get them, Hermione didn’t know, yet it also didn’t surprise her; he was Draco Malfoy, after all, and if he wants a corner table for a fashionably late reservation last minute, but of course, sir, right this way!

Because it suited their purposes, the couple flooed into The Asp & Adder Club first, an exclusive members-only bar known for its privacy, single-batch muggle whiskey cocktails, imported cigars and warm atmosphere that was just around the corner from the restaurant. Hermione had heard of it but never been; unless you were a member or a member’s guest, the Asp & Adder was a mystery on the inside.

“Despite your many distractions prior to our departure, we have about forty minutes before our reservation if you’d like to have a drink here, or we could at the restaurant’s bar, too. Whichever you’d like.” His voice murmuring against her ear as they walked from the receiving room into the dimly lit lounge gave Hermione a little shiver. Between the name of the establishment and the decor, this place screamed ‘sex’ and ‘Slytherin’ to her, making her wonder if any of the deep mahogany doors that stood out so beautifully against the dark green walls led to activities involving leather…

“Hermione?” Draco was fascinated to know where her mind was with the way she hadn’t answered but was biting her lip like that… fuck…

“Hmm? Oh… A cocktail here sounds nice.”

“You’re blushing, darling. Do tell.” He couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself, it really was terribly forward. What the bloody hell material was this dress made of, anyway? Even if his hands had the gentlemanly intentions of staying put, they’d slide somewhere ungentlemanly anyway! Not that she seemed to mind… she seemed to curl into it like a cat, in fact…

“Nothing. No, I’m not. Not blushing.”

Draco cocked his head, wondering how far to push it. He could see that she knew he wasn’t teasing her, though, not in a bad way. This was safe banter. He worried about that, but they were good here, he would just need to always be sure she knew, that’s all… “Yes you are, and you’re going to tell me exactly what naughtiness you were thinking about, too… Come on, let’s get you a drink, Minx.”

She growled a bit under her breath, but with another of her sexy smirks. “What, Veritaserum Martini?” She teased, enjoying his dark chuckle.

“I’ll hardly need to use such a coercive tactic here. You want to tell me.”

She refused to dignify that with an answer and instead looked around a bit more. The club was stunning, really, with dark colors yet the tones were rich and the atmosphere warm. She let him order something for her and reveled in the feeling of his arm secure around her hip, his fingers rubbing in absent little patterns.

“What are we toasting to, Draco?” She asked when he handed her something the color of her eyes with ice, a cherry and a tiny straw in an Art Deco-style whiskey glass. His drink looked far more masculine and far less delicious, though the glassware was similar.

“Hmm… two things. The future…” This seemed like a good, romantic toast, and he got the melty romantic smile he wanted. “…and all the naughty things I’ll do to you to make you blush so pretty for me. Yes, just like that. Cheers, darling.” Draco winked at her and smiled, the perfect rake, smugly sipping his whiskey as he waited to see how she would respond to his challenge. He got the narrowed eyes and flared nostrils of her perfect, pert little nose… even a huffed little breath. And a smirk.

Draco liked this game very much.

Hermione sipped what had to be the most delicious concoction of… something, she hadn’t a clue since she hadn’t listened when Draco had ordered it for her… sipped and narrowed her eyes at him. He was obviously trying to either kill her or genuinely testing how much fire he could play with before getting burned to death himself - either way, she deeply regretted not replacing her knickers before leaving because two could play this game and she was notoriously rather competitive and not a fan of losing.

“Cheers, baby… to both those things.” She took a second sip, smiling. Daring him to say more.

“Tell me what it was… when we walked in.” Draco felt he deserved a medal for keeping one hand on his drink on the bar. If he were a lesser man he’d be sitting in a chair forcing this confession while she straddled his lap but no, Draco Malfoy was a gentleman. That didn’t mean he couldn’t stare at her lips while she talked though… painted that sinful shade of red like that fucking cherry floating in her drink.

Hermione rolled her eyes playfully, not being able to remember the last time she was this turned on or in tune with anyone. Probably never, she realized… definitely never, in fact, which is probably why she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face for more than a few seconds at a time. “Fine… This room… The color scheme, the decor… The frankly bizarre number of unlabeled doors leading to who-knows where… the first thought I had was ‘Slytherin Sex Club’ and that whatever lay beyond those doors ought to involve riding crops… for some reason.” She shrugged, casually sipping her drink, enjoying watching him choke on his. “Baby, you okay?” She asked in an exaggerated sexy-girl voice, positively dripping with... concern.

“You… are going to be the death… of me…” Draco choked.

“Ohhh… but what a way to go, right?” She cooed in his ear, laughing. He was floored, his teasing having totally backfired in the best way, but surprising nonetheless.

“Finish your drink before you finish me off, hmm? I’d like to feed you at least once before the BDSM starts…”

Hermione, smug in her uncontested victory in that round of flirting, pulled him in to kiss her again, wanting to taste his drink and to gloat a bit. She could tell he’d been taken off guard by her more than a few times so far this evening and while she felt no guilt - she was being herself - she also felt happy to kiss it better, so to speak.

After she pulled away and smiled up at him, Draco took a minute to just look… again. Just look down at her and be wowed, happy for the anonymity of their surroundings to enjoy a bit of possessive leering. He thumbed lightly against the sensitive skin of her inner wrist again, marveling at how much her wearing his bracelet affected him, lifting it to press a kiss there lightly before squeezing her hand.

“Come on, Princess… let’s go show ‘em, hmm?”

“Yours.” She said, her face completely serious as she looked into his eyes, humbling him to his core. He kissed her, hard, and led her outside to feed the sharks.

"Mine."

It was Saturday night in a particularly trendy area of Wizarding London in early summer, so several outlets were sure to be skulking about looking for exactly this kind of couple to pounce on as well as whatever press would be covering the door to the big name eateries, galleries or events. For the first time in both their lives, being prime targets for paparazzi was not a bad thing and both Hermione and Draco found themselves grinning like fools as they exited The Asp & Adder into the evening air, ready to brave the two blocks South to their dinner reservation and whoever they might come across on the way.

They knew the two of them together would be newsworthy enough, their whole 'Star-Crossed Lovers' story practically wrote itself...

But with Hermione having been out of the headlines completely for the past year, and Draco having been in Venice for the two and a half years of his Mastery program and then being rather a recluse the past eight months since his return, the media and the public were starving for gossip on both of them… alone, sure… but together?! They knew it would likely cause a riot of society-section frenzy and they were more than happy to perform for the cameras. In fact, they were each practically buzzing with mischief, ready to enjoy being an insufferably, defiantly happy couple right out in the open.

Hermione was of course wearing what could only be described by reporters - or anyone with eyes - as a devastatingly sexy dress, sky-high heels and a priceless diamond courtship bracelet. This was not the Hermione Granger the public remembered - this one was sexier, more sophisticated, and very mysterious after being out of sight for a year. Draco was of course wearing his signature perfectly-tailored suit - no tie tonight, though - as if Hermione had influenced him to ‘not always be so formal’ and ‘unbutton a bit,’ the papers might say.

As they neared the restaurant, there was a red carpet and a long line to get in to the club located in the underground floors; media was everywhere, capturing who went to what VIP section with who or what famous person dined with what other famous person. The pair smirked a little before pretending the flashbulbs of the paparazzi were a surprise that they just hadn’t expected at all. They’d heard whispers immediately after leaving The Asp and all along the route as people recognized them, paying them no mind, eyes only for each other. When the first questions from reporters started coming, they were of course very gracious, mostly outright ignoring them but picking out the few they found palatable or advantageous.

“Mr. Malfoy! Miss Granger! Is it serious?!” Some reporter from the Trades that had always been fair to them both asked in a pleasant but loud and hopeful voice.

Draco paused, ignoring the rapid click-click-click and flashing of photos being taken of them as he smiled with pure love and devotion at Hermione. She nodded for him to go ahead and answer, her hand resting on his chest with her bracelet twinkling. “Very, Thomas… And you can print that, all day long.” Draco kissed her, giving her one more look head-to-toe and a hum of appreciation before they were ready to move on. The reporter’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline as he watched the couple walk past. This... this was news.

“Tomorrow is going to be so fun…” Hermione giggled into his arm. Draco hummed in agreement; he felt like the king of the world.

Hermione paused, recognizing a reporter from Witch Weekly. “Miss Granger! Who designed your dress?!” The girl was young, a Ravenclaw from the year behind them. Susie Something? She and Draco let her wave them over to the red carpet to get a posed photo.

“Herve Leger… Muggle designer. Susie, right?”

“Holy Merlin you remember me…” The girl squeaked.

“It’s good to see you again, Susie. Keep in touch.” Hermione winked and kept walking.

“You’re very good at this… And by the way, just as an… aside, I hope you won’t mind when I buy that muggle’s entire bloody collection of sinful dresses… forever.” Draco drawled in her ear as she chuckled.

“Happy to hear you’re not immune to my charms, Mr. Malfoy... and feel free, the man makes them in every color and neckline.”

Draco groaned imagining the possibilities. He wanted to eat her… intimately, but instead, he put those thoughts away for later like a good boy and lifted their hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles while looking lovingly at her, her bracelet sparkling perfectly and right on cue for the flashbulb. “Immune? No… More like if Amortentia were a person and highly addictive… truly there is no witch more beautiful, more sexy than you… I fear this condition is lifelong for me.”

Hermione softened, running her fingers through his hair as he leaned down to kiss her, not even remembering to be aware when another flash went off. Draco looked up, smiling with her as one very happy photographer was scurrying off after getting the kiss shot - likely to file it for the next morning’s papers.

“I hope it is lifelong, Mr. Malfoy, because you’re rather irresistible…” Hermione smirked, enjoying the night immensely already.

“Mmm. As are you, Princess, trust me.” Draco dragged his eyes from her long enough to let the doorman acknowledge and let them in.

They’d stood around being admired long enough. The staring that the couple got upon entering the restaurant was immediate and much more pronounced than the street; the din of voices seemed to pause in shock, then rose audibly and Hermione visibly preened under the arm of Draco Malfoy at the hostess stand. Knowing they couldn’t rule out the possibility of photographers inside the restaurant was annoying, but Draco had been assured no surprises at least. They wanted publicity, yes, but not the Rita Skeeter negative-on-purpose kind.

Draco was happier in those moments of standing around and waiting for the hostess than he could remember being in years; it somehow felt like they’d made a decision that this was it and they could just be together, not caring what anyone said or how fast it felt, the two were glued to one another and thrilled about it. Their table was in the back and a bit more private than the main dining room, so no one in the packed restaurant failed to see them as they strolled through, so obviously on a romantic date. They were both snickering like 3rd Years by the time they sat down.

“Did you see the Flints?!” Draco choked as he scooted into the corner booth next to her. “They were right as we came in, Marcus Flint from two years above us and his parents…”

“What? With the teeth?! No… I must have missed them. Why?”

“Yes, him! Marcus looked like he was having an aneurysm when he saw you…” Draco was laughing so hard that he couldn’t breathe and it was contagious. “When he noticed you were with me, I think he actually died, Hermione!”

“What?! Why?” She was laughing but not entirely sure why, but his laugh was so funny that she couldn’t help it.

“Because! Granger, you were the hottest girl in our year, everyone knew it, but you refused to dress like it… you get that, right?”

“Umm… what?” Now she was confused.

“Oh, Merlin, we need wine…”

Ten minutes later, with a glass of 400 Galleon Bordeaux in her hand and a look of total fascination, Hermione was having this explained in better detail while they waited for their goat cheese salad and tuna tartar. “So, Marcus over there - May he rest in peace…”

“Indeed, my condolences to… his friends and family.” Hermione said solemnly.

“He was having an aneurysm because you, my sexy, sexy witch… look like that now… and I can say, with confidence, that suspecting you were incredibly hot but not having seen you since school, and then seeing you tonight, wearing… that… yes, aneurysm. Following now?” He genuinely thought he was making sense. It was adorable.

“I want to tell you something but… don’t, at the same time.” She mused, smiling and sipping some of the best wine she’d ever tasted.

“That’s ominous. Tell me.”

“When you’re smug, but it’s about… me, some sortof possessive smugness about me being yours and me being hot… it’s really cute and bizarrely attractive, sexually speaking. Our entire childhood, though? Your smugness was abhorrently off-putting. Not right now though! Right now I’m into it! Huzzah.” She toasted him, grinning as he threw his head back and laughed. Draco leaned over and kissed her neck, a smooch and a little bite before just saying ‘mine’ in her ear with a laugh as she playfully shoved him away.

“Shall I tell you something in return? I can’t say I’m reluctant, but it’s still something.” He smiled, sitting back with his own wine and his arm loosely around her on the back of the booth’s cushioning… his fingers lightly brushing against her shoulder and upper arm.

“I’m listening.”

“Our appetizers aren’t even here yet, the night is young, and… I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun with anyone.” He said, simply and honestly and with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“Me too. Never have… It’s how I’m so sure.”

“The fun?” He asked honestly, wondering if they meant the same thing.

“The fun, yes… but also how you make me feel safe… feel desired… feel like what I’m saying is actually interesting, like I don’t have to dumb myself down but instead you challenge me… you make me feel… something I always hoped existed but thought… maybe… didn’t. But…”

“But it does.” He understood, because yes, yes… exactly. Draco nodded, kissing her slowly and tasting the wine on her lips.

He pulled away gently and stroked her cheek. "I'm so grateful... so happy you're taking this chance with me, Hermione. I've dreamed of this for so long."

She smiled, reaching up to cover his hand with her own. "I'm grateful that you took a chance, Draco, and sent me that letter. It meant everything to me. This isn't one-sided... it never has been."

He looked as though he could hardly process how happy her words made him. How emotional.

"To us?" She asked, toasting him.

Nodding and blinking quite a lot as he bent to kiss her cheek, Draco clinked her wine glass gently. "Absolutely."

They chatted and shared secret smiles and bites of each other’s appetizer, enjoying the people watching from their vantage point in the corner. Every excuse to touch was taken and Draco seemed unable to resist occasionally kissing the inside of Hermione’s wrist, on the sensitive skin near where her bracelet lay. “Did I hear you say you had some help picking this out?” She murmured, trying not to give in to the urge to commit public indecency while they were at dinner.

“Hmm? Yes, I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t quite trust myself and asked my mother’s opinion. I also wanted to give you a bracelet that would protect you… hence the assistance of Bog.”

“Wait, I thought you said Bog was a curse breaker…”

“The Gringott’s curse breakers also investigate and can usually adjust all magic imbued on items like family jewelry, and I wanted to ensure the piece I gave you came with specific protections and charms on it. This bracelet will deflect most curses, hexes, ill-intent like pickpocketing or even accidental magic. It will help keep you safe… It can tell me if you’re in danger, just press and hold the clasp for three-seconds, it will tell me where you are, so I can get to you… Only you or I can remove it. Oh! And I made sure to also put an extra charm on it so it won’t snag your jumpers, I know you love your jumpers, so don’t worry about that with the shape of the stones or settings with the pointy prong thingies, I made absolutely sure with that one.”

Hermione went from ‘about to cry’ to bursting out laughing at the ridiculous thoughtfulness of the last one. She grabbed his face and smooched him once, twice, loud and smacking and grinning. “Thank you. You are… you’re so thoughtful. You’re amazing.”

“The jumpers thing was what made this one almost a no-go… I came up with it last minute because I really wanted this one to be the winner. It was down to three contestants and we were there way too long… Mum was quite patient but I thought Bog was going to murder me.”

Hermione giggled. “And your mother… she was fine with this?” She asked, hesitant to broach the topic.

“Bloody thrilled, are you crazy? She had to listen to me whinge about you all through school but could never encourage it, despite wishing she could since she knew how I felt and wanted me to be happy… My mother never believed like my father did. My father had to un-learn it all, after the war, you know… but Mother just never believed to begin with.”

“It’s like you’re speaking Chinese.” Hermione was baffled. His parents… approved? Was it because he told them about… her other life? Lucius, at least, would need something like that if he was ever going to accept a muggleborn witch as a daughter-in-law… “I mean… I imagined your mother might, might come to one day accept me maybe… Though I imagined all sorts of tests I’d have to pass, like… passive-aggressive high tea and choosing the ‘right’ robes for a gala while she looked over my shoulder or something… But are you telling me that your father has seen the proverbial light on blood prejudice?! You’re having me on…”

It was a risky moment for a joke, but he went for it anyway and answered at length in Mandarin, then casually sipped his wine like he hadn’t just done that.

She stared at him cooly for a moment, refusing to acknowledge the move and letting him squirm, not knowing if he’d annoyed her or not. It was satisfying but she couldn’t hold out long. “If I didn’t find you speaking other languages so incredibly super hot, that would have been over the line on sass, Mr. Malfoy.” She replied after he began to look nervous. “Care to translate?” She sounded mildly pissed, so despite her admission of finding it hot, he decided to be a good boy.

“Yes, he has… the Wizengamot sentence he received mandated community service as well as seeing a mind-healer… both were rather helpful with that, and other things. He has been doing both for nearly four years and has another year and a few months left, though if I'm honest I think he might stick with both voluntarily beyond the requirement. There's more to it, obviously, but I promise you... Yes, darling, he has.”

“Huh… And was Lucius also in on this morning’s visit to the bank?” Hermione asked, her voice a bit icy still but her hand in his as their waiter delivered a second bottle of wine and cleared the first course.

“Hermione, look at me…” Draco could feel anxiety and worry rolling off her in waves the moment his father was brought up. He cupped her cheek and felt her relax under his hands, making him never want to let her go. “The moment you told me you’d give me this chance, you became my priority, no, listen to me… This bracelet, remember what I said to you? What does it mean?”

He felt her breathing even out as she answered him, showing him he was doing the right thing in reassuring her. He’d almost chickened out but she was too important.

“Intent… Desire and intent… You desire to court me with the intent to marry me.” Saying it out loud felt enormous and lovely… wow.

“That’s right… and as a husband, a partner, you would be my highest priority in all matters. Your comfort, your happiness, your safety and your dreams… This bracelet is about my desire to make all those things come true for you, every day, for the rest of your life. You before everyone and anyone and all things. I love my parents, and that is the type of husband they raised me to be. I’ve grown up… I’ve picked my bracelet because I’ve picked my witch. Allow me to always pick you!

"That’s first… but also… to answer your question, because I know you’ll not rest until you have an answer, yes, my father is aware, though I haven’t explained your family to them yet. And yes, he’s fine with it, knowing you as the Wizarding World currently knows you. He may not take out a full-page ad in the Prophet in celebration like my mother, but he truly is happy for me. For us. And in no way disappointed.”

It was, by a million miles, the most romantic thing she could have imagined him saying to her about the damned bracelet… about a marriage. And a lot to take in about Lucius Malfoy. She thought, maybe if Draco looked at her like that much longer she might cry and not have a clue why, though… she needed to snap out of it. Sensing this, he kissed her. It was sweet, and he tucked her hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek.

“So if you didn’t explain my family yet, we still don’t know the mystery behind Gran and your mum, then?” She asked.

“Not yet… but we will.”

Draco poured her another glass of wine and their entrees arrived, effectively giving them the perfect chance to change the subject.

“I got some work news today.” Draco ventured, knowing she was interested in his work but still feeling shy about it overall.

“Ohmigod tell me immediately!” Her eyes lit up like Christmas and he felt amazing. She acted like he was a hero and it made him feel like one…

“Well, remember Blaise Zabini? He was a friend of mine in our year.”

“Of course! Nice guy, perfect example of why the House system ruins the potential for good friendships. Do go on.” She grinned.

“Wait, what?! Explain.” He was adorably perplexed.

Hermione laughed. “Unlike a certain devilishly handsome blonde Slytherin currently staring down my dress - don’t stop, I like it - guys like Blaise were never jerks to me. They just couldn’t be my friend, either. It was stupid.” She shrugged, making the view down her dress that much more interesting for a second.

“Uh-huh… Do that, with your shoulder, again…” Draco playfully leered at her, making her laugh.

“What about him? And here, try this…” She offered him a bite of her fillet, which was amazing.

“Oooh… That’s yum. Alright, fair’s fair.” Hermione squirmed with happiness, the scallop he was feeding her having been her goal in the first place.

“Minx… Where was I? Blaise, right… fuck, woman, watching you eat should be illegal…” Hermione smirked, chewing happily. “Ugh, anyway, Blaise is one of the healers that also works in research at St. Mungo’s. He owled me this afternoon that I have a really good chance of getting another clinical trial approved this fall for one of my experimental treatments, something new we’ve been working on for months. The Board is voting on Monday.”

“Oh my gods, Draco… so fast?! You’re amazing! Tell, tell… what is it for?”

“Umm… Okay so, you grew up seeing muggle doctors, right? Before Hogwarts?” He asked, feeling awkward, she could tell.

“Yes, silly… I still see them for some things. Stop feeling weird and remember it’s me, the person who feels the same about you as you do about me… okay? Does that make sense?” She smiled and squeezed his hand, watching a hundred emotions pass over his face.

“Okay… It’s hard to get my head around that sometimes, but… I’m trying. So, our world doesn’t need a lot of what muggle medicine uses, right, either our bodies aren’t susceptible to the maladies that muggle bodies are, like cancer, or we have magical, more efficient ways of solving medical issues like hangovers or headaches. But muggles are so brilliant with other things that it hasn’t even occurred to our world to see as solvable problems… reproductive healthcare, don’t get me started! But, if we’re sticking to the point of my current work here… it’s vaccines.” Draco blurted it all out, seemingly in only one or two breaths, stopping suddenly and waiting anxiously for her reaction.

“BLOODY BRILLIANT, DRACO! Talk MORE!” She was so impatient with him she thought she might turn violent; she’d never been so proud or curious or desperate to know more during a conversation in her life. She thought she might even combust - it was a distinct possibility.

“Umm… okay, yeah… here goes… I want to eradicate Dragon Pox in children.” Draco declared, like it was just the craziest thing anyone had ever said or thought of. She could tell he was about to list all the reasons why it was insane and could probably never work, but she cut him off.

“You can… you will, Draco. Oh Merlin you’re so brilliant… Do you need someone or have someone at the Ministry that liaises with the WHO? If not, I can help! I can help you research how the World Health Organization eradicated Small Pox, I can help you understand how muggle scientists use vaccination in children to end a disease completely, whatever you need! Tell me how to help you… you’re the scientist, I know muggle things and libraries and work for the government.” She felt almost maniacally passionate about how amazing he was in wanting to do this, and she felt so sure he could do it… her absolutely BRILLIANT wizard.

Draco took a deep breath, grinning at her, and told her all about it. The months of test tubes and petri dishes, how this would be the first vaccine in the wizarding world if successful and… it worked in the lab, now all that was left was convincing the Board of St Mungo’s to approve the trial of what was, at its roots, a muggle technology. That was the biggest hurdle, even more than the medicine, and doubt might overcome data if it isn’t presented right.

“So you’re presenting it on Monday yourself, then?”

“Yes… along with Blaise and two other researchers… I sortof wish one of them was muggleborn and had been vaccinated as a child for something like you were, but as luck would have it, no one on the staff was, nor the Board.”

“Umm. Contrary to my outburst from a moment ago, I truly don’t want to butt into your work, love, but… I don’t mind answering people’s questions about that sort of thing, babe, truly.”

“Really? It isn’t… racist?” The look on his face was so pained with worry that he might be holding her up as his token muggleborn for science, it was sad and adorable and sweet.

“Oh honey… no, it’s fine. Racism, pretending for a moment that term is even correct, implies you finding me inferior, not you needing me to help you eradicate tragic childhood diseases. We’re good, love, I promise. You’re amazing.”

“You’re teasing me; are you teasing me? I’m terrified of hurting you like that and don’t know how to say things!”

“I’m not! I’m serious… Darling we can’t educate them without the answers… I have the answers, isn’t that what we’re saying?”

“Yes… but I don’t like using you like that.”

“You’re not… I love the idea of being able to help. I get to pop in and be a Know-It-All… I’m so good at that…” She comforted him with an exaggerated voice and he growled playfully at her.

“If you’re sure you don’t mind, it could really help.”

“I thought I told you to stop asking if I was sure.” She purred, pushing her fingers into his hair as he bent to kiss her, once again neither of them noticing as their plates were cleared and dessert menus dropped off.

“Want to split something sweet with me?”

He was lost in her, moreso every time they kissed. His hand had lingered here and there on her thigh all night, but somewhere during that last kiss her legs had ended up across his lap and stayed there, the rounded shape of their corner booth allowing them that comfort. He couldn’t keep his hands off her, sweeping slowly over the curves that should be bloody illegal as he stared at her gorgeous face.

“Whatever you want, Princess.”

Hermione smirked. “Chocolate lava cake… and an espresso.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at that; it was late. “Not planning on sleeping tonight?” He asked after the waiter took the order.

“Not without you.”

Draco really really really had planned to wait… he was opening his mouth to explain all about it when she held up a hand.

“No. I know… but… no.”

“No?”

“I know what you’re going to say, but my argument is better.” She explained plainly. Draco laughed.

“Ohhhh, well… if you say so… Sorry, why is that, though? Just for curiosity’s sake.” He teased.

“Because we’re us.” Something about the way she looked at him made him understand. They were different… everything about this was different, everything about how they were together, felt about each other, their history, their chemistry… it was different.

The waiter brought the cake and Hermione’s espresso and asked if they needed anything else.

Draco looked at Hermione for a second before he answered, “Could we please have one more espresso and the check, please? Thank you.”

“This cake is amazing…” Hermione smirked, offering a spoonful.

“Oh holy fuck… yes it is…” Draco was almost alarmed at how good it was, in fact. “Wipe that smirk off your face or you’ll get a spank as the first of our naked activities.” He warned, pointing his spoon at her.

“Don’t threaten me with good ideas…” She squirmed in his lap, making him outrageously hard for her and hiss in frustration.

“Merlin, woman, are you trying to be cruel, now? I’ve been good for hours…” Draco risked her ire and ran his hand up her inner thigh, squeezing as he got higher and watching her face get needier and grumpier. “Yes, see? Frustrating, isn’t it?”

Hermione wiggled again and took a huge bite of cake, doing sinful things to her spoon while Draco’s lungs ceased to work. The waiter, who seemed thrilled to be getting rid of them, brought their check and promptly fled the area. Draco paid, leaving an obscenely large tip, and downed his espresso.

“Are you finished fellating that spoon, Princess?” He asked sweetly, eyes on her mouth.

“Hmm… I suppose I could switch to something else. We can go if you want to.” She said innocently, driving him mad and loving it.

He nearly dragged her, though they were both laughing, and she apparated them from the lobby to her flat.

He was on her immediately, his lips on hers, consuming her like a drug, like air. Hermione pushed his jacket off his shoulders and threw it and her clutch bag onto the sofa and pulling him backward, down the hall toward her bedroom.

Draco towered over her just enough and the flat was enormous enough that he decided to be smart and scooped her up. The ridiculous dress she wore was so tight she couldn’t spread her legs - he’d learned that under the table - so he scooped her up literally bridal-style and snogged her as he walked.

Hermione felt a little niggle in the back of her mind that felt like guilt, or quite possibly self-doubt. When he set her down in her bedroom, still kissing her like it was what he was born on this earth to do, she had to just… ask. Real quick.

“Hey… hey, you… umm… you want this, right? I mean I feel like I coerced you into wanting me, or… this…”

Draco thought perhaps she’d lost her mind between the living room and bedroom and was making no sense. “What? Are you insane? Do you not feel how much I want you?” He breathed heavy, ragged breaths, pressing himself against her belly and breathing in her perfume and feeling as though he might die for want of her.

“I do… Merlin, I so fucking do, but you were going to argue, about staying, I saw it on your face at the restaurant, and I… was bratty… and I want you to want this, want me… not because I was bratty, though… if that makes any sense at all?” Hermione looked up at him hoping it did, because to her it sounded rather bananas out loud.

“Oh…” Draco kissed her, slower, softer, drawing out a moan from her that was nearly painful for him not to literally rut against. “I just am scared to lose this by somehow messing up… by moving too fast or… assuming. I feel so connected to you, though, it isn’t just the sex part of the… sex… I don’t know how to describe it.”

“I get it… Will you stay?” She hated the feeling of worrying that he wouldn’t.

“You want me to?”

“Yes… Tell me you want to.”
“I more than want to… let me see you? Gods Hermione I am desperate to see you and touch you… let me?”

“If you let me do the same.” Hermione began unbuttoning his shirt, both staying silent and watching each other until she tossed it onto the chair by the window. She turned around, moving her hair over one shoulder and revealing the zipper to her dress.

Draco huffed a breath in, realizing she stood in front of the full-length mirror now. He pulled the zipper down slowly, laving and biting her shoulder. When the zip was fully undone, Draco met her eyes in the mirror and unhooked her strapless bra at the same time, pushing everything forward, down and over her hips so it could drop to the floor in a heap around her heels. He snaked his arms around her front, turning her head toward him and kissing her deeply as his hand lingered around her throat, the other getting  a feel for the weight and shape of her perfect tits, the planes of her flat stomach. With her pressed back against his chest, he felt her hands reach behind her back to undo his belt without even breaking their kiss - it was impressive, really.

“Patience, Princess… or did you actually want that spanking?” He held her wrists behind her back and grinned as he kissed her, then groaned, feeling her grind her ass backward. “Naughty girl… fuck.”

Draco took a step back, letting her toss her dress and bra with his shirt and lose her heels, too. She had the most stunning tits… and a purple scar that looked like it should have killed her when it fucking ripped her torso in half, wrapping around the inside edge of the breast that covered her heart. It scared him knowing he’d almost lost her at some point he knew nothing about. Watching her sink down on her knees was almost too much, but when he went to object, the look she gave him brooked no argument.

Hermione wanted to see him, wanted to smell and taste; even if he only gave her a minute, she’d take it. She needed it. “Talk to me…” She murmured, taking his trousers and boxer briefs and lowering them, exposing him to her.

“You have no idea how good you look right now… how many times I’ve imagined this…”

Hermione took him in her hand and heard the hiss of his breath as she wrapped her lips around him, barely able to at first.

“Fuck… Hermione…”

“Hmmm…” She wrapped her hand around the base of his cock this time and positioned it more comfortably toward her face, sliding him slowly into her mouth and massaging the underside of the head with her tongue. Taking more the third time, she felt his hands delve into her hair and she moaned her approval, looking up through her lashes.

“Ahhh... gods, I... I fucking love this… I do… fuck, so much, but… please, baby, please let me have you? Please?” He sounded like he might die if he had to hold off coming in her mouth for long or on the assumption he might not get to fuck her - it was good for the ego, she’d admit it freely. She hollowed her cheeks and made a bit of a bratty, sad sound before letting him out of her mouth; she was a brat and didn’t care if he knew it, he’d taken her toy away! She pouted as she finished removing his trousers, making him step out of them for her before she’d allow him to help her up, but he liked it. As soon as she put her hand in his she was off the floor entirely, Draco using his strength and height as he hauled her up, leaving her legs to wrap around him as he clung to her, holding her tight against him and devouring her mouth as he stalked toward her bed.

Hermione hadn’t been with anyone in a long time, and he was bigger than anyone she’d been with, but she’d also never felt like this, been turned on like this, been wanted or taken care of or set on fire this way…

She was, in rather short order and with every stroke of his hands over her skin, coming to the conclusion that she had never had sex as good as the sex she was about to have…

And she also had a feeling that this was the forever sex, so it being amazing was really great news.

Fuck, these knickers were ruined. Good riddance. Maybe she’d frame them…

No, that was weird.

Her mind was all over the place - obviously - until it hit the mattress and was rather jolted back into focus.

Gods Merlin Circe fuck he was gorgeous…

“You are so beautiful…” It was funny, he said it, she thought it… did that count as Jinx?  “Can I take these?” He asked, his fingers trailing the lace edge of her thong panties as she nodded. Take ‘em, keep ‘em, it’s your fault they’re ruined…

“Let me taste you… please… it’s been killing me how badly I want to.” She quirked her eyebrow at his guttural begging as he came back from peeling away her panties to worshipping her inner thigh and looking up at her like please?! But she nodded. Hell, maybe this time she might even like it… and holy motherfucking hell she liked it yes she did she so did ohmygods…

Her abrupt transition from very quiet to sinful screaming seemed to please Draco immensely. “What’s that, darling? Tell me…”

“Draco, please, please don’t stop, I…”

He smiled, everything about her, her smell and her taste, her noises and faces, all better than every fantasy he’d ever had. He pushed a second finger inside, curling it and pressing it as he sucked her clit against his tongue and listened to her moan and scream until he had to hold her down as she came, so fucking perfect and so hard she nearly cried… he could have lived between his witch’s legs for fucking eternity, it was so fucking sexy.

“So… perfect… so beautiful when you come…” Draco sucked one of Hermione’s nipples into his mouth, massaging her other breast in his hand as he made his way up her chest to her neck, letting her come down from her high being told she was his perfect witch. “The way you scream… and shake… and shiver…” He whispered, trapping her wrists above her head and settling between her legs as she wrapped them around his waist, keening at his words and pressing her hips up to meet his, seeking him out. “The way you say my name… the way you beg…” He bit and licked her neck then captured her mouth, lining himself up and pressing inside. She’s too fucking tight… so perfect, too perfect… “Fuck, Hermione… so tight and wet for me… so perfect…” He reached down to lift her hip, opening her up to him better and letting him sheath himself completely as she gasped at the intrusion of how big he felt…too big… so full…

“Draco… fuck me…”  She whined, arching her back and severing whatever tether to control he still had.

“Fuck…” He interlaced their fingers over her head but the hand at her hip pushed that leg back toward her shoulder as he snapped his hips, dragging his pelvis over her clit and hitting her cervix hard. “You are so fucking tight it’s unreal… so perfect… taking my cock like such a good girl for me…”

“Ohhh fucckkkk…”

“You like that… being good for me… taking my cock so well… isn’t that right, darling? That you’re my good girl?”

“Fuck… yes…”

His words alone were going to make her come again, not to mention how good he felt… and he felt so fucking good, hitting places inside her she didn’t even know she had.

“And good girls should get to come… you’ve been so good for me…”

“Please please, I’m so close… I’ve been so good…”

Draco reached between them and circled her clit. “Come on my cock like a good girl… scream it all out, all over my cock like a good girl…” Oh and her screams and her pleading and her clenching his cock with her cunt was so perfect he lost himself in her, crying out her name into her neck as he came so hard he saw white at the edge of his vision.

Not long later, as they lay together tangled up and thinking their thoughts, she thought she ought to clarify something. It felt important.

“Just so you know… I mean, yes, alright I like being a good girl for you. Fine. Noted. I fucking loved it. However…”

Draco bit his lip so hard to keep from laughing out loud.

“However… I feel it is important to note that other times, likely more often in fact, it will be the opposite. And far more… vocal.”

Now that required more information. “I’m sorry, my love, can you elaborate?” He asked, grinning down at her where she rested on his chest.

Huffing in annoyance at herself that she couldn’t just let this go, even in her own head, Hermione scooted up to his shoulder. “I mean… whether it’s by you bending me over and punishing me with a thorough spanking and with your cock or me showing up at your lab, announcing that I’m a naughty, dirty girl and I need to bounce on your cock and call you ‘daddy’, I am far more likely to be bad… but… sometimes… I’ll still do whatever you say because I want to be good and be praised for how good I am. I pray to the altar of both those kinks.” Hermione settled back down, smirking to herself as she literally watched him get hard for her so fast from hearing that little mini-rant. It took less than five-seconds before he was - somehow - behind her, massaging her ass and tits.

“That… was a fascinating story… so many layers to you…” He sank his teeth into the area along her neck and shoulder, kissing and biting and massaging and generally making her moan obscenely. When he licked behind her ear and his hard cock slipped between her folds, getting slick, she bucked back against him. “Ahhh…mmm… you liked hearing confession, did you? That I like getting fucked from behind? That you can make good on that threat to spank me and know I’ll like it as much as you do?” Draco thrust hard inside her, hitting her cervix and it was so good. “Ahhh fuck… yes…” Suddenly on her knees, her face and shoulders still cradled on her pillow, Hermione felt Draco widen her stance as he gripped her hips, staying bottomed out, teasing her by grinding against her but denying her more.

“I can’t… hear you…” He groaned, pressing harder into her if that were even possible.

“Please! Please… I need it so bad…”

SLAP! “Nnnhgh!” He’d managed to both spank her hard and thrust once hard, at the same bloody time, leaving her gasping and fluttering around him as he again just ground his pelvis against her, buried to the hilt. “Please…”

SLAP! “FUCK! Yes…” SLAP! “FUCK ME!” SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! “Draco fuck! I’m… Oh gods…!” SLAP!

He never stopped fucking her throughout one of the most intense orgasms of her life; the only thing holding her up was his hands on her hips as soon as her pussy clamped down on his cock; he grunted in triumph while she screamed it into her pillow. The second it seemed she was coming down from it he ripped her pillow away, taking her right hand and putting it between her thighs as he lay her down flat, fucking her deeper as he draped his body over hers… Hermione was a rag doll, her clit grinding against her palm and Draco’s entire body covering hers as he fucked her deeper than she’d ever been fucked… his breath on her neck…

“You’re so fucking tight, Mi… like your cunt was made for me… is it mine? Does it belong to me? Tell me…” He whispered in her ear as he fucked her, literally rocking her into another orgasm faster than she would have thought possible.

“Fuck… Yesss… Yes it’s yours, only yours… take it… fucking TAKE IT…!” She cried, not in her right mind yet totally serious at the same time. She felt so connected to him, so perfect… this was so perfect…

Her answer must have been perfect because he literally growled in her ear and just fucked her harder, sinking his teeth into the tendon of her neck in that perfect spot to make her moan and arch her back. “Gods you moan like such a perfect little slut for me…” He gasped between biting her neck and earlobe. “Sounds like Baby’s needy… needs to come on my cock again… need me to fill her up…”

“Yes yes yes… oh gods yes please please fill me up I’m gonna come I’m gonna come oh godddsss I’m coming… I’m coming…”

“Fuuuuck…” Draco slammed into her, reaching underneath and pinching her nipple, hard, feeling her come undone around him as he came undone inside her, bucking wildly underneath him as she just kept screaming his name.

Chapter Text

Love Is In the Heir!

Malfoy Scion Gifts Heirloom Betrothal Bracelet to Newly Returned Golden Girl Hermione Granger

by Thomas Twilfit

Draco Malfoy, Heir to the Malfoy fortune and Master Potioneer was seen on Fleet Street Saturday night with Wizarding World Darling Hermione Granger on what can only be described as a VERY romantic evening. The couple began the night at the Asp & Adder Club for cocktails where an inside source said they looked nothing short of ‘completely in love’ before continuing on to Elysium for an intimate dinner.

Hermione Granger has been on sabbatical for the past year from her job at the ministry and many have wondered: Where has the Golden Girl been? Before her sabbatical, Miss Granger was the legislative right hand to Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, ensuring the agenda the Light fought for was not lost in the aftermath of war. Now that we can welcome her back to our shores, will she pick that mantle back up before the legislative session opens in two weeks? This writer hopes so. (As of printing, the Minister was unreachable for comment; in his most recently quoted interview, however, he described Miss Granger as ‘his administration’s most valuable asset and a close friend.’)

Draco Malfoy, meanwhile, spent three years post-Hogwarts getting a dual Mastery in Medicinal Potioneering and Innovative Medicine, studying under the world’s most renowned Potions’ Master in Venice, Hermani Saliano, best known for his invention of Skele-gro in the early 1980s as well as many other commonly used healing potions. Since returning to England just under one year ago, the reformed former Death-Eater has already put his first stamp on Pioneering Healing History with his own innovation: The first round of clinical trials for reversing the effects of the Cruciatus Curse have been deemed successful by St. Mungo’s Medical Board and Mr. Malfoy has been nominated for The Dagworth Award in Innovative Potions Healing at this year’s annual St. Mungo’s Charity Gala, held in October. Were he to win it, he would be the youngest recipient ever.

When reached for comment on this topic for another piece, St. Mungo’s Board CEO Hyperion Greengrass was quoted to say, “While I can’t say for sure anything about the award, that’s not my decision at all, I can say that I have never in all my years thought I’d see a cure like this… we’ve been able to reunite patients with their families that were here since the first Wizarding War. The boy has a true gift and St. Mungo’s is grateful he’s sharing it with us. He has a very bright future.” (For the article on Mr. Malfoy’s Potioneering Advancements and Career, see the cover of next month’s Magic Inc., a Prophet Publication.)

The couple caused quite a stir as they walked down Fleet Street Saturday evening, passing several journalists and photographers eager to know how the former school rivals, never before seen in public together, had become a couple. While they declined to give any full interviews, both were happy to answer the occasional question and say hello. When asked if their relationship was serious, Mr. Malfoy made the point of stopping and getting a nod from Miss Granger before answering, “Very… and you can print that, all day long.” His answer seemed to please Miss Granger immensely, as seen in photo A7, where Miss Granger can be seen sporting a traditional courtship bracelet confirmed to be a Malfoy family heirloom. (This author confirmed its removal from the Malfoy vaults was done that very morning, via a traditional visit with the family Matriarch.)

When speaking to Witch Weekly columnist Susie Selwyn, Miss Granger confirmed that her dress was designed by Herve Leger. According to Miss Selwyn, a younger classmate of the couple, she had never seen Miss Granger look happier. On behalf of this writer, I concur and can only add that it is a welcome sight after her years of sacrifice. Welcome Home, Miss Granger, and Congratulations to you both.

Draco could barely believe his eyes… he’d never read such good press in his life… and it was about himself! He knew being with Hermione would elevate his image but he frankly couldn’t have cared less about that in the grand scheme of how happy he was about just… being with her… and he was so used to terrible press about himself that he assumed that’s what would happen no matter what, at least… sort of! But this… Salazar’s balls… this was candied!

Merlin, his mother must have confirmed their vault visit, but with the caveat of not specifically being named as a source... that made him smile hard. The woman was such a Slytherin, planting the seeds of their approval in the public consciousness now so that she could Bombarda people with it later.

The article was also the first he was hearing of his award nomination… the list wasn’t supposed to even be announced for another week! He watched the photo loop of their kiss over and over, Hermione’s hand on his chest with her bracelet sparkling under the light of the street lamp… that photographer was good. Draco climbed back into bed, leaving the paper on the nightstand, easing back behind his very sexy and very naked witch who was just waking up and looking so… fuckable…

“Mmmmhey…”

“Mmm… Good morning, Princess. Sleep well?”

Hermione nodded, pulling him in for a kiss. She wasn’t sure who moaned first but the kiss never let up, he moved too smoothly for that to be necessary. Before she knew it he was between her thighs, her legs wrapped around his waist urging him inside as he palmed and squeezed her breast, torturing her nipple with his thumb. He swallowed her moans just she swallowed his. It was close and it was loving and it was slow, her orgasm drawn out until it became a second one, forcing his out of him when her legs tightened around him and wouldn’t let go.

“Mmmmm… fuuuck… You’re like a drug, you know that?” Draco murmured, kissing her jaw and moving to shift his weight off of her, only to be met with locked ankles and a bratty noise of denial.

“Mm-mm, no, I like your weight on me… it’s… hmfft… I just… like it… Don’t move… not yet?”

“Aren’t I crushing you?” Draco murmured in her ear, a bit worried for her lungs.

“No…” She was tracing random patterns on his back with her fingertips and he was so comfortable it felt criminal so… he was thrilled. As long as she could breathe, he was happy to oblige the lady. He just nuzzled and kissed absently along her neck and collar bone and jaw, basking in how unexpected life was… how perfect… she was perfect…

“You’re so beautiful…” He murmured against her skin. Hermione smiled a little sadly. She’d wasted years on men who’d put her down… made her feel less… yet here she was, feeling so loved, like she had always dreamed a girl should feel… and the man loving her that way was her biggest childhood bully. The irony wasn’t lost on her… but strangely, it made his feelings more real to her… She’d not have been able to articulate the why on that if pressed to, but it was true all the same.

“Wanna know something?” She asked, feeling a bit emotional for whatever reason.

Draco looked up from his musings over her shoulder freckles, taking in her serious face. “Tell me.”

“However sure I was last night… and I really was… I am 100x more sure this morning.” She smiled, eyes a bit shiny. He took a moment to swallow the lump in his throat before kissing her, his fingers pushing her hair back from her face and getting lost all over again. He was still inside her and rolled onto his back, taking her with him so she was on top leaning down as he pushed the sheet away. He wanted to see… to touch, skimming his hands up her sides to take a breast in each hand as they kissed, moaning with how her body simply and continually did him in. She literally had perfect tits… he pinched and rolled her nipples as she began to ride him, making her break the kiss from need.

“Draco…”

“So perfect, love… can’t get enough of you… your body… these perfect fucking tits…”

“Ah!”

“That’s right, love, bounce on my cock… just like that… so good…”

Draco was half sat up, his hands on her hips and bouncing her on his cock like she weighed nothing at all while she moaned ridiculously loudly, arching her back with her perfect tits in his face.

“It’s so good, Draco, I need it… I need your cock, I need to come…” She babbled, eyes rolled back and totally out of it.

“Oh fuck, I know, little witch, I know you need to come so badly… such a little slut for me, so good… you take my cock so good… that’s it…” He pressed his thumb to her clit as she moved, making her become erratic as he crooned dirty nonsense to her, driving her wild. “Mmm gonna make you feel so good sweetheart… make you come on this cock like you need… feel so good… come on little witch, show it to me… show me how you come so good… pinch your nipples hard for me… while you ride me… that’s it… gooood girl…” He swirled his thumb, watching her eyes roll back and her mouth just stay open as the sound stuttered. He could feel how close she was… fuck, she was like his own personal drug, he’d never get enough of fucking her… he was barely holding off from coming, barely, barely… “Merlin I can’t wait to fuck your tight little ass, witch… make you scream so pretty for me…”

Hermione came so hard hearing that, his voice and words having sent her body into some sort of orgasmic shock. “Oh fuck… yesss… fuck yes yes yes…”

Draco let go too, his orgasm literally toe-curling. This time she collapsed against his chest rather than the other way around, both utterly exhausted.

Before falling back to sleep, Hermione murmured, “Paper come?”

“Mmhmm.”

“How’d we do?” She asked, cuddling into his neck.

Draco chuckled, pulling her as close as could be and smooching her temple. “Amazing.”

Hermione woke up from their nap first, snagging the paper from the nightstand. While she would have liked to have let Draco sleep - he looked handsome and peaceful while he slept in her bed and it made her feel quite gooey inside to see him there - he was out of luck, woken up abruptly by the loud screech of joy she let out upon reading about his award nomination.

“Draco HOLY SHIT!” She screamed, kicking her legs like a baby.

“Ah… found the paper, did you?” He blinked a few times and smiled, waking up.

“This article is insane! Since when is press about either of us this good?!”

“I… wondered that, too, I admit.”

“I’m framing this photo…” She smiled, leaning down to kiss him. “And you didn’t tell me about this award thing!”

“I didn’t know! It wasn’t supposed to be announced until next week so… hey.” He shrugged, his cheeks a bit pink. It was an enormous deal and he couldn’t deny it… he just didn’t quite know what to say about it. “Don’t suppose you’d be my date to the Gala?” He batted his eyelashes playfully, trying to downplay how shy he felt over being praised.

“Duh!” She swatted his arm and reread parts of the article, smiling like a loon. “Lord Greengrass is effusive… is he part of the group voting on the vaccine thing on Monday?”

Draco had forgotten about that… “Yes! Good point… and… fuck, that actually calms my mind a bit, knowing he’s a… supporter of my career, or whatever. He’s a deciding vote at the end of the day.”

“How so? Is it not done by majority?”

“It is… but he’s the CEO, has major pull with the opinions of the ones I’m trying to persuade to vote my way. If he believes in me going in then I have a much better chance.”

“Ah… makes sense. Well, it sounds like he more than believes in you, love. He’s a fan.” She kissed his cheek. “Like I am.”

“Well hopefully not exactly like you are.” He teased, earning another swat to the arm. He sat up, pulling her into his side for a cuddle and a real kiss. “Good morning again.”

“Good morning again. What are your plans today, oh Future of Medicine?”

“Well… If I know my parents they are literally dying of a disease called ‘Nosiness’… It has a cure, but… my desire to administer said cure is minimal at best.” He chuckled with her as she agreed.

“Yeah I can understand that… I’m supposed to see Harry and Ginny and despite having been away so long I… can’t seem to muster the desire to, knowing the grilling I’ll get. Plus I have to work today, going through that bloody marriage law, looking for possible amendments so I can meet with Kingsley tomorrow… What time is your presentation?”

“Two… But you know the Minister is on the Board, right? He’ll be there.”

“Oh, so I don’t have to worry about it conflicting with our plan to meet and get drunk over legislative language, then?” She chuckled. “Must be why our meeting is at four-thirty…”

“Yeah that must be why…” Draco laughed. “Glad to know he isn’t planning to be hammered while voting on major medical trials, that’s good…” Draco sobered slightly. “Mi, you sure you don’t mind answering questions if needed? If nothing else, you and Shacklebolt are friends… so you might want to give him a hello beforehand about us, ya know?”

“Hmm, might do, yeah.” She laughed, shaking her head over the bizarreness that was their sudden relationship. It didn’t feel sudden, but she knew that through the lens of other people it would look mildly insane. “How about you grab your presentation materials and bring them over here tonight and we can have dinner? You can show me and I can see how I can help?”

“Yeah?”

“If you bring dinner with you… yeah.” She grinned.

“Ah! I see… Payment for services.” He groused playfully.

“Indeed. I’m thinking… Indian… something like that. Surprise me.”

“Deal. What about you, though? You going to let me help you with your thing? Look through that barbaric law and look for holes?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d adore the help, but not if it’s going to take your mind off the snitch for tomorrow.”

“I’m ready for tomorrow, love, I just need to review… I don’t mind. I want to. We can switch our work notes after dinner then discuss, hmm?”

“I’d love that.” She grinned, finding herself almost unreasonably happy as she leaned up and kissed him, thinking just how lovely their life could be. From the way he stroked her cheek and smiled back at her, she thought perhaps he had the same idea.

Chapter Text

Malfoy Manor, Sunday Morning

“My darling I believe your many hours at Gringott’s yesterday proved more than successful…” Lucius smiled, handing his wife the paper she’d been up since dawn waiting for.

“Oh Lu! Have you ever seen our dragon that happy?!” She cried.

“I must admit, I have not… come, let’s read it together. I think we both know he won’t be joining us for breakfast this morning…” He sighed happily, sitting on the settee with her in their suite. The pair ooh-ed and ahh-ed and gasped with joy in many places, eyes glazing over seeing their son being lauded so boldly in the press for the first time. They were so proud they both required handkerchiefs by the end.

“Did you know about the Dagworth Award?” Narcissa sniffled.

“No! That isn’t usually even announced until the end of this month… quite the scoop. But if he did what it sounds like he did, and I can’t believe he didn’t tell us…” Lucius shook his head sadly. “Do you think it’s the Longbottoms, the patients the article is referring to?” He asked.

“I can’t imagine that’s possible…” Narcissa frowned. “But if anyone could do such a thing, it’s our brilliant son. Apparently he is just better at evading our nosiness than we thought. Something we must fix immediately!” She laughed.

“Or we’re less good at being nosy than we thought? I agree, a must fix… we’ve gone slack, soft, resting on our laurels as parents Cissy… We can practice grilling him for information at lunch.” Lucius chuckled, rereading the part about his son being brilliant again, planning to frame it for his office.

“I preferred my explanation, but I suppose it could be either. Perhaps we can get Miss Granger on side as our spy!” Narcissa smiled.

“Already planning the wedding, are you?” Lucius drawled, not unhappily.

“Ha! Are you kidding? Between years of his rather epic whingeing letters about that Granger girl this and that Granger girl that and, might I remind you, three bloody hours underground with Bog yesterday… Yes, Lucius. Yes I am.” Narcissa stared balefully at her snickering husband.

“They stuck you with Bog?! Oh my darling I am so sorry to hear that… She is… unfriendly on the best of days.”

Narcissa shrugged a bit. “Actually she wasn’t bad. Her biggest complaint was that he was indecisive, but she ultimately told him he had ‘adequate taste.’” This sent Lucius rolling with laughter, wiping his eyes.

“You’ll be supportive, when he gets home… because we both know this is inevitable Lu.” Narcissa said kindly, but firmly.

“Cissy… we’ve been over this. This isn’t four years ago.”

“I know that… just making sure you remembered to know it too.” Her fingers traced over the photo of her son and his love, looping around and around. He really had never looked so happy… She’d hex her husband bald before she’d let him mess with that. It was good to know he didn’t seem to want to… life was good.

Potter Cottage, Sunday Lunch

Ginevra Weasley stood staring at the floo. Staring and waiting and tapping her toe. It would have been the perfect moment for someone suicidal to tell her how much she was turning into her mother, but sadly for her husband’s entertainment, such a person did not exist.

“Babe… she’ll get here when she gets here…” Harry said.

“Zip-it you…” She snapped, literally snapping and putting her hand in his face. Harry sighed, properly chastised, and went to go sit back down. Until she got all the icky girl details he absolutely did not ever want because GROSS… his wife was not going to forgive him for knowing about this a whole 24 hours before her. She was super mature like that. He was also a super mature adult and decided to let it go… while enjoying his butterbeer and Batman comic book on the sofa.

Hermione came through the floo at 12:30, her eyes all smiles. She would have said hello but Ginny tackled her before she had time… literally.

Bodily tackled her. Onto the carpet.

“Never stay away that long again!”

“Missed you too, witch.” Hermione laughed once her lungs were able to inflate again.

“Shut up and gimme your wrist you insane sexy lady woman!” Ginny huffed, still sitting on her… on the carpet. Harry gave her a sympathetic wave from the sofa while his wife manhandled his friend. Totally normal.

“Alright there, Mione?”

“Not really, your wife is a psycho. You?”

“Yeah, good. Nice date last night?” He teased.

“Merlin’s ballsack, Hermione, this bracelet is insane!” Ginny cried, holding her wrist up to examine.

“May I get up now? Please?”

Ginny looked down at her from where she straddled her midsection, holding her upper arms hostage under her knees. “I suppose… If you tell me everything!” She raised an eyebrow menacingly.

“I was going to anyway! Let me up you crazy weirdo!” Hermione shouted. Ginny just cackled like she’d won and stood up, offering Hermione a hand.

“Butterbeer or lemonade?” Her friend grinned, hands on her hips.

“You’re a total loon you know.” Hermione grinned back, shaking her head at the redhead.

“Completely aware. So… butterbeer then? Great! Come on, you can spill the dirty details in the kitchen where Harry’s delicate lady-feelings and sensitive-sensibilities can’t hear them.” She said with a mock-crying voice, teasing her husband into shaking with laughter behind his comic book.

“So sorry I don’t want to hear about my sister’s sex life!”

Hermione chuckled, following. She’d missed Ginny, but she was… a lot.

Once they got into the kitchen, Ginny silenced the room and grabbed them drinks, hopping on a stool, looking back to make sure Harry hadn’t moved. “Mione… no joke, Pansy and I saw you in Paris and you didn’t mention this! That was less than a month ago! Catch me up, because… you look amazing… like, best sex of your life-level amazing, while also like… in love-type amazing, and it looks good on you… Truly.”

Hermione softened immeasurably. It was true… When they’d had their 'spa/shopping/catching up on gossip' weekend in Paris, it had been pre-Draco, pre-everything… She needed to catch her friend up.

“So… I know, you’re right, it seems nuts, but I swear it will make some… sort of sense… ish. In a minute. Remember how I said I was going to wander south, after Paris?”

“Yeah… find somewhere remote to be alone and angsty and read. As usual.” Ginny answered a bit pointedly. Her friend had always been a bit on the sad side since the war… but not now. Now she practically glowed… Ginny was a bit mesmerized by it and dying for details.

“Well, that’s what I did… I found a cottage for rent in the middle of muggle nowhere, the woods! Super remote… and yet a letter found me.”

Ginny sat back, beyond intrigued… and impressed.

“An owl found you there.” She repeated, almost not believing her.

“Not just any owl… one I recognized from someone so very unexpected.” Hermione smiled, finding herself happy to tell this story.

The connection clicked and Ginny’s mouth fell open in shock. “You’re kidding… How?!”

“Not a clue other than his owl is… really good!” Hermione laughed, sipping her butterbeer. “And bizarrely cuddly for an eagle owl, its like snuggling a hippogriff.”

Ginny laughed; it was so good to hear her friend making a joke again. It had been a long time. “And what did the hippogriff bring you, I wonder.”

Hermione sighed, an utterly besotted smile on her face that Ginny had never seen before. It looked bloody gorgeous on her, she thought, and she adored it. “It began as an apology… Most of it was. But even the pages that were an apology were also…”

“Sorry, stop - did you say ‘pages’?! Plural?!” Ginny gasped.

Hermione smiled, nodding. “Oh yes… many pages. Gin… It was a love letter. He truly never expected to hear back, though, that’s the thing, he just… spent nearly three years going through draft after draft, hundreds of bloody drafts probably… apologizing for everything, every word… He gave context without excuses, he explained… He talked about how his mind healer assured him it wasn’t selfish to say how sorry he was because if I didn’t want to read it I didn’t have to, but he wasn’t so sure…

"When he got to the part where he told me that it was because of me that he changed his entire understanding of blood purity and equality in the world… listed all the reasons and the ways… he thanked me! And then he told me he’d been in love with me for years and… Merlin, Ginny it was the most honest letter I have ever read… For me, it made every romance novel I have ever read look like child’s play, I’m serious, and you know my addiction to those novels… I’m an expert so I can say it with authority - he kicked their sappy, romantic arses.”

Ginny was gobsmacked, her jaw as close to on the floor as it could be. “Is that why he was always staring at you?” She wondered aloud, not even meaning to.

“Yes!” Hermione laughed. “He even talked about that! How his friends would catch him out and he’d have to pretend to be disgusted and not enchanted and how it hurt him so to lie about me like that, even if I’d never know about it… He talked about how he’d pick fights with me just because it was the only way he was allowed to engage with me… how back in sixth year when Voldemort was threatening his mother’s life and his, all he wanted to do, every day, was kill himself, but he didn’t because I kept him alive.”

“Oh… wow…” Ginny absently rubbed a hand over her heart without really realizing it… this really was romance novel-level stuff…

“Yeah. But it wasn’t all heavy… some of it was so sweet and light and borderline ridiculous… like about how contrary to popular belief, I’m actually very funny and he’d have to pretend to have a cough to cover his laugh, things like that. Oh… How’s this for you… He called me ‘incandescently beautiful.’”

Ginny smiled, knowing her eyes were a bit glassy. Her friend had never quite admitted to her crush on the ferret, but she’d sooo had one… and now she looked so happy… finally. After everything, she really deserved it. “So… you must have answered this letter, I’m assuming.”

Hermione smiled, blushing a little. “I’m not entirely sure what possessed me, but… yeah. I mean, his hippogriff owl had to rest awhile anyway and… I mean, I wasn’t ready to come home I thought, and then after I got his letter… suddenly I was. I wrote back a short note, said I’d be back Thursday and… I didn’t understand all of it but would like to know more… would like to know him. If he wanted to get together, I was sure his owl could figure out where my flat was if he could find me in fucking rural France, right?” She chuckled.

“Seriously… that owl is impressive.”

“He was so shocked to hear from me.”

“Aww.” Ginny found herself truly sad to hear that, on the edge of her seat for the rest of the story. She had no idea it was going to be this… good. So much intrigue!

“Yeah… I had a meeting with Kingsley on Thursday first thing and then came home, got in my comfy pants and ordered sushi when his giant owl showed up at the flat saying he’d love to do dinner sometime, but he sounded so shocked and nervous… so on a whim I just told him that if he liked sushi, my floo was open.”

“Hermione you gorgeous slag!” Ginny cackled wildly, toasting her with her butterbeer bottle. Hermione rarely surprised her but when she did, it was almost always fantastic.

“He showed up wearing muggle denims and a white v-neck t-shirt… and he is… all muscle under there, Ginny…” Hermione couldn’t believe her own mouth but she was happy and… fuck it. If anyone wanted these sorts of details, it was Ginny Potter.

“Oooohhhhhh…”

“I know… And it was the best date… ever. Almost. I’ve never connected with anyone like that… it was like everything in my life fell into place… and my heart just… clicked, like a puzzle piece.”

“I’m going… to cry…” Ginny threw an oven mitt at her friend, blinking furiously.

“You read the article, I assume?”

“OF COURSE!”

“He basically cured Neville’s parents, Ginny… those are the patients the article is referring to. You can’t spread that around though… trial data is private, but their discharge wasn’t and Neville probably needs help so I’m going to reach out. They went home, Gin. They are up and about, talking, they know who they are, who Neville is… they have around 90% function…”

Ginny was white as a ghost and speechless, her hand over her mouth.

“I know… I’m still blown away. I won’t be able to reach out to Neville until at least Tuesday because I have a mountain of work to do today and my day tomorrow is beyond insane, but… maybe you and Harry could?”

“I’d wondered where he’d been…” Ginny said absently.

“There’s a healer living in with them and he’s on sabbatical from work, but… I would bet he’s beyond overwhelmed and reluctant to ask his friends for help… On a sidenote, over the course of the trial, he and Draco have become, like… besties, apparently. The concept is so bizarre and adorable I am literally dying to see it. DYING, Ginny…”

Ginny snorted. “So, they’re the male version of you and Pansy?!”

Hermione blushed. “Shut up.”

Harry had just walked in, wondering about lunch and hoping they’d gotten past the gross stuff… sadly they hadn’t even gotten to it, though. “Did I just hear you and Pansy are friends, Mione?!” He said, making a face like he’d swallowed a lemon.

“Ha… oops.” Hermione chuckled nervously. “Yes. She and I haven’t… gone public with that, so to speak.”

Harry looked confused between his wife and friend, both women looking nervous and guilty. “Why? I like Parkinson… I told you that!”

“Oh… Harry, I know, it isn’t that… it’s…” Hermione looked to Ginny for support but Ginny couldn’t help, not without knowing what she was allowed to share. Hermione knew that and wasn’t mad… “Harry, you know how medical records are confidential?”

“Of course… what does that have to do with…?”

“Sometimes women bond over terrible things and end up friends… just let it go. Please. Pansy is a very close friend… but how we became friends does not matter… okay?” Hermione looked intensely at Harry until he nodded, remembering a terrible thing that might work under that category and understood why she’d not elaborate. He was getting better at not knowing everything.

“I’m glad you have more girlfriends, Mione.” He managed, making both women breathe a sigh of relief. In earlier years it would have been demands and weeks of fighting if she hadn’t divulged every secret and apologized to him, despite him not deserving it.

“Thanks, Harry.” She decided to change the subject. “Harry, I was just telling Ginny that it might be good if you two reached out to see how Neville is doing with his parents home… I won’t be able to until Tuesday at the earliest. I have a meeting with the Board of St. Mungo’s tomorrow with Draco to answer some questions on a specific type of muggle medicine and then a meeting with Kingsley to mark up legislation that’s really important.”

Harry grabbed another beer and joined them, sitting at the kitchen island. Ginny had made shepherd’s pie so the three dug in when the oven chimed. “What’s the muggle medicine thing, Hermione?” Harry asked, curious since he was also exposed to it as a kid, though only when the law or emergencies mandated it due to his abusive home life.

“Oh! This is so amazing… Again, though, it’s not for public consumption yet, so… keep this to yourselves?”

Ginny and Harry nodded eagerly, both obviously interested and proud of Draco’s work. It made Hermione grin with pride. “Well, um, Harry you were vaccinated as a child, yeah? For school?”

“Yeah of course… had to be.” His wife looked completely confused and Hermione just grinned, hoping Harry would get it. “Wait… Hermione, are you saying…?”

“Yes…”

“No… How?!” Harry cried, gobsmacked.

“Can one of you please tell me what in Merlin’s name you’re on about?!” Ginny cried.

“Sorry Gin. So, in muggle medicine there is something called a ‘Vaccine’… so, super-duper basically, it’s a small amount of potion that contains a teeny tiny amount of a disease like Dragon-Pox, something you can only get once, like a ridiculously small amount, just barely enough for the body to recognize that it’s there. The way it works is that the vaccine is administered into the bloodstream and the body’s immune system recognizes that there is an attacker, it fights off the disease because of the small amount being easy to overcome, and then for the rest of that person’s life they cannot ever actually get that disease. They are immune.”

Harry was grinning as he watched his wife pick her jaw up off the floor. “Muggles came up with that?!”

Hermione chuckled. “It’s more complicated than how I described it, by far, but yes… Muggles are fucking brilliant, Gin… especially in medicine. The way vaccines have worked in the past, when done right, have literally made specific diseases no longer exist, they go extinct! By administering a vaccine for a disease called Poliomyelitis, a group called the World Health Organization literally went door to door across the entire globe Ginny… they vaccinated billions of people… billions of children. Can you imagine? How many healers that took? The level of organization and commitment? But they essentially eradicated Polio! A disease that crippled children’s bodies until they were so mangled they couldn’t move… millions of them! Now, though? It essentially no longer exists but for small pockets in remote parts of the world and in those parts, they’re sending the vaccines there too, it just takes longer.”

“That is so incredible, but… what do we need that for? I mean, we can’t get muggle diseases.” Ginny wondered.

“That’s just it, Ginny… You don’t need it for muggle diseases… but our world has its own diseases, and the concept would work just the same!” Hermione laughed. “Why do you think I used Dragon-Pox as the example? Imagine eradicating Dragon-Pox! Same methodology, same worldwide campaign… no more disease, no more death or maimed kids scarred for life.” She grinned, watching her friend tear up. “Yeah, I know… Crazy, right? How’s this one: Imagine halting the spread of lycanthropy… It’s all possible. Harry and I couldn’t step foot into school as children until we got our vaccinations because the government is in charge of keeping all its citizens safe, that includes safety from the spread of disease. Draco’s next clinical trial is, if tomorrow’s meeting goes well, a vaccine, the first for our World, not just Magical Britain… There are no muggleborns to answer the Board’s questions about them. So I offered.”

“That’s incredible stuff, Mione. If they need a half-blood muggle-raised wizard to second your support, I’m there.” Harry offered, pushing his empty plate away.

“Thank you, Harry… I’ll let him know.”

“It really is… Ferret’s really smart…”

Hermione chuckled. “Yes, he really is… but try to stop calling him that? For me?”

“Ten galleons says he still calls me Weaslette.” She countered.

“Oh, he definitely does.” Hermione shrugged. “But I think that one’s cute.”

Ginny conceded that it sortof was, yeah, while Harry rolled his eyes and cleared the plates.

“So how’s the sex?” Ginny asked, waggling her eyebrows and causing Harry to drop a plate loudly into the sink. Hermione burst out laughing.

She chose to just nod slowly and mouth the word ‘later,’ thus sparing Harry an aneurysm.

“How about you catch me up on you guys…” She countered.

Malfoy Manor, Sunday Lunch

Draco strolled into the dining room, ready to be cross-examined, good, bad, or ugly…  Truly he wasn’t sure how it would go until he got there. Luckily, things looked good. His parents looked borderline manic, in fact… he wasn’t sure what to do with that, he’d never seen it.

“Hello Mother… Father. How are you?” He took his usual seat and tried not to find their smiles and crazy-eyes too disturbing.

“Oh goodness Draco we are just so proud of you I can hardly stand it!” His mother squealed, her pitch so high he wondered that the glassware didn’t shatter.

To his credit, his father winced as well, smiling indulgently at his wife. “While I second your mother’s sentiments… ouch…”

Draco laughed, feeling more at ease with them than he could remember feeling… possibly ever. “So… I assume you’ve seen the paper, then?” He quipped, sipping his water.

“Indeed, Son… And I believe many things in it call for a toast, don’t you, my dear?” Lucius asked.

“Oh! Yes!” Narcissa clapped happily, making Draco blush, grateful Hermione wasn’t here. “Mipsy!”

*POP* “Mistress?”

“May we have a bottle of champagne please?”

“Oh yes, Mipsy bringing champagne to celebrate Master Draco right away!” *POP*

“The elves are all very proud of you too, dear… and so excited to meet Miss Granger!” Narcissa cried happily. Draco was officially mortified.

*POP* “Champagne for Master Draco!”

“Thank you Mipsy.” Lucius drawled, enjoying his son’s embarrassment thoroughly. His wife had a tendency to poke the bear on it, poor boy.

“Yes, Sir!” *POP*

Lucius and Narcissa raised their glasses to their son who, reluctantly, raised his glass in return. He was really terrible at receiving praise, he realized. Lucius smiled, choosing his words carefully. “To our son that we are so proud of… to his brilliant mind for medicine and his vision for a better future in his field, and congratulations… for finally getting the girl. We can’t wait to meet her properly and to welcome her to the family.”

Draco was so moved by his father’s words that he couldn’t speak, not over the lump in his throat or the prickling in his eyes or his traitorous quivering chin… but he could nod. He could at least do that much to acknowledge the words he’d longed to hear his entire life, and the ones he didn’t think he’d ever hear in any lifetime.

Cheers.

Chapter Text

Draco came through the floo to Hermione’s flat at 7pm, Indian takeaway planned but not yet ordered, and his work with him as well as a bag of things to fill the drawers and closet space she’d apparently already cleared for him. He saw folders and her briefcase on the coffee table and there was a note on the counter:

If you don’t see me, check the shower. I’d love the company.

He grinned, not hesitating to practically sprint through the loft. The bathroom door off her bedroom was open a crack and the shower was going; Draco thanked Salazar he hadn’t missed this opportunity, quickly shedding his clothes to step in behind her, barely able to contain himself at the sight of her wet and naked from behind, looking coquettishly over her shoulder at him like that.

“Hmm… Hello gorgeous.” Draco wrapped his arms around her, kissing her like he hadn’t seen her in weeks instead of hours as she pressed her ass back against his cock, moaning into his mouth the second his hands found her tits under the spray. “Fuck… I missed you today… and I want you so badly…” His hands were everywhere as he laved his tongue and teeth over her neck and shoulders, biting the shell of her ear as he whispered to her and pulled at her nipples or yanked at her hip to pull her flush against him, burying his hard cock between the cheeks of her ass.

“I missed you… all dayyy…” She whined. “It was bloody pathetic… You’ve gotten me addicted… to screaming orgasms.”

He chuckled lightly in her ear and pushed a hand down between her legs, feeling her stand on her tip-toes to give him better access. “I see… You need a fix, huh? So tense…” He murmured, fingering her gently, so turned on by how wet for him she already was.

“Yes… please…”

Turning her around, Draco kissed her with all the desperation still clanging around in his system for her, all the shock still lingering that she was his. His hands were everywhere, her moans driving him mad as he kneaded the muscle of her ass and fisted in her hair, pressing their bodies together under the spray. When her hand closed around his cock he groaned into her mouth, knowing she could push him over the edge far too easily.

Draco’s power of speech was gone, he just needed… needed her… Picking her up under her perfect ass, Draco pressed her back against the tile and wrapped her legs around his waist, breaking the kiss only to wrap his mouth around one of her tits and work her nipple with his teeth. With his hands under her thighs, the tips of his fingers could tease the lips of her pussy while she squirmed, begging, feeling the tip of his cock right at her entrance but no further.

“Please, Draco… please please…”

He laved his tongue over her pulse-point as he impaled her, loving the way she screamed “Yessss…” for him, the way she begged for more and clung to him, scratching his back under the hot spray of the shower as he fucked her. All he could do was kiss her, kiss and bite her neck, and gasp into her ear. “So fucking perfect… Mine… mine…”

When she came she arched her neck back and squeaked, her mouth open in a then-silent scream as her pussy clamped down on him hard over and over, her heels digging into his lower back.

“Fuck…” He gasped into her ear, pulled over the edge and spilling inside her, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of her hips and ass as his face buried itself in her neck. “So fucking goooood…” His breath heaved for a bit as he nuzzled her neck and face, as they kissed for a while. They were so connected that ages passed before either one even opened their eyes, let alone thought to untangle from the other. She might have joked when he arrived that it was about the orgasms but it so wasn’t… it was about this.

When he eventually did let her down he knew she’d be wobbly and held her tight, kissing her and smiling at her.

“I missed you today.”

“Me too.”

“What?”

“Hmm?” Draco was startled out of a deep think and looked over to see Hermione watching him.

“You’re either brooding or you’ve thought of something interesting. Either way, let’s hear it.” He felt her nudge his bum with her foot and chuckled, deciding to pick up her feet and put them in his lap instead.

“These figures on squib births…”

“Getting higher, I know.”

“Yes but that’s not what got me thinking… I read a paper recently in a muggle medical journal on gene pairings…”

Hermione sat straight up, her eyes wide. “Draco you’re brilliant!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“How do you already know where I’m going with this?” He asked.

“Are you thinking you could… or someone could identify the genetic predisposition toward birthing a squib? Like in paired adults, the same way you would for certain diseases or physical traits?” She cried, flailing her wine glass.

Draco grinned so widely at her, never more impressed, or in tune, with anyone. “Yes.”

“How likely… How… difficult a job would that be, do you think?”

Draco laughed. “I have no fucking idea… The person to bring in to this conversation is Blaise, he runs my lab at St. Mungo’s for that stuff, love; my Masteries are in Potions and Innovative Medicine, but I’m not a researcher, not like he is. We’ve sequenced the DNA and the magical signatures of disease, but for people with the reasoning of pairing it’s a different thing and he’d be the expert, not me.”

“Okay… okay…” Hermione was thinking fast. “But you see why I’m asking?”

“Besides the obvious benefit for all magic-kind?”

She scoffed and smiled. “Yes, beyond that! Look at the folder you’re reading those stats from, love, and think for a second… Why did they push this marriage law through, Draco?”

“Oh… fuck. Okay… But, love… Even if we got this answer tomorrow and could start advising couples, that wouldn’t solve the issue…”

Hermione’s mind was going a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out how to improve the current situation of just asking people to blindly marry in a certain time-period to someone of the acceptable blood-status and ‘hope for the best’; it had been the part that had made the least sense to her about the law in the first place if population increase was the goal.

“I know, I know, but this law is awful, right? I mean it is such a shot in the dark that it will even fix things… the more resources we can offer people that show that their unions will be successful, the better… right?” She heard herself sounding a bit desperate and sagged back against the cushion.

“Honestly Sweetheart? I think you have a better avenue to go down in changing this thing, medically speaking, if you want one…” Draco was looking back over her papers again, finding the section on birth rates.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re predicating this whole thing on population loss from the war for the most part, and this section here, on the raising rate of Squib births and falling rate of births overall is rather… light.”

“I noticed that too… I’d planned to demand everything they’d based their findings off of tomorrow when I go in but I doubt they’ll have much other than census data and birth records. This whole thing seems rushed.”

“I agree, but what stands out to me probably wouldn’t occur to you… or you’d not know about it. Pureblood families are, as you know, still traditional and rather private… They tend to rely on midwives and house elves and they almost always birth their children at home, so stillbirths and miscarriages are almost never recorded.”

Hermione’s heart plummeted, hearing the sadness of familial knowledge in Draco’s voice. “And from your voice… and what I do know, I’m assuming that those two things happen far too often?” She asked quietly, reaching for his hand. Draco threaded their fingers together and nodded.

“My mother didn’t have only one son because her dream was one spoiled prat… Confidentially, I was one of eight pregnancies. Five of them failed somewhat early and… I have two sisters buried in our family plot.”

Hermione choked on oxygen and struggled to retain her composure, the horror of such information just was so utterly unexpected. “Draco I am so sorry.” She hadn’t a clue what else to say. As a woman she simply couldn’t imagine and she had more respect for Narcissa Malfoy in that moment than she could possibly express, for her strength.

Draco simply squeezed her hand in acknowledgment, lifting it to kiss her knuckles. “We’re not unique, though, sad as it is… It isn’t spoken of. People will think this law abhorrent for the fact of their choices being taken away, that’s understandable, but I work in medicine and I want children so I cannot in good conscience say that this is not also potentially necessary.” He looked at her shyly, and sadly.

“Hey… You’re forgetting something.” Hermione put her wine down and moved all the paper from their laps to the coffee table while Draco watched her curiously, smiling again as she climbed into his lap.

“What’s that?”

“Knowing this law is coming might have given us a push on bravery or timeline perhaps, but I’d already chosen you… You write very romantic and persuasive love letters, Mr. Malfoy.” She rested her forehead against his, reveling in how he cuddled her close. Sitting like this, straddling his lap and being hugged, was fast becoming her favorite thing in a sea of favorite things.

“Even when I’m not trying to, apparently.” He smiled, nuzzling her face and tightening his arms around her back.

“Oh please, apology-shmology, that letter was pure romance.” She grinned, tilting her head back to look at his handsome face.

“Speaking of romance… How would you like to play this tomorrow when people ask?”

“Hmm, in what sense?” Hermione asked, confused. Draco smiled and kissed her adorably wrinkled-in-confusion nose, making her giggle.

“I mean when nosy people ask when we got together, that sort of thing. Like you said, our timeline hasn’t exactly been… conventional.”

“Oh… Well I know Kingsley never told anyone what my sabbatical was for since my parents’ identities aren’t public, so my absence from public life this last year possibly works in our favor… unless you’ve been seeing anyone recently?”

“No one since I’ve been back.”

“Well… why not simply backdate the real story in vague terms? My plan for explaining my absence was that I’ve been writing a book… I sortof have but that obviously wasn’t the real reason I was gone. I hadn’t planned on my identity becoming public, but the more I think about it the more I realize that… not only is it inevitable, it’s also… fine with me, if you’re by my side. Ya know? However we decide to spin it, the truth is nothing to be ashamed of. We both had feelings we could never act on because of a war neither of us wanted… and then we grew up and found each other again.”

“Much as I hate the years it took and how painful they were… I think our timing is actually pretty perfect, when it comes down to it.” He admitted.

“Me too.”

Draco was rather fascinated by one of her more boing-y curls, twisting it around and around his fingers, marveling at the softness as he chose his response about her parents and her identity carefully. “I know it’s been hard keeping your lives separate all these years, and I know why it’s made sense to, but I hope you know that if and when you’re ready to combine those lives I will always be there, and until then I will go back and forth with you. You’re not alone anymore.”

Hermione leaned down and kissed him, slow and deep. “Thank you.” She could swear the way he looked her was the pure definition of all that love was.

“Always.”

“Want to pretend you’re the hospital board and quiz me, a practice run for tomorrow?” She asked, knowing that if they didn’t quickly switch back to finishing work they’d simply never get back to it. The struggle on his face to acquiesce to that same conclusion was almost comical.

“Yeessss… but I can’t if you stay in my lap. If you stay in my lap I’ll-”

“Don’t! Don’t say it… I’m barely being good as it is.” She pouted, climbing back over to her side of the couch as he chuckled.

“Alright… Here goes: Miss Granger…”

“Whose voice is that? Are you actually doing imitations?!” She laughed.

“Yes! That’s Lord Greengrass…”

“Oh! How could I not have recognized that? Silly me. He has a ton of sway on the Wizengamot so I deal with him fairly often… and well done you, that’s a fair impression actually.” She waved her hand and bade him to continue, chuckling.

“Thanks, I try. Now… Miss, ehhh, Granger, you are, ehhhh… a muggleborn…” Draco drawled in the old man’s rather ridiculous voice, eyeing her with a funny face as if he were wearing the man’s ridiculous monocle and making Hermione laugh hysterically. “But not a healer… so while I certainly appreciate your… ehhhh… participation…” Draco waved his hand, indicating she should interrupt and explain why her contribution was important and they went from there, back and forth, point by point on Muggle Medicine but using Wizarding terms until Draco couldn’t come up with any more holes in the proposal that the board could object to or find fault with.

“Are they really that clueless?” Hermione marveled afterward. “That feels vaguely dangerous to me.”

“To me too, but hopefully tomorrow is the start of changing that. Ideally Wizarding Med Schools expand their understanding of Muggle Medicine so health care can become truly comprehensive in the future, but… my goals are lofty for our world and will not be achieved overnight, I’m afraid.”

Hermione marveled at him, the man who once wouldn’t have stepped foot near a Muggle let alone learned anything about them now wanted to revolutionize medicine for the Wizarding World thanks to advancements made by its Muggle counterpart. She supposed it was no more crazy than the 180 he’d done in his view of her, perhaps… and just as welcome.

“What are you smiling at?” He asked, looking over with the intent to haul her back onto his lap. She was leaning back against the arm of the sofa and looking so fucking sexy with her hair all everywhere like that… their work was done, he mused… Yes, he could indulge now, he decided with a smile just as wide as hers. He decided to go to her, instead.

“You. I am smiling… at you.” Hermione scooted down flat and welcomed his weight as he climbed over her and settled between her thighs; she wrapped her arms and legs around him as he kissed her, as he snuck his hand under her shirt and moaned into her mouth the second he felt bare skin, so soft.

“Mia…” It wasn’t a whine, per se. If anything it sounded more like a commentary on how utterly gone he was for her as he pressed harder into the kiss.

“Me too, Draco.” She wrapped herself around him even tighter, and kissed him back. “Me too.”

Chapter Text

Hermione’s Monday began by getting on her knees for Draco in the shower and making him come so hard his legs nearly gave out… After that she deep-conditioned her hair and smirked, humming her father’s favorite Beach Boys song while he leaned against the tile like he’d been Confunded.

She felt pretty proud of herself.

After breakfast she finally managed to shoo him out of the apartment to his office, assuring him that he would be amazing and that she would meet him at the hospital at 1:45 that afternoon.

Next, Hermione sent an owl to Kingsley letting him know that she would be seeing him earlier than expected, at the St. Mungo’s Board meeting where she would be helping with some potential questions regarding muggle medicine, and if he wanted to interrogate her new boyfriend like a nosy dad to please wait until after the vote. She added a cheeky smiley face at the end of the letter knowing it would make him smile, as well as a reassurance that she had some good ideas lined up for their meeting at 4:30; things were not as bleak as they’d seemed when they’d first discussed the marriage law the week prior, thank Merlin.

The remainder of the morning was spent organizing her notes on the legislation and getting ready, enjoying leftovers for lunch. She sent off a few letters, including one to Neville, and headed to St. Mungo’s nearly a half hour early, nervous but far too excited to wait any longer.

Arriving at the main reception desk, Hermione was directed to the auditorium, not any of the conference rooms… She found that odd; it was only used for the Med School and visiting lecturers wasn’t it? She was glad she was early, maybe there was a mistake… She saw Draco rushing up to her before she reached the stage door side of things.

“Mia… love, thank Merlin…” Draco shuddered, dropping his head onto her shoulder for a second. “Have I told you that your obsessive punctuality is a stunningly sexy quality?” His anxiety rolled off him in waves and his attempt to play it off with humor wasn’t working.

“Darling… While I love whatever you’re trying to do with that comment, it’s not fooling me. Tell me… What’s the matter?” She took his hands and his shoulders sagged, looking around to make sure no one was near by to hear him lose his marbles.

“This has turned into…” He sighed. “It was supposed to be a Board Meeting in Conference Room 7… We present the proposal, the initial research findings, all that… you know… But because this is the first of its kind and… that stupid article about us and the award thing! I don’t know, love, but it’s become this enormous deal now! The Board, they invited the…” Draco looked around again, whispering a little hysterically. “They invited the entire bloody staff of St. Mungo’s for this! Any healer not on duty and anyone from either London Wizarding Med School is also welcome, apparently, last minute as it is! That’s a thousand person auditorium in there, Hermione! They want an actual fucking lecture!” Draco had the crazy eyes and Hermione wanted to say ‘oh wow, that’s incredible!’ but that was NOT the right thing to say in the moment so… she kept that on the inside… barely. She was just so proud of him it was really ridiculous.

“Okay… let me ask you this… Would they have done that if they didn’t already believe in what you were doing? Like… fully?”

Draco took a minute to think about that and she could see him stand up a bit straighter with each passing second. “No…”

“Right! And another question… Do you know this material completely backwards and forwards?”

“Yes.” He didn’t feel any better acknowledging this, but at least he wasn’t worried about that part.

“And do you have me?” She smiled.

He sighed, smiling. “Well, are you as okay answering questions in there as you were with Conference Room 7?”

Hermione chuckled. “Yes, in fact a University lecture-like environment is my zen place.” She smiled, rubbing his arms.

“Thank you.” He lifted her wrist and kissed the soft skin next to the clasp of her bracelet.

“Always.” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, feeling the tension melt out of him and his heart slow as she did.

“And what do we have here? Is that Granger Danger?!” Hermione instantly recognized the voice of Blaise Zabini and chuckled against Draco’s shirt.

“Hello, Blaise.” She smiled, pulling away.

“Good to see you again, Granger… I hear you’ll be helping us out in there?” He looked skeptically toward the auditorium doors, now buzzing. It was obviously filling up in there.

“I’m happy to answer any questions that come up, for sure… but I also have full confidence in you guys. You’ll knock ‘em dead in there. Be your cocky, confident selves, act like this was always the plan, and you’ll do great.”

Both of them nodded, taking that advice in, and she watched the professional masks descend over their faces. Both wore muggle suits - without ties - with what Hermione would call mixed style Muggle/Wizarding Healer/Doctor’s Lab Coats over it and both looked incredibly dashing. The two junior researchers over by the stage door, however, still looked a little green.

Lord Greengrass and Minister Shacklebolt exited the upper side door and were walking down the hall toward them; they could hear a much higher volume of people, so the audience was likely substantial. Hermione smiled, trying not to laugh when Kingsley goaded her by waggling his eyebrows. She would not break Draco’s focus.

“Gentlemen…” Lord Greengrass drawled. “And Miss Granger, hello… The Minister, ehhh, informed me you’d be of some assistance today?” He seemed genuinely interested in how and not in a condescending way, so Hermione didn’t take offense. “Its good to see you back in England, my dear. Gents! Happy you could accommodate the change in venue, so to speak… ha! Love a good pun… You about set?” He steamrolled them, not letting anyone get a word in.

“Yes, sir…” Draco answered, knowing how the man operated and not bothering to swim against the tide. “Minister, good to see you.”

Kingsley just grinned wider. “And you, Master Malfoy… Good luck in there. Hermione, if this pushes our meeting today don’t fret about watching the time, we can always make it dinner or push to tomorrow.” He gave her the look that he was famous for as her boss - it meant ‘don’t feel guilty and listen to my words’. It made him a good friend and a good boss and always made her smile. She nodded and he left with Lord Greengrass to go back to their seats.

“You good, love?” Draco asked quietly.

“Hmm? Yeah, he’s just… with my dad out of the country the last few years, Kings added that mantle on top of friend and boss somewhere along the way. He’s good to me.” She smiled.

“Meaning he really is going to grill me about my intentions?” He smiled.

“Probably!” She laughed.

“Hey, lovebirds…” Blaise was peeking through the stage door. “Showtime.”

“You’ve got this.” She smiled.

Draco looked at Hermione’s face and wasn’t sure when it had happened exactly, but he saw pure love and confidence looking back at him. He huffed a quick breath and kissed her hard before striding through the door with a smile of his own.

Four pub-height chairs were set up on the stage toward one side as well as a projector and screen for Draco’s presentation. Hermione sat off to the side to watch and listen with Blaise and the junior researchers from the lab, waiting for when she was needed and was quickly blown away.

The auditorium was, to her estimation, about 85% full, a staggering audience. It looked to be mostly people in Healers robes but she saw lots of Medi-Witches, students and press as well. Most everyone was buzzing with excitement, too… it was inspiring. She missed school, she realized, chuckling to herself.

Draco looked like a completely different man than the one she had known for so long… until recently, anyway. He was calm, confident, self-assured without being a prat about it… This was his passion and he was excited to share knowledge. It was sexy as fuck.

“Welcome… everyone in the world, apparently…” The audience chuckled, everyone knowing how last minute the lecture was and how surprisingly jammed the auditorium. “My name is Draco Malfoy, I am a Master Potioneer with a second Mastery specializing in Innovative Medicine. Now, that is a relatively new specialty and I see a lot of students are with us today so let me explain… there is a muggle phrase that I find very useful here: ‘Necessity is the mother of invention.’ Meaning ‘need forces us to find or create answers’… In our world, the Magical World, we use the word ‘healing’… in the Muggle or Non-Magical World, while the word ‘healing’ does exist, its counterpart to how we use it is ‘medicine’. Now I know what you’re thinking… Why would a Wizard need anything to do with muggle healing? It all circles back to necessity is the mother of invention…’

Muggles have had to work awfully hard to make up for their lack of magic… and we in the Magical World have, I hate to say this, been utterly idiotic in our outlook on muggles’ ability to do so for far too long.”

The entire auditorium’s confused whispers became overwhelming and Draco patiently held his hands up to shush them.

“Trust me… I am rather infamous for being an idiot on this subject, no? So consider me an expert on this too!” He smiled indulgently, letting himself be laughed at for a moment, and Hermione was shocked. Blaise was even visibly impressed. “Just hear me out… Necessity… From the dawn of time to modern man, we all just want to survive, right? And how do we do that… Now, I’m not talking geopolitics Minister Shacklebolt, don’t get excited - no, we’re Healers in this room… To extend one’s lifespan, you must be able to withstand the diseases the world will throw at you throughout your time on this earth, whether you are a Muggle or a Magical, that rule stands. Now… who here is a Healing student? Hands?”

Hermione watched as he made the presentation lecture into a teaching moment and swooned a bit, seeing over two hundred hands fly into the air, at least. She caught Kingsley’s eye and he nodded; he was riveted too, it seemed.

“Alright, excellent… Can any of you tell me the one and only difference between the Muggle body and the Magical body?” The number of hands dropped from hundreds to less than a dozen. “Yes, you.” Draco chose a young girl, almost too young to make sense in the setting if Hermione were honest.

“The only difference is the magical core.” Whispers of protest and speculation went up everywhere but the girl was confident and Hermione grinned at her. Draco did too.

“That is correct, well done. The magical core of the human body alters what diseases a person may or may not be susceptible to, but it does not alter how the human body functions on a basic level. Muggles are human. Wizards are human. When we get sick, our immune systems fight against whatever disease sickens us, just like Muggles.

Because the Magical body is in so many ways stronger than the Muggle body thanks to our magical core, we in the Wizarding World have become complacent… we have let ourselves fall to prejudice and hubris. Trust me… I’d know. But it is in medicine… in healing… that the enormity of that mistake can either come back to bite us… or… it can be our biggest opportunity.

After everything our World went through not so long ago and the profound changes that experience inspired in me,

I chose opportunity, because I wanted to use every avenue possible to help people. I chose to really look at the Muggle World of medicine and see what they’d been forced to invent due to necessity…

What had their lack of magic wrought?

And what I found was astounding… It educated me and inspired me to create, test and patent the potion that led to my first clinical trial here at St. Mungo’s, CCP1, which recreates and fortifies the damaged and destroyed neural pathways left behind by the Cruciatus Curse. I did not create that potion from thin air, no… the incredible strides being taken in Muggle Neuro-Medicine were essential to my understanding of what was holding us back!

Now, admittedly… that was complicated stuff… Sometimes I can’t even believe it worked and have to pinch myself. That trial will be ongoing because the science is still developing, the frontier being discovered, it is new…

But it is not a recent innovation or the kind of complicated ‘pinch me’ stuff of Muggle medicine that brings me here today… In fact, it’s what they call ‘an oldie but a goodie’ that lead me to what I’m here to propose to you, and I’ll admit… I’m even more excited about it because of that - it won’t just change a few lives, it will change our entire world! Yes… REALLY.

Another show of hands, and I hope you’ll indulge me… how many muggleborns in this room?” About a hundred wary hands went up, all looking around; Draco just smiled, peeking back at Hermione. “How many of you… were vaccinated as children?” He grinned as they all figured it out and their hands got way more confident, staying up much straighter now. The entire Board, seated in the front row, turned in their seats to see. “Excellent… I look forward to seeing your names on internship applications for this project, your insight will invaluable.” The audience chuckled, especially Kingsley.

“Vaccines… Most in our world won’t know the term… but that hopefully changes today. Hands again, who in this room has lost a family member to Dragon-Pox?” An astonishing half the room put their hands up, including both Blaise and Draco. Hermione was shocked and heartbroken.

Draco let the hands float a second, letting everyone see how massive the number was… and letting everyone realize that this was the disease they’d be dealing with… The muggleborns, of course, all knew what was coming and none of them had hands up. Hermione shared looks with them, dying to celebrate the secret. Draco looked back at her as he put his hand down and smiled a little. He knew it was going really well and wanted to connect with her for a second. She hoped the look she sent him told him everything she felt.

“Now… What if I told you that we could eradicate Dragon-Pox… forever?” The buzz that went up was insane but Draco quieted it with another wave of his hands. “I know it sounds crazy… but you should have heard my pitch about the Cruciatus, THAT actually was ‘Innovative Medicine’… This is just the first magical version of a non-magical idea that works really, really well. So! What is a vaccine…

First, let’s do a quick refresher… the immune system! What happens when we get sick? Our immune system attempts to fight off the attacker… whether the amount of the invading disease is small or large, the immune system responds. Now, can anyone tell me the one good thing about diseases like Dragon-Pox?”

Draco called on another student eagerly raising their hand. “You can only get it once?” The young man ventured.

“Correct… you beat it once and you’re in the clear, not only from getting it but from ever being a carrier and spreading it again. One and done. So, of the muggleborns who have been vaccinated and might know… what is a synonym for ‘vaccination’? Anyone?”

Hermione decided to be cheeky and raised her hand, laughing when the audience pointed her out to Draco and making him laugh.

“Perfect timing, Expert Witness…” The crowd roared with laughter and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh too. “Miss Granger, also known as the only person able to get better grades than I…” He grinned at her.

“Well, it wasn’t easy, but yes, I managed.” She quipped, putting her hand down with a smirk.

“So you know the answer?”

“Of course I do! Inoculation.” She playfully wrinkled her nose at him as he snapped his fingers and pointed at her.

“Yes! Amazing, the english language… Inoculation… Vaccines are literally a potion to inoculate you from a particular disease. Can you give me another, Hermione… there’s one more.”

“Immunizations!”

“Give the lovely lady a prize… And were you immunized as a child, Hermione?”

“I was, a few times. Its standard practice for all children in the Muggle World to receive a particular set of vaccinations at particular ages… different diseases at different ages, depending on what the science dictates.”

“Hmm… That science she’s referencing specifically is about to amaze you all, are you ready? The Muggle equivalent to Dragon-Pox is called Small Pox, and it has killed millions of Muggle children over the centuries and it’s one of the most important vaccines ever developed… Were you vaccinated for Small Pox, Mi?” Draco’s eyes twinkled. He was leading her and she couldn’t help but grin.

“No, but my parents were.” Murmurs in the audience sounded confused; it was perfect.

“Hmm… why weren’t you?” Draco’s obviously fake concern was pointed, showing everyone that they should pay special attention to what she was about to say.

“Because… Small Pox was declared eradicated by the time I was born in 1979. Because governments across the world had deliberately and consciously vaccinated enough people that… the disease died out, it had nowhere to go.”

Draco smiled at her and turned back to the audience, gesturing back at her. “What she said.” Everyone laughed. “But seriously… Muggle governments across the world coordinated their campaigns to vaccinate children against their version of Dragon-Pox and the more people who are immune, who have been vaccinated, the more difficult it is for the disease to spread. It is possible. We can do this… Now… before my partner who runs our lab here at St. Mungo’s, Healer Zabini, our assistants and I get into the nitty-gritty of our slides on data… does anyone have questions on the broad strokes?”

Dozens of hands went up and Blaise smiled at Hermione, leaning in to whisper. “I never thought it would go this well… did you?”

“I hadn’t the time to think since it was supposed to be in the conference room but… he’s a great teacher.”

“Yes, in the blue robes.” Draco called on a student.

“Umm… are vaccines only for children?”

“Excellent question! So initially, no. We would offer the inoculation to everyone once it was approved by the medical board since people of any age can catch the disease, but it would be my recommendation that we follow our Muggle government counterparts moving forward in mandating or at the very least highly recommending all children born in future be vaccinated so the disease does not crop up again. Yes, in the green?”

“I’m a muggleborn, so remember how it goes… Are you planning intravenous delivery or regular potion?”

“Another excellent question… intravenous delivery or intranasal is the best way to stimulate an immune response, so we’d stick with one of those two methods. It would require a bit of an adjustment period but the delivery system would likely make dozens of potions currently in use more effective. It’s a new frontier, mixing in the innovations made by those without magic but when they can save lives, it is our duty to our patients to do what’s best. Yes, Minister… question?”

“What about other things like Cat-flu… that you can get more than once but are less deadly?”

“Vaccinations are possible, certainly, but because the strain is different each season, so must the vaccine be, so it is arguably… farther down the line for us, as a community right now. We can meet privately for a more detailed reasoning but… short answer is that we have bigger fish.” Draco was glad for the nod of agreement and thought his question extremely insightful. It also seemed like he was on board with the idea of vaccination in general with was great news since he was, in essence, the government.

“Alright then, if there’s no more questions for the moment, let’s talk science… Blaise?”

Hermione whispered good luck as the charismatic Italian stood up and winked at her, pointing his wand at and switching on the projector.

“Thank you… Hello everyone, My name is Healer Blaise Zabini. As Master Malfoy mentioned, I run the research laboratory for his projects here at St. Mungo’s. Six months ago, Master Malfoy and I were able to sequence both the DNA as well as the magical essence of the disease Dragon-Pox…”

Hermione watched the projector in absolute awe. The arithmancy alone involved in such a project was insane… She listened for another hour as their methods, experiments and data was broken down thoroughly and in a way that made it easy to follow. She was so proud of them both and so impressed by the way they so effortlessly lectured, both individually and together. With their good looks it would standing-room only if they ever taught at Uni, she mused.

The presentation and Q&A session that stemmed from it took them well into late afternoon and Blaise, Hermione and Draco didn’t escape back out into the hallway until after 5pm. The two junior researchers, who were apparently too intimidated to formally meet her, took the projector back to the lab at a scurrying pace after a team high-five that Hermione found beyond adorable.

“That was… I don’t even know. How was that?” Draco asked, a bit manic and dazed.

“You did amazing.” She beamed at him. “Both of you, so, SO amazing.” She kissed him quick and hard, smiling like a loon.

“Did I make you late for your meeting? I mean… The Minister is still here, so…” Draco felt a bit out of it, he’d never done anything like that before. He loved her… it stunned him just how much in that moment, and having her there had meant everything to him. Before he could even begin to word anything related to that sentiment, though, their time was up.

“You’re fine, stop worrying. Here they come.” She saw Lord Greengrass, Kingsley and about a dozen or so others heading down the hall toward them and Draco was suddenly holding her hand firmly, just a quick squeeze before his mask came back and some energy came from nowhere to his demeanor.

“Malfoy! Excellent presentation, my boy!” Lord Greengrass clapped him on the back and Hermione caught Kingsley’s snorting chuckle.

“Hype’s right, Master Malfoy, Healer Zabini… we were all impressed. Congratulations on your second trial in under a year, son, that’s unheard of.” Kingsley grinned.

Draco paled. “You… Don’t you need to go… vote?”

The group chuckled as if he’d said something ridiculous. “Unanimous approval, dear boy. Well done. Now I won’t hear ‘no’, Malfoy, Zabini, Miss Granger, who’s hungry?” Lord Greengrass was acting like he’d just won something, which, considering how good the press would likely be from the lecture… he had a right to, Hermione supposed. She looked to Kingsley, knowing they were supposed to meet.

“I’m starving.” He answered her look and the Board CEO in one go. “And, Hype, this is good… I wanted to get Malfoy’s opinion on that matter we discussed. It’s what Miss Granger and I were set to meet about anyway, might as well all do it together over food and good booze.”

“Excellent notion, Minister! Gentlemen, I assume you’ve no objection?” He looked to Draco and Blaise, railroading like usual, and both just nodded and smiled.

“Wonderful! I’ve a private room waiting at The Oracle…” He flounced off, assured enough of his status that even the Minister of Magic would follow. Kingsley rolled his eyes and chuckled, miming like a maitre’d for everyone else trying to stifle their laughter.

“Minister, I appreciate the support.” Draco murmured as they walked toward the apparition point, his hand firmly gripping Hermione’s.

“Nonsense, I agree with Greengrass, and I’ll want to meet with you about the government side of it once you’re ready with a proposal for that end of things. I was very impressed today.”

“Thank you, I will hopefully have something for you by the New Year.”

“Excellent… Do you have the support staff you need?”

“With this I will need to expand considerably. Unlike CCP1, this is as much a logistical endeavor as a medical one.”

“Well it falls under the ‘Public Interest’ sector of Magical Maladies, so will be funded through the Ministry. Let the policy wonks over at the Health Department take the logistic load, that’s the stuff that takes away from your real job.”

“Really?” Draco didn’t even know that was an option…

Hermione squeezed his hand and nodded. “Kings, after we get the pressing issues of next session sorted, I’d like to meet with our liaison at Whitehall. MI5 will have records of all family members of Magicals working in the NHS, the National Health Service, and they might have some at the WHO, the World Health Organization too. If luck is on our side, we might be able to bring in consultants who can set this up for you two without even breaking the Statute of Secrecy.”

“That’s a brilliant idea, Hermione… And would save a lot of time and mistakes.”

Draco squeezed her hand, flashing her a smile. He obviously agreed. “Hey Mi?”

“Yes?”

“Blaise has a question.”

Hermione turned around; Blaise had been walking behind her and had his hand raised like he was in class, a stupid grin on his face. “Yes, Blaise?” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“So, I shagged a girl once who-”

Hermione burst out laughing. “Sorry, continue.”

“-was a muggleborn and took me to this thing called the cinema… Isn’t MI5 the thing with the spies?!”

They’d all arrived at the hospital’s apparition point, the spread out group now re-congregated and Hermione had to temper her snorting laughter. “Later, Blaise… I’ll explain it… later.” She patted his shoulder as they all apparated to Lord Greengrass’s private dining room at The Oracle for an early dinner.

Chapter Text

Dinner had been an enjoyable affair overall. Several board members had joined them and made shop talk, congratulating Draco and Blaise on their accomplishments and the success of the presentation. Several had made the comment that Hermione and Draco were a beautiful couple and, to the entire table’s amusement, Blaise claimed to have ‘seen it coming since day one of Hogwarts!’ Hermione merely quirked her brow and replied that she ‘didn’t recall him being particularly proficient at Divination, but since she’d found it to be a bollocks subject, what did she know?’, earning her a round of laughter of her own.

After a delicious meal and the departure of all the St. Mungo’s Board save for the CEO himself and the Minister, Draco, Blaise and Hermione were left chatting. Hermione suspected that Kingsley had an agenda, keeping Lord Greengrass plied with liquor and compliments, perhaps in order to talk a little Ministry business? It didn’t take long for her suspicions to be proved right, though she didn’t expect the man himself to be aware of the scheme ahead of time.

With dessert plates cleared and after-dinner drinks poured, Lord Greengrass sat back indulgently with a sigh, patting his full belly with one hand and fiddling with his brandy glass with the other. He looked to the Minister with an almost resigned sadness, as though he knew it was time for bad news.

“Hype, you ready to hear it like it is on this Marriage Law thing or what?”

“Ehhh…”

“Man up, Hype.” Kingsley chuckled, clapping the portly old man on the shoulder. He sighed with a bit of smile and turned to Hermione.

“Alright Miss Granger, you have my attention. Speak plainly.”

“And honestly, Lord Greengrass? Have I full leave to do that as well?” Hermione was beyond amused… apparently he already knew this was going to be painful and she could let it rip… interesting.

He chuckled, swirling his brandy and taking a bracing sip. “Indeed, my dear. I am, ehh, all ears, as they say.”

Hermione eyed Kingsley’s near imperceptible nod in her periphery then looked at Lord Greengrass skeptically for a moment, considering whether he was being honest or not before speaking calmly, frankly, and completely off the cuff. She let it rip.

“I’ll preface this by saying that I fully recognize the problem you’re trying to solve, it does exist and it does need a solution very soon. Having said that, though…

"The law you and the rest of the Wizengamot have passed doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in fiendfyre of solving the problem you say it’s meant to. What it WILL do, however, is piss away all of the progress you all have made and goodwill you have engendered since the war by creating mass unrest in your constituency, hundreds or more broken homes, a legal shitestorm of untold proportion, a media backlash that will last the entire time it takes the public outcry to get it repealed, and it will only push the problem further down the road. ‘Legislative kick-the-can,’ Lord Greengrass, and that isn’t how you fix problems, it’s how you create new ones, it’s how you birth a hydra.

"This will also lose you more citizens to other socially and economically smarter countries on the continent and America that are friendlier to citizens in the age bracket you are targeting, which will of course only hasten the current rate at which your tax base is dwindling, a trend that cannot continue.

"Muggleborns will continue to leave the Wizarding World altogether because it is hostile to us and we will seek employment and housing and romantic partnerships outside of it, where we are not persecuted as either undesirables OR broodmares. You are setting yourselves up for catastrophic political failure and the International Magical community is watching, waiting for you to make a mistake just like this one.

You are two weeks out from disaster, here, Lord Greengrass, but it is not too late. Let me help you.”

The entire table seemed to be holding their breaths.

“Well Salazar’s tits on toast, girlie, you don’t sugarcoat a thing, do you?” The portly old man sighed with a soft chuckle, his eyes showing his distress plainly.

“She really doesn’t, but she’s right, Hype... and you know it.” Kingsley said gently. Hermione could see Draco just watching her with pride out of the corner of her eye, seeing how this conversation played out. She’d watched him work. Now it was his turn.

“Perhaps… You do make some, ehh, good points, yes, I grant you that… Tell me your ideas. What... what do we do, if not... this.” He sighed his words again, knowing he was in for bad but necessary news. She smiled, knowing she had him on the hook now.

“Think of it like overcorrecting a turn on broomstick, My Lord, you're being too heavy-handed. You’re trying to fix the problem too quickly and using far too much stick and no carrot whatsoever, which never works out well in policy like this. It’s a nuanced problem, My Lord, it’s ten-dimensional chess. You’re not taking into account the logistical, social, physical and financial difficulties you impose on people by legally ordering them to marry and bear children, especially in so egregiously short a time frame. You are not incentivizing or even assisting anyone, either! You’re dictating, and no one likes a dictator. We just fought a war to defeat one if you recall.

"Now, I get it, Wizarding Britain needs a baby boom, but you need it to be sustainable and financially sound for the long run because you have to play the long game. Think about it - What makes a people, as society or as individuals, want to have babies?"

Every man at the table, including Lord Greengrass, seemed utterly stumped by this question and Hermione buried her chuckle.

"It's a surprisingly simple answer, My Lord, it’s prosperity… and prosperity is what should follow a victorious wartime and a baby boom should be the natural result of that, but it should not be the law. It’s a simple formula and history has shown it to be true over and over: Try to impose your will too far and the populous will overthrow you; Create the right environment coming out of a time of crisis, however, and the society will thrive! It’s your choice to make.

"You asked for my ideas of what you should do… Here they are: Focus first on regaining and maintaining the young adult population you lost during the war to other countries and ensuring they have good-paying jobs. Lure them back, lure new young singles and families here. If you want to be sneaky, try getting Hogwarts and our Wizarding Unis to do some sort of exchange program or visiting student program for older students then offer them jobs. Make Wizarding Britain the place in Europe to raise a family: tax incentives, magical primary schools, childcare programs so witches can go back to work if they wish to - it’s a new day, look at what other countries are doing that’s working, that’s popular, and adjust your views to keep up. Make your economy prosper and your population will follow shockingly quickly.

"Next, since I know you’re trying to integrate, I would say you need to make Wizarding Britain not just safe for muggleborns to live in, but pay more attention to the fact that you have a retention problem in that demographic specifically. If this law goes into effect as it is currently written, the numbers won’t nearly pan out because muggleborns will either willingly leave this country to avoid it or they will leave magic behind entirely if they haven’t already, I guarantee it. Muggleborn wizards and witches still struggle for inclusion and for equal advancement opportunities in the workplace here despite the decrease in overall discrimination they face since the war, so telling them who they have to marry will only alienate them further and make them feel like they fought that war for nothing. They will leave you, Sir…

"I know I am throwing a lot at you that sounds negative and like you'll lose any short-term gains, but that's not true... If you are worried about short-term successes to sell this to your Wizengamot friends and need some middle-ground policy plans? Alright then, to get your baby boom started now, start with existing and budding marriages! Attack the issue on multiple fronts… The birth rates are declining, yes, so to me that says the issue deserves to be studied. Fund a research study about genetics to predict likelihood of squib births in couples and increase reproductive healthcare to prevent miscarriages, which I hear is a horrible issue with so many couples in our world and if it can be helped, it should be! It deserves looking into.

"Give tax incentives and cash incentives to couples to use surrogates to carry their babies if they cannot or for homosexual couples, or even to assist the household budgets for couples who might have wanted another child but couldn’t otherwise afford it. There are ways to do this, My Lord, dozens of them, that are not barbaric disasters. You need only to be willing to play the game.” Hermione shrugged, wafting her hand dismissively. “And all that’s essentially off the top of my head, I don’t even have my notes with me.”

She sipped her wine and sat back, done ranting for the moment. She'd gotten her point across, she could tell.

Lord Greengrass sat quietly for a few moments, obviously mulling over what she’d said and aware he’d been thoroughly trounced. No one at the table dared speak for fear of undoing her good work. Finally, he seemed to stir.

“We planned, you know... to offer a, ehhh… matching service, of sorts… you know, for those who were unattached and, ehhh… floundering to find a match on their own or, ehhh… didn’t want the bother, you know…”

“What were you planning on basing it off of?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“Questionnaires and magical core compatibility… It isn’t fool proof of course. My wife and I are happy as can be, fifty-six years now and we only scored an 87% when we tried it out the other day.”

“Not a bad score…” Hermione shrugged with a smile, ignoring Draco’s snort behind her. She elbowed him in the ribs.

“Forgive me, Lord Greengrass, I like to tease my favorite swot here… please, just ignore me.” He grinned.

“Nonsense, lad, the girl’s scores at Hogwarts are practically legend.” He wafted his hand with a chuckle and Hermione turned crimson, scowling at everyone.

“I’d have to look at it before having an opinion either way, but it sounds like offering the service with an incentive wouldn’t be the worst thing, it could even be great. It’s making things mandatory or else that is both counterintuitive and barbaric.”

“Hmm… You’ve made good points, Miss Granger, I admit. Kingsley, you were right, old boy. Say, Master Malfoy, Zabini… any notion on that business she mentioned about squibs and... you know?” No one had to ask what he meant by 'you know'... The pain on his face said it all. Hermione wondered how many losses Lady Greengrass had suffered, her heart going out to her. She really hoped a study about miscarriage prevention in purebloods could be fast-tracked if the problem was as rampant as it seemed.

Blaise piped up from his whispered conversation with Draco. “Sir I was just mentioning that… let us do some research and get back to you. It is possible, but nailing down a timeline is the rub… give me at least a week?”

“Of course, of course… understood. Miss Granger, think you can have an outline of what we went over to me before, say… Monday of next week? I’d like get a few more on side while we still have time to pull this thing for changes.”

“Absolutely, Sir.”

“Excellent… excellent… Quite the productive day! Ethel will be waiting for me so, if you’ll all bear to part with my company for the evening I am afraid I shall take my leave of you. Master Malfoy, Healer Zabini, again… Congratulations on today. Well done. Minister, Miss Granger, your counsel is appreciated. Kings… Salazar, I can see what you meant now! Indeed, old boy… Indeed!”

Silence hung in the room for a few moments after the man-walrus left, his presence having loomed large. Blaise was the first to speak.

“Salazar’s tits, Granger, I can’t believe the set of brass balls you have!”

Kingsley and Draco both burst out laughing while Hermione turned and looked at him like he was crazy. “What? What are talking about?”

“He’s so right…” Kingsley wheezed, wiping tears off his face with laughter.

“How? That law is stupid! And insane! What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, well I found my man, so go with Merlin!’? No way!” Hermione look to Draco who just put up his hands in surrender, not wanting to get in the way or her ire, he was on her side.

“That last bit… at the end…” Kingsley laughed, trying to get ahold of himself. “When he said ‘I can see what you meant’… He was referring to you! I told him earlier that you don’t care what he thinks of you and would give it to him straight, so if he didn’t want that, not to ask you!” Kingsley clutched his stomach laughing all over again.

“Oh… well that’s true.” She shrugged, sipping her wine as the three men laughed around her.

Draco pulled her to him and kissed her cheek. “Knowing you better these days as I do, it makes sense… how you don’t get intimidated by men like that. But it is still so fun to watch you decimate their small mindedness with your brilliance, love…”

“Mmhmm.” She smiled, giving him the side-eye.

“Oh! Shit, Kingsley guess what!” Hermione cried, remembering something hilarious.

“What’s up?” He asked, sighing from laughter.

“Draco met Gran!”

Kingsley had barely gotten his breath back but once again burst into such hysterical laughter he was literally deprived of oxygen.

“Why is that so funny? Is your Gran scary, Granger? Draco? Did Granger’s little Gran frighten you?” Blaise laughed.

“She is scary, but she loved me!” Draco declared, absently stroking the back of Hermione’s neck and grinning in his triumph.

“Oh really?!” Kingsley chortled. “Conquered the unconquerable, did you? This story I must hear…”

Hermione laughed. “It’s true, Kings… I’d never seen anything like it. She adored him. Gave him plenty of trouble, mind you, but he managed. The weirdest part, though…”

“Oh, seriously…” Draco cried.

“What? What was weird?!” Blaise was so fascinated now.

“The minute I introduced him she goes, ‘Ah, Cissy’s boy!’  But she refused to say how she knows Narcissa, just did that thing she does!”

“Ugh, where she says ‘she knows everyone’ and makes you feel small and not in control of your own life?” Kingsley commiserated.

“Yes!” Draco and Hermione cried at the same time.

Blaise chuckled in confusion. “But, Granger… isn’t your Gran… you know… umm…” He looked shiftily around like he was going to say a naughty word. “A Muggle?” He whispered loudly.

The other three looked at him like he was a very special boy indeed before laughing at him.

“Yes, Zabini… She is indeed.” Hermione smiled and turned to Kingsley with a sigh. “Kings, my identity is going to come out… I’m okay with it, I'm... not hiding anymore, so… don’t hedge on my account.”

“You sure?” He seemed very skeptical.

“Yes. I took Draco home to the Grange on Friday, that’s where we ran into Gran. If it were just me, I’d probably still try to keep it under wraps indefinitely but…” She looked at Draco and smiled, feeling safe and truly happy for the first time. “I don’t feel like I need to anymore.”

“First of all, I am so… so happy for you… and to hear that… and second… thank Merciful Merlin and Circe…” Kingsley’s head fell backward dramatically. “Not that I am complaining!”

“Of course not.” She rolled her eyes and smiled. “And I appreciate the effort it took on your part, but I’m letting you off the hook now, is what I’m saying.”

He lifted his head, comical fatigue and gratitude on his face. “Anything for you… and thank you!”

“Can anyone fill me in?!” Blaise whined.

Draco looked over and laughed. “Love, Blaise looks ready to explode with nosiness…”

“Sorry, Blaise… I don’t mind honesty, but can I at least trust you to be moderately discreet?”

“Of course. Healer training beat that into me. It was so painful…” He grinned.

“Ha, I bet. Know much about the Royal Family? The Muggle Royal Family, Blaise?”

“Not… specifically, no. But enough to get where you’re going with this, I think. Maybe… ish.” He looked adorably confused.

“Mate… You know they’ve got a Queen, yeah?” Draco decided to go slowly since they didn’t have educational aids on hand.

“Course…”

“Right, well the Queen’s family is extensive… like… massive. And there is an entire system of Titled Aristocracy as well. Following?”

“I’m there. My father was a Count… I don’t remember him and that was Italy, but… he was, so I get it.” Blaise shrugged. He really was a sweetheart, Hermione mused. “So where does Granger fit in with this?”

“I kept my parents’ titles a secret throughout my time at school for… many reasons, and I sent them away during the height of the war to one of their charity outposts they founded in Mali. They’ve been there ever since and will return in August, finally. My father is the Duke of Ashford, and my mother is the only daughter of Prince Edward and the Duchess of Kent. So while I am way too many times removed to hold the title of Princess or factor into the line of succession, I am still considered within the Royal Family and therefore I have to comport myself as such and attend certain events each year. I have… expectations, for my life. The Minister, poor man, has to deal with it nearly as much or more because he has my grandparents stalking him at cabinet meetings asking him how I’m doing and this and that… He’s been my sword and shield while I’ve been gone this last year, especially, since my parents' absence has been a bit of an issue he's been forced to answer for. But don’t worry Kings, you’re off the hook now. I’ll accompany you to Whitehall from now on, too, as thanks.”

“Thank… Merlin… It's like a piranha tank...”

“If… you start coming to teas again when summoned.”

“That was a dirty trick.”

“I’m full of those.” She shrugged, smirking.

“Teas?” Draco asked, impressed with her Slytherin tactics.

“Gran loves to interrogate one-on-one and she rather likes the Minister; thinks he’s dishy.” Draco snorted; he’d noticed her Grandmother’s interrogation techniques firsthand. The woman was obviously where Hermione had inherited said Slytherin tactics. Whether the Minister was ‘dishy’ or not, that he really couldn’t say.

“So? Blaise? Any questions?” He was sitting with owl eyes.

“Is that how you knew where the spies work?” Hermione burst out laughing.

“Sure Blaise… that’s exactly how.”

“You’re making fun of me… I think.”

“You’re correct. MI5 is Britain’s domestic intelligence service, MI6 is foreign intelligence. That is actually common knowledge, it's in films and books and such.”

“Draco, your girlfriend is my hero.”

“Paws off.”

“Just… saying.”

“And I’m just saying… yuh know…” Draco shrugged, grinning like an idiot. “Paws off.”

“Can I ask one more question just… super quick?” Blaise asked Hermione, slightly agitated now.

“Of course.” She assumed it would be about her family or, at worst, Muggle spy agencies. She was wrong.

“I didn’t want to say anything before because I was pretty sure you guys forgot I was here… or forgot I didn’t know… or whatever… but what barbaric bullshit law were you all chatting about, exactly, aaaand… approximately how fucked am I?”

Hermione and Draco were speechless, but Kingsley was just the right amount of drunk to answer that.

“Exactly as fucked as the rest of us.” He toasted Blaise with his brandy and sat back in his chair, crossing his legs and downing half of it.

“…and how fucked is that?” Blaise squeaked, horrified beyond measure.

“We’ll know the answer to that in… two weeks! But… Hermione seems to have potentially un-fucked the situation pretty well with that little rant earlier, so… fingers crossed.” Kingsley nodded to Blaise sympathetically.

“No pressure, love.” Draco murmured.

No pressure, indeed, Hermione mused, suddenly feeling very ready to head home for the evening.

Chapter Text

“Are we celebrating your success first, or talking it out first?” Hermione asked him as he followed her through the floo into her loft after leaving the Oracle.

“Is that a real question?” Draco grinned. “Besides, I don’t think I am the only one with success to celebrate this evening, am I?”

She smirked, cocking her head and pretending to not be sure what he could possibly be referring to. “I don’t know… I think celebrating me would be premature at this point… but you… Master Malfoy…” Hermione put her hands on his chest and leaned into him. “Did amazing today.”

His heart soared as his lips crashed into hers, kissing her like he’d been dying for the taste of her and triumphant at finally having her alone, having her as his. He couldn’t possibly love her choice of skirt more, he decided, as he was able to gather it in his hands to expose the soft skin between her thigh-high stockings and her knickers. Not wasting any time, he picked her up under her thighs, carrying her to the bedroom with her legs wrapped around his waist and his hands massaging her ass, his fingers sneaking beneath the gusset of her knickers to torture her.

“So how would you like to celebrate, Master Malfoy?” She murmured between kisses, squeezing her thighs and grinding against him a little as she ran her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and making him groan.

“Mmmmmm… I want you just… like this…” He’d set her on the edge of the dresser with her skirt pushed up to her waist. “I want to take off these wet knickers…” His fingers wrapped around them at her hips and he peeled them off her, keeping her heels and thigh-highs right where they were as he stepped right back between her legs. “And I want to unbutton this blouse… just… enough…” She sat there panting while he did that too, letting him then push her silk blouse open to reveal her bralette-covered tits, then pushing everything off one shoulder to expose her nipple just barely. “So… beautiful…” Draco kissed her hungrily, possessively exploring her exposed breast with one hand and holding her thigh tightly against his waist with the other, pressing his hardness against her core so she could feel her effect on him.

Hermione reached for his belt as they kissed madly, as he tortured her nipple to the point where he’d made her want to beg. The second he was free, with her hand wrapped possessively around him, he groaned into her mouth. “Fuck Baby…”

Hermione’s stiletto heel dug into the back of his thigh as she urged him inside her, the angle making her head fall back and her mouth fall open. “Yesss…” She clung to him; his clutching hold on her ass and her breast were likely to bruise as his thrusts were punishingly hard and deep, the sound of moans and slapping flesh filling the room.

“Baby it’s so good… you’re so good…” Draco sounded broken, like he was going to cry; it was a stark contrast from the desperate, raunchy fucking he was giving her, but she understood… it was just so overwhelmingly fucking good…

“I know I know it’s so good baby… please…” She keened, so close, so close she just needed a little more…

A drag of his hips one last time rubbing his pubic bone over her clit and she was done, screaming out her orgasm and tightening her shaking legs around him, her pussy spasming around his cock until he lost control too, crying out as he buried himself to the hilt and spilling inside her.

Their breaths were panting and they buried their heads in the crooks of each other’s necks, leaving small kisses and nuzzles as they came back to themselves. Draco’s hands rubbed softly up and down her thighs, calming the stuttering muscles there as he kissed his way up to her face, lingering there for a long, drugging kiss. “Mi?”

“Hmm?” She blinked a few times to clear her vision, smiling at him in that hazy happiness he seemed to instill in her after sex.

“You were… You coming today, supporting me, being there with me, it meant everything to me. YOU mean everything to me.” His eyes were glassy as he held her face and kissed her again, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs; she held his wrists in her hands and locked her ankles behind his waist, keeping him with her, inside her, kissing her, as long as she could. Because he was everything to her, too.

“Whether you deem yourself ready for celebration or no, you really were amazing tonight too.” Draco told her as he climbed into bed that night, his voice so sincere that it made her heart a bit fluttery.

“Thanks. It was no floor speech but wasn’t bad for an off-the-cuff take-down of shite policy, I’ll give myself that much… but I can’t believe we just… forgot Blaise was in the room!” Hermione chuckled as she climbed in after him, cuddling up. It was still surprisingly early but they knew they’d likely end up talking the night away, making love again or both and figured they might as well be comfy in bed for either scenario.

“Yes that was… special. But the Minister was there, so… at least it isn’t something you’d get blamed for.”

Hermione burst out giggling. “Saying he was ‘exactly as fucked as the rest of us’… I could have wet my pants laughing at that!”

“Oh that was amazing!” Draco laughed.

“Poor Blaise… Has he been seeing anyone? I feel like people like him, with insanely busy jobs, might actually benefit from that ridiculous thing Lord Greengrass came up with, if it’s legit… and not compulsory, that’s key…”

“He was actually seeing someone for a while last winter, I’m not sure if he still is, it was a bit… surprising…” Draco hedged, lying on his side with his head propped on his elbow, toying absently with one of her curls.

“Who was it? I feel like you’re being judgy...”

“Not… judgy… exactly…” He squeaked, refusing to make eye-contact.

“You so are! Come on! Who is it, now you have to tell me. I’ve been gone a year, I know zero gossip. Ginny didn’t have time to tell me anything yesterday…”

“Loonya…Lovegood…” Draco murmured, barely audible.

“I’m sorry, did you just say LUNA?” Hermione grinned, knowing he’d almost said ‘Loony’ and hastily corrected himself for fear of reprisal.

“I did, I said Luna.” He nodded with wide eyes.

“I love Luna! What wrong with Luna, Draco, hmmm?” She baited him, poking his ribs a little.

He gulped. “Nothing… She is a delight and so very, very normal.” His voice was flat and mildly desperate, making Hermione burst out laughing.

“You are half right.” She grinned, laughing as he deflated with relief that he wasn’t in trouble. “It’s fine, love, she’s… a bit strange sometimes, but she is sweet and kind and a wonderful friend. She also has legitimate Seer blood so does sometimes know weird shit that you should pay attention to, she just says it in the form of a freaking riddle so you don’t always know to catch it in time… and she tends to talk about magical creatures that I am 99.99% sure do not exist but have strangely delightful names and she is always super excited about them. I find her strangely soothing to talk to, as well, even when she is talking about the weirdest shit, she calms me.”

“She does do that… I never noticed that but… you’re right, her tone of voice is so soothing.” Draco commented absently, obviously remembering various interactions with her and seeing her in a new light. “She and Blaise were, or are… I’m not sure if they’re still seeing each other as she is, and I quote, a ‘free spirit,’ well… they’re an odd pairing, no?”

“I dunno… Blaise seems like a guy with… eclectic taste? Or perhaps he likes a challenge?”

“Both… I think both.”

“Hmm… Luna is a half-blood. No matter what, the Wizengamot will have to change the rule around purebloods only being allowed to marry muggleborns because the numbers simply won’t match up, there just aren’t enough of us to begin with and I know for sure that a significant number wouldn’t stick around to submit to a law like this.”

Draco was thoughtful for a moment, unsure if he wanted the answer… but he couldn’t help himself. “Would you? If we weren’t… us?”

Hermione thought for a moment, cuddling into him for comfort as she did. “Honestly? I don’t know… the idea of not being with you, now that I am… makes me very anxious. It’s hard to think objectively about what I’d choose to do… but I am very happy that I don’t have to.” She briskly shook her head, as if she could physically dispel the ugly thought from her brain that way, and cuddled closer.

“Me too, my love… you’ve no idea.”

“I hope I made headway today… I think I did, but it was pretty jumbled.” She mused.

“I definitely think you did! He knew you were right… now you can try to make it about rewriting the thing to be incentive-based and try to stretch it out… Maybe make a ten year plan to fit in all your ideas? Like milestones?”

Hermione nodded with a smile. “I was thinking exactly that too… See, I’m not the only swot in this relationship…”

“Never said you were, just said you were my favorite…” He grinned, kissing her forehead.

She preened, adoring him, before turning thoughtful again. “It’s hard not to worry about our friends, though, you know? Not feel the pressure to, I dunno, save them from this thing… I mean, I don’t have many, but of the friends I do have, the only ones who are married so far are Harry and Ginny… Everyone else is still single.”

“I know, love, believe me… all my friends are single. Before the war we all expected to have to follow the tradition of our parents and have arranged marriages; most of us had contracts already drawn up and signed by our families, we had no say, but the war changed all that… contracts fell through or were terminated for a dozen different reasons, and then we all took our freedom and ran with it, praising the gods for our change of fortune. I know some families still went through with doing things that way but I don’t know any whose original understandings stood…” He shuddered.

“So… you had a betrothal contract?!” Hermione sat up, horrified and scared, somehow forgetting the part about it no longer being valid or… in existence.

“Love, calm down… the contract was between our fathers during the height of the war and it no longer exists! I never even courted her, thank Salazar, or even interacted outside of her stalking me through the hallways at school, and She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is no longer the future Mrs. Malfoy… In fact, I haven’t even seen her for years. If the gods are feeling generous, I shall never be subjected to her company again, either. She’s vile. It was a temporary, on paper-only thing…”

“Did you just refer to your former, uh, ‘betrothed’ as She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?” Hermione burst out laughing in hysterical giggles. “She was that bad?!”

“Yes… yes she was. Is. Likely she gets even worse with time, like… rampant infestations of fungus or something, I don’t know, she was awful, is my point, and if you for some reason are worried, do NOT be!” He kissed her soundly and picked up her wrist, pointing comically to the priceless diamond bracelet she wore there, waving it in front of her face and causing yet more giggles.

“Who, may I ask, was this Wicked Witch? You said she went to school with us?”

“I cannot say her name… its taboo.” He griped. “But I will give you hints if you promise not to say it out loud once you figure it out.”

Hermione quirked her head. “Are you serious right now?”

“Mia, the girl is a nightmare… and since I have slept so well lately and you adore me so much, play along, won’t you?” He was so pitiful that she decided to humor him, knowing that if need be, she could get the story out of Pansy when she returned from Mystique.

“Fiiiine. Give me your hints…”

“Her grandfather was our dinner host and her sister’s name is Daphne.”

“Ohhhh… you poor baby!” Hermione got the chills; she was so sorry for teasing him even a little and was horrified to hear he’d come so close to having to marry that racist, bitchy, condescending little bint... Hermione loathed Astoria Greengrass… but Daphne was lovely. So odd, that…

“You see! She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named!”

“I so get it!” She rubbed his arm sympathetically. “Gods… I was worried I’d have to get the story out of Pans when she gets back but those were easy hints. Sorry, love… what a horror…” Hermione shuddered.

Draco basked in her sympathy and the feel of her nails going lightly up and down his arm… sooo soothing…

Wait.

Did she just say Pans?

Draco couldn’t possibly have heard that right. “Did you just say… Pans? As in… Pansy? Like… Parkinson? Pansy Parkinson?”

“Yeah… how many ‘Pansys’ do you know?” Hermione chuckled, already enjoying how her verbal slip was being received. Her boyfriend’s brain was melting.

“Just the one, which is why I am so disturbed to hear her name out of your mouth in a tone of familiarity and authority… are you two… friends?!” The mere idea was too disturbing for words… and wouldn’t his friend Pansy have mentioned it?!

“Yeah! She’s one of my best friends, in fact. How do you of all people not know this? She’s one of your besties, too…”

“I’m aware! That makes it that much more insane!”

Hermione chuckled; her friend was going to have some ‘splaining’ to do once Draco got ahold of her, that was for sure. For her part, Hermione merely felt amused. If Pansy knew this whole time how Draco felt and hadn’t told her, she had a reason. She’d been friends with Draco since nappies and her loyalty to him came first, Hermione didn’t question that, nor did she feel threatened by it. She was happy now and didn’t see a reason to fuss. “Stop moving around, you’re supposed to be my pillow right now.”

Draco realized he was gesticulating his confusion a bit much, but… still. “Sorry, love… just… when… how…”

“You’re friends with Neville now, Peter Pan… people grow up!” She laughed.

“Who’s Peter Pan?! And yes I am but… that friendship… doesn’t count!”

“Le sigh…”

“Isn’t French!”

The giggles were getting the best of her and the conversation was going downhill rapidly. “Stop, stop laughing!” Draco cried, feeling like he was really losing control of the topic at hand and wanting to get back on track!

“Make me!” She cried, utterly unable to stop and having a wonderful time annoying him; like Harry, one of his biggest pet peeves was being without some perceived inside piece of information, after all, and how Hermione Granger became close friends with Pansy Parkinson without him having noticed definitely fell under that category. Oh, the irony… He and Harry were way more alike than they’d ever admit.

“Oh, make you, hmm? No problem…” Draco accepted the challenge with well-deserved confidence, turning her giggles to moans within three-seconds of getting her on her back and his head between her thighs. She was a writhing, moaning mess when he squeezed her breast and looked up at her, smirking because he won. “I made you stop laughing… now shall I make you come for me too, love, hmm? Is that what you want?”

Hermione literally growled before giving in with a whine, throwing her head back and begging.

“Yessss… please…” She’d get him back for this… at some point.

When that would be… she’d figure that out later.

“Are you ready to tell me now or must my interrogation techniques continue?” Draco smirked down at her, admiring how beautiful she was when she looked utterly debauched.

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head a bit sadly. “No no, you’ve officially broken me, congratulations… but…” She sighed, knowing the answer to his query, while necessary, would likely ruin his night completely.

“But what?” Draco asked, his emotions always startlingly in tune with hers as he sensed her distress. She smiled a little at this, though in a way it made her feel worse.

“I’ve been friends with Pansy, close friends, for a long while now… but we don’t exactly spread that fact around. Ginny knows, but… no one else, really. It isn’t because we’re ashamed to be friends, it’s because of how we became friends… it got us into a sort of pattern of secrecy. And I normally wouldn’t… couldn’t tell you, either, if not for the fact that I’m aware you already know what happened to Pansy… She said you’re the one she called and that… you helped her.” Hermione spoke quietly, focusing on her cuticles and not the man she didn’t feel brave enough to face lying next to her.

“Mia… What are you telling me?” His palm ghosted over her cheek, turning her to face him and see the fear in his eyes. Fear for her.

“You must have been dying to know, the last few days, why I don’t speak to Ron anymore… why I said I never would again, either. And you were so lovely not to ask me, when you could see how upsetting a topic he is for me, but… you should know… the basics, anyway. Turns out that Pans and I were getting checked out at St. Mungo’s on the same night and… got referred to the same mind healer… for the same type of experience, so… that’s why we’re friends and… that’s what happened with… him.” Hermione watched his chest seem to cave in as though the air were sucked from the room; she watched him squeeze his eyes closed to try to keep in the two tears that escaped anyway as he pushed his face into hers as he breathed in and out, trying to take in the bomb she’d just dropped. And she just let him hold her, loving him more with each passing second.

“Mi I am so sorry.” He whispered raggedly in her ear. “I’d never have asked if I had any idea…”

“Sssh no, don’t start that, you couldn’t have possibly known! And you have to know these things, Draco, that’s… Talking about them isn’t easy but it’s important, it’s part of this… I want you to know me. You can ask. If you have questions, you can ask them, truly.”

He looked pained, but she could tell he did have a question. She knew what it would be and simply preferred not to have to volunteer the information because it would involve fewer words on her part this way. Perhaps that was selfish but in this case, she felt that was alright.

“Did he rape you?”

She shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. “He tried awfully hard though… But Harry got there just in time to save me. Just barely, but it made all the difference…”

He nodded, so relieved and so angry, holding her tight. He’d have to thank Potter on his knees next time he saw him… fuck defeating Voldemort, this deserved that level of gratitude and he'd happily give it…

“I worry, though…” Hermione murmured, pulling Draco out of his relief and back into concern again. “His obsession with me and hatred of you… combined with his firing from the DMLE last year, I worry about him lashing out now that our relationship will be all over the papers. It might need to be managed, somehow, I don’t know… I don’t like looking over my shoulder.”

Draco blanched at that.

“Do you think he’d come near you again?” He asked seriously, fear coiling in his belly.

“I genuinely don’t know… But I wouldn’t write off the possibility… of that or of a slanderous account in the paper of some kind, who knows. It’s the not knowing that’s been bothering me.”

Draco could certainly understand that… it was bothering him now too. “Can we ask Potter to look into it? A threat assessment for a friend?” He asked, his voice aiming for gentle but still with an edge to it.

Hermione thought a moment before nodding. “Yeah… I can ask him. He hates Ron now, ever since… it happened, but because he’s married to Ginny, finding out the information will be that much easier. The family sided with me but that just made Ron that much more unstable and… well, doesn’t matter, Harry can find out what’s what. Can we talk about something else now? I really don’t want nightmares tonight.”

“Oh baby, yes of course! I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

“It isn’t your fault, I just need a distraction… something silly and random… tell me a story.”

“A story, huh?”

“Yeah, like… a silly childhood memory. Make me laugh.”

“Hmm…” Draco thought of a good one and chuckled. “Remember the albino peacocks from the World Cup that summer between third and fourth year?”

Hermione burst out laughing. “Yes, why?”

“They belong to my father.” He grinned at her as she giggled hysterically.

“Of course they do! The most pretentious birds for the most pretentious wizard!”

“Exactly… And because they’re magical albino peacocks, the little bastards live to be, like, 80! So, let me set the scene of our story for you, Miss Granger, settle in…” She was wiping tears from her face again, but these were from laughter, so he knew he’d done well. “A young, pretentious, spoiled little prat of a boy is given his first real broomstick… Not a toy broom, mind you, that hovers naught but three feet off the ground, oh no, a real racing broom! And as an only child who is easily bored and an absolute little shite… What does this little boy decide would be a fun game? Can you guess?”

“Torturing creepy flightless birds?” Hermione ventured, nearly out of breath with giggles.

“Indeed! Dive-bombing the peacocks as they lay in wait to kill me, the little bastards… And may I just tell you, it did not end well for me. They bite, they have long-arse memories and they can run really fucking fast… To this day, they see me and it is like every man for himself because they are coming for me!”

She was shaking with laughter. “You really were such a little prat, weren’t you…”

“Yes… I fully admit that. But you’d think they’d get over it…”

“With brains that size?”

“Touche…”

“I assume you got in trouble for this… messing with your father’s prized herd of ugly pretentious fowl?”

“Ohhh yes… And he still, to this day, laughs his arse off every time they chase me across the grounds, too, rooting for them to catch me, calling out to them by each of their pretentious names to run faster. “Go, Xafod, go!’” Draco griped, sending her once again into hysterics at his impression of Lucius. He was glad to have made her feel better, even if that last bit was a bit of a sore spot, literally. She deserved all the laughter in the world after what she’d admitted earlier…

They talked for another two hours, only sharing the silliest of their childhood stories and laughing at each other’s antics before finally falling asleep sometime after 1am, far later than they normally would during the week. Perhaps it was talking about something so painful for a while, but they just didn’t want to sleep for the longest time afterward, needing lots of laughter first to balance it out. Fortunately, they had plenty of that between them… laughter and love.

Chapter Text

“Draco… Draco wake up…” Hermione shook him a little harder.

“Hmm? Whassimatter darling…” He nuzzled her neck and blinked at her blearily, quickly realizing she was very awake, needing him to also be awake, and staring at… a tiny intruder.

“Mipsy is very sorry to intrude on Master Draco and Missy Hermione…” The elf was obviously mortified and barely keeping it together. “Mipsy tried to explain to Master and to Mistress that Master Draco and Missy Hermione were still sleeping and… not dressed! But they told Mipsy to wait!”

Draco groaned, flopping back into the pillows muttering to himself, while Hermione looked down at the elf sympathetically. Obviously she was in a rough spot and this wasn’t her fault. “Mipsy, was it? It’s okay Mipsy. Umm. I assume Lord and Lady Malfoy are your… Master and Mistress, Mipsy?” Hermione asked, at least slightly mollified by the fact that the elf looked well-cared for and wore a little dress and shoes rather than rags like Dobby.

“Yes, Missy Hermione, they is… They sent Mipsy to ask if you and Master Draco be dining at the Manor tonight… and… if Master Draco no longer be living there.” Mipsy looked and sounded pained as she said the last part.

Draco sat up and looked incredulously at Mipsy. “Seriously, Mip? Mum actually sent you to ask if I’ve abandoned her?”

The elf tugged on her ears and toed the floor a bit. “Mistress ask Mipsy not to use the word ‘abandon’ when I ask… but… yes.”

Hermione snickered behind her hands, eyeing her boyfriend taking deep and dramatic calming breaths behind her shoulder. “How shall we respond to this… missive, dearest?” She asked him, eyes dancing with mirth. Hermione found it simply hilarious that even Mipsy found the request too nosy for comfort and she was having a hard time getting her case of the giggles under control. Draco merely sighed, kissing her cheek.

“Are you free, and… emotionally ready to have dinner with my nosy parents tonight?” That question reined in her laughter, at least, but she was still amused.

“Yes to both. Have you officially abandoned them?” Still smiling, she quirked her brow at him. She knew he hadn’t, only having moved in a week or so’s worth of extra clothes, but she wouldn’t mind if he did… It might be fast, but it was right. She knew it was and so did he.

“Officially?” He quirked a brow right back at her, grinning and leaning in to kiss her. “Not quite yet.” He kissed her again. “My winter clothes are still there, after all.” He winked at her, turning to Mipsy. “Mip, tell them yes to dinner and to also please… calm themselves.”

Mipsy was obviously hoping for a bit more than that since she waited expectantly for him to keep going.

“Ugh… and that we shall talk about… whatever, you know, things tonight! How’s that?” He asked, exasperated.

“That lets Mipsy off the hook, thank you, yes Master Draco, that is being an excellent answer!” She smiled and hopped a little before popping away.

Hermione turned to him, grinning with humor. “‘Excellent answer’ might have been a bit of a stretch… Baby, is there a way to ensure visits like that, maybe, don’t happen again?”

“What? Being accosted by house elves in the bedroom not your thing?”

“Not really, no! She scared the shit out of me and then she felt so guilty about it that she cried! I would prefer not to have that happen again… I liked her, don’t get me wrong… it’s just… we’re naked! And we were sleeping! We could have been fucking!”

Draco laughed, nodding in agreement to all of it. “I… I mean, yes, I can make sure it doesn’t happen, yes… but… speaking of fucking…” Hermione let out a squeal of laughter as he pulled her underneath him, immediately shutting her up with a kiss. If they were up early they might as well make good use of the time before work…

Hermione’s workday wasn’t like most people’s; her unique position and job duties as Chief Advisor to the Minister were such that she essentially did as she saw fit to get the job done, whatever that job was on a given day, which she always did. Kingsley didn’t micromanage her or even demand she work full-time from her office, he simply trusted her and was rewarded in kind. Their routine since he’d hired her out of Hogwarts was that they met and discussed what needed doing, then she went and got it done before their next meeting, simple as that. If adjustments needed to be made or anything came up, they met again. If she needed help facilitating a meeting with someone else, Kingsley stepped in and reminded whoever it was being difficult that she was and should be treated as a second him. She was a fixer, her hands in every department, her reputation stellar. Their dynamic worked famously well, and her being gone a year thankfully hadn’t put any dents in it.

When Hermione strode into the office of the Head of The Department of Mysteries Tuesday late morning without an appointment, she was mildly worried she would run into roadblocks and have to call Kingsley, but nope! Harriford Thompson Billingsley was chuffed beyond measure to see her, no appointment needed. His secretary was at lunch, ha-ha! Hermione’s timing was perfect, that old biddy was always prickly, but Billy? Billy liked her.

“Miss Granger! Back in England… and back in The Department of Mysteries!” He smiled at her, tapping his fingertips together, eager to see what mischief they could get up to. The strange little man entertained her, frankly, and she was happy to see him as well.

“Hello Billy, it’s been a while. How’s it been down here?” He never ventured out, she was convinced… it looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in years he was so pale, but she’d never met anyone who loved their work more, so she didn’t judge.

“Oh you know, I’d tell you but… I can’t unless you really need to know! Do you? Need to know something specific, dear?”

Hermione chuckled, knowing he would be eager to talk about any one of his projects with her for days on end but before he could, he did genuinely need a reason, such were the rules. “Yes, actually. You know I love to catch up but I am here on specific business. I need to know if you have any secret little studies down here on blood lines, squibs, the rate of miscarriages in purebloods… anything like that, Billy, I need it.”

“Ohhh, interesting, interesting… I have just the researcher for you… What’s the news that’s brought this about, hmm? Sounds serious…” He tapped and dragged his wand against his desk in a series of patterns that reminded Hermione of dialing a giant rotary telephone; she knew he had summoned whoever it was so they’d be joined soon.

“The Wizengamot is looking to force a baby boom and I need to make sure they do it the right way; I don’t have much time. As of now, they’re doing it the wrong way… the very wrong way.”

“Marriage Decree, I assume?” Billy scoffed.

“How did you know?”

“They tried the same thing in 1379! AND in 1543 and again 1789! Failed utterly then too… every time. Idiots…”

“But this time they have us, Bill, to set ‘em straight.” Hermione smiled, loving the old weirdo and his eidetic memory so much. “Off the top of your head you just… knew those dates… If you weren’t older than my grandfather you’d my perfect man.” She teased.

“Don’t forget that I’m a flagrant homosexual and happily married, but yes, other than that.” He chuckled. “Oh! Here he is, here he is, Unspeakable Lewis Hangley, meet Hermione Granger, Minister Shacklebolt’s Chief Advisor. Miss Granger, Lewis is our Head Researcher on Genetics and Blood Lines, he should have everything you need, including the histories on Marriage Decrees and the… fallouts.”

“Oh, gollywolly, absolute failures, every one… They’re not trying that again, are they?!” The little man cried from the doorway, his graying handlebar mustache looking extra droopy as he sagged dejectedly into the doorframe. “Those idiots…” Even his ponytail looked sad.

Hermione smiled like a cat who’d found a blind and legless canary. “Lewis, I think we’re going to be great friends.”

Draco walked into the dining room at the Manor feeling cool, calm and collected to have a quick lunch with his parents and discuss things rationally… things like privacy and boundaries and why it is not right to go around traumatizing his nanny elf by sending her to spy on him and his girlfriend while they slept. He’d given himself the morning to get laid and, more importantly, to calm down, since he’d realized it really was an egregious violation of privacy and he was, in fact, quite angry about it!

He wasn’t occluding, but he had taken several deep breaths, which was surely enough…

Probably.

“He lives!” His father cried with a grin.

Sadly Lucius chose the wrong moment for sarcasm… or Draco should have occluded, one or the other, because Draco immediately lost it.

“Are you bloody kidding me?! You saw me on Sunday! Today is Tuesday! Yet you two felt it was appropriate to send a house elf into the BEDROOM of the woman I am courting?! The BEDROOM of a woman you two have yet to meet in this new context and, let’s face it, badly need to impress, both of you! You thought that was okay?! To wake us and scare the life out of her and violate her privacy like that because, Morgana save you, you hadn’t seen me in a day and a bloody half?! REALLY?!” He screamed at them, admonishing them as he never had before. This wasn’t about the war, this wasn’t him throwing a tantrum, no… He was entirely correct and both of his parents knew it. They were sitting there with wide eyes and their mouths hanging open as he exploded at them, but his pause was no reprieve, he merely needed air. He wasn’t anywhere near done.

“Listen… I don’t know what the bloody hell this morning was about, but I can tell you that even Mipsy knew it was inappropriate! I am an adult, and against all odds and for reasons so far beyond me I don’t even understand them, the woman I love more than life itself is giving me a chance to court her and convince her that marrying me is actually a good idea! I swear to Merlin, Morgana, Circe and Salazar’s pet erumpet, if you two fuck that up for me, I will never forgive you… never. You are lucky she is willing to forget about this morning as long as it never happens again, which I trust… it will not?”

Lucius was beyond taken aback by his son’s fury, and the worst part was knowing that he was right… it had been appallingly rude and… what had they been thinking?! “No, no son, of course… You’re absolutely right. Please extend our apologies to Miss Granger.”

“Absolutely, darling, we shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that…”

“HER privacy, Mother!” Draco cried, ready to break a vase to make his point, one she liked.

“I simply see you two as unit, darling, is all I meant…” She held up her hands in surrender, trying to calm the situation. Draco took a deep breath, accepting that as being… an acceptable answer. Fine.

“Fine. Can you explain the reason, though, for your extreme level of over-exuberance please? Before I subject her to dinner with you I’d like to understand.”

Lucius and Narcissa looked at each other, embarrassed, trying to decide who should have to answer that one.

“We, umm…” Lucius tried and failed.

“We were just excited…” Narcissa admitted.

Draco deflated utterly hearing that, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright… What time for dinner?”

Narcissa perked up immediately. “Really?!” She didn’t think they’d be forgiven for eons.

“Don’t… push your luck. Just tell me what time.” He muttered.

“Six-thirty?” She beamed hopefully. “We could eat on the terrace… Ooh! Or in the gardens! Or we could go out! If she doesn’t feel like she can come here, that’s fine too!”

Draco nodded, the enthusiasm his mother was exuding suddenly making him feel exhausted. “I’ll let you know what’s what by teatime… I’ll be in my lab, if you could send Mipsy with lunch for me there. And a headache draught from my storeroom…”

Draco was gone when they realized they hadn’t gotten to congratulate him for dominating the cover of that day’s Prophet, his lecture the day before being hailed The Future in Magical Healing…

It had called Draco and Hermione a ‘power couple’…

That was their son… and his love.

“Do you think maybe he just... hasn’t even seen it?” Lucius asked, watching the photo of Draco speaking on the lecture stage loop around again. He looked so confident and intelligent, and it would be impossible to miss the love and admiration on Miss Granger’s face as she looked at him from her seat next to the Zabini boy…

“I… think perhaps not.” Narcissa shrugged. “Either way, we can congratulate him at dinner… and… apologize. Again.”

Lucius groaned. “What were we thinking…?”

“I truly don’t know.” Narcissa chuckled.

They sat silently for another minute before Narcissa piped up with one more thing that had caught her ear and left it ringing. “He loves her so much…”

Lucius smiled, nodding his agreement; he knew the feeling… he’d been a fool for Narcissa since their third year of Hogwarts.

Hermione got home from her meeting early in the afternoon, laden with research to read, only to find Perseus snoozing on her kitchen windowsill with a lengthy note from Draco. She’d seen him only a few hours earlier yet she had butterflies in her tummy in anticipation of reading whatever he had to say.

My Love,

You’ll never believe their excuse for this morning’s little break-in… They were just really ‘excited.’ I went from blisteringly furious to speechless and dumbfounded in a matter of seconds… Either way, they were beyond chastised and agree that they invaded your privacy beyond measure and were quite mortified with themselves, promising to never do such a thing again.

If you’re still willing to have dinner with them, Mother wondered whether you’d prefer the gardens here or if you’d not be comfortable here at all and would prefer a restaurant. I said I would ask and let her know. Part of me thinks we should flee to Fiji where no one would ever find us, not even Perseus with his extraordinary skills, but since you’ve only just returned from sabbatical I suppose I can’t steal you away just yet. Rude. Let me know your thoughts on dinner with the nosy twins… I miss you darling and hope you’re having a good day.

-Yours always and definitely forever

DLM

Hermione laughed, but also couldn’t help letting her finger drift over his beautiful looping calligraphy… My Love… It was so strange, their relationship… She loved him, she loved him so stupidly much, she was more sure of that than of anything in the world, yet it had been nearly no time at all. Sure, she’d known him forever, but not in the context that most people would consider ‘counted’… yet she couldn’t care less, because she loved him. He was it for her, and she knew he loved her too. It was in every word, every touch, every look, in the inflection of his voice… it was like they’d just been waiting for this moment to find each other again.

Sighing, she wondered about this dinner business, parsing out the source of her nervousness. She knew they’d practically gutted and redone the entire Manor… And she knew how much effort Lucius had been putting into changing over the last few years, seeing his mind healer and doing his community service and Draco swore up and down that he really did approve of their relationship…

They were just ‘excited.’   

That was rather… sweet, in a ridiculous, ‘still-not-an-excuse’ sort of way.

Ugh. Either way, she decided to be brave. Dinner at the Manor it would be. She grabbed some parchment and sat down to write back.

My Love,

If there is one thing I can understand about our relationship, it is the fact that it is very exciting indeed, so I suppose we should be happy in a way. Still, I hope they offered to pay for poor Mipsy’s sessions with a Mind Healer. Love, if you have the time, I’d feel better if you could pick me up for this dinner, as it would calm my nerves immensely, but I understand if you cannot get away from the lab in time. Either way, I am a big girl and believe it is important to make new memories at the Manor, so let’s have dinner there tonight. Please let your mother know.

I miss you too, love, always.

-Yours in return, don’t forget

HJG

P.S. Let’s keep Fiji in mind…

P.P.S. I know you hate being made a big deal of, but I just thought I’d mention that I wholly agree with today’s Prophet - a statement I never thought I’d say once, let alone twice in one week. I am so bloody proud of you, Draco Malfoy, and am the luckiest girl in the world to call you mine.

Draco read over her note and smiled a goofy, blushing smile, one only she had ever been able to inspire, and called for Mipsy.

“Master Draco?” The elf was still embarrassed over the morning wake-up call.

“Mip, can you let Mother know that Hermione is happy with dinner here tonight, and either the gardens or terrace are fine. And please can we make it 7, rather than 630? I’m going to floo over to pick her up and we’ll need a few extra minutes.”

“Oh yes sir! Mipsy will let Mistress know!” She popped away in a far happier and more zen place than when she arrived, making Draco chuckle. He quickly sent a note back to Hermione letting her know to expect him just after six and began to wrap things up for the day, heading to his wing after that to shower and change. He was re-introducing the love of his life to his parents and for that, a man should look his best.

Hermione stood in the 10x12 dressing room that she’d had professionally designed to house her surprisingly extensive wardrobe in her knickers, bra and jewelry, her hair and makeup done, and just… stared, not a bloody clue what to choose. If this were dinner with her family, she’d have no problem, but Narcissa Malfoy was notorious for being… sartorially discerning. Hermione had never been good at being a stylish witch… She was an incredibly stylish woman, but her style favored muggle fashion heavily and traditional witch’s robes had always rather eluded her. She felt silly in them or simply never knew what to pick out, and even now that more Muggle styles and gowns were accepted in the Wizarding World, she still wasn’t sure which ones… So here she was, thirty minutes into staring at the packed walls of her closet in lingerie and full makeup when her boyfriend arrived.

“Are you trying kill me?” He sighed from the doorway, her perfume already assaulting his senses.

“Hmm? Oh! Sorry… Hello. I’d meant to be dressed by the time you arrived…” She grinned, realizing she really hadn’t meant for him to see her like this, she’d meant to have figured this out by now.

“Nooo… no sorry…” He shook his head, sauntering in and tracing a finger along the lace cup of her bra. “Never apologize for this view…”

She laughed because he was utterly entranced and not joking in the least. “While I’d love to entertain your lascivious thoughts, we don’t have time, so… Can you actually, you know… help? I don’t know what to wear.”

Draco huffed, checking his watch; it was only just past six. “It’s actually quite early…”

Hermione was intrigued. “How early? I thought you said dinner was at 6:30?”

“I switched it to 7…” He gulped, thumbing her nipple through the lace and making her gasp a little.

“Ohhhh. Well, in that case…” She reached out and felt how hard he was, making his breath hitch, still wondering if she’d let him, if they had time… She felt so powerful in that moment and could feel her knickers becoming so wet as he pinched and pulled at her nipples through the lace, still just looking her in the eye and waiting to see what she would do, what she would choose. “You should probably bend me over on this bench and fuck me, seeing as you’ve just ruined these knickers anyway… don’t you think? You know… since it’s early?” She was ghosting his lips, teasing him, not quite letting him kiss her as she talked… It was torturous, just like her hand squeezing and rubbing his cock through the material of his trousers… was torturous…

He nodded as if in a trance, agreeing to all of that, stepping back and admiring the view as she turned around, wiggled out of her wet knickers and bent over, getting on all fours on the tufted bench in the center of her dressing room. He unbuckled his belt and took out his cock, pumping it a few times before stepping up behind her and rubbing it through the glistening wet of her folds, pushing against her clit once… twice… Draco couldn’t believe how fucking sexy she was, how wet she was… before he could help himself he was pulling back his hand and landing a good hard SLAP on her ass before kneading the muscle in his hand.

“Ah! Fuuuck, Draco, please fuck me…” She whined, pushing her ass back toward him just as he thrust all the way in. “Ah fuck yes!”

“Mmmmmgods you are so tight baby…” Draco held onto her hips as he let himself go, every filthy, naughty thing spilling from his mouth as he fucked her. She just moaned for more and let her head and shoulders collapse onto the bench with a sob as she came the first time. “That’s so good baby when you come so hard for me… fuck yes… mmm but I know you have one more for me Mia, don't you... come on sweetheart, you’re so good… be good for me now, come on…”

He knew praise was what she needed this time and she was wound so tight, she was so close, whimpering into her arms like she was shocked about how good it was. “Gods this cunt is perfect, like it was made for me, made to be fucked hard like this, never get enough of fucking you…” Every thrust had been harder and deeper, punctuating every word, and when he pressed his finger down right above her clit she exploded, the waves of her orgasm sucking him in until he was buried to the hilt, spilling his come in hot pulses inside her while he called her his perfect, perfect girl.

“Mmmfuck… The pink dress… over there.” Draco pointed vaguely to the rack in the corner, in the exact direction Hermione was facing. “I love that one. I pick that one.” He gave her ass a resounding SLAP and cast a cleansing charm on them both. He fastened his trousers and cheekily kissed her bum before standing her up and kissing her cheek the same way, making her giggle.

“You’re ridiculous…” She laughed.

“Guilty.” He smiled, hugging her to him and leaning his forehead against hers. “Need some fresh knickers, my lady?”

“Indeed I do… That was…” She didn’t even have words for how good that had been. Wow.

“Mmhmm.” He agreed, a bit dazed still.

“You like the pink, huh? Your mum will approve of the pink?”

“She will, as do I.”

“Well then, I’ll need some pink knickers, please, one of the satin thongs on the right from the top drawer there.” She grinned, holding out her hands like a beggar while he searched around and handed them to her.

Ten minutes later she was zipped into a blush pink chiffon one-shouldered greek-goddess style summer gown with fresh knickers and refreshed makeup, shoes and bag, ready to go.

Draco was looking at her like he’d been Confunded, however, causing her to stop and inquire. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Hmm?” He couldn’t think of a single bloody thing… his life was perfect. “Not a thing in the world, why?”

“You’re looking at me like… I don’t know, like you’ve never seen me before or something.” She felt his forehead for fever and laughed, wondering if he was oversexed and if it had addled his brain.

“Oh, no…” He grabbed her hand from his forehead and kissed the inside of her wrist, rolling his eyes at her. “No, ridiculous woman… You’re just really beautiful, alright? Forgive me for being momentarily stunned?”

She opened her mouth to retort but nothing came out, so she just nodded like an idiot. He really was constantly so romantic, wasn’t he… He didn’t ever seem to have to try, either, he just was.

“Hmm… Thank you.” Draco sighed, pulling her into his arms. “Mi… Have I rushed you into this dinner with them? You got upset the other night just when my father came up in conversation and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable…”

“Draco it’s okay, really.” She assured him, letting him accept comfort as well as give it as he stood resting his forehead against hers for a bit. “I might interrogate him a little…” She smiled as he huffed out a small laugh, just as she’d hoped he would. “But truly, I’m okay. We’re strong together, you and I, and like I said in my note… we should try to make some new memories there. As a family.”

He stared at her for a moment, both in awe and to be sure she meant it, before nodding okay.

“Alright beautiful, if you’re really sure, then how are you with side-along? I thought we’d Apparate then walk the long way in through the gardens.”

“Should be fine, if you promise not to let me crash-land in these heels.” She smiled.

Draco looked serious as he leaned down and kissed her. “I will always catch you, Mia… I promise you that.”

Hermione smiled at the irony... Him saying that had nearly made her swoon.

He did catch her, and thank goodness, too, since she would otherwise have landed in a complete heap.

“A man who keeps his promises.” She grinned up at him, mere inches from the ground.

“A woman who issues fair warnings…” He teased, hoisting her back upright.

The gates of the Manor were right in front of them and beyond them it was lit up beautifully, the early summer evening air was fragrant with flowers and fairy lights illuminated the trees. As Hermione stopped to stare, she realized that if she didn’t know it to be the house of her nightmares, she’d never recognize it as such. All trace of the dark magic that had so permeated the entire area had vanished… She smiled softly to herself, thinking of the enchanted castle from Beauty and the Beast after the spell had broken, all bright, shiny and renewed.

“Are you sure you’re okay here? With… all this?” Draco asked, suddenly serious. Her thoughtful staring was worrying him.

Hermione nodded, smiling up at him. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” She squeezed him as she said it, making sure he knew that place was simply wherever he was. He huffed out a breath, always a little emotional when she said things like that, and kissed her sweetly.

They walked around the side of the house, following the garden path. Draco gave a running commentary on various flowers and Hermione was more than a little impressed, though she remembered hearing somewhere that purebloods grew up with some extended tutelage about flowers and their meanings. The long way around was indeed long but it was beautiful, too, and they’d arrived with just enough time to spare. A house elf popped out to greet them as they rounded the corner wearing what Hermione thought was a fairly adorable version of a traditional butler’s uniform, complete with tails and gloves; she had to consciously stop herself from commenting on it.

“Master Draco and Missy Hermione are expected for dinner on the terrace, sir!”

“Thanks Flip, we’ll be there shortly.” Draco smiled at the elf, who bowed and popped away.

Hermione began giggling and needed to stop walking for a second just to control herself.

“What’s funny?” Draco murmured.

“Remember the conversation at my house about how the Aristocracy have nicknames that seem to overlap with house elf names?” She shook with laughter and Draco joined in, seeing where she was going with this.

“Yes… Oh, Princess… How many ‘Flips’ do you know?”

“At least three…”

The sound of the two of them cackling like loons is what greeted Draco’s parents first and it was an impression that would remain in their memories for the rest of their lives and be told as a story dozens of times. In a society where love matches were rare and cherished, the Malfoys could already tell that these two were going to be very special together.

“There you two are… Welcome.” Narcissa beamed, standing from her chair on the terrace. Ancient wisteria vines arced overhead to create a canopy and fairy lights hovered for ambiance; it was beautiful. The table and chairs were made from densely woven dried vines, giving the setting a fairytale-like atmosphere. There were platters of finger food laid out and champagne chilling so the family could enjoy each other’s company before the meal was served, as well; Narcissa was a consummate hostess and knew time to break the ice might be necessary. She and Lucius took in the sight of who Hermione Granger had grown up to be and she was stunning, indeed… and their son was quite obviously head over heels for her. They were a beautiful couple, and very happy.

“Lord and Lady Malfoy, thank you for having me in your home. It’s lovely to see you again.” Hermione smiled, curtseying gently.

“Miss Granger, please, it is we who are humbled to have you and we are so thrilled to see you and Draco together. Please, darlings, come sit.”

“Son, I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh that hard since you were a child… anything you can share?” Lucius smiled as the two couples sat. Hermione grinned at Draco as he gently pushed her chair in before sitting beside her, her eyes full of mischief as she shrugged.

“We have to tell them about me tonight anyway, so… the joke might as well come with it. How else can we solve the mystery of Gran?” She asked him.

“True! But… not until you ask your questions, right?” He reminded her.

“Yes… you’re right.” Hermione smiled at Draco and squeezed his hand, her easy mood faltering slightly.

“Oh now we’re really lost.” Narcissa laughed.

Hermione smiled as she accepted a glass of wine from Flip the elf and nodded to Draco as he procured a plate of nibbles for her from the platter on the table. “I apologize, I know we’re being rude… I promise, we will make sure we share the joke before dessert, and we actually have other things to share with you too. Draco is just being protective because he knows I have questions and am still a bit nervous about tonight.”

Lucius and Narcissa shared a look that spoke volumes and it was obvious to Hermione that they were a strong and very sweet couple that were prepared for this. “We completely understand, Miss Granger, and on behalf of my wife and I, I can only hope to answer any question you might have so that you might feel comfortable here with us. It would also not be right if we did not both apologize… Not only for our sins of the past but for the… intrusion, this morning. It was highly inappropriate and we have no excuse. It certainly will not happen again.” Lucius sounded both contrite and slightly embarrassed, and Hermione had to hand it to him, she hadn’t expected an apology for the morning elf-break-in at all… to her it fell under the category of ‘too mortifying to ever mention again’.

“Thank you… I appreciate that.” Hermione shared a quick look with Draco that fortified her nerves. “If I may… Draco said that Mipsy’s… visit… was prompted by, um, an abundance of excitement, I think was how he worded it… And he has intimated to me on previous occasions as well that you both seem to…” Hermione was frustrated by her apparent and sudden lack of grasp on the english language. “Approve? Of me? Of his relationship with… me? And I am so sorry for being blunt, truly, it isn’t my style… no, scratch that, I can often be painfully blunt, but I try not to be… now I’m rambling… Draco save me before I drown, here?” Hermione had her eyes squeezed shut so she missed the amused look shared between father and son, giving permission for Lucius to take this one.

“We more than approve, Miss Granger. We’re thrilled.” Lucius smiled and gave a small shrug, enjoying her shocked impression of a trout immensely.

“Mr. Malfoy…”

“Lucius, please.” Now he was practically grinning at her and if it weren’t so charming it would be even more disconcerting… and it was pretty disconcerting already. His tone, though, was borderline sassy! Call her a loon but that was what brought her out of her nervous funk more than anything else. He goaded her with sass.

“Alright, Lucius, then… Why?”

“Why… do we approve?” Practically grinning had become fully grinning and not even trying to hide it on Lucius’ part. Draco and Narcissa, on the other hand, were at least attempting to be more discreet.

“Yes! No offense.”

Lucius burst out laughing. “None taken… but do you not see how happy you make our son? I admit that would not have been enough for me had you gotten together years ago, but I think we all know my priorities were very wrong back then. I see things clearly, as a father, these days Miss Granger, and I have never seen my son as happy as he has been since he found you again. That should have always been the most important thing, I know that now and regret the years I cost him. But now is what we have, and I think I can speak for Cissa too when I say we couldn’t be more pleased and grateful that… I did not cost him his chance with you. So… I hope that answers your question?” His grin faded to a soft smile, slightly sad, but full of hope.

Hermione was touched… blown away… floored… speechless… moved… She squeezed Draco’s hand tightly and nodded, blinking furiously. “Yes.”

“For now?” Lucius asked, his eyes so very understanding.

Hermione nodded. “Yes. For now.” Neither Draco or Narcissa commented; it was a moment between Lucius and Hermione. A good moment. It was… progress. Lucius nodded to her, pleased and humbled, before turning to his son.

“Your mother and I are so proud of you, Draco…” Lucius looked at his son with so much love in his eyes, so much emotion, and raised his glass. Luckily, the champagne they’d all been ignoring had been charmed to remain chilled. “Let us toast. To the ‘Future of Magical Medicine’… and his love, the girl who makes him so happy, and who is so very welcome here.”

“Absolutely! Cheers, darlings!” Narcissa smiled, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

Hermione and Draco were so touched and Hermione could tell how much Draco’s father’s words meant to him. It was a genuinely happy moment and exactly what she had hoped for when she mentioned making new memories at the Manor. He looked over at her after the toast and quirked his brow, wondering if perhaps now they could turn to solving the mystery… She agreed, it was time. She, too, was dying to know.

“Mrs. Malfoy, now that… that lovely welcome is out of the way, so to speak, you and only you can actually solve a mystery for us…” Hermione smiled at her.

“Oh? Do tell! But please, call me Cissa, or at least Narcissa, for now.” She and her husband shared and small smile and both were intrigued and so happy by how well it was going. It felt almost too good to be true…

“Narcissa, then. For now. Do you happen to know a Muggle woman around 80 years old with the title of Dowager Duchess of Ashford, by chance? Her given name is Marigold Spencer Wittingham Granger.” Hermione watched as shock, delight and a dawning understanding all registered on Narcissa’s face before she threw her head back and laughed harder than Hermione would have thought the woman knew how to. Lucius looked at his wife like she had lost her mind, but Draco and Hermione just chuckled… they’d met the Dowager in question so they were in on the joke.

“Can someone fill me in… I feel really quite lost!” Lucius griped, only half-joking. He’d not seen his wife laugh like that in years and couldn't fathom what could possibly be happening…

“Are you Goldie’s granddaughter?!” Narcissa cried, beyond entertained by life.

“Goldie?!” Draco and Hermione cried together.

“Goldie from your little… poker parties?” Lucius asked, quite obviously confused. “Didn’t we meet her at that reception at John and Norma’s back in… what was that, ’92 maybe?” He liked Goldie but didn’t know her well, not like Cissa did, and therefore felt rather left out of the loop in this conversation… He hated that feeling and hoped someone would be more forthcoming soon.

“Yes! I think it was ’92… it was right around Christmas of either your first or second years at school, loves, that we met at a party.”

“Whoa whoa whoa… back up!” Hermione felt imminent ‘death by laughter and confusion’ coming on. “So, alright, first of all, yes I am… She’s my paternal grandmother. Second of all… How on earth?! Are you referring to the previous Muggle Prime Minister, John Major, and his wife Norma?!” Both Draco’s parents nodded good-naturedly, making Hermione let out an incredulous whoop of laughter.

“How do you two, again I hope you’ll forgive the offense, end up at a Christmas party at Number 10 of all places… AND! Of all the women to attend my Muggle grandmother’s crazy ‘Ladies of London Society’ Casino Soirees, Narcissa… I did not expect you… She refers to them as her dens of iniquity!” Hermione officially adored Narcissa Malfoy… The jury might be out on Lucius for a bit still since he had more to prove, but Narcissa had strong potential immediately. Perhaps she’d drag her over to Gran’s for tea this week…

“Mother, seriously, we need more details, this mystery has been killing us! I met Hermione’s Gran at her ancestral home last week and the first thing she says to me when she heard my name was that I was ‘Cissy’s boy!’, so please… put us out of our misery and explain in more detail?”

Hermione nodded eagerly, enjoying the tasty soup course courtesy of Flip and another elf she’d not been introduced to. Narcissa was pink with humor, chuckling at the idea that her son had met her old friend already… such a small world it was. She barely had time to take in the implications for his witch’s identity, the conversation was moving too fast.

“Draco, you know your father is one of a handful of advisors at the Ministry that transcend administrations, well… Because we are one of so few of the old families that have never renounced our Muggle Titles, we’re always invited to those soirees! It’s good politics and good business, Draco, close your mouth. Admittedly we attend them more frequently and enjoy them a lot more nowadays than back then, but, that’s neither here nor there. The Duchess and I hit it off though, and we run into each other rather often… We’re on a few of the same charity boards, we frequent the same auctions and horse shows each year, that sort of thing.”

“And you’re friends, then?” Draco asked, bewildered.

“Indeed! I swear that woman can spot a person with magic a mile away, even when they don’t use it in front of her! It’s a strange gift since she has none herself, I must say, but it’s how I was brought into her orbit so to speak; she is the least subtle person I’ve ever met and by far the most entertaining! Truly, she is, she is so entertaining! I just couldn’t help but be friendly with her, I mean she is just so fun… Strode right up to me and declared it unfair that witches could cast cushioning charms on their heels to make parties more endurable and said it was our moral obligation to share the wealth, then stuck out her foot! She never mentioned a granddaughter that was a witch, just a said there were a few here and there in the family… I feel so stupid for not putting it together!”

Hermione was stunned but also laughing to the point of having a cramp as she waved Narcissa concerns away. “Don’t feel stupid, please, she’d never have admitted it even if you’d guessed. She knew I preferred my anonymity back then.”

“A good grandmother, then, Lady Hermione? I’d certainly assume so, and I bet she keeps you on your toes, too. Have you ever just stood with her at a party and let her talk as she wishes about the people who walk by? It is like a running commentary on people’s social idiocy and sartorial mistakes, and she knows everyone’s secrets, I mean… Merlin, her dry wit should be constantly recorded via quick-quill and made into a book! A book series!” Narcissa exclaimed giddily, gesticulating all the while.

Hermione and Draco agreed completely, her answer more entertaining than either of them could have hoped for. They were in stitches.

“She liked me!” Draco declared proudly, knowing now that his mother would realize what a coup this was. “She threatened my bodily safety right before she left, but she said as long as I don’t buggar this up, those were her words, then I’m good. She’s rooting for my success!” He nodded, making everyone laugh.

“Surely she didn’t actually word it like that, Son…” Lucius chuckled.

“No no, she actually did… worse, in fact… It was quite colorful; the woman swears quite a lot.”

“She did like you though, babe, you’re good.” Hermione patted his knee.

“Hmm, yes, ‘I’ll do.’” He chuckled, tucking a curl behind her ear as they shared a secret smile.

Narcissa became thoughtful as Flip and the other elf brought the next course and topped off everyone’s wine. “Lady Hermione, if I may ask, have you been keeping your Muggle title private from the Wizarding World all this time for a specific purpose?” Hermione could see Lucius listening closely since he hadn’t quite gotten an explanation yet. He’d been very patient, though, and she thought it was thoughtful of him not to push.

“The short answer to that is yes, and the long answer is… long, and might not make sense to everyone the way it has to me until now. You see, while my father is the Duke of Ashford, I am also part of the Royal Family on my mother’s side, and thus my upbringing was in many ways similar to Draco’s. However, despite my title and the influence that comes with my family being who they are, I am still just another muggleborn witch, aren’t I? The duality of that alone made both my safety and my privacy a concern when I went off to Hogwarts since the family, The Royal Family I mean, didn’t know how I would be received in the Wizarding World and I had to fight for my right to go.

"Turns out, though, when you’re muggleborn, none of your friends, if you’re lucky enough to make them at school, tend to ever ask anything substantive about your life in the Muggle World… ever. When they do… it is often with the attitude of your family at home being either a hindrance, a novelty or perhaps some sort of a zoological exhibit. You may have magic, yet you are seen in society as less when you’re muggleborn; it’s like a handicap, and your family who have no magic… they are seen as the missing limb you are expected to compensate for, they’re not people. Worse still is that muggleborn students entering Hogwarts are considered orphans by the Ministry, their parents have no rights! That is how lowly they are esteemed. It’s all… strange.

"I caught on to this reality very early and between that and my becoming increasingly like the mascot for all muggleborns at Hogwarts, I simply wanted to make my life simpler and safer. I came up with a lie about my home life to tell if and when I was asked. Then, over the years I stuck to it, all through school and even with my closest friends. They never asked more than a few basic questions so it never mattered much. It felt… icky, and disingenuous, to be false, but… it was what was right for me and safest for my family. I knew that if I told people the truth of who I was that I would become that much more of a spectacle, which was the opposite of what I wanted. I was already horridly unpopular and had a hard time socially in school, so…”

Hermione paused, knowing she was beginning to ramble. Her tension eased with the grounding feeling she got from Draco’s hand stroking the back of her neck, reminding her that life was good and lovely now… they weren’t in school anymore. She also appreciated his parents staying quiet and letting her finish, too… not peppering her with questions or platitudes.

“During the height of the war, before going on the run and knowing that they were at high risk of being targeted… knowing the absolute disaster that would have been, not only for me but for any hope of intergovernmental relations in the future, I made a tough decision and sent my parents abroad, into hiding at one of the outposts of a charity they run for orphans in Africa. But again, I lied to everyone about them. I told the Order that I Obliviated them… that I erased myself from their memories and sent them to Australia under new names… I was specific about what those names were, planting false information and everything on the off-chance that information was ever leaked.

"It wasn’t until just over a year ago when I went on sabbatical from the Ministry that I came clean to Harry and Ginny Potter and my other best girlfriend about it all. Kingsley has known since becoming Minister; because of his work he has my grandparents stalking him about my personal life at cabinet meetings, but… yeah, before Draco, only those four people knew. And now you know, and Blaise Zabini… I’m ready, though, to go public, to… not separate my lives anymore. My parents are finally coming home and… I have Draco, now. I had my reasons and they were valid at the time but they don’t really apply anymore.” She shrugged, appreciating the empathy seeming to come off Narcissa in waves.

“Pansy, your other best friend is Pansy, just say it, they won’t judge you.” Draco deadpanned, obviously still annoyed he hadn’t known this.

“Miss Parkinson? I didn’t know you two had become close. How lovely!” Narcissa smiled.

Hermione chuckled. “Yes, she and I are very close. She’s been in Mystique for the last week and returns on Thursday. I fully expect an earful.”

Lucius chuckled, pitying her for that. The girl sounded like a harpy when she was mad. “I must say, I commend your courage… you walked a lonely road and it couldn’t have been easy. I see your reasoning and it was a very grownup choice to make for a young girl in the middle of war, sending your parents away like that, not confiding in anyone. I’m happy to hear they’ll be returning home to you.”

“Me too, thank you… and they’re even bringing me an adopted baby brother and sister, to boot. Aya is five and Leo is three, they’re the most darling children you’ll ever meet and I can’t wait to see them again. I was surprised at first, that my parents decided to take that on at their age but they’re happy and it’s like Aya and Leo have de-aged them or something, I don’t know. It’ll be great, Draco and I can spoil them at Christmas, take them sledding and things.” She smiled, genuinely excited for the year to come.

“What is sledding?” Draco asked.

Hermione laughed. “The Grange gets so much snow each winter, and you know the huge hill by the Folly, where we flooed in?”

“Yeah…” He was still puzzled.

“So, you get all bundled up in warm clothes and Muggles have these… oh Merlin how do I describe it… Imagine a sleigh, but tiny and you all sit on it and slide really fast down the steep hill of snow. It’s something children do for fun in wintertime.”

“Huh… Is that safe?”

“Says the guy who bragged to me that his childhood broom could go over two hundred kilometers an hour…” She narrowed her eyes, gesturing to his parents laughter as evidence of her righteousness.

“Point taken… sounds fun, though.”

“It is.”

“Tell us about your family home, Lady Hermione, it sounds lovely. Goldie has told me a bit but always complains of the drafts…”

“Ha! Of course she does… Gran likes her house in town best because she likes to spy on her neighbors, it has nothing at all to do with centralized heating.” Draco burst out laughing at this, believing it completely. “We have our ancestral seat where I spent most of my time growing up, that’s Ashford Castle in Cheshire. I took Draco for a small tour last week. It’s one of those homes that’s offensively enormous but has a rich history; it’s been there in various forms since the 12th century so I can’t really blame my parents for being ostentatious, but in many ways it is lovely, just overwhelming, too… the estate overall is about 45,000 acres; it has dozens of tenant farms and encompasses a quaint little village that extends to the sea where there are pretty beaches and cliffs. Our park has forests and meadows, several lakes and streams, there’s an orangery and a maze, beautiful gardens… even a sea cave when the tide is low, but my pride and joy has always been the stables, we’re horse people.”

“Her baby is there.” Draco whisper-shouted, chuckling at her mock-outrage.

“Ah, an equestrian, are you?” Lucius leaned in, keenly interested now. No one ever wanted to go riding with him anymore.

“Indeed I am, sir; are you?”

“Very much so. We keep Arabians here, my personal breed of choice, and Narcissa has a gorgeous thoroughbred I gifted her a few years back named Nimue. Draco used to ride all the time but I can barely drag him from the lab these days. Do you ride often, dear?”

“Well I was on sabbatical with my parents this past year and only just got back, but otherwise yes, as often as I can. I was an avid eventer for years and hope to return to that, hopefully next Spring. As Draco mentioned so quietly…” She swatted his arm playfully but he caught her, kissing her wrist and holding her hand in his lap as she spoke, looking at her like she hung the moon and stars.

“I have a horse that is rather special…” Hermione continued. “His name is Merlin, funnily enough, Narcissa… though when I show him he events under the name ‘Merlin’s Ghost.’” Everyone laughed at this. “He’s a Dutch Warmblood, all black… ‘my handsome dark wizard,’ I call him.” She grinned as Lucius threw his head back in laughter.

“I love it!”

“See? He thinks its funny…”

“I never said it wasn’t…” Draco scoffed. “It just wasn’t as funny as Kitty and Tip!”

“What’s this? Thank you, Flip.” Narcissa sat back for Flip to take her dinner plate.

“Umm… tell you in a minute.” Draco hedged, definitely not wanting to make the house elf joke in front of a house elf… that would just be rude.

“When did you say your parents get back, dear?” Narcissa asked, ignoring her son being awkward with the help.

“Mid or late August. Mum will need to find nannies as well as decide whether they’ll winter in town or in the country with the children. I know after being gone so long the social obligations on all of us, me included, throughout the fall will be brutal… It’ll be baptism by fire, as the Muggles say… That is, if you’re still determined to do this…” Hermione looked at Draco softly, wondering why on earth he would be.

“You know I am.” He chided her quietly, briefly running his palm over her cheek and making her smile.

“I can’t get over how lovely you two are together.” Narcissa said quietly. “The newspapers are already falling in love with you as a couple but so far they hardly do you justice.”

“Thank you, Narcissa.”

“Can I just say how weird that is, though? I mean we had the best time catfishing reporters on Saturday, don’t get me wrong, but neither of us have ever been…” Draco looked helplessly to Hermione, unsure how to word it.

“Written of kindly in the media?” She ventured playfully.

“Yes! That!” He cried, laughing. “Between Rita Skeeter being determined to paint you as badly possible and me as pure evil… Sunday’s paper was rainbows and… puppies. I know she didn’t write the article but… still.” He shrugged, confused by it.

“Well Son, this is just a guess, but your work at St. Mungo’s might as well define redemption… right? Maybe it’s time you start seeing yourself as the man you’ve become. You worked awfully hard to become him, seems only fitting, no?” Lucius asked, pleased by Hermione’s nod of agreement. “And as for Miss Granger… While the likes of Rita Skeeter and trash journalism might try to defame you dear, reporting on you factually will inevitably lead to positive pieces; I’ve followed your work for Kingsley and you’re a force to be reckoned with. You both are. Between your accomplishments, looks and the coup of the two of you becoming a couple, I think you two are going to find yourselves the unwitting darlings of the Wizarding World media. Best wrap your minds around it now.”

Hermione grimaced. “We had, really, but… so nice of you to spell it out.” Everyone chuckled. “It’s better than it used to be, but sometimes the Prophet is no more accurate than the Daily Mail, which I’ve found myself and my family in more times than I care to. Give me someone trustworthy from Tatler or Witch Weekly any day.”

Draco was vibrating with laughter next to her and Narcissa was pink as a rose. “You’d recommend Tatler?” Narcissa asked her, her voice a bit shrill.

“I would… You’d really like it, I think, though it is of course a Muggle magazine…” Hermione smiled, not giving away a thing.

“I’ll have to pick that up… Oh look the cheese course!” Narcissa deflected, her husband covering his laughter with a cough. He winked at Hermione, catching every bit of that little Slytherin move. It was well-played.

The evening wore on, discussing the future and tactfully avoiding most of the past. Hermione felt welcome and had a surprisingly good time, enjoying the company of both Draco’s parents. She didn’t need to enter the house, which for this first visit was helpful, and at no point had she gotten panicked or upset by being there. The couple left just after 9:30 with promises to make plans with the older Malfoy couple soon.

Draco tactfully said he’d potentially see them at lunch the next day but not before, and if they needed him, to owl him.

Curled up on her side later that night and staring at the wall, Hermione felt Draco slide into bed behind her and gather her up against his chest, burying his face in her curls with a sigh.

“You okay?” He asked, feeling how much tension was in her body as she melted back against him.

“Hmm? Yes… Yeah, I’m… Mmhmm.” She nodded, knowing there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to let her get away with that answer, it was pathetic even to her ears.

“Really… you wouldn’t be lying, by any chance? Maybe?” He hugged her tight, hoping she’d confide in him. Dinner had seemed to go so well… what could possibly be upsetting her now?

“I might be. A little.” She admitted with a huff, hugging the arm that was hugging her and tucking one of her feet between his calves.

“What’s bothering you, love? Did it not go as well as I thought? You can tell me…”

“No, it did… It did go well, that’s just it! It worries me…”

Draco was confused but didn’t want to belittle her feelings… she’d been his brave lioness even just going there at all.

“What worries you, love?” He knew he’d just have to keep asking since she was not volunteering information.

“Can I trust it? Is it real? Will they still feel accepting if we want to get married? The purity dies with you, if we do… they don’t know about the Marriage Law. Your family motto is ‘Purity Always Conquers’ and… if you marry me, if we have children…” She was freaking out. His parents had been so lovely and she wanted them to be genuine, for it to be real and forever and not… a trick of emotional light or whatever.

“Hey… hey, darling look at me.” Draco rolled her onto her back. “What did I tell you on Saturday, hmm? Have you already forgotten?” He pushed stray curls from her face and stroked her cheek.

“No, but can you say the words again anyway because I’m freaking out and your voice soothes me? It will make it better.” She admitted, feeling terribly out of sorts and more than a little upset over whatever this was, she wasn’t even sure.

Draco’s whole being felt so much love for her in that moment, hearing that his voice was what she needed. He kissed her forehead, murmuring ‘of course…’ and stroking her hair. “Saturday morning, Mother and I went to the family vault with the scary curse breaker…”

“Nog.” Hermione muttered pitifully.

“Bog, very close… Mother was thrilled to help me on an errand she’d talked about since I was a boy. Even when I was very young and the idea of falling in love was gross because girls were gross, Mum told me that one day she and I would go together and pick the perfect bracelet for my witch when the time came. It was a rite of passage for me, Hermione, because the time came… Honestly, I’d begun to believe it never would because I would never feel for any girl how I felt about you. I could never get over you, never feel anything real for anyone else and I was convinced, down to my bones, that you’d never want to be in the same room with me again, let alone return my feelings.”

“Draco…” This hadn’t been exactly what she’d meant… this was more, this was confession and she just lay there, stunned.

“I have loved you… forever, Hermione Granger, and I know it’s fast, it’s so fast, and I know tonight was so stressful for you but I promise you… Not only did my parents adore you, not just accept you but truly adore you, but I love you… I love you so much, and as long as you will have me, as long as you are giving me this chance to prove myself to you, showing you that love is all that matters, it’s everything. You are everything that matters to me, and I-”

She cut him off, pulling his face down to hers and kissing him, pressing her wet cheeks against his.

“I love you so much, too.”

Chapter Text

Neville Longbottom felt the brush of a familiar, and much missed, magic against the wards of his Grandmother’s house. Despite Augusta Longbottom no longer being alive, it still felt like her house… He’d get used to it being his one day, maybe. For now he still felt sheepish answering the door, even to one of his oldest friends. And one of his newest.

“Hermione.” Neville smiled at the woman standing on his porch with flowers. “Took yer sweet time getting back, no?” Hermione hugged her first-ever magical friend tight. “Missed you, Nev.”

“And you!” Neville laughed. Ushering Draco into the house after her he was a bit quieter. “Finally took my advice, I see?”

Draco grinned like a fool. “And it was the best decision of my life.”

Draco sat with the Medi-Witch and physical therapist in the Longbottom’s dining room going over case notes regarding Frank and Alice. It was their seventh week at home and there had been enormous strides forward for both of them with very few setbacks. Frank got easily frustrated when his body seemed to not want to do what his brain was telling it to; the spike in stress from those episodes was leaving him with headaches if he gave in to them, so they made a plan regarding meditation. Because he had been in an almost catatonic state for so long, the synapses in his brain to control his body had much farther to go in recovery than the ones controlling his thoughts. Draco sat with him and tried to explain it like a partnership between the brain and the body, one to send messages and one to receive; a partnership requires double the work and might take longer, but in no way does that mean he won’t recover more function. He just needed to be patient and cut himself some slack, Draco reminded him.

Alice, on the other hand, had always been mobile. She needed physical therapy, but only a fraction of what Frank required. For her, it was more about untangling the confused memories of the last twenty years, a time when she didn’t understand the world around her, and squaring that with both the memories of before and of now, when she had a healthy and functional brain to use once again. It was confusing and scary and keeping it all straight would likely be a lifetime battle for her, but she was taking to the recovery process in a far more zen way, apparently. Between keeping lots of lists and labels around the house and her new hobby of watercolor painting, she was doing remarkably well.

“How has it been for you?” Hermione asked while Neville poured her some tea.

“Amazing… overwhelming…” He sat, looking a bit out of it. “I’d reconciled it, ya know… in my mind. They were never going to get better, they were never coming home, they would never know me… I still visited, ya remember, every break and every week since school, I never missed a visit. But… I knew... or thought I knew, that was all it would ever be.” He shrugged.

“Hope can be a scary thing…” Hermione murmured, understanding where he was going with this so well that he looked at her with unabashed gratitude.

“Scarier than that fucking snake.” He agreed. “But when Draco showed up at Hogwarts last year and… told me what he was doing, I had to say yes, of course I did, I mean… how could I not?”

“Well, it is Malfoy…” Hermione teased.

“True. I pulled my wand when I saw him.” Neville chuckled. “But I don’t need to tell you he’s not the Malfoy from Third Year anymore, do I?” He teased her back, toasting her with his tea as she blushed.

“No… no you don’t.” Hermione looked through the arched doorway and watched him work, so focused and stupidly handsome, too. He seemed in deep conversation with Neville's father, explaining something that required a lot of gesticulating as the older man nodded along.

“So he convinced you to lower your wand and let him enroll them in the trial, then?”

Neville snorted. “No, he convinced me to lower my wand and go get a pint.”

Hermione laughed. “He plied you with alcohol, huh? Seems unprofessional.” She tsk-tsk-ed between laughs.

“Ehh. Trust takes some time, and so did explaining what he was doing. You remember potions wasn’t exactly my best subject?”

“Given the number of cauldrons you blew up, I feel that I will always remember that about you, Nev!” She grinned, enjoying a biscuit.

Neville chuckled and shrugged. Out the picture window he could see his mum, painting one of her pictures in the garden. She had been non-verbal his whole life, and he smiled seeing her talking to herself now. She rarely shut up these days and it was like music.

“He mostly apologized that first time, actually. We closed down the Three Broomsticks that night we talked so long… talked about everything from the first ride up to Hogwarts onward, I swear.”

“The ride where we searched for Trevor. You were my first friend, ya know.” Hermione smiled.

“And you mine. And I never would have believed it if you’d have said it back then, but Draco’s a friend now. I see him more than anyone, and not just since Mum and Dad came home… the git’s right entertaining.”

Hermione chuckled at that admission. The bro-hug when she and Draco had arrived had revealed as much, but it was sweet to hear it. “What did you mean earlier, about Draco taking your advice?” She was nosy and it was bugging her.

Neville grinned. “Well you arrived together, and don’t think I missed you two in the Prophet since you got back. Made me think that he finally sent the letter, did he not?”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open and Neville laughed himself silly. “I’ll take that as a yes…”

“Hello Alice.” Draco put the cup of tea he’d brought her on the table next to her easel.

“Draco!” Alice Longbottom, to her mind, now had two sons. That was how much she adored the man who had brought her back to herself and befriended her son. She didn’t care what anyone said about him, he was such a good boy and she just loved him to pieces, hugging him with all her strength every time she saw him.

“What’s on today’s canvas…” Draco asked, pulling up a chair as she handed him a brush.

“Snapdragons, of course!” She grinned, the slight Bell’s Palsy reduced to being barely noticeable since Draco’s first treatment with her. Seeing the improvement made him have to swallow the lump in his throat and blink a few dozen times to avoid embarrassing himself.

“Of course… you knew I was coming.” He smiled, adding a dash of red to the petal of the flower at the top of the stalk.

“I thought I saw someone with you… Did you bring another Healer?” She asked, not wanting to have to go do anything new today. She was having a good day.

“No, not a Healer… I brought my girlfriend.” He admitted shyly, blending colors with a dab of water.

Alice gasped, nearly dropping her brush and getting some paint on her face as she covered her mouth with the hand holding it. Draco chuckled and wiped it off her cheek with his thumb.

“Is she a school friend? Does my Neville know her?” She was so excited. “What’s her name? Is she good enough for you?”

Draco smiled. These visits were the best part of his workweek. “Yes, yes, Hermione, and yes.” He took her chuckling slap on his arm and grinned.

“You tell me everything, young man… and introduce me before you go.” She handed him a different, skinnier brush and pointed out the dark green of the stalk he’d been filling in on the shadowy side needed work.

“Well… on our first ride up to Hogwarts, First Year, your son managed to misplace his toad familiar…” Draco began, finding himself telling all about the girl he’d loved ever since.

“Is he… painting, too?” Hermione laughed.

“Yes… Draco and Alice always paint together.” Frank smiled fondly at the scene out the window of the two chatting away, working on their watercolor flowers.

Hermione smiled softly. “They seem close.”

“They are.” Neville agreed. “Mum says she has two sons, now.” Hermione melted at that.

“Best two we could ask for.” Frank agreed, holding his mug very carefully with both hands as Neville watched him, ready to assist.

“Yeah… they’re okay. If you like that sorta thing.” Hermione shrugged, earning a blueberry to the face from her friend. Frank laughed heartily, not even caring that he spilled a little tea. Small, silly moments of nothing in particular like this… it made all his frustrations worth it. He was alive, he was awake, his son had grown into an extraordinary man, and with each of these visits he was always better than he was the week before. As long as he reminded himself of that, a little spilled tea didn’t matter at all.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Longbottom.” Hermione had meandered outside once she saw that Draco and Alice looked done for the day. She hadn’t wanted to interrupt their time together.

“I… know you. Do I know you?” Alice looked intently at Hermione, vacillating between confusion and mild panic.

“I used to come with Neville to visit you at Christmas when we were in school, and I've been by myself to see you a few times, too.” Hermione watched the woman's panic evaporate with a sigh and a small smile.

“That’s so sweet, dear… Don’t mind me, my memories of that time are… jumbled. Sometimes I worry they’re more jumbled than they are and I panic a little, but… it’s getting better.”

Draco looked fondly at her. “Yes. It is.” He assured her. “Try to trust yourself. If you recognize something or someone, its for a reason. All you have to do is investigate what the reason is… there's no need to panic.” She nodded, taking it to heart as best she could. He was right…

“It’s more lovely than I can say to see you back home, Mrs. Longbottom.” Hermione was trying not to get emotional.

“Oh… it’s rather nice to be home, dear…” Alice agreed with a soft smile. “Now, Draco tells me you were my Neville’s friend. Neville has told me about you, too, I think... Now it’s your turn…” The woman took her arm to go back inside, only leaning into her on the steps for balance. “Tell me all the good stuff about my boys…”

“Oh, goodness, where do I even start…” Hermione laughed, happy to indulge her for as long as she wanted.

“Thanks for taking me with you today.” Hermione murmured after shutting off the light, snuggling into Draco’s side until she was moulded to him from head to toe.

“Neville is your friend… you hardly need my entree to his home.” Draco reminded her.

“You know what I mean… Seeing you with them was a privilege and lovely and… Draco, what you did…” She shook her head a bit, the emotions of the day catching up with her.  “It’s amazing. You are amazing.”

He took a deep breath and kissed her hair. He knew what he’d accomplished, but hearing that from her still sent him reeling anyway. “I love you.” He murmured, kissing her forehead again and holding her tight.

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

Hermione stood in her kitchen, pouring her first cup of coffee for the day and admiring the view of the Thames out her window, when she heard shuffling feet and felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around her from behind. Draco pressed his lips against her shoulder as he held her and breathed her in. He’d hated waking and reaching for her only to find the bed empty, but happily she’d not gone far or gotten dressed yet so he had at least a chance of convincing her to return… at least for a bit. “Good morning.” He murmured against her skin, kissing his way up her neck as she leaned back into him.

“Good morning to you…” She couldn’t help the whimper that left her when Draco scraped his teeth along her earlobe and pinched her nipple at the same time, pressing his other hand into her abdomen so she could feel how hard he was against her ass.

“Come back to bed, love…” His voice, husky from sleep, whispering against her ear was just too much. Waving her hand over the french press she cast a wandless stasis charm before turning around and hoisting herself up to be carried, moaning into his mouth the whole way to the bedroom.

Half an hour and two orgasms later Hermione wondered if it might have been smarter to bring the coffee with her, because her legs were definitely not going to work for a bit. She was a puddle. Before she could complain about her sacrifice for sex, Draco was already smooching her on the nose and off to fetch it.

He was spoiling her with his perfection…

“This coffee is amazing…” He handed her a cup, fixed just how she liked it, and climbed back into bed with his own. “What did you put in here?”

“Hazelnut.”

The look he gave her was like she had surpassed all human genius and it made her laugh. “I didn’t like waking to an empty bed but I think I’m over it.” Draco took another long sip, marveling at it like a child with their first hot cocoa.

“Generous of you.” She teased, kissing his cheek and opening the paper for them to read together. With being their own bosses for the most part, taking an extra hour in the morning was luxury they were both able to happily indulge in, especially since they often brought work home at night.

“Father was right, look… The photographer must have caught you in the Atrium.” Draco pointed out a photo of Hermione from the day before with a blurb in the Society section.

“‘Betrothal Watch’? That’s a section now? Arseholes… This blurb isn’t credited, but if it was I’d murder whoever wrote it…” Hermione growled at his laughter. “What do you think, will you allow me to continue working if I become Mrs. Draco Malfoy one day? The readers want to know!”

Draco snorted. “It’s sweet how they assume I’d be in charge of you anywhere other than right here.” He nibbled her neck and smooched it, tucking her more firmly into his side.

“Damn right.” She huffed, smirking.

“So, what’s on your agenda today, love? At the job I’m allowing you to continue having…” He chuckled at her attempt to glare up at him.

“Funny… you’re a funny man. I’m still reading through the research from the Department of Mysteries Report. It wasn’t even classified so it boggles my mind that it wasn’t used when they were putting this shite law together, but Billy says no one even approached them to ask! They have two people whose sole job it is to analyze familial data in Wizarding Britain, and yet…”

“Have you found anything interesting yet? Or helpful?”

“Potentially tons, yeah… A few sections on genetics I’ll earmark for you if you don’t mind giving them a read tonight.”

“Of course.”

“Oh, here’s a factoid for you… Did you know the only reason divorce became legal in Wizarding Britain at all is because of the failure of an almost identical law to this one from centuries ago?”

“You’re joking…”

“Nope. The 1789 Marriage Decree even built in a clause for it! They thought that as long as people had babies, it didn’t matter that they were ruining lives… It feels the same way this time. They have to know what a disaster it would be, right?”

“You’d think…”

Hermione huffed, frustrated as hell by the whole business but feeling very lucky at the same time. She was in love and even if this wretched law went through, she got to keep him. “Have I told you how happy I am that you followed Neville’s advice, by the way?”

Draco groaned, his cheeks a little pink. “He told you about that, huh?”

“I overheard him when we arrived and asked about it, but he didn’t tell me much. But… I gather I have him to thank for you getting up the courage to send me that letter, though…?”

He sighed, a bit embarrassed. “Might do, yes.”

Hermione smiled and pulled him in for a kiss. “Hmm. I love you, you know. Getting that letter was the best thing to ever happen to me.” Hearing that reminded Draco why it had been so, so worth it.

“As I told Longbottom… best advice I ever got, and best decision I ever made was to take it.” He kissed her smiling face again, just because. “Anything else on for today, or just slogging through the research?”

Hermione grimaced a little. “Tea. With Gran.”

Draco winced in sympathy. His day was going to be rough, bureaucratic and boring, but none of his meetings could top one with Gran; he’d let her win on that one.

“Hey mate…” Draco walked into the Lab at St. Mungo’s and clapped Blaise on the shoulder.

“There he is. I’ve barely seen you this week, Drake… things going that well with Granger?” Blaise Zabini wasn’t actually surprised things would be going well, but he had been surprised to hear his friend had made a move at all. Ten years of whingeing had led him to believe he never would.

Draco grinned, filing the case notes from his visit with Frank and Alice the day before. “They are indeed.”

“Yeah? Care to kiss and tell over lunch?” Blaise waggled his eyebrows, stretched his back out after hunching over his microscope for the last hour. “I’m feeling peckish… and nosy.”

Draco chuckled. “When have I ever indicated I was the kissing and telling type?”

“One word answer to that: Pansy.” Blaise laughed, holding the door open and ushering his friend through it. He was hungry now that he really thought about it; he’d been too absorbed to notice before.

“Oh, first of all, I was 14 and had never been kissed before, so excuse me for thinking it was news…” Draco scoffed. “Second of all, I thought we all agreed never to mention that ever again.” Blaise just laughed harder, though, enjoying his friend’s discomfort.

“I never agreed to that, you and Pansy did.”

Draco groaned, not enjoying being poked at. “Still. Apparently Granger and Pans are friends now, so… maybe hop on board the denial train with us, hmm?”

Blaise sobered immediately. “Yeah… I thought that might happen.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Blaise sighed. “I was on duty that night, mate… remember?”

Draco stopped walking, remembering the night he’d been called into the Emergency Ward for Pansy. He’d forgotten his friend was working that night… that meant that… oh gods…

Blaise stopped when he realized Draco wasn’t next to him anymore and looked back, regret for saying anything evident in his eyes.

“So you… know, then?” Draco asked quietly.

“I wasn’t her Healer, but I assisted… yeah.”

Draco sighed, the pain of knowing but not being able to fix it feeling like a weight over his entire body.

“Was it bad?” He had to know. He’d been right there… next door! And he hadn’t known and hadn’t helped her. He knew it made no sense but he felt like he’d failed her again, somehow.

Blaise couldn’t say much, but his face said enough. It had indeed been bad.

“It’s good she and Pans have each other.” Blaise said finally.

“Yeah…”

“Its weird…”

Draco chuckled in agreement; he’d thought the same several times. “It is… but you’re right. It’s good.”

“What time are we due at the Ministry?” Blaise asked, seeing the opportunity to change the subject and running with it.

“Uggghhhh… Three.” Draco whinged. He’d been dreading taking this meeting since the Minister had suggested it.

“Hey, if you don’t like it, stop inventing life-changing cures.”

“Shut up…”

“You took your time.” The Dowager sniffed, putting on her best attempt at a glare across the table set for high tea.

“Did I? I could have sworn I said I’d come for tea this week and… Oh, look! Here I am.” Hermione sipped, enjoying how hard her grandmother had to work not to laugh. “Goldie.” She grinned evilly at her success in breaking the old bat as she threw her head back and cackled.

“Oh so you’ve met the boy’s family, then? How is dear Cissy?” Her grandmother smiled, thrilled for a good bit of gossip.

“Technically, I’ve known the Malfoys for years… though the context is certainly different now. But yes, we had dinner with them earlier this week.”

“And?!” Her grandmother demanded.

“And… it went well. Too well, almost… The story of how you and Narcissa know each other was admittedly quite entertaining, I’ll say that much. If you don’t want to receive a visit from the Obliviation Squad, though, Gran, I really must advise you not waltz up to Magicals at Muggle political functions and demand they perform for you. Just a thought.”

The Dowager cackled with mirth. “Oh please, dear, your Lord Shacklebolt is terrified of me, I’ve nothing to fear.” Hermione wished that was untrue so she could refute it, but they both know it was absolutely the case. “Now, tell me… Have you told your parents you’re getting married?”

Hermione choked on her darjeeling. “He hasn’t proposed! We’ve been together seriously for all of ten minutes! There is nothing to tell.”

“Bollocks, dear. I saw you two together and am never wrong.”

“I’m not saying it won’t happen, I’m saying it hasn’t happened and to calm yourself! Mummy and Daddy won’t be back for another six weeks at least. Let me enjoy that time sans pressure from the two of them? Please?”

Her grandmother pretended to consider her request, sighing as though terribly put upon. “I suppose.”

“Thank you.” Hermione huffed.

“It just gives me six whole weeks to test the boy without interference…” The old woman smirked in triumph.

“I walked right into that.” Hermione pouted.

“Yes you did. A year away from me has dulled your mental reflexes… pity.”

Hermione couldn’t help thinking how similar her grandmother was to Pansy in that moment; she’d have been in Slytherin, for sure.

“Speak of the devil and she shall appear…” Hermione grinned, taking in the scene in her living room after apparating home a little before six.

“Been talking about me, Granger?” Pansy Parkinson lounged on her sofa with a glass of wine, pretending to examine her manicure.

“Only in my own head. Stand up and hug me you cow.” Pansy’s signature ice queen demeanor cracked as she put down her glass with a squeal and the two women hugged and swayed.

“If I’m a cow, you’re a hag… Oh goodness this bracelet is divine! Our boy did good! Now tell me everything about you and Draco!”

“Oooh, alright, pour me a glass of that while I get changed…”

Draco had had a day… He was the walking definition of ‘over it’ and so ready to be buried in his witch and not thinking about work anymore that he could barely be civil to the last of the Ministry’s Health lackies as he made his goodbyes for the day. He’d known pitching the vaccine project would mean branching out, but he had always chosen his own team before… this wouldn’t be like that. Today had been the first in what he knew would be an endless number of such meetings and it had been thoroughly tedious and unenjoyable. All he wanted was to get home… what he considered home these days, anyway. He wanted Hermione, preferably naked and moaning, as soon as bloody possible.

Too bad he’d forgotten it was Thursday.

Exiting the floo into the loft, Draco was met by two tipsy, cackling witches lounging on each other and gesticulating with their wine glasses. The second they saw him, both froze looking like guilty children caught stealing sweets. Hermione was obviously holding her breath to keep her laughter in and her face was getting redder by the second.

“Wow.” Draco deadpanned.

Both Pansy and Hermione burst back into fits of giggling under his amused stare, his girlfriend especially seeming near to hyperventilation.

“Draco! I’m friends with your girlfriend.” Pansy grinned.

“I knew that, Pans… she mentioned it. You never did! But she did…” He chuckled and took off his jacket, grabbing a glass of fire whiskey from the bar to join them.

“Well she wasn’t your girlfriend before, so…” Pansy shrugged. “But now she is!”

Draco nodded to her deep thought there and leaned over to kiss the girlfriend in question. “Yes, she is… Hello, love.”

“Hiiii.” Hermione grinned, pulling him in for another smooch. “Did you have a good day?”

“Nope! It wasn’t terrible but it was… close. I met with Higgins, the Director of Health, and his… minions.” Draco looked like he was smelling something bad.

“Ohhhh, booooooo.” Hermione concurred, that guy wasn’t how she’d want to spend her day either. She’d had wine on a sortof empty stomach though, so knew her response wasn’t as mature as she’d perhaps have hoped. Oh well, boyfriend seemed entertained by it, everything was fine.

“Indeed.” Draco laughed, collapsing into a chair close enough to hold her hand. “Pans, how was Mystique?”

“It would have been better if this witch hadn’t had to come back to work and come with me!” She cast a false glare in Hermione’s direction as she laughed and scampered off to the loo. Silence hung between the two Slytherins for a moment, heavy with implication and things unsaid. Draco knew his old friend would give him the third degree, he simply needed to wait.

“You know, for a man who waited a decade, Draco, you certainly move fast.” Pansy teased, pointing to her wrist in reference to Hermione’s courtship bracelet and looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“I hadn’t planned on moving at all, Pans, and you know that! She… she wrote back! That letter was supposed to give me some closure… I never in a million years would have expected...”

“Expected what?” Hermione asked, back from the loo and eyes glassy with worried tears. She’d heard him and she knew it was without context, so the wine was probably making her hear it badly when it likely wasn’t… but she had to know. Draco froze for a second before turning to her and, seeing her face, rushing to get up and hold her.

“You, baby…” He tipped her head back and caught the tear on his thumb. “I never expected you…” His face was so earnest but she didn’t really understand.

“But… you want this, right, I mean I don’t understand what you-”

“Yes! You are everything I want… have always wanted. I just never thought I’d get to have it, have you…”

“Oh.” She didn’t know why but she still felt weepy and upset. “Well… you do. Have me.” She sniffled and felt weak and self-loathing for whatever reason... maybe because she was crying over nothing... Draco pushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead over and over.

“And thank Merlin for that… I’m never letting you go now, yeah?”

She nodded, wishing to God she could stop the tears. This is why she never day-drinks, she realized… it fucked with her emotional control. “I love you.” She mumbled into his shirt, feeling him sag against her a little, pull her harder against him as he breathed her in and kissed her hair.

“I love you.”

They stood like that for a bit, forgetting Pansy was even there until she sighed dramatically from the sofa. “I cannot fucking believe Neville fucking Longbottom gets the credit for this. I was only going to give you until Samhain, Draco, before setting you two up on a blind date under false pretenses… maybe locking you in a cabin somewhere for a night or two without your wands… something! Admittedly whatever plan I'd have come up with would have been rather Slytherin and sneaky, but it would still have worked! But nooo… bloody Longbottom stealing my glory, convincing you to go all Gryffindor with your letter. Stuff of nonsense, I tell you. Longbottom! Pfft.”

Hermione giggled a little at her friend's ridiculous musings, despite her sniffles they were pretty funny. Also, knowing their relationship would have had a backstop beyond Neville’s advice made her feel better, not to mention Pansy being an overall hilarious person who never failed to make her laugh.

“Are we okay, Princess?” Draco asked her, mollified by her nodding and sighing against his chest. “You need some food in you, huh?” More nodding and a residual sniffle made him chuckle. “Pans, you hungry?”

“Perhaps…”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Princess, what sounds good? Takeaway or have Mipsy bring us something? I don’t think either of us are up to cooking tonight.”

Hermione sighed, her uninformed schoolgirl feelings on house elves coming back to bite her. “Mipsy.” She admitted.

The house elf apparently answered to Hermione now since she popped into the room before Draco could utter a word, startling everyone.

“Young Mistress has finally called for Mipsy?!” The elf was so excited.

“Umm…” Hermione leaned back from Draco slightly. “I guess I did, yes! I wasn’t aware you’d answer to me, though…”

“Of course Mipsy answers to Young Mistress! She's Young Mistress!” Now she seemed affronted and Hermione couldn’t help feeling like she was doomed in every elf relationship she’d ever have to inadvertently insult them.

Draco, bless him, was just as surprised; Pansy just seemed tipsy and amused, watching it all like a play. “Of course, Mipsy, Hermione has just… never had an elf before.” He stammered looking for a way to explain their surprise without further insulting the elf that had helped raise him. She could be scary.

“Oh. Well Mipsy be here for whatever you need, Missy Hermione, anytime, all the times!”

Hermione, wide-eyed still, just nodded her thanks for the explanation and looked to Draco for guidance.

“Mipsy could you bring us some dinner for three please?” He asked kindly.

“And dessert… please.” Hermione piped in, briefly feeling that the need for sweets outweighed her shyness toward the elf as well as her guilt over asking for anything at all. She was already making the trip anyway... or something.

“Right away!” Mipsy disapparated in a loud pop.

Silence sat heavily in the room for a moment before Pansy broke it. “So… As I said earlier, Salazar’s tits you two move fast!” She cackled to herself while Hermione and Draco shared a smile and shrug. Yes, they did rather… but they were happy. That’s what mattered.

“I’m sorry I cried on you earlier.” Hermione murmured in bed that night, still feeling a bit self-conscious about it.

“Never apologize for that, love, I’ll always be there for you when you're upset.” His eyes were full of concern as he stroked her cheek, facing her from his pillow as they each lay on their side.

“I should have stopped after one glass of wine on a mostly empty stomach, I wouldn’t have gotten so upset over nothing…”

“Hmm. What got you upset, specifically?” He asked, never having quite understood it earlier but also not having wanted to make it worse by asking for specifics. Now seemed a safer time to talk it out.

“You said the letter was supposed to give you closure… I didn’t understand… I don’t understand what you meant and… I got worried.” She hated that just talking about it was making her voice crack again. She knew he loved her, knew he wanted to be with her… but knowing it and feeling safe in it were apparently different.

“Oh darling…” Draco sighed, getting it now. “I understand how that sounded, but hear me out, okay?” She nodded, happy he entwined their fingers instead of withdrawing touch from her when his arm got tired. “I love you, Hermione, more by the bloody minute… It’s different now that I’m with you, it’s… more… But don’t forget that I have also loved you and longed for you for years, my darling, years… I never in a million lifetimes could have imagined I’d have those feelings returned after all that I had done, I never expected you’d… want me anywhere near you ever again. It hurt… but I understood.”

“But you were wrong!” She cried softly, a tear tickling the bridge of her nose before plopping onto the pillowcase.

“Yes I was…” He smiled softly, brushing the residual moisture away with his index finger. “Best surprise ever.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She sniffled a little as she nodded, hating being such a baby over this. “Good.” She huffed.

“Do you?” He asked, his lips tipped up on one side.

“Do I what?”

“Promise.”

Hermione choked out a small sob as she nodded, reaching out for him. “Yes!” She pulled him in to kiss her, move over her as she rolled onto her back. She couldn’t have explained why she felt so emotional, she just felt so much… He overwhelmed her. She’d never felt so happy and it was so precious, but it was also overwhelming and scary, too. For the first time in her life she felt like she had something to lose, and it truly overwhelmed her.

He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, never letting up, not until he was sheathed fully inside her and their twin moans broke their lips apart. He held her tight against him and she wrapped everything she had around him, each thrust punctuated by his words against her lips.

“love you… love you…”

“I love you…”

“Need you… never enough…”

“Never…”

“You’re mine now… mine… forever…”

“Yes…” She shattered, her back bowing and her mouth falling open in a silent scream.

“Mine…”

Chapter Text

Hermione read over the report one more time, desperately trying to find room for one more recommendation, one more suggestion, or plan, or fix… but she couldn’t. She’d compiled everything she could come up with after scouring the research from the Department of Mysteries, medical journals, talks with Draco and Blaise, census data from not only England but France and America as well - the two countries they’d lost the majority of their fleeing populations to - she’d done her best.

With everything from a new tax plan to subsidize and incentivize growing families to suggestions regarding a pre-Hogwarts education and childcare department to medical data she’d uncovered regarding the rising rate of squib births and continuing difficulties with pureblood pregnancy viability, she’d done her best.

Now all she had to do was hope that Lord Greengrass saw the merit in the report and could convince some of his colleagues on the Wizengamot to rewrite this shite law in its entirety…

The problem was, she saw huge potential for the opposite to occur. She was handing them ways to close the loopholes in the existing law without changing the most fundamentally flawed part of it: forcing marriages and procreation by government mandate.

Taking a deep breath, she made Gemino copies of her findings and set off for the Ministry, hoping she’d be in and out in time to meet Pansy for lunch.

Hermione wasn’t sure what it was that set off her mental alarm bells exactly, but she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up about halfway through the Ministry Atrium. She looked around and didn’t see anything odd or anyone following her, but she knew there was something… or someone. Refusing to be cowed, however, she set her shoulders back and continued on her way, feeling the anxiety melt out of her the moment the lift doors closed. There hadn’t been any Azkaban releases she needed to worry about, so it couldn’t have been anyone on the Death Eater list she kept ruthless track of… but the fact that she hadn’t heard a peep, either through the press or in person, from the one unincarcerated man that frightened her… well, that seemed most likely.

And it did frighten her. She had done a good job convincing herself that a year’s absence from England would cool Ron Weasley’s obsession, but that was before the Prophet caught a fever over her relationship with Draco the week before. Ten articles and five blurbs with photos, so far, had been published on the two of them between various major publications and it had only been a week… If there was anything that could draw Ron’s ire, it was Draco Malfoy getting the girl he still claimed ‘belonged to him and no one else.’ At least, that was his stance a year ago, and no one could hold a grudge or dig their heels into a position like Ronald Bilius Weasley.

“Hermione this is great work…” Kingsley Shacklebolt leaned back in his office chair, skimming her report. Hermione shuddered; those types of chairs always made her feel like she was going to fall backward and even watching someone else in one made her startle.

“Thank you, sir, but… I have bad feeling.”

Kingsley sighed. “That they’ll use your work to harden their stance? Like your squib research from two years ago?”

“Exactly… These guys aren’t known for learning from their mistakes. Every time a law like this has passed, it has had some specific tweaks from the time before that are transparent in their attempt to mollify detractors… The divorce clause in the last one? That was put in because the time before that, over 80% of couples forced together either separated or their spouses met some unfortunate end within a few years at most.”

“Salazar, really? That’s… I don’t even know…” Kingsley pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Really. And I agree.” She sighed, reaching across the desk to point out the page where she detailed that fact. “This has been a disaster every time they’ve tried it, but after scouring this thing, I don’t think they’d be swayed even if I proved that it would bring Voldemort back; they’re that dug in.”

“Yeah… Hype stopped by and said as much yesterday. Apparently he’s been feeling out his allies since your rant the other night set him straight and not having much luck.”

“Well, the best-worst-case scenario is still the most likely, I think… where they incorporate what I found to soften the blow but keep the overall theme ruthlessly intact. Maybe they'll end up incorporating my tax plan or extending the deadlines, but I doubt they'll do much more. They will have to adjust the blood status requirements, given the census data, though… there simply aren’t enough muggleborns to go around.”

Kingsley nodded, thinking it all through. “Well as I said, amazing work, and… let’s hope we get some good news on Monday once Hype has a chance to spread this around. I won’t count on it, but… a guy can dream.”

Hermione chuckled but quickly turned thoughtful, spacing out a bit. Kingsley tilted his head at the face she was making; it concerned him.

“There’s something else?” He asked.

She sighed, not quite able to shake what was bothering her enough to let it go. “Sort of… but not related to work.”

“What’s up?” Kingsley was even more concerned now; Hermione rarely brought up personal issues and when she did, they were usually important or serious.

“I’m not saying I need to, because as of this moment… I don’t have any hard evidence to that effect, but… If I needed to file for an order of protection at some point, would you back me?” She knew he would, but part of her needed the comfort that came with reassurance.

“Okay, first of all, you know for a fucking fact I would… but second, why in Godrick’s name do you ask?!” Kingsley racked his brain about who she could possibly be scared of… Azkaban was secure and every one of the Death Eaters who had targeted her had been caught, so…

“Ron Weasley.” Hermione said softly, regret in her eyes. She’d never told Kingsley what happened; in fact, she’d barely told anyone.

Kingsley stared a moment before speaking, wanting to make sure he was calm. “What did he do?”

“It was a while ago… months before I left for Mali…” She began.

“Hmm. He was struggling in the last leg of Auror training at that point, I recall… he’d barely made it to his final year and had a noticeable drinking problem.” Kingsley started squeezing the stress-ball from his desk that Hermione had given him a few birthdays back; it helped calm the need to skip explanations in order to go murder a specific ginger someone.

“Yeah, well… He never got over my refusal to be the couple that he expected us to be after the war. He pushed me, constantly, every time I saw him… I was stupid, thought I could handle it… handle him… I mean we’d grown up together, been through so much, I never thought he’d cross a line for real, ya know? But in my stupidity, or misplaced loyalty I suppose, I kept moving the goal post of where ‘the line’ was, just so I wouldn’t have to do anything real about it or tell anyone. I began by avoiding him but it had the opposite effect I’d hoped, he just started pushing harder… He started showing up at my office here, that’s why I began working more from home… He’d show up at the bloody bookstore or the pub or the dress shop, it was like he knew where I was going to be, and every time he’d try to get me alone. He’d grab my arm and not let go, try to kiss me, say vile things when I refused… I finally told him I couldn’t see him anymore and we were no longer friends when he’d hurt me pretty badly the prior time I’d seen him, left some bruises on my arms from when I tried to leave…”

She paused for a moment too long and Kingsley felt sick. “Hermione…”

“Growing up, Harry would always side with Ron in petty fights between us all and I knew they were in training together and… frankly Ron had worn down my confidence that I’d be believed or supported by our friends if I said anything. I never wanted Harry to have to choose, or Ginny either, I mean he’s her brother for Merlin’s sake! So… I knew I shouldn’t have gone to Harry and Ginny’s when they weren’t there because Ron might be there, he had ward access to Grimmauld… But stupid me, I forgot my wand after dinner. I knew Harry and Ginny had gone to Fortescue’s and the house would be empty but… I’d be in and out, I figured… the likelihood of Ron being there was minute. That’s what I told myself.”

“But he was.” Kingsley said quietly. It wasn’t a question, and he could see well enough where this was going. He wished he was more surprised, but after years of knowing Ron Weasley and his abysmal failure in the Auror program, he just wasn’t. It killed him, though, hearing this.

“Yeah… he’d shown up at their house drunk and angry about who knows what… I tried to leave, not even with my wand I just turned right around to go back through the floo as soon as I heard him… but he didn’t let me. He dragged me out of the bloody fireplace by my hair…” Hermione took a deep breath and pushed a lone tear off her cheek. “Anyway, long story short is that if Harry hadn’t come home at the exact minute he did, not only would Ron have been successful in his attempt to rape me but who knows how much worse my injuries would have been…”

“This was what sent you to St. Mungo’s… fuck… You told me you fell down the stairs…” He closed his eyes and tried to breathe his way through the onslaught of emotions. Hermione was such a strange mix of daughter/sister/friend/colleague/fellow soldier that he couldn’t quite pinpoint which title was dominating at the moment, he just felt like he’d somehow failed her without knowing it.

“I know I did, I’m sorry…”

“NO, don’t you dare apologize…”

“Right… Sorry.” She smiled, making him huff at her.

“So… what makes you ask about an order of protection now? Has he been trouble since you got back? I won’t even ask why you didn’t turn him in last time, I can see why you wouldn’t… I wish you had, but that’s not helpful, so… what’s going on now?”

“I have a bad feeling.” She shrugged, hoping he’d not dismiss her intuition. “I haven’t seen him, haven’t heard from him… but I swear I have felt him… I ignored it the first couple of times because I wasn’t sure enough and I was in public, but on my way in today, in the Atrium, Kings… I swear he was watching me. I can’t say for sure because I didn’t see him, but-”

Kingsley held up a hand. “I trust your gut on this… He has needed to be escorted out of this building on at least three occasions since being dismissed from the Auror program, so I do not doubt he’d improve his stealth and try again, especially knowing you’re back…”

“And that I’m seeing Draco of all people… and so publicly.”

“They have issues? Beyond the… normal, I’m guessing?”

Hermione barked a laugh utterly devoid of humor. “You could say that, yes… There is no one on the planet Ron hates more or has more of a jealousy complex about than Draco Malfoy. He has since before Hogwarts even introduced them, too.”

“Ah… so you two dating wouldn’t exactly go over.” His words were calm but his tone was anything but.

“Honestly, I’m surprised he hasn’t given an interview to Skeeter that I am either a whore who did him wrong or under the Imperious Curse from my Death Eater boyfriend… or both.”

Kingsley grunted in agreement and disgust. “I don’t suppose you’d agree to having some security for a while… just while I look into this?”

The face Hermione made at that suggestion was answer enough, though not the one Kingsley wanted.

“Alright, no security… but I’m having Harry look into this. If he’s been following you or, Merlin forbid, put you under some sort of tracking spell, we need to know before he does anything…”

“That’s fine, I have no interest in being or even feeling this vulnerable, so… that’s fine with me.”

“And if you see him, you’ll tell both Harry and myself immediately?”

“I will… thanks.”

“Don’t hold back in defending yourself, Hermione… and for Merlin’s sake, keep your wand on you at all times, please?”

“I will… it’s a lesson that will never need repeating. Plus I got pretty good with wandless magic while I was Mali… it was too bloody hot to conceal my wand holster all the time.” She smiled, standing up to go.

“Ha! I bet…”

“See you Monday?”

“Monday.” He confirmed, looking at her a bit sadly.

“I’m okay, Kings… just… want to be proactive this time.”

He nodded. “I’d glad… and I am so sorry you have to be.”

“Me too… thanks, Kings.”

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?" She turned at the door.

"Don't ever call yourself stupid, please. Merlin knows that's the last thing you have ever been."

She nodded thoughtfully and waved goodbye.

Hermione thankfully didn’t get the heeby-jeebies on her way out, making her think that if Ron had been there at all he had since left. When she reached the cafe in Diagon Alley to meet Pansy for lunch, she was feeling almost normal again. Even seeing the unexpected addition of Narcissa at the table didn’t phase her, and the gorgeous summer day only added to her smile as she sat down at the table they’d procured on the patio.

“Ladies…” Hermione smiled, kissing each on the cheek. “Narcissa, it’s so lovely to see you again. Pans, cute skirt.”

“Lady Hermione,” Narcissa returned the warm greeting of a kiss to the cheek and smiled. “I hope you don’t mind me crashing your girls’ lunch.”

“Not at all! I love it.” Hermione smiled and thanked the waiter who poured her a sparkling water and handed her the menu.

“How was your meeting?” Pansy asked. “Going to tell us the big secret yet?” She’d been annoyed when she couldn’t wriggle the information on the big case she was working when she’d come to dinner at the loft the night before and she was relentless.

“The meeting was fine, and… no. I can’t tell you until at least Monday, likely not even then.”

“What’s this?” Narcissa asked, more circumspect and polite in her nosiness that Pansy had the patience to be.

“The Wizengamot passed a law in closed session that is horrid and barbaric and has the potential to be a complete disaster… I’ve spent the week killing myself trying to fix it before the session begins. I brought Kingsley and Lord Greengrass my report today with suggestions, but… I’m not hopeful.”

“And you seriously can’t tell me?” Pansy huffed.

“Correct… I seriously cannot.”

“You told Blaise!” She countered, making Hermione groan.

“No… we just forgot Blaise was in the room while we talked it over, that is not the same. Try again or move on.”

Narcissa chuckled; she’d wondered at the dynamic of these two girls together and it looked to be quite entertaining. “Pansy darling, just be glad not to have the burden of stress and wish your friend luck with the opposition. She’d tell you if she could.”

Pansy pretended to growl and squinted at Hermione, making her laugh.

“Thank you, Narcissa!” Hermione grinned. “Oh, and Gran says hello. I sat through tea with her yesterday that was nearly as painful as the Inquisition and she made me promise to send her regards.”

“You know the Dowager?!” Pansy cried, throwing her head back in a cackle of laughter.

“Very well… though I didn’t put it together that she was Lady Hermione’s grandmother until she and Draco brought it up at dinner.”

“Narcissa, you don’t need to use my title, truly.”

“It’s proper. And you were the one who told us you weren’t living as two people anymore, did you not?”

Pansy eyed her friend with interest; last they’d spoken about it, Hermione was still adamant about keeping it quiet.

“Hmm. I suppose I did say that. But family and close friends really needn’t use it…”

“Tell you what… when it’s just us girls, I won’t. But in front of others? You ought to get used to it, no?”

Hermione grumbled a little but agreed.

“Are you going to go public or just wait for Skeeter to overhear something and speculate?” Pansy wondered, making a good point that Hermione hadn't wanted to deal with yet.

“Ehh… I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Are you still stuck with having your birthday be the event of the season this year?” Pansy asked.

“My mother seemed intractable on that, yes… why?”

“You could try to keep things on the quiet side through the summer and invite someone from the Prophet to the event, use it as a way to announce.”

“If I agree, can we change the subject?”

“Are you coming shopping after this?” Pansy countered.

“Yes.”

“Then yes! Cissa where should we go?”

Narcissa laughed at Pansy’s Slytherin tactic and Hermione’s playful scowl. It seemed she had a very enjoyable afternoon ahead of her.

Hermione came through the floo that evening hundreds of galleons lighter and carrying an obscene amount of new clothing… Her purchases included far too much lingerie for a shopping trip with her intended’s mother, in her opinion… but when shopping with Pansy Parkinson, her opinion mattered little.

She was just happy Pansy hadn’t made her model it… Narcissa either, since (mortifyingly) she’d procured quite a bit for herself at the same shop. Hermione supposed she should just be happy her likely-future parents-in-law had such a good marriage? That would be the mature thing to take from the experience, right?

Hermione chuckled to herself… she’d never been that mature. At least the three of them had gotten a good laugh from the experience, and she and Pansy had officially converted Narcissa to being a lover of Muggle clothing boutiques. Hermione rather looked forward to taking her to Liberty’s at Christmas - the woman would have a field day.

Dropping her shopping bags off in her dressing room, Hermione decided a kip was in order… Pansy had worn her out. Thinking ahead for the evening, she decided to have a little fun with Draco and changed into one of her new, racy nighties to nap in. She chose the emerald satin with black lace that barely covered her bum and took her hair down before flopping onto her bed and closing her eyes. It was a warm enough day that she didn’t even bother with a blanket, just adjusted the cooling charm for the loft and went to sleep, hoping her love would be home soon.

Home… she fell asleep smiling at the realization that she had automatically labeled her loft as his home, too. She hoped he felt the exact same way.

Draco was thrilled his workweek was over… Before Hermione, he had worked pretty much seven days a week with little interest in free time. Free time had been time he’d have no distraction from thoughts of her, thoughts of the letter as yet unsent and how she’d react if he sent it…

Now, though… free time was all hers and happiness radiated from him knowing the weekend had arrived. The flat was silent and no lights were on so he assumed she wasn’t home yet as he went into the bedroom to change out of his suit. He’d had yet more meetings at the Ministry and hadn’t put on a lab coat in days… it was really not his intention to spend so much time on the administrative BS, but until he could get a budget and proposal firmed up for the vaccine program, he was stuck with policy wonks and administrators rather than cauldrons and microscopes.

Hearing a soft huff of breath from the bed startled him into turning around before he made it to the shower and what he saw there made him groan out loud with want… Hermione, asleep on her side, her curves exaggerated by the position to the point of sinful, wearing a scrap of green satin and lace no larger than a dinner napkin?! The slit on the side was so high that it made it quite obvious she’d forgone knickers, too… fuck…

She’d done this on purpose… the knowledge made him grin like a fool. He loved her so much sometimes it was an ache if she wasn’t within arms’ reach… now was one of those times. He quietly undressed down to his boxer briefs and crawled onto the bed, kissing up her arm and pushing her hair away from her neck to kiss there too. She hummed in sleepy arousal and arched her neck to give him more access, her breath hitching in her throat when his hand closed over her breast. She was awake, but barely… enjoying the feel of him with her eyes still closed.

“So… beautiful…” He murmured, dragging her earlobe between his teeth and making her moan. She let her body stay pliant, enjoying his exploration of her and moaning in appreciation of his attentions. He knew her body so well already and the way he exploited all her weak spots had her writhing in minutes.

“Perfect…” His voice was husky as he rolled her onto her back, lightly biting her nipple through the satin and making her back arch. Draco was obsessed with her body, her smell as she became wet driving him wild with the need to taste her. Pushing the satin up her belly, he lifted her leg to drape over his shoulder. His own moan of satisfaction as he sucked her clit against his tongue sent vibrations through her and made her mouth fall open in a shocked cry, sending her hands to grip at the sheets as her hips began to grind against his face. When he slid two fingers inside and curled them against her front wall she began to shake, forcing him to hold her down with his other arm. Hermione came apart screaming for him, the muscles in her thighs shaking beyond her control as Draco massaged her through it with his fingers and tongue, sure he'd never been so turned on in his entire life.

“So… fucking… perfect…” He pushed his boxer briefs off and sat up on his heels, pulling her bottom half up onto his thighs and thrusting inside, their eyes locked as she cried out again, utterly unable to help it, possibly even unaware she was even doing it with how outside herself with pleasure he'd taken her. With her legs draped over his arms, Draco set a punishing pace, hammering her g-spot with every thrust and reveling in the sight of her eyes rolling back in her head, her eyelashes fluttering. He knew he wouldn’t last long and the moment he felt her clamp down on his cock he let himself go, burying himself as deeply as possible inside her as he came gasping her name.

Draco didn’t pull out, he merely let her legs down gently and draped himself over her, kissing her senseless as she locked her ankles behind his back.

“I love you…” She murmured as soon as her lips were free.

Draco let his forehead rest against hers, basking in the way she had her entire body wrapped around him as she said it. “I love you.” He replied, kissing her cheek and the tip of her nose and then her lips again, his thumb stroking her jaw.

“So you like the nightie, then?” She asked, a smirk on her lips. Draco chuckled against her neck and reached down to run his hand over the soft material from breast to hip, squeezing a little.

“Hmm. Just a bit.”

Hermione felt smug… and she definitely kept the fact that his mum had purchased the same one to herself.

Dressed in skinny black denims, a white t-shirt with a daringly-low v-neck and a pair of red-bottoms, her face done with cherry-red lipstick and black eyeliner and with her curls wild, Hermione was ready to go. It was Friday which meant pub-night and the first time she and Draco would see their friends all together, out as a couple. She was just dabbing her perfume behind her ears when Draco hooked his fingers in her belt loops from behind and pulled her against him to kiss her shoulder.

“Ready?” She smiled at him in the reflection of the mirror, hugging the arms that hugged her and leaning back against his chest.

“Hmm… I am… but you’re missing something still.” He produced a jewelry box from his pocket and popped it open, revealing diamond earrings that matched her bracelet: two pear-shaped diamonds each, one as a stud and one dangling freely below it, connected by the point of the pear. They were… outrageous… And she LOVED THEM.

“Draco!” She gasped, genuinely overwhelmed as she took the box from his hand.

“You like?” He smiled against her skin, feeling smug.

Hermione squealed and turned around to kiss him. “I love… thank you!” She giddily took her studs out and replaced them. They were a bit of a rock-star statement with her current outfit but she didn’t care, she adored them. Grabbing her lambskin motorcycle-style jacket and a black quilted Chanel clutch, she was now officially ready.

“My pleasure, Princess… You look stunning.” Draco kissed her, enjoying the faint taste of cherry from her cherry-red lips.

If Draco hadn’t taken her twice when he got home earlier, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to let her leave the bedroom in that outfit… She looked positively sinful in her stilettos and tight muggle denims. Congratulating himself for that forethought, he apparated them to the Wizened Wizard to meet their friends, making sure to steady her on arrival since apparating side-along in heels really wasn’t her strong suit.

The pub was new and Hermione had never been before since it had opened while she was away. With the Leaky Cauldron being the only pub in Diagon Alley for so long, having somewhere new to go that catered to a more exclusively young crowd was exciting. Hermione had always wondered why there was such a dearth of options but it seems that the post-war economy was booming in the area and she had noticed several new businesses already that looked interesting.

“Ready for this?” Draco asked, ignoring the flash of a photographer as he looked down at his love’s beautiful face. Her smile made his heart race.

“Don’t I look ready?” Hermione scoffed playfully. Draco just chuckled, kissing her cheek.

“My darling, you look like trouble… that’s how you look…” He shook his head as if that might help clear it of lusty thoughts and opened the door for her.

“Same difference… or something.” Hermione laughed. She could see their friends towards the back of the crowded bar and waved. “You got Neville to come out!” She exclaimed happily.

“Yeah, I figured he’d missed enough of these. His parents are fine for the night, their Healer lives in, I just think he wasn’t ready to leave them before now.”

“You’re a good man, Draco Malfoy.”

He didn’t have an answer for that; it was still something he felt doubt over, no matter how much time passed or what he accomplished, he was still plagued by the same self-loathing. For the first time, though, it felt just a little less. He doubted himself just the slightest bit less…

He wondered if it was her doing, her love and faith in him that was easing the pain of his lack of it. Seeing her turn and smile at him over her shoulder as they walked toward their friends sealed it… Yep. It was definitely her.

A wolf whistle from Theo Nott was their first greeting and made everyone laugh.

“My oh my, is that the couple from the papers?!” He cried dramatically, hands held over his heart.

“Hello Theodore… It’s good to see you.” While Hermione accepted his overly-dramatic kiss on each cheek, Draco shook his head with a comically exaggerated 'hell no' face on, prompting Theo to scoff like a diva scorned.

“Golden Girl, you’ve usurped all Draco’s kisses. I see how it is!”

“As well she should, Theodore, he’d been saving them for a decade just for her.” Pansy sauntered over and grinned like a cat. “Hello darling.” She and Hermione kissed cheeks in a far less dramatic fashion, yet their lack of being ‘friends in public’ before this ground the entire extended group to a halt.

“Weeeeiiirddd…” Harry tilted his head, elbowing Neville in the ribs.

“A wee bit, yeah… but nice.” Neville nodded and shrugged, entirely without malice and utterly Neville-esque. Pansy had never deigned to join pub night before though so what did he know? He just smiled and hugged his friends hello, leaving Harry to be weirded out alone.

“Which part, Potter? The Panmione or… umm...” Draco looked to Theo; he was better at these.

“The Dramione!” Theo laughed.

“Umm… the Panmione… is weirder, I think.” Harry decided after a moment of genuine reflection, his chin resting on the lip of his butterbeer bottle. Ginny, just back from the loo, smacked her husband upside the head and scoffed. “Don’t listen to him. Let’s see you two kiss!” Ginny was already more than halfway pissed, apparently, and her mouth had even less filter than usual.

Before Draco was even done rolling his eyes, Pansy planted a kiss right on Hermione’s upturned mouth, turning every man in the pub’s head. Ginny burst out cackling as Hermione and Pansy bowed and curtseyed. Draco felt Theo reach over and physically close his mouth for him and growled.

“Hussy.” He whispered in Hermione’s ear, prompting her to throw her head back against his shoulder in laughter.

When he’d returned with drinks a few minutes later, Draco saw an obviously tipsy Blaise weaving his way over to them looking like a man on a mission.

“Incoming…” He murmured.

“Granger Danger!” Blaise shouted, shoving his way through.

“Blaise.” She acknowledged, slightly worried by the look on his face.

“Tell me you fucking fixed it so I can marry my Luna-Moon!” He cried, obviously distressed and obviously pissed.

Hermione looked up at Draco, mildly panicked, since their entire extended group of friends was now avidly listening in.

“Fuck, love, I don’t know…” Draco shrugged. She glared at him as sternly as she could, which admittedly wasn’t very, and turned back to Blaise.

“Umm… I’m working on it! But I won’t know until… at least Monday… might be a week from Monday, even.” She winced in sympathy but couldn’t say more.

“See?! Blaise knows!” Pansy cried. “If he gets to know, I should get to know, I am your best friend.”

“Are you, though?” Harry asked, smirking.

“Yes! You’re her brother, that doesn’t count.”

“Then what am I?!” Ginny cried, her outrage utterly fake. “Chopped liver?”

“What? Eww. No, you’re her other best friend, but for the sake of my argument I have elevated myself above you.”

“That’s fair. So what are we talking about?” Ginny asked, sipping her butterbeer.

“Nothing! We aren’t talking about anything!” Hermione glared daggers at Blaise and he slid behind Theo to hide. “See? Nothing.” Hermione smiled. “So! What’s new with everyone?” She refused to acknowledge Pansy’s growl or Blaise peeking out from behind Theo, looking like a sad puppy. She was changing the subject, damnit!

Laughs, games of darts, gratuitous explanations of how they got together and how her sabbatical had gone defined the evening. Draco and Hermione were deemed ‘disgustingly adorable’ by Theo and Harry begged them both multiple times to stop with the PDA since he didn’t want to have to Scourgify his eyeballs. They of course dialed it up after each complaint.

Hermione saw people she hadn’t ever been particularly close with as well as close friends of both her and Draco, making the night quite the Hogwarts reunion. Padma Patil apparently worked as a Healer with Blaise and Seamus Finnegan had bought into Weasley Wizard Wheezes with George, who she also hadn’t seen in ages. As the only other Weasley she was still close to, it was good to see him out and about again and able to have fun without Fred. Luna appeared toward the end of the night, still in her Unspeakable robes and wearing her signature radish earrings. She complimented the color combination of Hermione and Draco’s auras before escorting a drunk Blaise home for the night.

Looking around at everyone throughout the night made Hermione more and more anxious, though, about the Marriage Law. With the exception of Blaise leaving with Luna and of course Harry and Ginny, everyone was single and only her, out of the entire group, was Muggleborn. The law was going to be disastrous and she couldn’t help but feel responsible for everyone’s fates.

Catching her eye scanning the crowd of friends for the umpteenth time that night, Draco bent down to whisper to her. “It isn’t all on you, Princess… You’ve done everything you could do.”

“Why doesn’t that make me feel better, though?” She asked him, knowing he’d be honest with her.

Draco smiled softly and kissed her nose. “Because, love… You’re you.”

Chapter Text

With her report submitted, it was now a waiting game. It was also the weekend, which meant time with Draco, friends, and Merlin… the horse, not the wizard.

After a successful pub night, Hermione and Draco felt no trepidation about being accepted as a couple by their respective friends. In fact, the fun had on Friday prompted Hermione to officially go for it, to live as she meant to go on, to put her proverbial galleons where her mouth was, to… well, she figured it was bloody well time her friends saw her fucking house, anyway. The weather report (it made her laugh until she cried that her friends had to be convinced about Muggles’ ability to correctly predict the weather without the use of Divination) predicted blue skies and what Hermione would describe as ‘bikini weather’ for Saturday and Sunday, so she invited the gang to the Grange for an old fashioned country house party and instructed them to include their swimsuits in their overnight luggage. Anything else they might forget could be provided.

Draco knew Hermione wanted at least an hour with Merlin and his trainer Ari before the duties of her impulsive decision to play hostess kicked in, so while it grated on his bratty nature immensely to give up the privilege of watching her ride, he volunteered to stay behind at the loft Saturday morning to wait for everyone to assemble there; in doing so, he could send them through the floo one at a time, ensuring they arrived at the right place. He grumbled and kissed her thoroughly and only begged her to stay in bed with him once instead of twenty times, keeping his brattiest ‘I don’t share’-type statements on the inside because he, Draco Lucius Malfoy, was a mother-fucking adult nowadays who did NOT want his girlfriend to hex or leave him because he was jealous of her horse… so, he was a good boy. And it grated on him thoroughly.

But not really. Knowing she got to go spend a sunny morning with her baby, something he knew would make her deliriously happy, made him happy. And he got an extra hour of sleep and the promise of seeing her arse in riding trousers later in the morning to look forward to, so, life was still pretty great.

As it turned out - and this came as somewhat of a surprise to Draco - Potter also knew how to drive a car just like Hermione, so the plan was for the two of them to chauffeur people to the castle from the Folly once they all arrived via Floo. Draco had been forced to promise her that he would not be a prat about this, but in truth he had no issue with it; in fact, he planned to ask Potter to teach him to drive at some point… it felt less emasculating than asking Hermione, old school rivalries be damned.

By 11am, Pansy, Luna, Blaise, Theo, Harry, Ginny and a surprising Neville had all congregated in Hermione’s loft, chatting eagerly about this mystery house they were going to see. Pansy, Harry and Ginny were the only ones who seemed to know much about it but were keeping admirably mum on Hermione’s reasoning behind keeping it a surprise. Blaise, a man with a long history of being demonstrably terrible at secrets, just kept giggling.

"This flat is nice!" Theo commented, making Blaise snicker some more. Draco agreed but couldn't take credit - that was all Hermione.

"It's also offensively large. Look how far it goes, look through there, just look!" Harry scoffed, pointing through the study where open pocket doors showed a series of sitting rooms, a library, the game room, the theatre room etcetera.

“Just because you're offended doesn't make reasonable square footage offensive, Potter, shut it. Are we all here, or…?” Draco asked, exasperated already. He felt like he was herding cats.

“We are complete, Draco Malfoy.” Luna’s voice was strangely soothing, as always. Draco was glad Blaise was still seeing her, he’d decided. He still felt guilt about Luna and he definitely found her to be an odd one, but he did like her.

“Great! Pansy, you and I will go through first, then I will come back and send people through one at a time.”

“Ooo! Okay…” Pansy shrank her Louis Vuitton weekender bag and shoved it at him to put in his pocket. Draco rolled his eyes and held his arm out for her, stepping up to the floo.

“Ashford Castle Folly!” He called out carefully. This time, the room where they stepped out wasn’t as dusty and the shutters were opened a crack. Hermione was standing in the open doorway, obviously having come straight from the stables and looking so sexy that Draco audibly groaned. He didn’t even care that she smelled more of horse than her perfume, he stepped over and kissed her utterly inappropriately before she could even get a word in. Pansy burst out laughing as Hermione batted him away, giggling and smiling up at him, her eyes full of love.

“Go get our friends, handsome, then you can have all the kisses you want… prat.” Draco whined playfully and handed Pansy her shrunken bag from his pocket.

“I want to see her reaction before I go.”

Hermione laughed and stepped out of Pansy’s way, letting her outside. Pansy followed and looked at the same view Draco had the first time he’d arrived there and gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth, her eyes going wide. Draco chuckled and nodded to himself, feeling vindicated; Ashford Castle was not just a house, it was a visual representation of centuries of duty and responsibility and its stunning facade presiding over the landscape was nothing short of breathtaking. He tuned out the chatter of the two of them as he headed back through the floo, grinning to himself.

“Mate what took you so long?!” Blaise cried when he returned to the loft.

“I just wanted Pansy’s reaction to the view, mate, calm down… Now I am going to send you through one at a time. If when you arrive the person who went before you is not there, send Hermione back, yeah? Great, Blaise, you’re up.”

It took ten minutes before Draco reunited with everyone as the final one through. When he arrived, it was to the sound of both awe as to the beauty of the castle from afar as well as a rehash of the discussion of why travel by motor vehicle was necessary. Without even looking, Draco smugly held out his hand; Harry petulantly dropped a galleon into it, both moves looking almost choreographed.

“I told you.” Draco crowed to him, relishing his win.

“I didn’t think they’d be this stubborn…”

“That’s because you grew up muggle, mate, I’m serious. Riding in cars is not for the faint of heart… or the… non-Gryffindors among us, whatever, point being, I won, you lost! I'm starting a tally! You know... a fresh tally.” Draco grinned.

Neville stayed neutrally back and just chuckled at the faux-drama, not getting involved. He may have grown up pureblood like the whiners but he ventured into the muggle world a time or two; he felt just fine riding in the car. Blaise and Theo, however, were pitching a fit of pureblood fear.

“Boys!” Hermione cried, holding her hand up in obvious loss of patience. “Either you get in the bloody car or you walk, end of story. So which is it? Be cowardly little bitches… or get in the bloody car!”

That did it, making Draco bend over in laughter so overwhelming it gave him a cramp. Theo and Blaise didn’t utter another word, just climbed into the back seat of the leader of the two Land Rovers looking like they were prepared for their imminent demise. Luna bounded over and hopped into the front seat of the same one, happy as could be and humming something that sounded about as in-tune as Mermish. Ginny didn’t look excited but she didn’t complain either, getting into the front seat of the follow car as Pansy, Neville and Draco got in the back.

“Wonderful! Here we go then.” Hermione grinned as she and Harry high-fived and each hopped into the driver’s seats. Hermione flicked her wand, sending seatbelts clicking and of course freaking her passengers out even more as she cackled to herself. “Babies…”

“Granger!” Theo blurted, grabbing the roll bar for dear life as she hit the gas.

“Theo, we’re on the ground going fifteen kilometers an hour… you are beyond safe right now. Enjoy the view, we’ll be there in a few minutes.” She chuckled. She checked the mirror to make sure Harry was behind her and saw Draco’s wave from where his arm rested out his window. He’d gotten comfortable quickly, she mused, waving back.

“Your wrackspurts are dancing, Hermione.” Luna said happily. Hermione smiled, glancing over at her friend.

“Because of Draco, you think?” She asked.

“Oh, definitely.” She agreed. “His dance the same dance. It’s lovely to see.”

Hermione nodded, smiling softly. Luna was her own sort of person, but Hermione found her strangely soothing and fascinating. Nothing got Luna down, and she genuinely did see things others didn’t if you listened closely. You should never discount Luna Lovegood, even if she was a bit strange, she was also brilliant and a good friend. “Thank you Luna… it’s been lovely for us, finding each other again.”

Hermione looked in the rearview mirror and chuckled; Blaise and Theo seemed to be in awe of riding in a car and were playing with the window controls.  “You two alright back there?”

“Granger, I take it all back, this is brilliant!” Theo cried happily, sending his window up and down, up and down, like a child discovering elevator buttons. Hermione laughed herself to tears.

“Happy you’re happy, Theo…” As they were approaching the gates it occurred to her that she’d forgotten to have everyone make their luggage muggle-friendly, so she pulled to a gentle stop and put the SUV in park. Taking her seatbelt off and turning around, she pointed to the open area in the back of the vehicle. “I forgot, un-shrink your bags and toss them in the back, would you?” She smiled and hopped out to go tell everyone in Harry’s car to do the same.

“Everything okay?” Harry leaned out the window as she jogged up.

“Yeah! I forgot to have you all do it before we left the Folly - un-shrink your bags and toss them in the back of the car.”

Draco was the only one who seemed to understand why she was asking; everyone else just stared at her like she was insane.

“But then your house elves would just have to shrink them again… no, wait… you’d never have a house elf…” Pansy seemed utterly confused how on earth her luggage would get to her room.

“Pansy… love…” Hermione smiled indulgently. “Muggles live and work here… remember?”

Pansy blushed a little and she sniffed. “I knew that.” She un-shrank her Louis and left it in her lap as Hermione walked back to the other car. Theo and Blaise apparently needed the same explanation, though, despite having followed orders without it.

“Granger, why are you so mean to your house elves?” Theo asked, making her roll her eyes so hard she nearly fell backward.

“Muggle… house… Theo…”

“Ohhhhh… riiiiight…”

“Hermione wouldn’t have house elves anyway. She dislikes the inequity of their bond of servitude.” Luna sing-songed.

“Okay, to be fair… I understand it better now than I did in second year, but… I still don’t like it, it’s true.” She admitted. This seemed to upset Theo for some reason, she could see it in the rear-view. He didn’t say anything but she resolved to ask him about it later. But then they were pulling up at the house and people were ooh-ing and ahh-ing and Fitzy was walking out to meet them along with three other servants, ready to carry in everyone’s full-sized bags and sort out anything else they might need. Hermione knew her friends weren’t used to human servants and were also a bit in awe of her home; she was a bit overwhelmed bringing friends to her home, if she was honest, but thankfully Draco was almost immediately at her side, arm around her, his presence and his love like a calming draught. He even shook Fitzy’s hand like an old friend and it warmed her heart, making home actually feel like home again. She hadn’t realized until that moment that it hadn’t, not for a long time… Just one more thing he did for her.

“Fitzy, good to see you again.” Draco smiled.

“And you sir, welcome back.” Fitzy smiled. “Lady Hermione, we have bedrooms ready for your guests in the East Wing and lunch ready to be served by the pool in forty minutes, as you requested, along with sun chairs and the like. Please do let me know if there’s anything you need that I did not anticipate.”

“Thank you Fitzy, I’m sure it’s perfect as always. If you wouldn’t mind having Stevens park the cars for us?”

“Of course, Milady.” Hermione waved a wary Harry Potter over who handed the Land Rover keys to a man old enough to be his grandfather calling him ‘sir’. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the look on Harry’s face but was graceful enough not to say anything.

Hermione introduced her friends to Fitzy and she and Draco led them inside, the group mostly gaping like guppies and pretending not to. The first to break the silence was of course Theo when they got to the grand staircase.

“Granger…” Theo turned to her. “No wonder he calls you Princess!” He cried, gesturing to the Great Hall around him as he ascended the stairs and absolutely laughing his ass off. The entire group’s tension seemed to break at this comment and everyone broke into hysterics. Draco, meanwhile, just smirked at Hermione as she turned an increasing shade of crimson.

“Bite my arse, Theodore.” She snarked, only making everyone laugh harder.

“Granger, isn’t your grand… great… cousin… I can’t remember how it works but aren’t you actually a princess, sortof?” Blaise asked as they were led down an endless hall, arched with yet more portraits and a twenty foot ceiling.

Hermione scowled playfully. “Blaise, please… I am a Duke’s daughter and a Prince’s granddaughter, that’s hardly the same.” She scoffed.

“Wait, really?” Theo asked. He had been joking before, about her nickname from Draco, but it didn’t surprise him if thought about it. They’d been walking for ten minutes and still weren’t at their rooms, so… he believed her. He had thought Draco’s parents’ home was the epitome of historic and enormous but that thought felt laughable now… Nott Manor, too, felt like a cottage compared to this monstrosity of grandeur, and he still got lost in it, his own bloody home! Hermione Granger had layers, apparently… and he had been deemed trustworthy enough to be welcomed to the inner circle. It felt like a privilege, and an unexpected one given the enormity of the circumstances… literally.

“Yep, really.” She answered simply, smiling. Theo chuckled, smiling back. He was happy for his friend. Draco had pined after Granger for years… he’d never have guessed she was the muggle equivalent of a pureblood princess and the irony was more than somewhat hilarious.

“Mr. Nott, your suite.” Fitzy showed him to a room befitting a king… or some other pseudo-royal he wasn’t quite sure of.

“Mr. Zabini and Miss Lovegood…” They were next door, with Pansy across the way and so on down the hall. Neville was unsure about staying a night away from his parents but had brought a bag, just in case. He could Apparate back home to check on them from inside his room, Hermione said, if he felt worried at any point; that made him feel better but he admitted that his mother would likely get angry at him if he did, that’s how well they were doing.

At the very end of the hall was Hermione’s suite of rooms: a library, sitting room, bathroom suite and bedroom with a large dressing room. Draco found it staggering for a child, but supposed that on the scale of the house, it fit. He hadn’t ventured beyond the solarium and the dining room and whatever was in between the last (and only) time he had been to the house, so seeing the upstairs was as much a revelation to him as everyone else. He could hear Ginny behind him having a conniption into her husband’s ear over how insane it all was and he couldn’t say he blamed her… it really was… Everyone was standing a bit awkwardly in the hall outside their massive bedrooms, waiting for instructions, when Hermione turned around. He knew she felt self-conscious and didn’t blame her.

“Alright everyone, change into your swimsuits and whatever coverup or casual clothes for lunch and meet back out here in half hour?” She asked in a squeaky voice he’d never heard before. Everyone agreed and quickly disappeared into their rooms, leaving Draco and Hermione alone.

“You okay?” He asked, pulling her into her bedroom suite and shutting the door. He glanced around but mostly just to orient himself; he kept his focus on her as he sat her down on a velvet sofa at the end of her giant canopy bed.

“Yeah… just… feel a bit awkward.” She said quietly, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Do you regret revealing yourself? Too much too fast?”

“Umm… no…” She stared into space, not elaborating, so he waited her out and just held her hand. “I know that this place is… a lot… and it definitely isn’t what people think of when they think of me… I don’t know, Draco, I’ve never been the one who hosts before, and not just because I hid this place but because… I wasn’t popular enough to be that person, you know? I was barely popular enough to be invited when other people hosted.” She shrugged. “And… I never wanted to be popular just because of my house, either…” Draco’s heart broke a little, hearing that. He was so awful to her in school, so cruel and so cutting. How much of her self-confidence was sheared off because of things he said to her? He remembered, too, how she would cling to friendships that were nearly as cruel to her as he was, just because they were manipulative enough to make her think she deserved it… the weasel being the prime/only example. He’d give anything to get his hands on a time turner so he could murder that ginger arsehole…

“Love, listen to me, okay?” Draco tilted her chin up with a finger.

“Hmm.” She sounded skeptical but she was listening and her eyes were clear, no tears.

“This is not like it was when we were young. Your friends, the people here this weekend… they all genuinely like you for you… they find you funny and interesting and enjoy your company. They know you as the brave, brilliant witch you are and count themselves lucky to know you, just as I do. I know you feel vulnerable, showing this part of yourself, but no one here is judging you or wanting to take advantage of you, they’re just your friends here to have fun and see a new side to the friend they love, okay? And I’m here with you, every step of the way, always.”

Her eyes did tear up a bit then as she nodded, grateful he understood her so completely, but no tears fell. She blinked them away as she leaned up to kiss him. “I love you… thank you for understanding my crazy.”

Draco chuckled. “I love your crazy.”

“You’ll love my muggle bikini even more…” She smiled, heading for her dressing room.

“Your what now?”

She came out in a wrap-dress, so he was confused. “That’s a dress.” Hermione burst out laughing.

“My swimsuit is on underneath this, you nob… we’re eating lunch first, remember?” Draco pouted; he did remember that, but he’d been hoping for a preview. The gang reassembled in the hall, obviously needing a tour guide to wherever they would be going.

“Hermione this house is insane!” Ginny exclaimed, wearing a similar coverup dress to Hermione’s since they’d purchased them on the same shopping trip in Paris.

“Yeah, Mione, I have to agree… I feel you undersold the reality of your parents simply not being dentists.” Harry chuckled.

“I said it was big.” Hermione shrugged, sending a look to Draco that he knew meant comfort me. He caught up to her as they walked and slid his arm around her waist, instantly feeling her magic go from tense to calm. It made him almost unreasonably happy that he had that effect on her and his smug grin wasn’t lost on Pansy for even a second. Thankfully she only raised an eyebrow at him rather than call him out verbally. He knew she’d mercilessly poke fun at him later, but at least he could count on her discretion when she teased him, unlike Theo or Blaise.

“When did you say your parents return home, Hermione?” Luna asked, her voice calming and kind. “You must be looking forward to it.” Hermione smiled at her as they rounded the final step and headed toward the back of the house. Draco finally started seeing familiar landmarks and portraits, remembering funny stories about them from his time with the Dowager.

“Next month sometime, they’ve yet to give me an exact date but I’m guessing it will be mid-month. And yes, I am very much looking forward to it… they’ve been gone too long.”

“What are your parents like, Granger?” Theo asked, admiring the art and architecture as they walked.

“Oh, umm… They’re quite fun, actually, for who they are… I mean most people expect the Royal Family to be quite staid, you know, very serious and boring, but there are a lot of exceptions to that and my parents are in that group for sure… They do a lot of charity work, not just galas and such, though they do a lot of that, but they get their hands dirty, too. They’ve been in Mali since the summer after our Sixth Year running an outpost of a charity for war orphans there and quite fell in love with the culture. I had to beg them to come back. But let’s see… they’re intellectual, like me, but not quite as fanatical about it. My dad’s a bit of a hippie, plays guitar in a band with his mates. Mum’s more into horses like me, and it’s her side that’s Royal so lots more of the family events on her side get photographed so she’s more into fashion, too… but they’re laid back, as parents, they’re fun and kind and supportive. Addicted to wizarding crime novels, lately, it’s their newest thing.” Hermione smiled at the surprised faces of her friends and the side-hug Draco gave her. She knew he was dying to meet them and if she was honest, she was really looking forward to introducing him, crazy as that might have sounded once.

They’d finally arrived at the Solarium’s back door, leading to an enormous patio and garden. Potted orange trees and topiary sculptures, climbing roses and wisteria up the castle walls, flagstone with moss in between below their feet and a circular swimming pool in the middle made up the wonderland they stepped out to. It made no sense yet it was utterly charming, and the table set for lunch awaited them with chairs already pulled out just so.

The garden beyond looked to step down into a series of mazes of some kind, a visual and whimsical masterpiece. “Hermione this is beautiful!” Pansy cried. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“Thank you… It was actually designed in the eighteenth century by a famous landscape designer, a man who rather invented the art form  named Capability Brown. He designed gardens for the palaces and all the best houses in England at the time and became the Duke of Marlborough and one of the richest men in England, he was a visionary really. Nearly all his designs are still intact because they’re all so beautiful.” The group stood around her listening, genuinely interested, even Harry who for their entire adolescence had mostly sided with Ron that her tangents were boring. Hermione blushed, finding herself self-conscious all of a sudden but Draco caught her, shaking his head with a reassuring smile, reminding her that this was not that. She nodded, leaning into his chest.

“Let’s eat, hmm?” Draco kissed her curls and pushed in her chair for her, taking the seat next to her. Everyone else followed suit, happily chatting along. Neville made several comments about the garden, wanting to know about various plants, and Pansy showed a surprising knowledge of herbology Hermione didn’t remember her having; the eyelash batting, however, she fully recognized. Draco winked at Hermione when she gave him a questioning look over it but didn’t say a word, only shook his head in a signal that implied ‘I’ll tell you later’. Mrs. Nelson, the family’s chef, popped out after a bit with her assistant to refresh everyone’s wine and see how they were enjoying the food. She was a chatty and kind woman who grew every vegetable herself and even made her own cheese so when she asked if you liked something, she really wanted to know… she was also quite cheeky, so had the table in stitches for nearly the entire meal. Promising to send out a few different puddings and ice creams mid-afternoon, she left them to finish up.

“Mi, you have a stereo anywhere?” Harry asked.

“Yeah of course. Come on.” Hermione bade him to follow her just inside the door where the surround sound system was. In just under two minutes, ‘In My Life’ by The Beatles rang out, rendering the entire group on the patio utterly silent, no one having ever heard it before and the words feeling quite prescient to everyone. Harry and Hermione, however, danced to it as one of the songs that meant the most to them. Before the lull between songs could make it awkward, The Beach Boys saved the day by making Theo their newest and biggest fan. Sunscreening Charms were applied, ridiculous Sixties-era dances were learned, canon-ball and swan-dive contests were judged unfairly… there was even a drunken game of hide-and-seek in the maze. Mrs. Nelson sent out frozen watermelon cocktails and mint-berry ice cream around three, then a full summery version of high tea at five since no one wanted to walk all the way back to their rooms to nap off their swim-fatigue when they could do it by the pool instead. They reinvigorated with food and caffeine and played outdoors like children for the entire afternoon, finally staggering upstairs to rest sometime after six.

“Alright you lot, take your naps, shower, shag, do whatever… We did tea late so we’ll eat late too. Cocktails at 830 and dinner at 9… and don’t forget to dress like a grown up.” Hermione waved everyone off and dragged Draco into her suite, her curls wild from the chlorine in the pool and still wearing the swimsuit that had driven him to madness the entire day.

The second the door shut she squeaked in surprise, finding herself thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “I have been so bloody good all bloody day… I’m done…” He tossed her, like said sack of potatoes, onto the bed and was practically feral as he crawled over her, taking her mouth and cutting off her giggle within a second as she felt how hard he was pressed right where it felt best. He moaned into her mouth and everything outside the two of them was forgotten as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He squeezed her thigh and cradled her head and his tongue mimicked exactly how he was going to fuck her, thoroughly and deeply, and it made her soaking wet and desperate for him. No one had ever kissed her like he did, or affected her like he did… it was everything…

Wandlessly and silently vanishing their clothes was a skill that never ceased to impress, and while he had fantasized all day about taking his time removing the gift from Salazar that was her swimsuit, he no longer had the patience for that… he was desperate for her. For the connection they had when they were together. It wasn’t just sex, it grounded him, it centered his soul, it righted everything in his bloody universe to lock eyes with her when he was inside her… and he needed it. Needed her.

He threaded their fingers together with her arms above her head as his weight settled completely between her thighs, sinking into her on a long, drawn out moan against her lips. “Mia…”

“Needed you… all day…” She moaned back, dragging his lip between her teeth. What had she been thinking this morning, leaving this man in their bed, decidedly un-fucked? Was she insane? Never again… it had been too long, her heart hadn’t beat right all day…

“Don’t do that again, darling, I haven’t… haven’t breathed right… needed you… all day…” He panted against her ear, desperate to be closer, as close as possible, he loves her so much.

“I love you… it feels…”

“I know…” Draco released one hand so he could lift one of her legs over his shoulder, her near-scream of pleasure at the change in angle sending shock-waves through him. “That’s right darling, scream for me… fuck yes…”

“It’s so good…”

He practically folded her in half so he could bite down on her nipple and she shattered, his name coming in fragments among the sobs as she convulsed around his cock… but he wasn’t finished with her, he knew she had another in her, he knew she could do better… Draco pulled out just enough to flip her over before draping himself over her, touching head to toe, and thrusting back inside her from behind, holding his arms around her, clit and breast, for leverage, and biting her shoulder…

“Again!” He whispered harshly, licking up the side of her neck. He pressed down on her clit and squeezed her nipple and sucked her neck and fucked her, grinding into her as he lay completely atop her. It was the most intense orgasm she’d ever had and the squeaking nothingness sound was unintelligible as she milked his cock dry. He left a bite mark on her shoulder that, under any other circumstances, would have been horridly painful and inappropriate… but in the moment she fucking loved it. Draco was utterly horrified, however, when he saw what he’d done.

“I… am a monster. My gods darling I am so sorry!” He started to panic.

“YOU… are fucking HOT. Stop being weird and fetch my beaded bag… weirdo.” Hermione flicked him playfully on the nose and stretched her naked body like a cat in the sunshine, basking in post-orgasmic bliss.

“Are you sure? I mean it literally looks like I tried to take a bite out of you!”

“Yes… You didn’t even break the skin! Now, if you tend to my wounds we can play doctor, wink wink…” She waggled her eyebrows playfully, pulling him out of his funk with a chuckle.

“Are you the naughty patient in this scenario, then?”

“I am indeed. It’s why I’m naked.”

“I see… Well in that case, let me treat your sex wound and then… try to not give you one that is not… quite as grievous… next time…?” He shook his head, knowing he was absolute pants at this game as she just laughed her ass off. He applied the cream to her shoulder and let himself be laughed at… It was really good sex… still though, ouch…

“Thank you, Doctor.” Hermione laughed, leaning up to kiss him as he screwed the lid back on.

“Mmhmm.” He pulled her in for a cuddle, knowing they still had a few hours to themselves and planning to take full advantage of it. They lay peacefully for a while, resting and kissing and chatting and overall just soaking in time with the person they adored most in the world. He teased her for having a childhood bedroom painted in Slytherin colors; she pretended to not hear him. She told him how well her training session had gone with Merlin and his eyes lit up, making her feel incredibly special. He tickled her until it became something else entirely, a desperate and needy touch meant to torture and tease. Flipping him onto his back, she took control and rode him until he begged to come, then she collapsed onto his chest after they went over the peak together, staying there for ages to cuddle as he stroked her back and kissed her hair. Overall, their time together was very them. The were still cuddling, naked and tangled up together, when Hermione asked about Pansy and Neville and the look Draco had given her earlier, prompting Draco to smirk like someone who knows something.

“Since when does Pansy ‘I don’t touch dirt’ Parkinson have an interest in herbology?” Hermione laughed, poking him where she knew it tickled.

“Oh, I’d guess since he got miraculously fit and lopped off the head of the snake.” Draco grinned. Hermione sat up, incredulous.

“That was years ago! That secretive little wench!”

“Oh please, you know she keeps that sort of thing close to the chest.”

“I’m her best girlfriend!”

“She hasn’t admitted it… I just… know her.” Draco placated.

“Mmmnope, there’s more you’re not saying.” Hermione called him out.

“Well, I might have also seen him going into her room, not his own earlier… that too…” He grinned at her shocked face. “Hey, you did tell everyone to shag if they wanted to!” They both stared at each other for a moment before dissolving into childish and uncontrollable laughter.

“I mean… yeah! I suppose I did!”

A comfortable silence sat between them after their laughter petered out and they each kept to their own thoughts for a few minutes. “Poor Theo… I hope everyone cast silencing charms.” Hermione mused.

“Knowing Theo, if he’s stuck as the odd man out, he’ll hope they don’t.”

Hermione laughed so hard she snorted.

Hermione was putting on her makeup in the bathroom - the lighting was simply better there than at the priceless vanity her mother insisted she have in her bedroom for the purpose - when she spied Draco leaning on the doorjamb smiling softly at her and watching.

“How long have you been there, playing ‘I Spy’?” She teased, leaning in to apply an eyelash charm.

“Maybe a few seconds, maybe the whole time… I’ll never tell.” He teased back, making her have to pause so she could laugh; she didn’t want to accidentally stab herself in the eye with her wand again so she really wished he’d stop making her laugh during eyelash charms, but she could never really be angry at him for such a thing, not at all. Meeting his eye in the mirror she took a moment to just smile at him; he looked so stupidly handsome… She loved that they’d decided to dress properly for dinner, it felt very… adult. Which was ridiculous because they’d been adults for quite a while, but something about hosting a house party at her parents’ home, her family’s ancestral seat, as a couple… without her parents… well, that felt extremely grown up.

It felt like the real version of when she’d play dress-up with her mother’s high heels and pearls as a little girl… but with a handsome prince and excellent sex.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Draco asked, amused.

Hermione blushed a bit and shook her head, knowing she’d been caught having one of her day-dream tangents.

“No no, you have to tell me.” He sauntered up and hugged her from behind, knowing it was her weakness.

“In a strange way I feel like I got a glimpse of our future, maybe? Or had a flashback to when I’d imagine a moment like this as a little girl, I’m not sure.” She shrugged.

Draco’s heart felt so full it left no room for air in his lungs as he kissed her shoulder. “I love you so much.” He murmured, nuzzling her face until he could kiss her properly. “I want to hear more about this future, sometime soon… it sounds beautiful.”

“I’d like that.”

He kissed the tip of her nose and released her. “I’ll let you finish getting ready…”

“Draco?”

“Hmm?” Hermione could’ve swooned at the smile he gave her as he turned in the doorway, she really truly could’ve…

“I love you, too.” Then he winked… like he was trying to kill her or something… She chuckled to herself and tried to shake it off. The effect he had on her was ridiculous.

Draco was sure he had never been happier in his entire life. His face ached from smiling and he had one of those stupid bounces in his steps… If an earlier version of himself met this version, he’d find himself nauseating.

But he couldn’t care less.

All he knew was that both he and Hermione had each been through a crucible… different sides of the same war and they’d both suffered. He didn’t always believe that he too deserved happiness and he still struggled with it, but the important thing was that she believed it… She was his second chance, and he would never ever put that in jeopardy or put anything before her, she was everything…

He stood in the small library off Hermione’s bedroom as he waited for her, a room that was once a ‘playroom’ but his witch was such a swot that even as a child she requested books over toys, and scanned the titles at eye-level. Her collection here seemed to be pre-Hogwarts, mainly muggle literature and non-fiction and he had already made a large pile to take back to the loft that looked good… He was especially looking forward to the series about the wizards and their friends called Hobbits? Something like that… Draco was interested in how Muggles wrote wizards and elves and magic and dragons and such; he’d read a few pages and it seemed quite excellent, if terribly inaccurate.

“Ready?” Hermione appeared set for dinner in a pink strapless cocktail dress with a sweetheart neckline and matching t-strap patent leather wedge sandals. Her makeup was shimmery and her hair wild and so damn sexy.

“…Wow…” He saw she was wearing the earrings he gave her and it made his heart lurch a bit… he wasn’t even sure why since she’d worn them the night before but, still… there was just something about it that did something to him.

“Thank you. And you’re welcome.” She gave hime a sassy little twirl and held out her hand with a smile.

Cocktails and a cheese plate were served in the Billiards Room. Fitzy had curated several impressive choices from Hermione’s father’s extensive whiskey and wine cellar for the evening which, as Hermione and Draco arrived to greet their friends, it appeared everyone was taking full advantage of. She was perfectly fine with that of course, she was just happy she’d had the forethought to have Fitzy remove valuable, breakable things like the Ming vase before anyone attempted an actual game of billiards. 

Watching Harry trying to teach the game to Theo, Neville and Blaise while Draco fetched her a cocktail really reinforced it for her - it had been the right decision.

“Hermione, help me…” Harry cried dramatically.

“Granger this Muggle game makes no sense!” Blaise scoffed, gesticulating a little dangerously with his cue stick.

“Blaise think about it this way… why can you not use magic in Quidditch to make goals?”

He looked scandalized. “Because it would be cheating to send the ball wherever you want with magic! It’s a skill to throw it through the hoop and not miss…” The room was silent while Hermione stared at Blaise, waiting for her point to sink in. “Ohhhh…” He rested his chin on his cue stick, getting blue chalk on it. “Point well met, Granger.”

“Brightest Witch of Her Age!” Theo cried.

“Or… and just hear me out here… in this particular instance, witch able to see common sense?” Hermione shrugged dramatically while Blaise wrinkled his nose at her, the only one not laughing. “Go back to your lesson, you’ll get it.” She waved him off and accepted the drink Draco had procured for her, a martini perfectly chilled with three olives.

“Is that a poker table over there?” Draco asked.

“Of course it is! I am, after all, ‘Duchess Goldie’s granddaughter, remember?” She laughed.

“You are indeed… On that note, care to make a little wager, Granger?” Draco’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he leaned down to hover just above her in their own little bubble.

“If the stakes are right. What’s the bet, Mr. Malfoy?” She smirked, liking the look in his eye very much as they left the other four boys to continue bickering and laughing over their game.

“I bet… that I can find out the details regarding the Pansy/Neville situation before you can.” He quirked his eyebrow at her as she scoffed, her hackles up and buttons pushed.

“You think so, do you? You are delusional… Tell me what is my prize when I inevitably win this ridiculous bet of yours.” She taunted him, nearly nose-to-nose now.

“Hmmm… What does my little lady want?” All the ways he wanted to spoil her sounded way too extravagant for this bet so he didn’t volunteer them, he’d save things like a weekend in Paris for ‘just because’ or her birthday or something. Besides, neither of them could get away just now.

“Unlimited trip to the bookstore next weekend. And a massage.”

“Done. What do I get?”

“Nothing because you’re going to lose.” She smirked.

“Tsk-tsk, rules are rules, you have to name your stakes, love.”

Hermione smiled a naughty smile and pulled him down so she could whisper in his ear. “If you win, I’ll put on my old school uniform and we can play a game of Professor Malfoy Gives A Naughty Detention…”

Draco audibly gasped a little, though only Hermione could have heard it as she smugly patted his chest and stood down from her tip-toes.

She smiled up at him and he could swear, she was just a little bit evil; he’d never loved her more.

“Oh, it is on now, witch… I was going to let you win, but not anymore… Prepare to lose…”

“Even if I do, I’d be okay with it either way.” She smirked, turning around to flounce over to where the girls were huddled in a chat. She had some investigating to do.

Draco took a second to breathe, then sought out Neville. He was determined to win this if it was the last thing he ever did.

“Two YEARS?!” Hermione and Ginny whisper-shouted in unison at their friend as she pretended to examine her always-perfect manicure.

“Mm-hmm. Well, almost, anyway.” She replied nonchalantly.

“You’ve been sleeping with Neville for almost two bloody years and never said anything, either of you?! You just… shag?!” Hermione was shocked by both her friends’ behavior, it seemed so out of character… but the more she thought about it… the more it made sense. Pansy was terrified of getting hurt after what happened to her, so giving in to a real relationship was probably just beyond what she’d been emotionally capable of. Neville, despite being the kindest and sweetest and gentlest of men, was a bit of a slag for a while after he grew into his looks… he always treated women with respect, but he never committed. Hermione didn’t even blame him, really… if he wasn’t ready then he wasn’t ready, and the man was a bloody fit wizard, so… hey. And Pansy was a woman with agency, she could do as she pleased as long as she was safe and happy… just…

Wow?

Ginny and Hermione looked at each other and shrugged, both coming to the same conclusion at approximately the same moment apparently. Luna just smiled serenely as always like she’d known the whole time - she probably had, too, but wouldn’t be the type to mention it. She kept people’s secrets.

“So… do you think you’ll ever want… more? With Neville?” Hermione wondered, not able to help thinking of the looming legislation.

“We’ve been considering it… with his parents home now, it’s brought life into a different perspective for him. His mother mentions grand babies at least once a day, apparently… and… well obviously they’d be bloody gorgeous, wouldn’t they?” Pansy huffed, disliking showing vulnerability. Admitting to wanting things counted as being vulnerable to Pansy, especially things like this. Being even this open about it was saying a lot.

“They really would.” Ginny agreed, rubbing her arm. Hermione knew she shouldn’t but she couldn’t help herself. “Pans, can I ask you something strange? It’s to do with some research I came across for work and, being muggleborn, I didn’t know about this and Ginny would be no help since she had thirty-seven siblings… Are you an only child because your mum had… trouble?”

Pansy scoffed a bit but smiled, shaking her head. “Thankfully, no, that isn’t the reason with me. I just had parents that murderously loathed each other. My mother informed me from a young age that 'once you do your duty, Little Blossom, there’s no need for your husband to ever touch you again, that’s what whores and mistresses are for.'" She smiled sadly, the horrid childhood memory giving her a bit of a shiver. “Pureblood marriages are… not often love stories. But I know what you’re referring to, Granger, and I’m sure you spoke to Draco about this?” Hermione nodded sadly. “It is common, the infertility, the miscarriages, even stillbirths… I think Daphne was the only one in Slytherin in our year who even had a sibling.”

“That’s what Draco said…” And that fact still felt insane to Hermione.

“Magical pregnancies are supposedly really hard on the body, too, in comparison to Muggle ones… but my mum had seven… Harry and I will NOT be doing that.” Ginny shuddered, making the other three laugh.

“My mother died having me.” Luna said sadly, sobering the conversation even more.

Fitzy came in just then and called them all to dinner. Hermione was looking a bit sad as Draco approached to escort her to the dining room so he cupped her cheek and brought her gaze up to his, wanting to check in.

“You okay?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah… Conversation turned a bit heavy, but I’m fine. How’re you?”

“Well I won’t gloat but I believe I won our wager.” He smiled.

“Oh, sorry, but so did I.” She chuckled. “Terrible to have trade both prizes…” Draco laughed, leading her in to join their friends.

“Yes… what a tragedy…” He hoped she had that school uniform here at the house… He’d like to collect his winnings at bedtime.

Chapter Text

Mrs. Nelson had outdone herself - dinner was amazing and almost every ingredient grown or raised on the estate. Despite the lively conversation and delicious meal, though, Hermione found herself distracted. The realization that their group of friends was not a horde of singletons as she and Draco had assumed had her stomach churning over her job and she kept spacing out. It was when she heard Theo’s little bombshell that she just went ahead and lost it altogether…

‘Georgie and I are taking it slowww, thank you very much…  and by slow I mean we shag like rabbits but he hasn’t come out to his parents yet, only his lovely sister… hence me talking about it in front of her right now…’

Hermione came out of her stupor. “Whoa, wait, hold up… Theo, you and George Weasley?”

“Indeed, we make a stunningly handsome set if I do say so… which I do, right now.” Theo grinned and toasted Hermione with a salacious wink. Ginny threw her head back with laughter and then looked over at Hermione to explain. “Mione, you remember how George was when you left for Mali… then how he was on Friday? Pretty different, yeah? Thank Bozo the Clown over here…” She laughed, seeing that Hermione totally got what she meant and was impressed with her random muggle clown reference. Theo did make sense for George, Hermione mused, she had just never really thought about his sexual orientation before, not that it mattered…

But… shit…

“Something wrong, Granger?” Theo asked, his tone a little testy. He was reading her worry for all of them as a reaction to his relationship specifically, which was understandable… oops.

“No! Shit, Theo, it’s not you, not at all…” Hermione looked at Draco and shrugged, a bit defeated. “I have to tell them… they’re all in relationships… I can’t keep this from them… I… I can’t…” Draco of course understood immediately and leaned over to take her hand. Blaise, in a surprising moment of maturity, spoke up in a show of support. “Granger Danger… I know you’re doing your best… they will too. You can trust them.” She didn’t know Blaise that well but his words meant a lot to her in that moment.

Silence hung heavy around the table for a minute and she could feel everyone’s eyes on her. Forks were down and dinners were decidedly finished… it was time to talk, apparently.

“The Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Bertram Fawley, pushed something through during the closed session that will go public first thing when the docket opens next Monday morning. I have been doing everything humanly possible to mitigate it, to amend it, to change it… but it has already passed, despite it being… fucking insane… and utterly counterintuitive to the problem it proclaims it will solve…” Hermione paused, her face anguished. Draco squeezed her hand in support, knowing she really was tearing herself up over it.

“Mi… just tell us?” Pansy asked quietly, realizing it was bad, not just a big deal, but bad. She felt guilty for giving her friend a hard time about it before… and now she just felt a bit scared, leaning on Neville for support.

“It’s a Marriage Law… based on blood status. The Wizengamot is invoking something called the ‘Dire Circumstances Clause’ which basically allows them to do drastic things, like this, behind closed doors as long as they can claim there is an emergent need, like now. Unfortunately, I cannot say that such a claim in this case is baseless because… it’s actually not! Magical Britain is in trouble and we do need to address it. We have a population crisis, yes, but they are going about ‘fixing’ it in the stupidest possible way…” Hermione paused to gulp her wine and lean on her boyfriend who was rubbing circles into her back.

“Sorry… why are we freaking out about the population? I don’t get it, it seems the same as… I dunno… always? I mean, since the war, obviously…” Harry asked, wincing a bit at the end and cheeks a bit pink. Hermione sighed and shook her head.

“I know it sounds mad at first, Harry, but it will make sense once you think about it. It’s subtle, even, until you look at the cold hard figures, but let me parse it out for you. We’ve fought two wars in just the last thirty years, right? And we’ve lost a significant number of people in each, the majority of whom were of child-bearing age or younger… Many families were wiped out entirely, bloodlines that had been here for centuries, just… gone now, poof, no more. On top of the number of dead you have those who fled Britain altogether, often taking their entire families with them and never returning, and that happened across all blood statuses, too… The numbers of people Magical Britain has lost, be them dead or fled, since just the 1975 census Harry… is staggering.”

“Shit.” Harry murmured, beginning to see the scope of it all. He’d genuinely never thought about it from this angle before, and it left him incredibly off-kilter.

“Shit is right… But there’s unfortunately so much more shit to come, so… settle in. Next you have to look how the most recent war has dramatically altered how young people live their lives, right? Everyone sitting around this table is the perfect example of it. Regardless of blood status, as a culture we are not getting married and bearing babies straight out of Hogwarts anymore, so birth rates have plummeted dramatically over the last 20 years… There was a minor bump in the early eighties when families felt safe having kids again, but since then it has gone steadily downhill, dropping at an increased rate year over year since ’94.

Then you have the rates of squib births that appear to have gone way up… I say ‘appear’ though, because that statistic might be… off, or at least skewed slightly. Thanks to new technology that can identify them in vitro, squibs are now more likely to be reported and not just… err… dealt with later…” She winced.

“What do you mean ‘dealt with’?!” Harry cried. All the purebloods in the room cringed and refused to make eye-contact, so Hermione took on that explanation for them, too. Their collective sighs of gratitude and shame were dually noted.

“Umm… Lotta times, a squib child would end up quietly given away sometime before the age of majority, Harry, and just… never spoken of again. It’s only recently when healers have been able to detect a baby’s magical signature in vitro that we know from St. Mungo’s records more about the number of squibs being born. If a magical couple decides to give that baby up for adoption, that’s their business and is likely kinder than the previous way of doing things, but… whatever! It’s not what we’re talking about, specifically, right now… The point about squib births is that they are births in the magical world that are not magical… and if they are increasing, that is a problem. A big one, and one that needs to be investigated and addressed.”

“But-!”

“Not now, Harry.” Ginny shushed her husband, soothing him with private whispers. Harry was, she knew, always going to look at that information from the viewpoint of someone who’d been abandoned as a baby, so she didn’t blame him for being incensed. However, they had much bigger issues to cover and he needed to focus.

Hermione sighed, appreciating her honorary brother’s big heart for being horrified at all this. Appreciating her friend for keeping said brother calm. And appreciating Draco for keeping her upright as she was saying all this to everyone. It was harder than she could have imagined.

“Sadly, in terms of statistics, we still are in the dark about the severity of the purebloods’ fertility issues, though, which apparently are severe… and heartbreaking; my research showed that miscarriages and stillbirths are so horridly prevalent due to pureblood families pattern of inbreeding over the centuries. It’s so bad that most Sacred 28 families struggle to get even one infant to term. Draco, love, you mentioned how Slytherin had what… one classmate in our year who had a sibling? Just one, right?”

“That’s right, love, just Daphne.” He murmured, stroking her wrist with his thumb and cuddling her close. The other three snakes at the table nodded along with Draco soberly, sending Harry reeling yet again. He’d never thought about any of this before; his only exposure to a magical family had been the Weasleys, the only Pureblood family not to have this issue - if anything, it had been the opposite since they had 7 healthy children. He was utterly gobsmacked. Hermione steeled herself and, essentially, began ranting. She just had to get it all out.

“So… I know, okay? It is crazy to think about, I know, but now you’re getting the picture; as abhorrent as it is, this law did not come out of nowhere. Thanks to the wars, there was tremendous loss of life… then there’s the fact that a lot of wix, mainly muggleborn, fled to America or the continent, and many chose to simply give up magic altogether! So we just… have no idea where those people went! They’re muggles by choice now, listed at the ministry as ‘non-wixen-citizens’, considered lost.

“Then there’s the high percentage of squib births I mentioned, the inbreeding that has led to a rise in infertility, miscarriages, stillbirths, and single-child households… And one look at this table proves the fact that our generation is not exactly focusing on repopulating the way we are on, say, our careers etcetera. Bottom line? It’s a mess.

“So, yes, the circumstances are, technically, heading toward dire rather fast. I admit that part is not a fabrication. However, here’s where it gets… tricky. Instead of finding actual solutions, they seem to be using all those very scary issues as excuses to be both heavy-handed and lazy! They have used no logic whatsoever in this law to supposedly ‘solve’ these issues! The law they have passed will not create the baby boom they need, not at all, nor will it foster any long-term growth either. In fact, if implemented as written? It will be a fucking disaster…

“So since they didn’t do it, I did it for them. I found the solutions. I met with the head of the Department of Mysteries for us, for France and for MACUSA, I spoke with both Magical and Muggle geneticists as well as Magical bloodline experts and fertility healers and Muggle reproductive experts as well! I have had a busy fucking week… Hell, I even met with the fucking tax department at the Ministry! The report I turned in yesterday was the best work I have ever produced to find actual solutions to this problem, but…”

Hermione wiped a traitorous tear from her cheek and shook her head, her breath heaving as she suddenly felt so bloody defeated… and a little tempted to give in to it. But the feel of Draco’s chest against her arm and back, his arm around her in his soft button-down shirt, breathing in his comforting scent… all of it, all of him was somehow keeping her grounded. She didn’t even remember scooching over so far into his space but must’ve at some point… staying in her own chair was the only thing keeping her from doing an impression of a koala bear on him.

“You don’t think they’ll listen to you?” Ginny asked. The entire table seemed too scared to ask what the law actually entailed and Hermione didn’t blame them, but she knew she’d have to explain. So far she’d just been scaring the hell out of them with the state of reality, she realized. Oops.

“I…” She sighed, shrugging a little. “I don’t know! As of now, despite the fact that census data explicitly shows that there are not nearly enough Muggleborns to go around, Pureblood weddings will be outlawed as of next Monday. Purebloods will have half a year to find and marry a Muggleborn, Halfbloods can take nine months to marry each other or a Muggleborn… and there will be a procreation mandate of two children within five years across the board. After that, people can legally dissolve their marriages and walk away. As long as the Wizengamot get their magical babies, it appears that they don’t care what happens to them! They are offering no assistance, no guidance… just mandating who is a broodmare for who, and what the consequences are if we do not comply… the consequences being the loss of our magic and Obliviation, by the way… Fawley isn’t fucking around.”

Hermione watched sadly as the shock, devastation and outrage hit her friends like a bomb. She’d just made such an enormous breach of professional ethics it was insane… but she knew without a doubt that she’d also done the right thing.

“Blaise, I made a specific recommendation in my report with you in mind. You were born outside of the UK and therefore your bloodline is foreign and you should be able to belong to an exemption grouping, but I can’t guarantee anything. I included backup research, but…” She shrugged apologetically, but he nodded in thanks, his eyes glassy as he gripped Luna’s hand. “Pansy, Neville, I didn’t know about you two… but you have a week to elope legally. I do know, from the research that I did, that you two have an extremely high likelihood of success since your families have no history of overlap that I can recall, so… that’s good. Same goes for you Theo, about the week to elope, by the way… I know you said that you and George are new, but… you’re both purebloods. After next Monday… it won’t be an option, and you’d be mandated to find a spouse under this law like everyone else.”

“What does the law say about same sex couples, anyway? If there’s a procreation mandate…” Theo asked, a bit dazed. Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head, feeling furious over this bit of news.

“It didn’t. There’s a wide, gaping hole… dear god that pun was SO by accident, sorry! Oh, Merlin, sorry…” The entire table was in hysterics laughing, the accidental levity apparently much needed but Hermione was crimson with embarrassment. Draco was vibrating next to her as he gave her a neck rub, trying to be on her side but it was just too funny. “What I meant… ugh… You all are perverts! What I meant to say… was that I think Fawley did it on purpose, hoping to force unwed homosexuals into heterosexual marriages under this law. I won’t be able to prove it until I can call it out on the floor of the Wizengamot next Monday, though, and… I wouldn’t want to risk it, personally, but marriage is a huge step, so…

“I will say that the fact that this Marriage Law has a built-in 5-year Divorce Clause… well, to me that says that they really are basically saying right there in the law that they expect these marriages to fail and all these kids to be in broken homes, and by saying it, they are admitting that they don’t care. Adding to the fact that there are no built-in financial incentives or assistance packages, nothing, just a mandate… its full-on dictatorship, passed behind closed doors when they knew the public couldn’t protest… They are 100% aware of how wrong this is and how unpopular it will be, which seems insane, almost too insane. So either they genuinely don’t give a shit, which is possible… or I am missing something. And I feel like it must be the latter, but if so… what?”

Hermione’s look of worry over the second possibility gave everyone pause. Hermione Granger didn’t miss things…

“What about couples that are already married?” Ginny and Harry had been whispering and Ginny piped up.

“You’ll be under the same procreation mandate as everyone else, starting next Monday.”

Neville and Pansy had been clinging to each other, though seemed less upset than Hermione would have expected. Something suddenly seemed to occur to Neville and he piped up with something naught to do with them, just pure Neville-esque academic curiosity. “What happens to people who can’t find someone? Like… You said the census doesn’t even match up!” This question brought a grimace to Hermione’s face; she’d actually forgotten about this part.

“They’ve actually created something vaguely… interesting. Maybe. It’s some sort of matching service at St. Mungo’s… Now, Lord Greengrass is on our side, mind you, so took Draco and I through it. It checks magical core compatibility! It’s kinda neat… its like a magical Witch Weekly Romance quiz… but the problem is that Fawley is only allowing people to use it if they fit the blood status requirement! So, Draco and I were able to test our compatibility, but if you and Pansy wanted to, the technician would be forced to deny your request… they’d just test you against the Muggleborns in the database and ‘match’ you with your highest percentage ‘match’ and that would be that, you’d be assigned to and have to marry that person.

"By submitting yourself to the Matching Program, you’re giving up your right to find your own spouse, essentially… that’s how Fawley has written the law. It’s just another way to take away people’s autonomy and choices… it’s barbaric. And again, the penalties are both incredibly harsh and incredibly counterintuitive to the success of the country… it makes NO sense! If you miss the deadline of the six or nine months to marry and do not immediately accept an assigned match, the penalty is either a snapped wand and Obliviation or you have five days to renounce your citizenship to Magical Britain forever. Like… you cannot come back, not even for a fucking funeral…ever.”

Silence hung around the table for a minute before Pansy and Neville seemed to agree on something, resulting in Pansy raising her hand.

“Yes, Pans?” Hermione called on her, assuming she had another question.

“Would you like to be my Maid of Honor next Saturday afternoon at Longbottom Manor? I appear to be getting married.” She smiled, a bit overwhelmed, but obviously genuinely happy.

Hermione reeled in surprise, not having seen anything happy coming from this but thrilled to pieces for her two friends. She choked on a happy sob trying to answer. “Yes I would!”

Neville looked slightly over his shoulder to where Draco was sitting next to him, each man’s chair cheated toward their respective girlfriend too much for easy conversation between them at the moment. “And you? Will you stand up for me, be my Best Man?”

Draco looked at Neville with owl eyes, then at Harry who was smiling encouragingly, then back at Neville. He was shocked and couldn’t remember how words worked but managed a nod, or something approximating one. He had a lump in his throat he couldn’t quite work around and there was quite a bit of blinking, but Neville got the message and grinned.

Suddenly the table was abuzz with conversation… ‘weddings’ and ‘the Chief Warlock was an arsehole’ and ‘the war should have meant more for us’… Hermione was caught up in them all, amused and unsurprised when Luna proposed rather casually to Blaise that they elope under the full moon on Tuesday, fully nude and at midnight as was ‘traditional’, and he accepted without hesitation. Thankfully their ceremony didn’t require any attendants. Blaise caught Hermione’s eye and mouthed ‘thank you’ to her, afterward, making her want to cry again.

Everyone agreed about how barbaric and insane the law was, but with two couples getting married in the coming week, suddenly it was a few delightful minutes of focusing on making the best of things... of celebrating.

After a while, Hermione noticed that Theo and Draco were the only ones not talking… except they seemed to be having some sort of silent conversation with each other from their respective opposite ends of the table. Thoughtful and strangely telepathic.

Hermione looked from one to the other for a minute or so, the only one to have noticed this apparently, and softly cleared her throat near Draco’s ear.

“Care to share with the class?” She murmured.

Her only answer was Draco raising an eyebrow to Theo. She knew they were close, but… damn.

“Granger… what was the count, do you know? When this piece of hippogriff shite passed?” Theo asked thoughtfully.

She hadn’t seen that one coming and had to think for a minute. “It was close, closer than I’d have hoped with a law so extreme but I have a feeling Fawley sold it to the 'Old Guard' by putting the fear of the gods into all of them about their lines dying out… Plus, there are so many empty seats right now that I think Fawley capitalized on that, you know? But you asked for a number, sorry, let me think... I want to say 21/18… but don’t quote me. Why do you ask, anyway?” She looked between her boyfriend and Theo a few times, knowing they were obviously thinking the same thing and hating that she couldn’t figure it out.

“Funny you mentioned all those empty seats.” Theo looked pointedly at her, wondering if it would click.

Suddenly, it clicked.

Hermione suddenly sat up straighter, looking around the table at her friends and seeing them in a different light than she ever had before, ticking them off with her fingers.

Why the ever loving FUCK had she never thought of this before?!

Oh, right… She was a Muggleborn and they didn’t allow her kind on the Wizengamot.

Yet.

Not unless she was Minister or Head of one of the major departments, anyway. Those were the only non-hereditary seats, and there were precious few of them.

“Theo… Time to share with the class.” She declared. Part of her hurt, badly, knowing that she had worked herself sick all fucking week to put a report together and no matter how good it was, no matter how good she was… it would never be as good as their names were. Not in this instance. Not for this problem. It felt like the ultimate story of her life moment.

But, at the end of the proverbial day, a problem needed to be fixed and the solution might just be staring her in the face… literally. That was just… that.

“Potter, Longbottom, listen up.” Theo’s normally jovial tone was gone and the serious one that had replaced it was startling enough to cease the other, smaller conversations going on at the table. “You too, Pans…” Theo’s eyes were softer for her, but no less serious. “We’ve all been avoiding this since the war because… well, because we fucking earned the right to ignore it, I say, but… apparently that time is over if fuckers like Fawley are going to do shite like this…” He began, visibly having trouble not being too angry.

“Dunno if you heard Granger just now but the vote that got this thing through was somewhere in the neighborhood of 21/18… Do the maths, friends. That adds up to a total of 39 votes when the total number of Wizengamot seats right now should be at least 60… I'd have to take a look at the list of current open seats but 60 is a minimum number I'll use for this conversation.

This was what is colloquially known as a ‘backroom vote’, but Granger explained it for you with adult words. When they use clauses like ‘Dire Circumstance’ they not only get to vote shit like this through during closed session, they also get to circumvent every non-hereditary seat vote other than the Minister, so cut that 60 down to 51. There were 39 votes when there should have been 51… Following?”

“In theory.” Harry shrugged.

“Good enough, it will make sense in a second, Potter… The reason for the gap is not unrelated to Granger’s speech of doom and gloom earlier, actually. Many seats have languished due to bloodlines that are now extinct or presumed to be so due to a lack of a known heir for a decade or more, while others are open essentially in perpetuity due the last of the line residing in Azkaban. Not all, though. The Nott, Black, Potter, Longbottom and Parkinson seats have all been without a representative for a while, and I don’t know about you guys, but before tonight I trusted them not to fuck my life up if I decided I needed to wait a few years before… being a real grown-up and taking up my family seat, you know? But… fuck, apparently, that trust was misplaced!”

Silence hung over the table and it was heavy.

Draco cleared his throat and spoke softly. “Theo’s right… Though my reasoning was different. I didn’t take up the Black seat because, frankly, I didn’t feel like I had sufficiently… redeemed myself in society yet. But fuck that, they’ve gone too far.” Draco shook his head as everyone protested his feelings of self-loathing by telling him he was amazing and actually had redeemed himself a hundred times over. Neville, especially, took genuine offense to this on his behalf and squeezed his shoulder, leaning in to talk to him in a whisper until he nodded. Their friendship made Hermione’s heart feel too big for her chest and she and Pansy were both on the verge of a good bout of sobbing over it.

“It isn’t just us…”  Theo piped back in, effectively shutting everyone back up. “Bulstrode, Goyle, Abbott, Bones… George is eligible for the Prewett seat, even, because it has that 'magical twins' inheritance rule.” He shrugged. “Granger, you’re right, the war changed how our generation approached life after Hogwarts, life after the war itself… But the war also totally set our generation back in terms of political power because… fuck, so many reasons, to each our own I guess. But the common theme with all of us seems to be that we all, for whatever personal reason, just seemed reluctant to take it! But we’re a week away from paying the price for that reluctance if we don’t do something about it now.”

“What would we have to do? I have no idea what it would even mean to take up the Potter seat…” Harry looked beyond out of his element. “And why wouldn’t Malfoy take… you know, the Malfoy seat?” He asked, his face more confused by the second.

“My father hasn’t retired, technically; while he does occasionally participate in debates or hearings, part of his sentence was a 5-year prohibition from voting on legislation. However, he really thinks that…” Draco abruptly caught himself making moony-eyes at Hermione and about to say things it was too early and too ‘in front of all their friends’ to say, so he just awkwardly as hell back-tracked as best he could. “Umm… Technically, Potter… I am Lord Black, so… that’s why.” He finished lamely, chugging the rest of his wine and hoping the boy-who-lived would let it go. Sadly, no dice. He should have seen that coming, he supposed.

“What about when he does retire? Just curious.” Draco couldn’t even get mad because it wasn’t malicious… the arsehole really was just curious and didn’t know shit about how any of this worked. Ugh.

“Umm… My wife would take the Malfoy seat.” Draco answered plainly, feeling his girlfriend’s head swivel against his chest like that of a shocked owl, complete with squeaking. Apparently there was no such thing as too early, Draco mused, looking down at her sweet, gobsmacked face. “Yes. Really.” He murmured to her, leaning down and pecking her lips. The table seemed to realize this was not a subject for them to weigh in on and for once, chose tact over nosiness. Draco did catch Harry’s nod of… approval? Is that what that was? He wasn’t sure, but it felt weirdly like he’d passed some sort of test. Part of him longed for a former life where he’d be annoyed by this, but he simply couldn’t summon those feelings. He was more concerned for the happy wonder he saw in his witch’s eyes; they’d speak about it alone later, he was sure.

“Theo… you make a good point. If even six or eight of us claim our seats, imagine what we could do.” Neville rescued him, sending a small smile over his shoulder.

“Could we get rid of this thing before it goes into effect?” Harry asked.

Theo and Draco hesitated but shook their heads. “Unlikely, but not impossible… Mi, what do you think?” Draco gave her a little shake. She’d been staring into space, thinking and biting her lip in that way that drove him mad.

“Could you get Millie on board, Pans?” Hermione asked. She knew the two were still friendly but Hermione’s only personal interaction with the girl was a headlock during a duel and accidentally turning into her cat, so she would freely admit that she wasn’t the right person to make the approach.

“For this? Absolutely.” Pansy affirmed.

“Theo, you can make George understand about taking the Prewett seat?” Hermione asked.

“Once all this is laid out, Granger, it won’t be a tough sell.”

She nodded. “Neville, you’re close with Hannah and Susan…?”

“I am, but… Hermione, if we’re to have a coup, why not lay it all out for everyone at once like you did for us?”

“Yes!” Blaise cut in. “Have Minister Shacklebolt come! Like dinner the other night, you know, when you forgot I was there…” Hermione and Draco burst out laughing at that memory, but agreed with the premise.

“So, you think… what? I should host another dinner party, invite the Minister of Magic, all the people who we have that can take up their family seat and vote with us in this little coup…? Alright, who else? Who else should come to my coup party?” Hermione felt a little manic for some reason.

“My father…” Draco murmured almost apologetically, hoping she’d see the wisdom in his reasoning without him needing to explain it. He needn’t have worried though; she immediately snapped her fingers and her eyes lit up with scheming mischief.

“YES! That man is a must to plan a government coup! Who else?” Hermione took her mobile out from her clutch bag and began to take notes, fascinating nearly everyone at the table.

Ginny piped up. “You should invite Percy.” She smiled her evil, plotting-murder smile.

“Ooooh… good call! A bit underhanded to actually ask him to show up, but in the good way. I like it…” Hermione snickered, putting his name into her mobile.

“Why are we inviting another Weasley?” Draco asked, not wanting to be an arse, but the name just made him itch.

“Percy is the Court Scribe and Aide to the Chief Warlock… but he hates Fawley. He used to work for Lord Greengrass and is a bit of a spy for him I hear… and me...” Hermione chuckled, turning to face Draco once she was done typing. “Percy is what you’d call a ‘survivor’ in politics… smiles when he needs to and always pays attention. I’ve gotten good intel in the past and he’ll have good insight on this plan, trust me.” She knew why he asked and rubbed his arm. Percy was not Ronald.

“So that just leaves Goyle… is anyone still friendly with Greg?” Hermione looked around, thumbs at the ready to keep typing.

“Me.” Luna put her hand up, surprising the entire room and offering zero explanation whatsoever in true Luna fashion.

“O-ookay… Well. Sure. Why don’t I plan for Thursday for this dinner party… then everyone can get their papers filed Friday, leaving no time for Fawley to do anything about it before the session opens Monday. It forces him to open the session with recognizing the new voting members, he cannot do anything without you.” Hermione explained.

Everyone around the table seemed to agree that Thursday would work; Ginny, Luna and Blaise would of course be coming too, they were invested in this as much as those who were planning to claim seats. It wasn’t just about the little coup Theo had proposed, it was about the fact that he had made them all realize how woefully underrepresented their generation was and how their interests were being so callously disregarded by those in power. It was time to change things.

“How do you think Kingsley is going to react to this plan?” Harry asked, digging into the chocolate bread pudding Mrs. Nelson had just dropped off.

“Well, this law covers him too, so… pretty favorably, I think!” Hermione chuckled, waving her spoon around. The table - with the exception of Blaise of course - went very quiet, hearing that.

“Are you fucking serious?!” Pansy screeched, leaving poor Neville to cover his ear and wince. “Oh, sorry baby… But… are you fucking serious, Granger?! The Minister?!”

“She is, Pans… I think the direct quote he gave me… only after he realized I was in the room, obviously… was that he and I were ‘equally fucked.’” Blaise grinned, sitting back and putting his arm around Luna.

“Mate… Actually, he’s far more fucked than you are, you self-centered arsehole.” Draco shook his head at his friend. “YOU are actually in a relationship. The Minister is not… He could get stuck with a stranger half his age from the St. Mungo’s program because he is so busy, you know… running the country.” Draco dead-panned. Blaise was rather contrite, hearing this; Luna patted his head a few times, sharing a small smile with Draco.

Pansy and Ginny were both staring at Hermione, opening and closing their mouths like guppies.

“I know, I know, you don’t even have to say it. I am the only muggleborn witch you know now that we’re not in school anymore. Now you see the issue! And don’t be gross, anyway… it isn’t just that I’m with Draco, it’s that Kings is like my dad… so… eeuww.” Hermione shuddered.

Draco preened a little since he knew Kingsley Shacklebolt to be a handsome wizard, whatever Hermione said. Witch Weekly even said so, not that Draco reads that sort of thing.

“Your hot dad, maybe…” Ginny muttered. Draco felt validated, laughing while Potter spluttered horrified indignation at his wife.

Conversations seemed to take off around the table again, people planning for Thursday. For the first time since Kingsley had handed her the folder titled ‘Marriage Law’, Hermione actually thought perhaps she had a genuinely good chance. After all, they were literally planning a fucking coup…

Chapter Text

That night, Hermione woke with a scream for the first time since she’d had Draco next to her, and the content of her nightmare was telling.

“Ssshhhh baby I have you, you’re safe… you’re safe…” Draco soothed, pushing her hair back from her face. She was clammy and cold, shaking and embarrassed as she melted into his arms with a whimper to hide against his chest. She cried softly in a ball as he rocked and petted and said all the soothing and reassuring things he could think of, telling her she was safe and loved and everything was okay. It was when he began apologizing that she snapped out of it, realizing that he thought she’d dreamt of the war.

“I should have protected you better, I should have done more, sweetheart, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Draco keened into her hair, his anguish deep and abiding. Hermione lifted her head from his chest, flabbergasted.

“N-nno! I… I didn’t dream about that! And… you did everything you could! You did… everything!”

Draco didn’t seem willing to discuss it since it wasn’t what she’d actually dreamt about, but she swore to herself they’d pick this back up again, and soon. She would not let his pain fester. She kicked herself for not realizing it still did so harshly, but… of course it did… they still had so much to talk about, really.

“What was your nightmare, love? I shouldn’t have assumed…” He whispered, stroking her hair.

Hermione sighed, trying not to start crying all over again and failing a bit. “That… somehow all this backfires and they take you away from me!” She shrugged, knowing that was nonsensical, they were the poster-children for this law really, but it was a nightmare after all… it didn’t need to make sense.

Her chin wobbled and her cheeks were just absolute rivers at this point as he gathered her back up, promising he would never let that happen.

“Baby don’t you see? If they think they have a fight on their hands now, just imagine the lengths I’d go to if they tried to take you from me.” His gaze was so intense, even in the darkness. “I’d burn it all down if I had to. You are the love of my life, and I’ve only just gotten started being the love of yours. They will not take that away.” He promised, his hands cupping her jaw, catching the flow of tears. She nodded, and their kiss was salty and emotional.

“Can I show you something?” She asked, an idea suddenly coming to her inspired by the misunderstanding earlier.

His confused face was his answer.

“A memory… can I show you a memory?” She sniffled. The shock replaced his confusion immediately and was like whiplash.

“…Really?” Offering such a thing was beyond intimate. Her chuckle that he should be surprised knocked a little sense back into him, though he still felt utterly humbled. He nodded and they lay back down, facing each other and holding each other. Looking into her eyes with a wordless Legilimens, Draco gasped.

Peeking through the window into the last train car of the Hogwarts Express First Year, on her journey looking for Neville’s toad, she suddenly hesitated… because there was a reallyyy cute boy in there!

‘Alright Hermione, shoulders back, no big deal, boys are like… no big deal… deep breath…’ she thought to herself, making Draco’s heart absolutely melt.

“Excuse me, have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost one.”

‘He has beautiful grey eyes… oh gosh, total swoon…’

(Her inner monologue was so bloody adorable he nearly lost eye-contact, he could hardly stand it…)

“Sorry, no toads in here, and this is last car.” Draco got a first-hand view of the dopey-arse face Blaise always made fun of him for… honestly, it was a good description, he had to admit.

“Oh, alright. Thanks anyway…”

‘She really wanted to stay, the boy seemed really nice, but everyone else in the car was looking at her like she was… dirt under their shoe or something. But he wasn’t. He was beautiful. But she was blushing, she could tell, and that made her super embarrassed. So, she pretty much ran out of there… hopefully he didn’t think she was a lunatic or something. Damn, she didn’t even get his name! Or introduce herself! God, she was such an idiot… She’d met film stars with more aplomb than that… ugh, fail…’

Draco was kissing her senseless before the memory was even fully over, really. Seeing himself through her eyes, seeing the memory that had carved her into his heart forever through her eyes and having it be so so similar… he was reeling. She’d been it for him from the second she’d stepped into that car, selflessly searching for someone else’s wayward familiar and locking eyes with him like that. He almost wanted to laugh realizing now that she’d had the same reaction as him and he hadn’t even noticed… apparently 11 year old boys really are as clueless as advertised.

“I love you.” He managed between kisses, making her laugh.

“I love you, too.”

“Show me another? Just one more…?” He asked like a child asking for candy and she couldn’t deny him, though she decided on one less innocent.

Draco gasped seeing himself looking like he was at death’s door and wrapped in gauze, asleep in the hospital wing in the middle of the night. He knew immediately when and what this was, but couldn’t fathom why she would have a memory of this… nor could he see her anywhere. Then he heard his godfather’s voice, a voice he missed so much…

“You know I know you’re there, so you can lose the cloak.”

Hermione huffed from beside his bed and tossed off an invisibility cloak?! Where the fuck did she get one of those?! And why the hell was she there?!

“Are you planning on sleeping here every night, Miss Granger?” Snape asked her. His voice was surprisingly kind, Draco thought… he’d always heard his godfather be awful to her in class. He was very confused.

“Maybe. Why? Are you going to make me stop?” She asked, her voice so sad. Now Draco was REALLY confused. It was her best friend who had practically eviscerated him, so why was she doing this? He was so awful to her…

His godfather sat on the other chair and sighed, looking at Draco as he slept. Shit, he really looked fucking awful. Fucking Potter… He was lucky he’d forgiven him for this.

“No.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, obviously suspicious. Draco didn’t blame her. That answer seemed way too easy.

“Just… no?”

Snape rubbed his eyes, obviously exhausted. It must be really late, the ward was silent and pretty pitch dark. “You know Potter nearly killed him, yes?”

Hermione clenched her jaw and Draco watched her brush away a tear. “Harry’s lucky not to be dead himself for what he did… as it is, I… I don’t think I can ever forgive him for this.” She turned to Snape and Draco saw that tears were just pouring silently down her face. His godfather looked at her with the oddest look… like he didn’t understand it at all, but he was used to it.

“Be sure to be gone by six… otherwise he’ll know you were here.” Snape said softly, getting up to go. Hermione nodded, turning back to Draco. “Unless… that’s what you want?” Snape asked.

Hermione shook her head. “I just don’t want him to be alone… that’s all.” The memory held the sound of Snape’s soft footsteps retreating out of the infirmary and Hermione just fixing Draco’s blanket a little, then pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re gonna be okay, Draco… I promise…”

Draco blinked a few times, not realizing he’d started crying. “You… you stayed with me? At night?” He was so shocked he barely knew how to speak to convey his million questions. Hermione nodded, understanding.

“Yeah… every night. I’d spent that whole year defending you to Harry, trying to get him to leave you alone and he just was obsessed… He threw that curse not even knowing what it did! I honestly had never felt so angry, or so worried or heartbroken or confused in my life… I called him a murderer, no better than a death eater himself, and that nothing you’d ever done was as bad as what he’d done to you.”

Draco’s eyes were like saucers as he reeled back in shock, hearing that. Even his mouth dropped open.

“Yeah… I made him sob like a little bitch. Ron, of course, accused me of sleeping with you and called me a death eater’s whore and tried to say you deserved it, telling Harry he shouldn’t feel bad. I didn’t speak to either of them for a long time.”

Draco was reeling. He never in a million years would have thought she’d have taken his side in that horrible incident… In reality, he tried never to think about it at all. He and Potter had buried the proverbial hatchet after his trial and he just… didn’t like thinking about those memories after that. He liked keeping them buried.

“I just… can’t believe you stayed with me.” He whispered.

She nodded again. “Yeah… I just…” She shrugged, not really knowing how to describe her need to be there for him back then, despite their lack of relationship... despite what any outsider would have called their antipathy, even. But she'd felt the same force drawing her to him then as she always had, and what Harry had done was just so horrible… They’d have had to drag her from his side as he recovered. It felt like until he did, her heart just wasn't going to beat right. So she stayed. Every night, for two weeks. She had stayed.

“And my godfather just… let you?” He was amazed at that part still.

She blushed a bit but nodded. “I think he…” She struggled to word what she wanted to say. “Knew about us? Even if we didn’t, per se?”

“Oh, well, he definitely knew about me…” Draco chuckled. “Teased me early on, but was an ear for advice or occasional whingeing, he was such a good godfather that way… but then… you know, when things got bad, he umm… helped protect you.”

This piqued her curiosity. “Protect me? How?”

“My Occlumency, for one thing… it had to be perfect, remember? My father wasn’t always the reformed man he has worked so hard to become now, and I had the Dark Lord and Bella in my home too. No one could know I loved you.” He reminded her, making her thoughtful for a bit.

“I remember once, at Order headquarters during summer break… Everyone always treated him terribly, you know, which infuriated me… I respected the hell out of him and couldn’t understand how they didn’t do the same. He went out there and would get tortured and come back with vital information and no one understood his sacrifice, no one cared… He was a snarky bastard but that’s no excuse. Anyway, I was up late, 2 or 3am getting some tea. It was the summer after fifth year, I was recovering from Dolohov cursing me, I was in pain… Severus stopped in. He’d been the one in charge of my potions and me being up from the pain got him all in a huff, but he was just tortured and was obviously hurting so we actually argued over who should heal who first… it was sort of ridiculous, really.

"We ended up just talking for ages, though, after the arguing was out of the way and he deigned to let me heal him up, because of course the snarky bastard acted like it was some mix of a favor to me and an inconvenience for him that I healed his wounds." They both chuckled over this because they both missed him. "I think it was the most honest and normal conversation I’d ever had with him, really. Like he was a real person for the first time, too exhausted for the usual extent of snark or insistence that he was fine when he wasn’t. I mean, he'd normally have never let me or any one else heal him unless he was at death's door, but... I think maybe he was tired, you know? Enough to put his guard down just slightly and have an actual conversation.”

Draco was fascinated by this story, it was a side of his godfather’s life he knew nothing about really. He was riveted.

“He told me… It was the strangest thing, but he told me about what it was like playing a part, you know? While at the castle, how many eyes the Dark Lord had and how Slytherins in particular were watched. How the things said to me at school had to fit the narrative, for safety. At the time I thought he was only talking about himself, but... Looking back, now… babe, I swear he wasn’t, he was telling me about you.”

“What?”

“I think he was… telling me not to take it personally or at face value, not just from him, but from you. He was pleading your case to me, in his way, trying to explain how it was or would be that coming year.”

Draco sighed, understanding now. His godfather, likely mildly drunk and on pain potions, had a 3am heart-to-heart with his love as subtly as fucking possible to tell her that it was all an act and not to worry. Not to let it hurt her feelings. How fucking heartbreaking was that?

Very.

“I miss him.” Draco murmured sadly, gathering her close.

“Me too… I am so sorry you lost him.”

Draco nodded, gathering her close.

“Thank you, Princess, for staying with me all those nights. For showing me. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

They lay quietly for a few minutes, the assumption probably being that they would go back to sleep, but neither did.

“Draco?” Hermione whispered after a bit.

“Mmm?” He was still just as awake as she and had been stroking her hair; it soothed them both.

“I know we haven’t talked about it, exactly, but… I hope, I mean… If you want to…” She huffed and furrowed her brow, suddenly self-conscious.

“If I want to what, beauty?” He asked, pressing his index finger between her eyebrows and smoothing out her worries.

“Well… for me, the loft has felt like ours more than just mine since you hung your first suit in the closet. I don’t want you to… I don’t want it to be a ‘most of the time’ thing, I want it to be a ‘for always’ thing… but… you know… We never actually talked about it.”

Her giant caramel eyes were so pretty in the moonlight that was filtering through the sheers that he honestly could just get lost in them, he mused, smiling down at her.

“Are you sure? It hasn’t been very long, love, and… well, it would break me if you regretted it.”

Hermione nodded against his shoulder, smiling back. She knew it was fast, but they were each other’s person, simple as that. She had a feeling they always had been. “I’m sure. Will you stay with me?”

He kissed her, his fingers deep in her hair, a whimper of emotion escaping his voice. Pushing her onto her back, Draco made sure she knew it meant ‘yes’ and ‘always’.

Chapter Text

Draco had woken up with the sun, yet he felt oddly rested given the interrupted night of sleep he’d had. Rather than getting up or closing his eyes again, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from simply enjoying the view next him; she was just so… lovely, even in sleep. Sexy and beautiful and sweet. Curves to die for, legs for days and the scars of a warrior goddess… a survivor, yes, but one who triumphed. She was beauty to him, and he truly could not believe that she was his.

What he thought was the first stretch of her waking up turned out to be her reaching for his hand. Her long eyelashes had hidden that first eye-open of the morning from his notice, apparently, and she was awake now. Pulling him over her, putting his hand on her breast, seeking out his mouth with her own as her leg wrapped around his hip, urging him closer. Draco was a goner at that first touch, especially after admiring her, hard for her for ages. He was like a man possessed, kissing down her jaw to her neck, twisting her nipple as she arched her back, grinding his cock against her clit making her wetter and more frantic until she came apart for him, shaking. “That’s right darling… my perfect girl…”

Draco lifted her hip and sank inside her, groaning in her ear. “So tight and wet for me after you come… you’re so close again, I can feel it, such a good girl…”

Hermione could do nothing but moan with what he was doing to her, nodding along with whatever he said, ready to beg.

She was like a drug to him and he was getting more than a fix, he was high. There was nothing and no one outside of this moment, just the two of them and how it felt. How much he loved her.

Reaching between them and stroking her clit he cooed in her ear. “You can, can’t you darling… you can come again for me… such a good girl…”

Her desperation to agree was cut off by her back arching utter perfection of an orgasm. Draco couldn’t get enough, lifting her legs to wrap tighter around him. “So perfect… fuck… love you so much…”

Cares, Narcissa’s owl, tapped lightly on the glass as the couple was cuddling and chatting a little later, languidly tangled together. Draco rolled his eyes, extracting himself with a kiss to go read the missive.

“Dinner with my parents tonight…? Seems like they want to make Sundays their night if you’re game for that. It’s alright if you’re too tired this week though, love, it’s been a busy weekend.”

Hermione considered a moment before an idea came to her. “Do you think they’d mind if Kingsley joined us? It feels like the perfect opportunity to get the ball rolling on everything.”

Draco was just going to have to get used to being kept on his toes, apparently, because she never seemed to cease doing so. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.” He chuckled, scribbling a quick reply for the waiting owl. “I’ll let them know.”

“I’ll text Kings then. He’s my one wizarding friend who has been forced into this 21st century with me so he’ll get back to me quickly.”

“Was that a dig?” Draco pretend-pouted, climbing back into bed with her.

“No, though I may drag you there with us at some point. There’s no need right now, though.” She smooched him and went back to texting with a smirk, making him feel like there was an absolute need and he had just been played by a master. She had been wasted in Gryffindor, honestly… He rested his chin on her shoulder and watched her type a mile a minute with her thumbs on a tiny little screen. At least it was bigger than the pagers from the hospital in Italy, but not by much… yeesh. He could see the appeal of the expediency, though, he’d admit that, and the ridiculous cuteness of her concentration-face… that too.

“There, done. Want to grab a snack and go for a ride before everyone else is up?”

“Love to.”

Hermione grinned, kissing him and squealing with excitement as she bounced out of bed like a little bunny rabbit. Honestly, Draco had never known it was possible to love someone so much.

Unfortunately, Cares wasn’t the only owl to deliver at Ashford Castle that morning. Though he hadn’t mentioned it to his sister in all but blood, Harry Potter had been given an assignment on her behalf a few days before and was up early, awaiting some findings. Were it any other case, any other ‘suspect’ he were looking into, he would of course never take his wife so casually into his confidence, but this was not some random bloke that had bothered his Mione… this was Ron. He and Ginny had discussed it at length in fact, and Harry had even been over to the Burrow to speak to both Arthur and Molly as well. Neither had seen or heard from their youngest son in months and shared Harry’s concern for Hermione given the circumstances. The letter he was waiting for was from one of his Junior Aurors who would have gotten in to search Ron’s apartment the night before with George - the real reason George hadn’t joined the house party that weekend.

It wasn’t good.

Ginny came out of the shower to find her husband sitting on the bed, staring at a file with a look of horror and resignation on his face. She hadn’t seen her youngest brother in nearly a year and frankly was glad for that fact… he had become increasingly unrecognizable since the war. He just wasn’t Ron anymore, he was a monster, someone you couldn’t talk to, couldn’t get through to… and he had hurt her sister in a way she could never, ever forgive. Worse, he had zero remorse.

Her brother was dead to her.

Sadly, though, George wasn’t as much of a hardliner as she and Harry were and had been letting him live rent-free in the studio flat two floors above the joke shop apparently. The family hadn’t known that until this week, but no one blamed George. After Fred’s death, no one would ever blame George for having a hard time giving up on another brother.

Well, maybe before this, anyway. After this, George would likely have been ill in the bin with what had been found and would have realized it was something you just can’t go back from.

Harry couldn’t even speak, he just handed her some of the photographs that came with his report, causing Ginny to gasp and stumble backwards.

The flat was trashed. Ron obviously hadn’t been there in a few days since there was some rotting takeout laying around, but that wasn’t the issue.

The issue was the pictures.

They were everywhere…

SHE was everywhere…

Hermione from every publication she’d ever been in. Hundreds of 'Hermione's were cut up into 'parts' and pasted onto disturbingly hardcore porn magazine photos and covering entire sections of walls, making it look like pictures of Hermione having unspeakable things done to her. Things that would sicken a healthy mind.

Then, if possible, it got scarier.

Candid photographs. Real photographs from the last two weeks since she returned home from Mali.

He’d been following her. And Draco too.

Hermione on the phone walking down the High Street, not just Diagon Alley but the Muggle High Street too…

Hermione in the Ministry Atrium

Hermione and Harry at lunch in the Muggle World…

Hermione at lunch with Pansy and Narcissa in Horizont Alley

Hermione shopping with Pansy and Narcissa in the Muggle World

Hermione shopping alone

Hermione walking alone

Hermione with coffee from her favorite coffee shop

Hermione and Draco walking together with coffee

Hermione and Draco kissing on a street corner

Hermione and Draco leaving a restaurant

Hermione and Draco cuddling at a cafe

Hermione and Draco at Flourish and Blotts… kissing

Hermione and Draco

Hermione and Draco

Hermione and Draco

Hermione and Draco

Hermione and Draco

Hermione and Draco…

Hermione alone

Hermione alone

Hermione alone

Hermione alone… multiple times per day, seemingly every day, sometimes from as close as 15 feet

And Draco alone…

…quite a few of those too…

Slashed with red, or cut up in pieces.

Harry and Ginny were standing solemnly in the most beautiful spot they’d ever seen, waiting for their two friends to return from their ride. Fitzy had directed them to a beefy man named Sam who’d said any minute now, so… here they were. Ginny brought her camera because, before bad news she figured her two friends were gonna look ridiculously posh-adorable and need a photo. Harry thought his wife was a lunatic.

“There they are!” She pointed to the far edge of the lake where it met a trail into the park. “You owe me a galleon.” She snorted, snapping pictures and chuckling. Their friends looked like a magazine ad and she gave her booty and little shake as she felt her husband slip her winnings into her back pocket. He’d never thought they wouldn’t, he just liked playing these little games with his wife. They made her laugh. Besides, after today’s news, a few extra happy pictures sounded like a great idea.

“They do… look really happy.” Harry murmured, watching them as they rode toward them, laughing together. It made more and more sense to him the more time he spent with them, if he was honest, that these two ended up together. Still though… it would always be a tiny bit weird.

Ginny slipped her camera back into her pocket and rubbed his back. “Yes they do. The ferret is perfect for her! We’ll figure this out, babe… Neither you nor she is alone, and this isn’t your fault. Why you always go to those two defaults, Harry Potter, I’ll never know, but I will always remind you.”

Harry gave her his classic half grimace/half smile. “I do, don’t I?”

“Yup. Thankfully, here I am to set you straight.” Ginny laughed.

Harry rolled his eyes and kissed her cheek as Draco and Hermione rode up.

“Hey you guys!” Hermione’s eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed. “Give us ten minutes and we’ll walk back up with you.” She didn’t seem to notice the look on Harry’s face but Draco did, causing him to not follow her right away.

“News on Weasley?” Draco asked in more serious voice than Harry had heard a while.

Harry’s eyebrows must have flown off his forehead altogether with surprise at how intuitive Draco was but he didn’t take the time to say anything else, just nodded thoughtfully to them both and caught up to Hermione at the barn.

“See? He gets it, and he’ll take care of her.” Ginny reassured, shaking him a little to get him out of his stupor.

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.” Harry nodded.

Draco tried to school his face as he caught up to his love. They’d had such an amazing time that morning and she was so happy. He knew whatever news regarding Weasley had prompted Potter to wait for them in the increasingly hot sunshine like that couldn’t be good and he hated that it would inevitably take away her smiles.

“All set?” He asked her after handing the reins over to a groom with his profuse thanks.

“Yep! Did you have fun?” She beamed up at him, settling in under his arm as they headed back outside to their friends.

“I had a perfect time, Princess… I love you so much.” He stopped walking and kissed her. “SO much.”

Hermione hugged him tight and kissed him back. “I love you too.” She smiled up at him, happy enough she could almost burst with it. She knew why Harry was waiting for them, but figured they could let him wait one more minute. Let her just pretend for one more minute. She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him again.

“We have to go face the music, love…” Draco sighed, wanting to ease her into the idea that there was bad news to be had.

“I know. Harry has his Auror face on.” She let Draco start them walking out again, both of them realizing the other knew what was what and didn’t need to be coddled, only supported.

They came out as a unit and it made Ginny so happy for her friend. She even liked the ferret now… her friend was so happy and she hated her stupid brother so much she wanted to murder him, but at least this time around Mione wouldn’t be alone…

“So…” Harry hedged, epically uncomfortable.

“Oh Harry I know Kingsley asked you to find him…” Hermione sighed with a sympathetic smile.

“You do? He didn’t mention that!” Harry huffed, feeling like the weight of the world had just rolled off his shoulders for whatever reason.

Hermione, Draco and Ginny all held in epic eye-rolling, yet somehow also communicated with each other a congratulations for doing so.

“I told him on Friday I felt eyes on me in the Atrium but didn’t see anyone, and it wasn’t the first time. He said he’d have you look into it. I’m assuming… you found something less than awesome.” Hermione sighed, tightening her arm around Draco. She knew he would have a hard time keeping his anxiety in check, too, and wanted to be there for him.

“You could say that, yeah…” Harry nodded, holding up the file. “Can we all sit somewhere for a bit? It’s… it’s bad, Mione.”

Hermione stopped walking, surprised that Harry would admit that upfront. “How bad, Harry?” She scrutinized both her friends’ faces and realized that maybe… she should be really concerned. She’d never seen either of them look so serious, not since the war.

“Darling I think… Auror Potter needs to speak to you. Not Harry.” Draco murmured, as gently as he could. Harry looked at him gratefully and nodded.

“Draco’s right, and that’s… hard for me to initiate, so thank you. We need to sit down, Mione, the four of us… and we need to talk.”

“Should I send everyone home, or…?”

“No… actually I think after we speak you’re going to want to speak to them too. Just give me half an hour.”

Hermione didn’t like how icky this felt, but nodded, ushering them into the house.

“Milady?” Fitzy could sense her distress.

“Fitzy could we have breakfast for four in the Solarium separate from the others and, if they ask, tell everyone else that we will rejoin them shortly? We just have some private business to discuss.”

“Of course, Milady. Right away. Is there anything…?”

Hermione smiled and shook her head, patting his arm. He was like a favorite grandpa to her and she was always his favorite. “I’m fine, Fitzy, really. Promise.”

Draco nodded to him, the only thing that seemed to mollify the man enough to send him on his way, which amused Hermione immensely. They made their way silently through the house to the room where Hermione and Draco had taken tea with Gran that first day, the couples settling in on opposite wicker sofas. “Okay, we’re alone, Harry. What’s in the file?” Hermione had Draco’s hand in a death grip but he was handling it. Worst case scenario he would have Healer Zabini fix his broken metacarpals later.

“First, let me ask you… How did you arrive back in the country?” Harry asked.

Hermione found this odd but shrugged. “I took the Muggle train from Paris… you know I like to and I was in France anyway. Why do you ask?”

Harry nodded, the information helping him. He'd been struggling figuring out how Ron had found her so quickly. “He’s been following you since you got back, your instincts on that were right… but… it’s far worse than I or anyone would have imagined, Mione. I spoke to Molly and Arthur first, on Friday afternoon, before I knew anything. They haven’t seen or heard from him in about six months.”

Draco cut him off. “And… I’m sorry but, you’re sure about that? I don’t know this dynamic or situation as well as the rest of you and don’t want to cause offense, Gin, but… they’re his parents, too…” Draco seemed pained, saying these things, and Ginny leaned over to put her hand on his for a minute.

“They’re not, not anymore. Not after what he did to Mione. They…” She looked at Hermione for a second who was staring resolutely at her shoes and sighed. “Weasleys don’t do the Family Tapestry thing like the Blacks, you know? We wouldn’t have a wall big enough if we did.” She laughed, making them all laugh. “But mum and dad essentially told Ron he was no longer their son. He wasn’t welcome in our family. It wasn’t just one incident against Mione, it was…” Ginny struggled with her words, with horrid memories that weren’t her stories to tell. “Ron became a monster, and shamed the name Weasley. Everyone in our family sided with Hermione because there were no sides!”

Draco nodded, understanding and appreciating her. “So… why would they have seen him six months ago then?”

Harry rubbed his wife’s back. She’d become far more upset than she’d expected to allow herself. “He showed up, unexpected, uninvited, asking for money. He was turned away, huge row of course where he blamed me, blamed Ginny, and of course blamed Hermione, calling her names I will not repeat. But that was all it was. They did not sway from their position.”

Draco murmured “Thank you” for clarifying, or perhaps for the support, he wasn’t even sure. He hated this, hated Ronald Weasley with every fibre of his being.

“The file, Harry.” Hermione reminded softly. Harry winced, nodding.

Breakfast arrived before he could continue and the group was awkward, thanking the staff and shuffling plates until they were alone again.

“You’re eating at least three bites and having a cup of tea before getting even a look at that file.” Draco told her, no-nonsense. Hermione scoffed at him, but seeing him give her a look similar to her own one-raised-eyebrow, she backed down rather quickly, melting back into his side for comfort.

“Fine.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something teasing but Draco shook his head, leaving the other couple to simply watch and let him take care of her unremarked. He fixed her tea the way she liked and cut up her Belgian waffle and made casual chit-chat about their ride that morning, telling Harry and Ginny about how lovely it was. Ginny caught on to his play and joined in. She told him she’d made sure to grab some great shots of them as they were on their way back to add to the ones of the group from the day before, remarking what a fun weekend it was and how happy she and Harry were to see Mione’s home. Once Hermione had eaten enough, she sat back and rested her head on Draco’s shoulder, waiting patiently for everyone else to finish. He had been right… if she’d seen the horror she had a feeling was in there first, she’d not have eaten at all. He took good care of her.

“You ready?” He murmured into her hair. She nodded, holding out her hand.

Harry hesitated, wanting to qualify. “Mione… before coming here yesterday, I spoke to George. When Ron showed up saying he had nowhere to live… George let him stay in the studio.” Harry said it as though he was sorry, as though he thought she’d be upset, but he really ought to have known her better.

“Harry… George lost Fred. You think I’d be upset at him for caving to a brother in need? Come on…” She shook her head and held her hand out, more insistent now. Draco kissed her curls, always in awe of her. He eyed Harry, nodding. Harry handed it over, his gut churning, and the couple opened it, thinking they were prepared.

They weren’t.

“Oh…”

“What the fuck…”

“George didn’t really have inventory this weekend, Mione… he stayed behind to let an Auror team into the flat. That is what they found. While it appeared from the rotting food as though Ron had not been in the residence in at least 2-3 days, there are photos there from as recently as Friday evening of the two of you, outside the pub. The earliest photos we can account for since your return are from your lunch with me two Saturdays ago in the Muggle World, which from the photos you can see he has apparently become comfortable enough in to… stalk you with extreme proficiency. As you know, this is a significant change for Ron, he never, ever went into the Muggle World before if he could help it… We will need your confirmation, but from the looks of things, he has been on your every move since that day, individually and as a couple.”

Draco and Hermione nodded along, horrified as they took in the documented evidence. Draco was buzzing with anger, fear, horror, an overwhelming protectiveness beyond anything he’d ever felt before… so many swirling emotions he didn’t know how to handle.

“Potter… Harry, I…”  Draco’s voice cracked and he was about thirty-seconds from a panic attack. He’d just gotten to the section where pictures of Hermione’s head was glued onto those of bloody, naked women’s bodies that had been tied up and tortured and he felt sick.

“I know, Malfoy… Draco… but on behalf of the department let me assure you, Ronald Weasley is now a top priority. He is also wanted by the Muggle authorities, as it turns out, for multiple crimes that would see him spend at least 20 years behind bars there. Given what we found in his flat, we need nothing more to convict him of stalking and intimidation of a government official which is five years and an automated life-long restraining order backed up by magic. Draco, there is enough evidence there for you as well as heir of a Noble house to press stalking and intimidation charges and get it increased to ten years with your own restraining order as well, and for any children and family you have. I know it doesn’t feel like enough, but without pressing charges for the prior assault, Mione, I believe it’s the best you can hope for.”

Draco was breathing heavily, trying to stay calm, trying to stay present for her, while she just rested her forehead on his neck and thought it all through.

“You still need to find him, though.” She murmured. “That’s the part we haven’t gotten to… he wasn’t at the flat.”

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “No… he wasn’t. But the force is out searching, and until we bring him in, Mione, I don’t think I need to say this…”

“You better wrap your head around having some security, witch.” Ginny hissed at her, eyes like fire. She’d been quiet for bit but she was no-nonsense now. She knew her friend and she wasn’t going to let her slither out of this by calling herself ‘capable’ or whatever - this was different, this was an insane circumstance and pride had no place.

Hermione felt three pairs of eyes on her, daring her to say any different. She hadn’t planned on it, but… still. “Okay.”

No one had expected her to acquiesce that quickly and it just went to show that she was genuinely scared… which wasn’t good.

“Draco, I hate to say it, but that goes for you too. As of tomorrow morning, if he isn’t caught by then, you’ll each have an Auror detail until he is.”

Draco nodded absently, perfectly happy to not die or have to deal with the Weasel on his own, thank you. He had a life now, a good and lovely and worthwhile life, a life he was working so hard for every day and he would not give it up, he just wouldn’t. Not for anyone, certainly not for that piece of shit Ron Weasley.

Chapter Text

“Baby, can we…?” Draco asked her, hating sounding weak, needing to be alone with her as quickly as fucking possible.

“Yeah… Harry can you hold onto this and… make our excuses for a while with everyone? We need some time.” Hermione handed the vile folder back to her friend.

“Of course… we’ll see you in a while.” Harry nodded, watching the couple slip out the glass doors toward the pool and gardens.

“We can sit a few minutes first though… right? Because that was a lot.” Ginny whispered.

Harry sighed and put his arm around her. “Of course we can… of course we can.”

Hermione and Draco didn’t say a word until they were safely ensconced in the orangery on a big salmon colored chaise surrounded by potted trees on a white marble floor, the sunshine coming in through the glass domed ceiling and retractable glass walls. It was Hermione’s favorite hideaway as a child, this comfy couch right in the center. It was such a bizarre spot, though, that it broke Draco out of his head a little, or at least enough for him to speak again, anyway.

“This is… a lot of oranges, Granger. I sortof thought you were kidding about this place…” He looked around and chuckled a little before hugging her tighter where she rested between his legs.

“Nope… We donate the excess fruit to low-income families, shelters, that sort of thing, so it doesn’t go to waste. But… yeah, it is a bit much, this place…” She shrugged. “Noblesse oblige, as they say.” She sighed, sad that she was not getting the feeling of safety from the beautiful space as she once did. The conversation with Harry had been traumatic for her and she could feel Draco’s trauma practically vibrating through him, his fear for her, his latent guilt over his perceived failure to have protected her in the past… It made her heart ache.

“Love, I don’t even know what to say, or where to start.” He admitted, breathing her in, trying to keep himself together. “I love you… I’d do anything to keep you safe… I’m… so sorry this is happening, still happening…”

“Me too. I’d hoped a year away would make this, make him just disappear, but I know that was naive…” She scoffed a little. “I don’t think I could have ever expected it to be this bad, though… this is… insanity, right?” She turned in his arms to see his face, hoping for validation.

“Insanity doesn’t even cover it, sweetheart.” Draco murmured sadly. “I will protect you this time, I promise.”

“Oh, Draco… please don’t put last time on yourself, or what Bellatrix did either, please? For me, for yourself, for the health of our future together, you can’t let the past drag you under the water. Not if we’re going to be able to deal with things like this together, or whatever else might come our way. I need you looking forward with me.” She tried to keep her tone from sounding too desperate but part of her felt like she was begging him, and wondered if she was being fair in doing so. Fair or not, though, he nodded, kissing her sweetly and burying his fingers in her hair.

“Tell me what to do, how to be here for you. You are my Princess. My Angel. My Darling. And all I want to do is love you and hold you and never let you leave this weird glass house of fruit, but there’s no way that’s helpful beyond the first hour.” He smiled, hoping she wouldn’t judge him for not intuitively knowing what the right answer was. It wasn’t exactly a standard-boyfriend-handbook moment, after all. Not that he’d ever been in love with anyone else to give a damn about such things before now, but still. Weird morning.

“I love you... And that does help." She smiled against his chest and sighed. "Gods, baby, I don't know either, though… just… umm…” Hermione seemed like a lost child in his arms for a moment as reality settled on her. “Don’t let me out of your sight for a while if possible… but also don’t sneak up behind me. And don’t judge if I get more nightmares or cry for what seems like no reason either.” She shrugged, hating but resigned to the idea that her PTSD might regress for a bit; grateful that Draco seemed to understand exactly what she was talking about without her needing to spell it out further. The man was a world-class cuddler and had been through a war, too - she was a lucky lady.

“Of course. I love you, sweetheart… of course I won't leave you alone… I’ve got you, love. I promise. I've got you...” He rocked her for a little while, kissing her hair.

Her body melted against him, yet her mind refused to settle. All the hundreds of photos of her and Draco from that folder of horrors just racing through her mind. He’d gotten so close…

Suddenly she sat straight up, realization dawning.

“Love? What is it?” Draco asked. He knew that face. Good or bad, his beautiful swot had figured something out that everyone else had missed.

“Ron works for the Trades…” She turned to him, gobsmacked and nauseated. “All those uncredited photographs lately? ‘Betrothal Watch’ in the Prophet? ‘Power Couples’ in Witch Weekly? The originals of those photos were in the flat!”

Draco felt ill, but it made sense. He thought back to that horrid folder, the strings criss-crossing wall-to-wall with freshly developed photographs hanging from them. She was right. She was exactly right. “We need to tell Potter…” He managed, knowing it was true yet genuinely wondering if his legs would work at the moment.

Hermione collapsed back against him, shaking her head and burying it against his chest as he wrapped his arms and legs tightly around her, letting his face disappear into her curls. “Five more minutes.”

He agreed. They deserved at least that.

As it turned out, Hermione wasn’t the only observant swot to make the connection. The lead was one that had been caught onto pretty quickly by the on-site team, and Hermione trusted from there. Truthfully she wanted as little to do with the entire situation as possible and both Harry and Draco wanted to give that to her, so as soon as she confirmed her tip, she was done.

“What are your plans for the remainder of today through tomorrow morning? Both of you.” Harry had his little Auror notebook out and Draco held in his eye-roll; Boy-Wonder looked ridiculous.

“We’ll floo from here to our flat to change probably, then either floo or Apparate to his parents house for dinner, then home again tonight.” Hermione looked to Draco in case she’d forgotten anything.

“We’ll Apparate there and floo back; Father mentioned keying you into the wards tonight.” Hermione’s cheeks pinked a little hearing this and she gave him a little smile, enjoying him tucking a stray curl behind her ear and nodding that yes, she’d heard that right…

Harry was still getting used to them as them and physically gave his head a little shake. “You… officially live together already?” It so wasn’t the point but it was what had stuck out to him.

“Hmm?” Hermione’s attention was brought out of their bubble, missing whatever Harry had asked.

“Nevermind. What about the morning, leaving for work?” Harry asked.

“I have every intention to work from home as much as possible this week. If I need anything from the archives or whatever, my assistant can bring it to the flat via the floo in Kingsley’s outer office.” Hermione shrugged.

“And with the exception of a few patients I see on Thursdays and Fridays for my ongoing CCP1 Trial that I cannot miss, like the Longbottoms, I am rescheduling everything else this week and working from home as well.” Hermione looked at him with shock for a moment before a huge smile bloomed on her face. “What? I promised you... You’re not leaving my line of sight, sweetheart.” Draco kissed her temple.

Harry was borderline disturbed by what a great guy Malfoy had become… or was it that he’d become a great guy for Hermione specifically? Did it matter? Harry wasn’t sure. He was beyond happy for his friend, of course he was… he was just also his awkward self and wished he could make a joke about it all. The loss of the third in their golden trio to whom he could have done so would always sting a bit, he supposed.

“So… neither of you are going to leave your obscenely large love shack tomorrow, then? Not to the over-priced coffee shop? Not to the bookstore? Not to the Ministry, Hermione, when Lisa inevitably screws up your instructions?”

Hermione and Draco looked at each other for confirmation before each shaking their heads, confident they each had plenty to do and no interest at all in chancing fate, not even if Lisa Turpin screwed up.

“Right…” Harry didn’t care to chance fate either, yet had played this game a time or two and preferred to over-prepare. “How’s about I play it safe anyway and have an Auror on standby in your neighborhood and you two promise me, right now, that if you so much as decide to order take-away that you let it go through said Auror first, hmm?”

Both found themselves about to get uppity at that notion, then immediately deflating. It wasn’t condescending and it wasn’t controlling. The threat was real and yes, Ron Weasley really would go that far… so… were they really doing anyone any good by arguing? No.

“Promise.” Hermione nodded, prompting Harry to raise a skeptical eyebrow.

“We want this over with, Potter. Whatever you need us to do.” Draco nodded, rubbing Hermione’s shoulder.

“Alright then. We’ll get him, Mione.” Harry murmured.

She nodded, grateful he was there for her. Grateful he’d supported her through this. “Thanks Harry.”

“Do you think everyone had a good time?” Hermione asked, freshly showered and climbing into their bed at home with Draco for a much deserved kip a few hours later. 

“Definitely… How you found the emotional or physical energy for one last swim with the girls, I do not know… but it ended things on a fun note.” Draco pulled her flush into a hug against him with a yawn, loving how she hadn’t put on any pajamas, simply dropped her towel over the chair and climbed in with him; loving how her skin felt so warm and smooth against his, how it was so soft and smelled like lily of the valley. He reveled in it, in her, in the intimate skin-to-skin contact of her bare breasts against his chest and their legs in a tangle as he kissed her curls.

“I just wanted to do one more fun thing… not have the weekend ruined by… you know.” She sighed, her breath warm against his collarbone.

“Did it work?” He asked sleepily. She smiled, nodding. She, Ginny and Luna had played mermaids the way she’d done as a little girl, fetching pirate treasure from the bottom of the pool - i.e. they’d raced for galleons tossed in by their respective handsome pirates. Pansy of course had looked on with a judgmental smirk and a cocktail from her chaise lounger. It had been a ridiculous game and had cheered her up tremendously. It had also tired her out tremendously, hence falling asleep within two minutes of her head hitting the pillow and being cuddled so perfectly.

Ninety minutes later, she woke up slowly, arching her back in a slight stretch. It had been the perfect nap, and they still had hours before they had to get ready for dinner. She felt rested and comfy and… needy. She didn’t think Draco was awake yet, but from his breathing and the way he held her against him she wondered if he was perhaps dreaming of her. Even just the tiniest bit of squirming to see for sure had him hardening against her belly, though, which of course had her biting back a moan and their sleepy faces finding each other in a kiss.

Draco had been sleeping soundly, his dreams nebulous, until he woke up hard and desperate for her, already kissing her deeply, already reaching between their bodies to squeeze her breast and flick her nipple with his thumb… Hermione was moaning into his mouth, whining and undulating against his weeping cock that was pressed into her abdomen, rubbing him so perfectly that Draco worried he’d lose himself all over her perfect tits before long.

“Baby I need to be inside you…” Draco begged against her lips, his voice rough with sleep. He removed his hand from her breast only long enough to pull her leg over his hip, adjusting the way they were slotted together to let him in. Laving his tongue and teeth along her neck as she arched it for him, he thrust his hips forward, slicking himself thoroughly before thrusting inside her. “Yesss… Need to love you, sweetheart… let me in, that’s it…”

“Ah! Yes…” It was so good… so fucking good… “Yes, Draco… You, only you, safe with you…”

“Oh my love… I’ll protect you… You’re my everything, Mia… Mmm…”

“And you’re mine… Please, Draco don’t stop… Need this... Need you…”

“Fuck… baby, yes…” Draco pushed her onto her back, one of her legs pushed back toward her shoulder. She was so tight like this, fuck… He’d been dreaming about this very thing and then he wakes up and here it is… wet and tight and needy… “You’re so tight, baby… so perfect… so good…”

“Draco…” She whined, so close. “Harder!”

“Fuck yes…” He felt her tighten around him, her moaning turning to screaming as she came. He knew she needed it and he was barely holding on, she’d come hard. Draco kissed her deeply, pausing to taste her and love her before thrusting forward and losing himself, watching her face. Her beautiful face. “I love you…”

“I will never get enough of you.” Draco murmured softly, almost confused by his own emotions as he held her close, stroking her curls.

“Is that… a bad thing?” Hermione asked honestly, unsure if it was part of her or all of her he was referring to, nor why such a thing might worry him so. She rather liked the idea. She also liked when he played with her hair like this… it made her feel cherished.

He shook his head, having trouble articulating what he meant, exactly. “I don’t mean it like… ‘oh, I do not believe I shall tire of the amazing sex, by the way’… silly girl…” He huffed a little smile at her and kissed her. “No, I mean… Honestly Hermione is it normal to love this entirely? This… utterly? You… it was always you, for me, but… we weren’t together. Now that we are…” His cheeks pinked and he couldn’t meet her eye, worried he’d lost his head and would scare her off.

“Draco… me too.” She assured him, flopping herself further up his shoulder and into his line of sight.

“Yeah?”

“Utterly. And entirely.” She agreed, her eyes sincere. He sighed, grateful it wasn’t just him that felt like a lunatic then. He knew it wasn’t typical, maybe, and the news of the morning was certainly affecting his emotional state, but he’d never been more sure of anything than he was about her. How much he loved her and would always love her.

How his magic was both soothed and excited by her.

How his mind was both calmed and stimulated by her.

How his body was set so on fire, was so easily consumed by her…

She made him laugh, she made him feel safe, she made him feel like a good man despite his past…

Like he could be a good father someday. Do it all differently. Do it better.

She made him better.

“So, you know what I meant, then?” He asked, still not quite sure how to word it better than he had.

Hermione smiled up at him, that alone going a long way to soothing his worry. “Of course I do… because I will never get enough of you either.”

“I felt much more in control at the start of this…”

“You did?” She didn’t mean to sound surprised on his behalf, exactly, more jealous on behalf of herself.

“No.” He admitted with a smile, making them both laugh. “But less… out of control, maybe?”

Hermione nodded to that as it felt more in line with her experience too. “This morning was scary… but loving you? Isn’t.” She promised him. “It’s just… more overwhelming than we anticipated! Or something.” She made a face, realizing how utterly unromantic that had come out.

“You’re a poet, love.” Draco laughed, kissing her. “But… you’re also right.”

“I’m always right.” She kissed his cheek soundly. “It’s why you love me.” Hermione giggled, giving up on the entire conversation.

“Mmhmm. Utterly.” He kissed her cheek, smiling and rolling his eyes.

“And completely… don’t forget completely.”

"I thought it was 'entirely'?"

"That too! So don't you forget it!"

Draco grinned. “Never, Princess.”

The upheaval of the weekend had been such a force that Hermione and Draco arrived at Malfoy Manor literally having forgotten that his parents knew nothing of any of it, thus their rather serious faces caught the giddy parents a bit off guard. Still in ‘so excited YAY!’ mode, yet trying to pretend they were cool and casual and failing completely, Lucius and Narcissa were waiting for them in the foyer.

Flip, their house elf who dressed like the caricature of a Downton Abbey butler, opened the door for the couple at 630pm on the dot, and the dichotomous facial expressions of the two couples led the younger of them to burst out laughing.

“I think they’re excited again…” Draco stage-whispered.

Hermione let out an un-ladylike snort if there ever was one.

“Why do you two look like… What’s wrong?!” Narcissa asked, looking like someone had just cancelled Yule.

Hermione, drunk on things going wrong at the moment, grinned in a way that worried everyone. “Well…”

“Love...” Draco quirked his brow at her, lovingly amused by her crazy.

“Ohhh, no, we’re fine!” Hermione clarified, seeing his point.

Lucius and Narcissa visibly calmed for about five-seconds before realizing that something else obviously still was not fine and the kids still had a bit of the crazy-eyes happening… especially Hermione. Draco just seemed to find her crazy-eyes adorable, which… in itself was a bit adorable, they supposed.

“I agree that you seem uninjured… Is the world outside of you two falling apart, then?” Lucius ventured, leading them toward the bar cart.

“Slightly.”

“A bit.”

Draco and Hermione answered in tandem and collapsed on the sofa with smiles for the bewildered parents, happily accepting drinks. Narcissa looked horrified and sank onto the sofa across from them, impatiently waiting for details.

“Well… you’ve got a half hour head-start to tell us about it before the Minister gets here. Then again he’s your guest tonight, so… either way, we’re listening.” Lucius gestured to the young couple to either talk or enjoy the cheese plate or both.

Draco looked to Hermione, wondering where she wanted to start. She had seemed way more… ‘with-it’ when they’d left the loft earlier, but right now she was giving off a distinctly ‘fuck it all, walking away from an exploding building, nothing left to lose’ vibe that was mildly worrisome. And mildly hot.

Hermione patted her boyfriend’s knee, knowing full-well she was giving off the crazy vibe, but feeling utterly unable to reign that in at this point. “So, a couple things… In no particular order, really. And forgive me ahead of time if I seem a little… crazy this evening, but once you hear everything I think you’ll understand. Did I ever get around to explaining my job to you guys last time?”

The Malfoys nodded, Lucius especially adoring her more by the second as she took her firewhiskey like a champ and had less of a verbal filter with each passing word.

“Right, great. So, the second I got back from my sabbatical I was tasked with mitigating the biggest piece of legislative thestral shite that has been passed outside of wartime in centuries… I mean… wow…” Hermione paused to take a nice big sip.

“Is this the secret one Miss Parkinson was asking after the other day?” Narcissa wondered, earning her two nods and a curious husband.

“Yes, though the ‘secretive’ ship has sailed among friends and family at this point, hence me telling you now. Basically, during the closed session, Bertram Fawley took advantage of something called the Dire Circumstances Clause to pass-”

“I am very sorry Miss Granger, but-” Lucius was suddenly incensed.

“Hermione, please, and yes, I am serious. He really fucking did that. I’m assuming that’s your question?”

Lucius opened and closed his mouth, shocked and furious. His suspended voting rights had never made him feel more impotent than at this moment. “Yes… I apologize for my shock and the interruption…”

“No worries, I apologize for my liberal use of unladylike words. Just be glad you’re sitting for this.” She looked to make sure his drink was still somewhat full, too. That was also important.

“That bad?” Lucius asked her, also looking to his son.

Hermione and Draco shared a look and Draco decided to answer. “Could potentially ruin Wizarding Britain on every conceivable level, yes… all under the guise of saving it.”

“‘Conceivable level’ Draco? Really? So punny, darling… Because it’s legalized and mandated rape for the purpose of conception… That’s why it was a pun.” Hermione spread her hands in a sarcastic capitulation as Draco’s parents both choked on oxygen.

“What?!” Narcissa blanched and Draco looked somewhat contrite.

Lucius looked like he was about to rip the ceremonial sword off the family crest up on the wall and march to Fawley’s house to commit literal murder he was so angry, so, Hermione figured she ought to explain. Draco was just muttering to her about calm thoughts or… why puns were a valid source of humor… or something. She elbowed him into laughter and he finally shut up, kissing her cheek and waving her on to speak.

“It’s a Marriage Law. They didn’t use any real data or scientific evidence, nothing. All they did was verify from the census that our population is in a free-fall and our birth-rate is less than half of what it used to be. They passed the law in closed session giving 6 months for every unmarried pureblood under 45 to marry a muggleborn, nine months for half-bloods to marry each other or a muggleborn. The penalties are snapped wands and Obliviation. If you leave the country, you cannot come back, even as a tourist or to visit family, you are considered persona non-grata and would be arrested upon arrival. Once married, you must provide two magical children within five years before you are allowed to divorce. There are no clauses for assistance of any kind.”

Lucius recovered first after reeling and sputtering and downing his entire drink and half of another one. “So… so many glaring fucking holes in that thestral dung I don’t even have WORDS!”

Hermione just sat back feeling smug. “Right?” Draco chuckled, watching her and his father bond was somewhat hilarious. He'd never say it out loud, but it weirdly reminded him of Hermione's 'Unexpected Animal Friendships' desk calendar from their study at home... though he wouldn't hazard to assume who was the erumpent and who was the baby duck in this scenario.

“Hermione did the research that Fawley didn't bother doing and she re-wrote the thing, she fixed the law as best it could be fixed while still... you know... existing, and put it in a report with all her data. However, since it already passed, changing it drastically enough to become palatable to people is going to be enormously difficult. Father, I have a copy of her proposal for you to read. The issue isn’t simply the usual presentation of amendments, despite men like Greengrass on her side already.” This intrigued Lucius enough that he plopped himself back in his seat.

“Oh?”

“Yeah… Much as it pains me to say, my utter perfection of a report simply isn’t enough to fix this. However, during a dinner party last night with our friends the solution did seem to present itself, at least potentially. And of all the people I have ever met, you, Lucius, are the perfect person to advise on this venture.”

Lucius preened, not even knowing what it was yet, he could just tell it was something good.

“Do tell, children.”

Draco smirked, cuddling his overtired girlfriend. “Well, it occurred to us last night, looking around the table, then doing a little mental inventory of other acquaintances who were absent, our generation is sitting on… how many seats did we figure, love?”

“I think the approximate tally was at least eight…” Hermione ventured, wishing she’d brought her notes on that.

"Potentially ten, darling." Draco remembered, ticking off on his fingers.

Narcissa’s eyes narrowed. “Ten?! Currently vacant seats?”

“Yep.” Hermione smirked.

“Oh… you two are so perfect together.” She chuckled darkly.

Hermione and Draco just nodded.

“So, before Kingsley gets here, real quick… because I want him to have at least some plausible deniability… On my end, it isn’t just about the seats. I agree, Coup of the Wizengamot next Monday morning, absolutely! But that doesn’t… quite… go far enough for me.” She stared straight at Lucius.

“What did you have in mind, dear?” He was right there with her, there to help.

“This law, like I mentioned before… it is legally mandating making broodmares out of young girls, it is government sanctioned rape… no protections for domestic violence, nothing… and then after five years, orphans.” She saw that she had no argument from anyone so Hermione took a breath and got to the point. “This piece of shit is Fawley’s baby… and I want to ruin him over it. I want his career, I want his seat. I want him finished in politics. Gone.”

Lucius slowly smiled like a friendly predator. “Oh… Hermione.” He sighed happily. “I don’t think that will be a problem at all, dear.”

The sound of the floo activating in the parlor behind them signaled Kingsley’s arrival.

“Lady Hermione Granger I swear if you don’t accept that Auror detail I have sent over to your flat I am firing you!” Kingsley thundered into the room, waving his copy of the dreaded folder.

Hermione and Draco sighed in unison. “Wasn’t planning to argue…”

“Minister Shacklebolt! Welcome to our home.” Narcissa smiled. She’d gone through Slytherin with Kingsley so it isn’t like they didn’t know each other well, but manners were manners.

“Lady Malfoy, thank you… My apologies…”

“Kingsley, pray tell me…” Lucius drawled, handing his friend a drink and miming the waving of the folder.

“Ehh…” Kingsley looked sheepishly over to Hermione and Draco, obviously aware he’d acted foolishly. The two of them snickering at him, however, mollified his nerves.

“Our esteemed Minister is referring to the other reason the world is falling apart… The government coup we’re planning is just the first one.”

Kingsley choked on his drink. “Coup?”

“Don’t worry Kings, you’re on the side of plotters on this one.” Hermione reassured him, more tipsy than she’d realized and also not caring that much. She was exhausted.

Kingsley thought that through for a minute and it clicked, leading to a devilish grin. “Ha. Can’t wait to hear that plan… ha!” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. He knew she’d come up with something…

“But you need Auror protection because…?” Narcissa was worried, and a bit lost.

“Oh… hmm.” Hermione worried her lip, leaning into Draco, wondering how on earth to explain this without telling too much personal business. “Kings, umm, what is the warrant you guys issued, anyway?”

Kingsley nodded, happy to just give the official line and let her fill in more if she was comfortable. Draco nodded his thanks. “After searching Ronald Weasley’s domicile Saturday morning, the Aurory issued several warrants as well as updated our Muggle counterparts who have several open warrants out for Mr. Weasley themselves. Ours included malicious stalking of a government official with intent to harm, malicious stalking of an heir to a Noble House with intent to harm, forgery of a Certified Professional Photo-Journalist’s License for Magical Publications under both his name and two aliases… there are a few others that do not pertain to you, as well, regarding some of the… other photos.”

“Did you say stalking?!” Narcissa cried.

Lucius was still, his eyes once again narrowed in fury… but this time a tinge of fear was there too. “Kingsley… Could you please define in more detail malicious stalking?” His eyes cut to the rather weary couple on the other sofa.

Flip chose that absolutely perfect moment to announce dinner.

Chapter Text

The definition, and resulting explanations, of Ron’s ‘malicious stalking with the intent to harm’ did not go over well, obviously, so to say dinner was strained at first would be an understatement. Once that topic was out of the way and Auror detail-details had been gone over thoroughly, the atmosphere finally seemed to lighten.

“Alright… The other half of the mitigating-disaster coin. This coup you’re planning.” Lucius drawled, smirking. “Tell us everything.”

“Yes! I, too, would love those details!” Kingsley laughed.

Hermione gave Draco a subtle nod; hereditary seats were his area of expertise and this had been as much his idea as Theo’s after all.

“Well… Minister, if you look at the landscape of the open seats, the pattern will stand out to you fairly… immediately.” Draco hoped so, at least, otherwise he had just insulted the man.

“Huh… oh… shit…” Kingsley’s eyes went wide and his head went thunk against the back of his chair before whipping back up again to face them, mildly tipsy but completely serious. “Alright, yes, I can’t believe I never noticed that before and… Tell me what we’re doing about it.” 

Draco smiled and took a deep breath as he began to explain the plan, Hermione adding in details here and there. For the most part it would be a waiting game until they heard back from everyone; from there it would be about getting them all in a room and making the same arguments about the state of affairs they’d been making to try to convince them all to get on board. Only then would they know how many people and therefore how much potential power they’d be wielding come next Monday.

Thankfully, their idea went over beautifully with Kingsley and, just as Hermione had suspected, Lucius was a brilliant strategist on the matter. The rest of dinner was spent going seat by seat, strategizing and making plans.

There was finally a lull in the conversation after dessert and Hermione had the chance for a quick take-aside with Draco without feeling too rude.

“Psst.”

He genuinely struggled not to laugh out loud, biting the inside of his cheek as he turned to her, his arm over the back of her chair. “Yes, Princess?”

“You did a great job.”

Draco smirked, knowing full well that this compliment was both genuine and not the point she wanted to make. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re very welcome. Quick question though… Did you have Mipsy switch my wine to grape juice like… three courses ago, by any chance?” She whispered.

“Yes. Yes I did.” He almost choked he was smiling so hard.

“Thank you…” Her head lolled along his arm as she looked up at him. “I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose, because you’re the most intuitive boyfriend ever, or if it was just some weird coincidence and I should tell you to get your money back from your vintner. Either way, worked out for me! I’m so bloody exhausted.” She ended on a half-whisper, half-whine.

Draco kissed her temple a few times, lingering there and running his fingers through her hair for a moment, both sympathetic and amused at how adorable she was. “I know, love… this weekend is catching up with me too. Just try to hang in there another half hour, yeah?”

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded, seeing his mother returning from the loo and his father’s jaunt for a cigar to enjoy over coffee with Kingsley come back successful. In fact, Lucius was looking positively giddy. She tried to sit up and look alive and somewhat alert. A giddy Lucius Malfoy is always something to be on one’s toes for, she mused.

“So! I realized, going through the maths of your little coup plan as it stands so far, that you missed one… possibly two seats, depending on how, er, feisty Mr. Potter feels like being in regards to this effort.” Lucius smiled, the word ‘feisty’ obviously as magnanimous as he could be in reference to Harry doing anything.

Hermione snorted with laughter, shaking her head. Dinner had gone on for hours at this point, she was beyond overtired, stressed as hell, she’d had wine before it was juice and frankly, she was feeling just a bit too willing to agree to things if it meant she got to go home to her bed sooner. “Explain how the word ‘feisty’ equates to Harry controlling three bloody seats on the Wizengamot and feisty he will be, sir!” She chortled. Draco laughed at the exchange but was admittedly in agreement, as long as whatever his father was about to propose was… you know… legal. In his experience it was best to be wary of these things beforehand.

“Potter is entitled to control the Peverell seat, which has been considered extinct.” Lucius reminded them. “His wife can sit on it as Regent indefinitely or until they have an of-age second son and name him heir to it. When Potter goes to the Goblins this week to accept his official Lordship of House Potter, have him confirm the Peverell Lordship at the same time and get the Lordship rings for both Houses. He need not do anything else, but he must bring his wife next Monday for those two seats to be his on the day.”

“Done and done, but that’s only two.” Hermione sarcastically held up two fingers while making a bit of a sad face. Lucius smirked, trying not to congratulate her on still being upright given how tired she obviously was, but the girl had refused to go home before the meeting was over which he’d admired after hearing about the Weasley business. However, she’d become a comedienne by the mains and he didn’t think she’d even realized it. His son looked more amused than he’d ever seen him, yet also ready to carry the girl out at any second given the way he was constantly clucking over her. Lucius adored the sight of it, but hadn’t the time to dwell on it as it really was getting late.

“Yes, well spotted my dear. The third would be the Gaunt seat… by Right of Conquest. It only works because the line is dead, otherwise he could be challenged. He’d have the right to assign it to a Party, not a person… and claiming it would be a big move. A statement-making move… but… it is his right. And not only is this another two seats, but making a statement, one that says your generation is taking control back, is at least half the point of all this from where I sit.”

The entire table was silent and in a bit of shock thinking about the implications of what Lucius had just suggested. Narcissa looked hesitant, but intrigued. Kingsley looked amused, possibly even hopeful. Lucius look liked he’d laid down a hedged bet and was hoping Hermione would take it… and Draco looked like he was worried Hermione might fall asleep on him any minute. Hermione didn’t need long to consider; it was brilliant.

“Pfft… Harry would go full Gryffindor all bloody over that idea!” Hermione cackled wildly, standing from the table and pulling Draco up with her. “It’s perfect, it’s brilliant… And on that note, we really do need to get home before I fall asleep at the table like a toddler and undermine all this evening’s acting like an adult that I did. More scheming tomorrow, team, when Draco and I will have news from our ‘agents in the field,’ so to speak… Thank you so much for dinner. Lucius, brilliant stuff, I knew you were the person to come to for this. Narcissa, I am sure Pansy will owl you incessantly about wedding nonsense tomorrow and every day this week; she and Neville are getting it in under the wire next Saturday, so… keep an eye out for that insanity. Kings, thank you for going along with all this nonsense, I promise to keep it all legal. Or… mostly. Just kidding. Or, am I? Plausible deniability, Kingsley… mark my words.”

“I knew you’d think of something.” Kingsley replied, chuckling at the utter perfection that was Hermione Granger - Overtired.

“Actually we really ought to credit Draco’s ability to communicate telepathically with a drunken Theodore Nott… but, I was hosting at the time!” She called over her shoulder on the way to the floo, walking mostly straight. Draco grinned wildly to his parents and the Minister, not even saying goodnight, and hurried to follow her out.

The sound of the floo whooshed, and they were gone.

Kingsley chuckled to himself, sipping his firewhiskey and smiling at his two old friends. Times had mellowed the last few years, and it felt good to call them his friends again. “So how’s that going for you two, anyway?”

“We love her!”

“Wasted in Gryffindor…”

“Why can’t I sleep? I’m… astonishingly tired.” Hermione remarked, wondering idly when she’d gone from feeling drunk-tired to high-tired. Loopy-tired.

“Probably because you’re over-tired, Princess. We had a crazy weekend and your mind is working too hard on too many things all at once, yeah? Stress can sneak up on you.”

“Hmmft.”

“Indeed.” Draco smirked, running his hands through her hair. Honestly he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t tired… maybe their nap had just been more restful for him or something, he wasn’t sure, but he felt fine.

“Honestly! I just cannot turn my brain off, yet it’s mush up there, the thoughts are useless. Utter rubbish.” She marveled. “What… what are you doing?” Draco was smiling to himself, kissing his way down her body. Pushing her nightshirt up and kissing her belly, he looked up at her, quirking a brow in the near-darkness.

“I’m helping you turn off that very loud, very big brain of yours…” The grin he gave her was sinful, she could at least process that observation correctly.

“Oh. ’Kay.” He had the best ideas…

Before she knew it he’d vanished her knickers, and she was pretty sure she’d really liked that pair… but she forgot about them rather quickly, because as soon as his tongue laved over her clit it all became rather hazy and in what felt like no time at all he had her wailing as she came all over his tongue and fingers, arching and writhing and wailing.

She was boneless. She had officially melted into the bed.

Her eyelids were fluttering shut as he was gathering her back up against his chest and she could almost swear that she could hear the smug smile against her ear as much as his words as he whispered “I love you.” Never had she felt Draco Malfoy more earned his signature smug smirk than that moment as she fell asleep with it against her ear.

They woke up to the insistent tapping of an owl delivering the first of their many expected missives for the morning. Draco had planned to grab whatever the damned bird had brought and bring it back to bed but his witch had followed him, likely planning coffee. He swung an arm out and hooked it around her waist, turning her around from going any further toward the kitchen.

“Too… early…” He groused, handing her the missive. “It’s addressed to both of us.”

“Ha! It’s our results from Greengrass’s beloved compatibility testing. Forgot that was coming today…” Hermione held up the envelope to show him the return address. “What do you think? Should we find out if science backs up our love… or whatever?” She laughed.

“Seeing as they did everything from scan my magic to ask my breakfast preferences, I admit… I am curious.” Draco smiled. After the craziness of the weekend he’d forgotten about this too. “Go on.” He nudged her.

“Any predictions?” She asked, eyes full of mischief.

Draco smiled a bit more softly, leaning down to kiss her. “Yes.” He answered, deliberately not elaborating.

She blushed a little, smiling in that way that she couldn’t help if she tried. The smile only he inflicted on her… She huffed, rolling her eyes and opened the envelope as she moved to stand next to him so they could read the letter together.

To: Ms. Hermione Granger & Mr Draco Malfoy

Please find below your Ministry Matching Service ‘Couples Compatibility Score’ from your recent visit to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies, Injuries and Research on July 17th, 2002. Because your testing was conducted during the trial period, it will not be recorded for official Ministry use in any upcoming legislative efforts. However, all records of this testing are to be kept for administrative purposes at St. Mungo’s.

Testing Date: July 17th, 2002

Draco Lucius Malfoy DOB June 5, 1980  Blood Status: Pureblood

Hermione Jean Granger DOB September 19, 1979  Blood Status: Muggleborn

Couples Compatibility Score: 99.8%

As a reminder, below is an overview of what is tested. Though non-exhaustive, the following is meant to give an idea as to the basis of a couples’ score:

Magical Core*, Personality, Blood Status & Related Beliefs, Overall Intelligence, Interests & Hobbies, Habits, Hopes, Fears, Strengths, Weaknesses, Sexual Proclivities

*Does not only denote strength, the testing also allows for the identification of existing Soul Magic Bonds. If a score above 99% is present, this is indicative of a Soul Bond which is automatically recorded by the Ministry of Magic’s Office of Magical Bonds & Marriages.*

Sincerely,

Alfred Pimplesby

Head of Research for Compatibility Matching

St. Mungo’s Hospital

“Okaaay…” Draco had never read such an insane piece of mail in his life. They’d gone and tested Greengrass’s Service on a lark for Merlin’s sake…

“Do you see the part where it says they test people’s sexual proclivity compatibility?!” Hermione burst into giggles.

Draco chuckled, nodding. “Hopes, fears… whips, chains…” She snorted, collapsing against his chest with laughter.

“Wait…” They read the part underneath the hilarious part more closely and stopped laughing. “Are we… I mean I had a feeling that’s what it could be, that we were…” She looked up at Draco hoping he’d tell her she wasn’t insane. That it wasn’t just her.

“Because Mipsy answers to you!” The idea that his elf saw the soulmate bond during her little break in seemed to vindicate something for Draco.

“Exactly! And, you know, because…” She shrugged, her eyes soft.

“Me too, love, completely…” He nodded, smiling down at her with so much love and complete acknowledgement of the crazy, which she could see might be overwhelming him a bit.

“But you’re reading what I’m reading, right?” Hermione wildly pointed again at the insane letter, specifically the asterisked portion at the end.

“Yeah… Shiiite… We should figure out if we’re already…”

“Because our mothers would kill us until we were dead…”

Draco gulped. Yes, having now seen her home, Draco imagined that if her parents’ introduction to him was that he had married their daughter by accident and deprived them of the type of wedding he imagined they would expect for her… yup, murdered-dead would be the best he could hope for. Imagining his own mother’s wrath at such a deprivation gave him a primal-fear shiver… yeesh.

So yes. It would definitely be best to sort that out sooner rather than later.

The two of them stood there, a bit frozen and in their pajamas, in that weird spot in the apartment that wasn’t quite any specific ‘room’ because they’d stopped to read halfway between the kitchen and bedroom in their massive loft, the news so insane that they didn’t know quite what to do with themselves. They just… stood there, in their jam-jams, trying to absorb their 99.8% perfectness for each other and their confirmation of being soulmates and suddenly the shock gave way to pure utter joy and they simply… grinned like loons.

It was as if, in that moment, it didn’t matter that they still thought the test itself was barmy and it didn’t matter that in doing it they might have accidentally tripped some weird marriage paperwork wire at the Ministry by outing themselves as soulmates… because apparently, they were soulmates.

According to Head Researcher Pimplesby, anyway.

Crikey. What a name…

Suddenly the letter was tossed in the air and Hermione was tossed over Draco’s shoulder, giggling hysterically.

“Draco Malfoy what are you doing?!”

“I am taking my soulmate back to bed of course!” He swatted her ass firmly and dumped her diagonally onto the mattress, positively shrieking with laughter that he promptly quieted the moment he began to crawl over her.

Bracketing her head with his hands and looking down at her, curls wild and splayed across the bed, cheeks rosy and eyes bright with laughter as she smiled up at him, life felt… perfect. Like they were in a bubble of perfect.

“Hi.” For whatever reason that’s what came out of his mouth.

“Hi.” Her smile, though… It was as if she seemed to think Hi was just grand… And she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He was at a loss for words beyond that, though, the reality of what the letter had said truly hitting him as he looked at her perfect smile. Dropping down next to her, Draco nuzzled his face against hers, dragging her against him so they were touching head to toe, as intertwined as they could get. Hermione seemed to need it, too, that feeling of safety that came from being tangled together. She immediately was wriggling up and wrapping her limbs around him like a little koala bear, humming with contentment when she’d gotten comfortable.

They lay that way for a while, each thinking their own thoughts, basking in the other person. She didn’t push him, and finally, Draco began to talk.

“I worried, you know… I still do, sometimes… about loving you too much too soon.” He admitted softly, worrying his lip. “So scared at the beginning of making the wrong move, any wrong move and scaring you away!”

Hermione heard tears in his voice and pulled her head back to look him in the eye as she listened. “Draco, you won’t…”

He sniffled, nodding with a rueful smile. “Do you really believe it? I mean I know we both said the testing was a bit bunk, but… I…”

“I do believe it!” She told him, her face so earnest. “Do the spell! The soulmate spell! Come on, I know you know it…” She wafted her hand between them. “I want to see the pretty lights.” She smiled at him, so sure that it would work. Draco was scared though; he wanted their results to be true, to be real more than anything, he realized, and… if it wasn’t, well… he didn’t even know how to wrap his mind around how hurtful that would be…

Hermione poked him in the ribs, her smile so sure, so steady…

So, scared out of his mind because deep down, he still believed that he didn’t deserve good things in his life, not for real, Draco winced as he grabbed his wand from the nightstand. He kissed the tip of her nose for luck and cast Anima Mate Revilare, his free hand that had been clutching hers for dear life loosened in relief as golden arcs of light streamed from his magical core to hers and back again, so beautiful, for nearly twenty-seconds, the connection warm and bright around their hearts.

Hermione smiled, her eyes watering. “See? Not gonna scare me away. You’re quite stuck with me now.” She pulled him back into her, tangling them up and koala-hugging him as he pressed his face into her neck, hiding his tears of relief there.

“I love you.” He managed between heaving, emotional breaths against her skin.

“I love you, too.”

Something niggled at the back of Hermione’s mind about the testing, the law, the whole business…

“Draco… did they test your fertility, or anything like that?” She asked, leaning back with a puzzled look on her face.

He thought back to all the scans of his magical core and the ridiculous questionnaires they’d done and… huh. “No… It really was just compatibility… romantically? I’m assuming they didn’t test you.”

“No, nothing medical was even touched on other than confirming my blood status… I don’t know how neither of us even noticed that after we talked about it ad nauseam together in reference to all this but… Yeah, I only just realized. It had nothing to do with the procreation side of things.”

“So that makes it officially that much more irrelevant to what they’re doing, legislatively speaking. They want a baby boom, supposedly, but the couples they’re putting together… they’re not making sure they’re healthy enough to conceive first? That’s the long and short of it?!” Draco fumed. “That’s setting people up for not just failure but… but heartbreak and… and…” He was practically hyperventilating now, the memories of his mother’s struggles when he was a small child haunting him. The sounds of her sobbing after late-term losses would be etched in his memory forever… Hermione’s arms around him and her soothing, deep breaths calmed him but the reality was still there. These men couldn’t be allowed to get away with this…

“We have a plan. We have people on our side to help. They’re not going to get away with what they think they are, Draco.”

“No… No they most certainly are not.” He kissed her, his strong beautiful witch. He couldn’t help but wonder now, though, since she’d brought it up. “Have you ever… I mean…” He swallowed, his fingertips brushing lightly over the scar that transected part of her abdomen. He didn’t know how to ask, though; the answer meant so much to him, but she meant… everything…

“I’m fine, love.” She seemed to instinctively know to have her thumbs on his cheeks because two tears suddenly materialized there for her to brush away…

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… No damage to my ability to have a family.”

Her wording caught him as odd, though.

“What was damaged, Mia?” He asked softly, holding her wrists and stroking the soft skin next to the clasp of her bracelet.

Hermione sighed, not sure how they’d gotten on this topic but knew they’d have to discuss it eventually. “It was one of Dolohov’s burning curses… but I silenced him before he could finish it. It’s how I didn’t automatically die… but Severus and Madam Pomfry still only barely saved my life. Everywhere you see a scar is where a burned gash through my organs was, leaving essentially a river of dark magic behind. My right ventricle was nearly severed, my lung collapsed, my spleen ruptured… but I didn’t bleed out because dark magic helped plug the bleeders. I was on a regimen of ten or more potions twice a day for months.”

Draco was horrified, speechless, unable to breathe…

“Darling… I’m fine… Draco, look at me… I’m fine now…” She had to pull him out of a place a pure fear, again, but it was better they got it over and done. Better he knew and they could put it in the past where it belonged.

“My father… he was… there…” Draco felt so ashamed. Hermione wasn’t having that.

“Draco, your father didn’t curse me. He is working his sentence to become a better man and from what I’ve seen he’s putting his all into it. I survived. I am fine… You and I found each other and I am healthy enough that we can have a family someday. The war is over… do not let yourself be dragged back under, do you hear me?” Her voice was the stern, loving reprimand he needed and he nodded, kissing her.

“You’re truly alright?”

“Yes… it took a long time but the scar truly is all that’s left.” She reassured him.

Draco smiled, brushing his fingertips lightly along her scar again from the inside of her breast down across her belly to her hip. “You know your scars only make you more beautiful to me…”

Hermione would never have believed such a statement from any man, ever… but she believed it from Draco. The reverence in his eyes could not be faked. She would never have to cover herself for him. He truly loved her.

“I know.”

Chapter Text

“How long do you think we can get away with waiting on storming the Marriage and Bonds office for confirmation and, er, some sort of heist? I mean… Think about it. If whoever is working there today when our bond is recorded just… you know, happens to be on the Prophet’s payroll?! It isn’t like that shit would be unheard of, Granger!” Draco worried, his voice becoming more high-pitched with each word as he looked down at his cuddly other half, currently using him as both pillow and mattress and steadfastly procrastinating her day.

“Well, when you put it like that, I’d say we can’t put it off… like, at all!” Hermione whined, rolling off of him and onto her back while making a truly bratty face. “We were supposed to stay home today! So… what? Now we fetch our Auror detail to escort us into the Ministry for a bit of a quick legal-gray-area cover-up in the records department?” She squeaked.

Draco thought her wording over carefully, and sarcastic as it was, he still found it to be rather spot-on. “Essentially, yes, I think that’s exactly what we need to do.”

“Well… fuck.”

Forty minutes later they were both casually dressed and waiting for said detail by the flat’s lift. Replies had started coming in from their friends regarding next moves and were piling up on the kitchen island, overseen by a napping Perseus, to be read upon their return later. For now, they needed to nip this potential disaster in the bud.

The lift Ding’ed, signaling their armed babysitter had arrived, and with him came a moment of biting social awkwardness. Hermione and Draco were borderline heroic in their ability to maintain straight faces when Auror Marcus-aneurysm-Flint stepped out of the private lift into their loft, full-on grimacing at them.

Hermione squeaked, clenching her jaw so no laughter dare escape, and Draco coughed, but neither laughed out loud, a feat for which they would later congratulate each other and agree they both deserved bloody medals for.

“Auror… Flint, right?” Hermione smiled as best she could, shaking Marcus’ hand.

“Indeed… Miss Granger, Mr… Malfoy…” It was like Marcus was in physical pain and the awkwardness just… would not do.

“Riiiight. Marcus, you were my quidditch captain for three years, there’s no need to stand on ceremony. You can… call me Draco.” Draco held out his hand to the hulk across from him who practically shuddered in appreciation for the gesture.

“Yeah, this job can be awkward when it comes to dealing with former classmates.” He admitted. “Anyway, um, where are we off to?” He asked, a thousand times more at ease than he was when he first arrived but still so awkward.

“We just need to pop into the Ministry very quickly… together, obviously. Ideally the only stop will be the Minister’s office for a few minutes, but we may need to go down to the Office of Bonds and Marriages to… stop a travesty from occurring.” Hermione explained evasively with a waft of her hand. Draco rolled his eyes; she’d made it sound like they were going to halt someone’s bloody wedding.

“Let’s play it by ear, shall we, love? Hopefully Kingsley can sort it for us quickly and quietly.” Draco held her tight to his side and rubbed her hip reassuringly, the immature teenager inside of him gleefully enjoying how much them being a touchy-feely couple seemed to grate on their Auror. It was a bit petty of him, he knew that, and he should care, but he didn’t; really, the oaf was lucky he wasn’t gleefully rubbing it in his face. No, that wasn’t his style anymore… Instead, Draco just tried to give how smug he felt at least the bare minimum of subtlety. For decorum’s sake.

“Exactly… so, we’re supposed to clear our movements through you. If our errand is good with you Auror Flint, can we go ahead and floo to Kingsley’s outer office now?”

“That should be fine, but let me go ahead of you. Is the floo you were planning to use through here?” Marcus asked, heading into the main living area.

Draco couldn’t take even an ounce of credit for the amazing loft, he knew that, but he still enjoyed himself way too much answering that question. “Yep, that’s our floo, right through there.”

Hermione looked up at him and smirked, rolling her eyes. She didn’t even care that he led her into the room with his hand on her ass instead of her lower back, she was far too amused by his possessive smugness. For now.

“Hiii Linda.” Hermione crooned, just wanting to get in and get out. “So sorry to stop by without a heads up, but… something urgent came up. Is he in?” Her voice probably sounded saccharine-sweet and polite to anyone who didn’t know her, but to Draco she sounded like she’d lost her bloody marbles.

“Oh! And who is this handsome gentleman with you? Someone special?” Linda leaned forward, ignoring Hermione’s use of the word ‘urgent’ as her spectacles dropped down precariously to the end of her nose that was so obviously sniffing for gossip.

Draco could feel Hermione begin to vibrate; she was, without a doubt, about to freak out at poor, nosy, unhelpful Linda and that was just an avoidable disaster they didn’t need. Quickly he hugged her closer to his side and kissed her temple before flashing the old biddy a winning smile. “Linda, my apologies. My name is Draco Malfoy, it's a pleasure. I am so sorry we had to interrupt your morning, but a matter of some genuine urgency has come up and we very much need the next 5 minutes the Minister has. Can you please make that happen for us… Linda?”

Hermione watched Linda titter and fawn over Draco as she clutched a handkerchief to her granny-bosom, actually leaving her seat and rushing in to check if Kingsley could spare them a moment since she was just so taken by her boyfriend’s manipulative wielding of his pearly whites.

“You are ridiculous.” She hissed, trying not to laugh.

“No, I’m strategically charming.” He corrected her with a smirk, giving her arse a mild little spank. He heard their Auror escort cough awkwardly behind them and he grinned to himself, ignoring him and keeping his hand right where it was.

“And a wee bit cruel.” Hermione snickered.

“Undoubtedly.” He admitted, leaning down to kiss her quickly as Linda came bustling back out.

“The Minister can see you now! Oh dear I am just so happy you found someone… and so handsome too!”

“Thank you, Linda… yes… yup, thanks… me too.” Hermione dragged a grinning Draco into Kingsley’s office, trying not to stomp as she walked.

“What happened to working from home? You lasted less than an hour!” Kingsley admonished her before turning to Draco. “And you! I… don’t know why you’re here. Must be something good to have gotten Linda all in a tizzy like that.” He smiled, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. “Tea?”

“No, Kings, thank you… Ideally we’ll be out of your hair in five minutes. This is… tangential to work, but… not really.” Hermione thrust their very awkward letter from the Matching Service at her boss and settled into her chair, her hand instinctively seeking Draco’s out.

“Ha! Holy shit!” Kingsley cried, slapping his desk. “Bet you didn’t see this coming when you went to go play guinnea pig…” He grinned at them, looking from one to the other and back again, waggling his eyebrows.

“Admittedly…” Draco began. “We didn’t anticipate them being so…” He struggled to find the right phrasing.

“Capable?” Hermione ventured.

“Exactly!” Draco snapped his fingers. “And now, since they’ve gone and discovered our bond…”

“Ohhh…” Kingsley looked back at the letter more closely. “Those little fuckers… huh. Pimplesby?  What the fuck kinda name…? Whatever, doesn’t matter. Better you came to me instead of storming the Bond office and trying to set a strategic fire or committing larceny. I’ll take care of it.” He handed them back their letter with a simple shrug and smile, as if it were no big deal.

“You’ll… take care of it?” Draco asked, hesitant to believe it could be that easy.

“Yes! With fewer felonies, too. Any record of your bond will, as they say, magically disappear by lunch. I would like to imagine that it will… magically reappear, though, sometime… soon? I hear Yule is lovely.” He grinned at them, his sense of sass having returned in full force now. “Anything else on? Auror came with you, all working as it should, blah blah etcetera?”

Hermione stared incredulously at her boss for a second before rolling her eyes and laughing. “Yule is lovely…” She imitated his deep Brit-African voice terribly, laughing and clutching her side. “Yes, thanks boss. We’ll be sure to let you know. And yes… we were good little children and brought our babysitter. Now, since you are committing to solving our… records issue… we can go back home again.” She and Draco stood up.

“Thanks for this.” Draco told him sincerely, getting a nod in return.

“We’ll also update you later regarding… scheming and plotting.” She added, waving goodbye to the sound of her boss’s burst of laughter.

“Yeah, you do that…”

“Any need for that second stop, or…?” Marcus asked awkwardly.

“Nope! The Minister solved our issue, no problem. We’re heading home.” Hermione smiled, heading into the floo. Draco followed her with Marcus following last.

“Okay, well... If I’m needed again, I’ll be on your street with my partner on patrol, so don’t hesitate if you need to leave the flat.” Marcus nodded to them, heading for the lift.

“Thank you, Auror Flint.” Hermione waved, getting a pained nod in return. She waited until the Ding of the lift had gone before turning to Draco and making a face.

“I see what you meant now!” She covered her face with her hands, her cheeks rapidly turning pink as she laughed.

“Aneurysm? Wants to jump your bones? Hates that you’re mine? All of the bloody above?!” Draco laughed gleefully, tickling her waist with each guess.

Hermione nodded, snickering again. “I feel bad!”

“And I feel smug as shit! Come... here...” He laughed, dragging her over to the sofa to straddle his hips. It hadn’t helped that she’d been wearing a little sundress and sandals, of course, her perfectly smooth, tan legs on display for this little errand of theirs… No, it had fanned the flames of the whole petty situation. Now, though… now, the easy access was very helpful, indeed…

They practically crashed into each other the way he collapsed onto the sofa and pulled her down with him, on top of him, pulling her thighs taut against his hips as he lunged up to kiss her. She was already rolling her hips against him as he plundered her mouth, as he reached up and fisted his hand in her curls so he could kiss her deeper. Her nails scraping along his own scalp gave him shivers and when he pulled one of the straps of her dress down one shoulder she held onto the back of his neck, throwing her head back as he took her nipple between his teeth, sucking hard. She tasted like honey and she moaned like such a naughty slut for him… Draco pulled down the other strap of her dress just as she began working at his belt, barely able to get him free from the confines of his trousers and boxer briefs in the position they were in.

“Fuck… Princess, I need you…” Draco pushed aside the sopping, stretchy fabric of her thong as she settled over him, taking him in, her mouth falling open as she arched her back and pushed her perfect tits right in his face. The straps of her dress caught on her upper arms had effectively banded them to her body, shoving her tits together in such an exaggerated way, perfect to bury his face in.

“Ohhhh… fuck…” Hermione hissed, feeling so full at this angle, so needy as she began to ride him.

“Fuck, Mia, you are so tight…” Draco gasped, trying not to come immediately, his fingers grasping tightly to the curvy perfection of her ass to help guide her as she began to bounce on his cock. Her tits were literally hitting him in the face, a situation where he knew he wasn’t going to be able to last long…

Hermione was moaning so loudly, utterly gone in pleasure. It was a little messed up, she knew that, but Draco being possessive like that and then immediately needing to fuck her… was the hottest fucking thing…

“You liked showing off that I belong to you…” She gasped, grinding on his cock and pulling his hair so he’d look her in the eye.

“Yes, I fucking loved it… you are mine…” Draco lifted the back of her skirt with one hand and spanked her once, hard, with the other. “This is mine…”

“Ah! Fuck… yes…” She was so close…

He reached up and pressed her breasts even harder together, flicking his thumbs over her nipples and making the rhythm of her hips stutter as she gasped. “These… these are mine, too… Isn’t that right?” He twisted her nipples hard.

“Yes! Yours! They’re yours, I’m yours…” She keened, ready to beg at this point.

He could feel her magic reaching out to his, feel the muscles of her pussy around his cock… he knew she was close, right on the edge. He pulled her down into a kiss as his thumb reached between them, sliding into the slick from her perfect cunt and teasing her clit. She wrenched herself out of the kiss as she began to come, bouncing quickly to push herself over and again hitting him in the face with her perfect tits… it was all too much, her cunt squeezing him so tight as she screamed his name, Draco lost it, coming hard enough to see stars.

Slumped forward with her head on his shoulder as his fingers traveled lightly up and down her spine, Hermione hadn’t moved very far. Mostly because that had been amazing and she was pretty sure she’d lost the use of her legs in the effort. Totally worth it, in her opinion, as long as she never had to get up again.

“Mia?” Draco murmured.

“Hmm?” She was floating. Comfy. In her zen, love, post-sex hazy-happy place where only uncomplicated conversation is possible. Looking at her dopey smiling face against his shoulder, Draco smirked, even more smug now than he’d been earlier, which was saying rather a lot. She was so damn adorable like this, yet getting her to this state always made him feel like he’d gotten a third Mastery, this one in Sex. It was good for his ego. In this particular moment it was also a bit funny.

“’S’not funny…” Hermione smiled, knowing full-well it probably really was. Even to her own ears she sounded high.

“Would you like me to carry you back to bed, love? We could take a nap, maybe have a shower together before getting the rest of our day started.” He offered, putting off his original question until she had some brain power available.

Hermione smiled, nodding and putting her arms around his neck. He was literally still inside her, but she had a feeling he’d find the trip to bed inspiring enough to want to stay there, so she didn’t move to remedy that.

She was right.

“Good morning again.” Draco smiled, brushing chocolate curls from her face.

“Good morning again.” Hermione smiled, amused that they’d had what felt like a whole day of craziness before crashing back to bed for a nap. Now it wasn’t even noon and it felt like a brand new day. Draco rolled her onto her back and cupped her face, leaning down for a long, drugging kiss before resting his forehead against hers.

“S’pose we should get up, huh?” He murmured.

“Probably. Work awaits… and I have a surprise for you, too.” Hermione smirked at his bashful shock.

“A surprise? For me?”

“That’s what I said, handsome… come on. Up.”

Draco didn’t know how to feel. He was the one who was supposed to be doing all the spoiling and the wooing and the… making up for… everything… And he figured he was doing an okay job so far. He brought her fresh flowers every time he went to his lab at the Manor and could raid the garden there; he’d actually held back on jewelry, only giving her one major piece since the bracelet, but that was because he planned for a lifetime of such gifts and didn’t want to come off like he was trying too hard. He’d cooked, too! All was going well according to his vague, ‘show her how much I love her’ plan… He certainly wasn’t going to use the news about being soulmates as an excuse to slack! If anything this news was all the more reason to step it up on the giving! He was good at giving! Making her smile was like his calling in life!

But receiving… yeah, no… that was different. Rather like praise for his work or words of forgiveness, he’d gotten rather bad at receiving gifts right around the time in his life when he decided he no longer deserved them. It was like he no longer knew how, so he just sortof… shut down.

So… In the time it took Hermione to throw on a pair of denim shorts, a t-shirt and some flip flops, her boyfriend had managed to turn himself into quite the awkward turtle, sitting on the edge of the bed looking like a lost crup puppy.

“What is the matter with you? Trousers! Minimal footwear! Here… put on this t-shirt…” She shoved clothes at him and smiled, knowing drawing attention to the issue she fully recognized was taking place would only make it worse. As soon as he was dressed she was dragging him toward the lift, grinning like a loon.

“Where are we…? We’re not supposed to leave without a pre-arranged escort, love.” Draco reminded her.

“Ah, but notice that we are not going down, but up.” She grinned, bouncing on her heels. Draco narrowed his eyes at her. Was his surprise on the roof? Interesting… He didn’t know when she would’ve had time to squirrel something away up there, though he didn’t put anything past her.

But they didn’t make it to the roof. In fact, they only went up one floor, the lift opening up to… nothing.

“Granger…?” Draco followed her out of the lift into the open space, confused and intrigued by her bubbling excitement. “I’d forgotten you said you owned a whole ‘nother floor…” When she’d said she’d bought it as an empty shell, she hadn’t been kidding. It was empty. The floors, walls between windows and ceiling were all painted a blinding shade of white and the space looked even more enormous without the divided floor plan and furniture that made downstairs their home. Fuck, he hadn’t even realized how big their home really was! Looking at what it was before Hermione made it their home, he was even more impressed with her.

“Mmhmm.” She smiled, sneaking over and hugging him round the middle as he looked around, looked out the window at the London Eye and the Thames. “And remember when I said I didn’t know what to do with the space? Well… I had a thought.” She rested her chin on his shoulder, grinning.

“A thought, huh.” He couldn’t even imagine… the space was huge… easily 20,000 square feet, possibly more.

“Indeed. I know that, since the vaccine approval, you’ve been thinking through your expansion options, knowing your lab at the manor can only get so big, and… Well, what if… you built a lab here?” She asked. “State of the art equipment… you could design it any way you wanted, grow it as you need to. The space is big enough for employees… but it’s also close to home…”

Draco turned, gaping at her, totally speechless.

“Draco… I am yours as you are mine. You don’t have to decide now… I just…” He cut her off with a kiss, hauling her up on her tip-toes and crushing her to him until they were both out of breath.

“So you’ll think about it?” She smiled, plopping back down onto her feet and smoothing her hands over his chest. He chuckled, nodding, still too emotional to say much. The idea that she’d do this for him… the possibilities of it… He was overwhelmed, yes, but he’d definitely be thinking about it. “Good… because I loved the idea of having you close.”

Back downstairs, thoroughly snogged and sorting through the mail, it seemed their Wizengamot scheme was off to a promising start. Milicent Bulstrode had met with Pansy for coffee and was not only a yes for Thursday’s dinner party but was also already in possession of her Ladyship ring as both her parents were deceased. The same went for Gregory Goyle, whose RSVP came via Luna of all people. Susan Bones had said yes to Neville’s request but he was apparently still waiting to hear back from Hannah Abbott, who he was apparently going to visit that night, leaving her status in limbo until Tuesday. Theo had already volunteered to take George to Gringotts to sort his heirship ring for the Prewett seat and Neville and Pansy wrote that they went together, getting both of theirs out of the way. Hermione had written to Harry explicit instructions regarding his own meeting with the goblins, offering for Draco to go with him, and was waiting to hear back. So far, the planning was going according to schedule.

The only other behind-the-scenes player on the board Hermione was waiting to hear back from was Percy Weasley… but she’d asked him to gather some intel for her first so she wasn’t worried.

It was going to be a long week, though. Hermione could just tell.

There was nothing more she could do regarding the marriage law at this point, though, and for the first time since getting home she had time to move on to her other case files.  She was just sitting down at her desk with a fresh cup of coffee when her laptop began to chime…

Skype call… Sigh.

“Hi Mum.” Hermione heard Draco spit out his coffee in shock and struggled to keep the giggling at him to a minimum. He was glaring at her from his own desk and siphoning coffee from his shirt with his wand… hilarious…

“Hello darling! Oh, I am so glad you answered, you’re never home! What’s new, curly-q?!” The Duchess was bubbly as ever, thrilled for a chat and totally unaware that this was the first impression she was making on the boy who would likely marry her daughter. Hermione just grinned, shaking her head.

“Umm…” She could feel her face rapidly turning crimson and she honestly had no idea where to start, only that her mother always saw through her no matter what.

“Hermione… Did you meet someone?” Damnit. Her mother was far too astute for her own good and Draco was enjoying this far too much.

“Yes Hermione, did you?” He mouthed, earning himself a two-finger salute and laughing until he gave himself a cramp.

“Maybe! Sortof… Yes. Yes I did, okay? God Almighty Mum, you and Gran are like bobbies with torches in my face with these interrogations!” Hermione cried, her hands covering her face in mortification while her mother, thousands of miles away, laughed her ass off.

“Tell me everything! Is he cute? I mean of course he is, but give me details before your father hijacks this call… It’ll be the last one until right before we get home! Quick, go!”

Draco loved this woman, just listening to her, she was obviously the source of his girl’s most adorable traits…

“When do you get home, I’ve been estimating this whole time. Do you have an actual date?”

“Three, four weeks tops! Stop stalling!”

“Ugh…” Hermione made a face at her snickering boyfriend, telling him to get the hell over to her side of the room, now. Draco immediately smartened up and walked over, hesitantly leaning into frame. “Mum, this is Draco… Draco, meet my mother.”

“Everyone calls me Kitty!” The woman who looked exactly like Hermione, just 25 years older, gushed at him. She had slightly tanner skin - no surprise there - and her curls were just as wild. She looked thrilled, too, which felt like a good sign.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you… Kitty.” Just saying it made him struggle not to laugh and Hermione elbowed him in the gut just to be mean.

“And you… I remember hearing about you, you know.” The Duchess grinned evilly.

“Mum, no. No you don’t. Oh look, the internet connection is bad…” Hermione panicked.

“Ha! Liar… Oh, your Father’s coming… Draco, now’s your chance to hide if that’s your play, but it’s up to you two. Love you, sweetheart, to the moon!” She disappeared from frame and they could hear chatting and children’s laughter in the background.

“Is that our play?” He asked, both curiosity and fear warring inside him.

“Yes.” Hermione determined, shooing him away.

“I love you.” He mouthed to her.

“I love you too… Go!” She laughed.

“Where’s my doll face?” A man’s voice rang out and Draco saw Hermione’s face soften.

“Hi Daddy.”

“There she is! Miss you, sweetie… What’s doing? Your mother won’t say but she’s on the cell to your grandmother already…”

“Shit, really? She wastes no time…” Hermione’s head thunked against the back of her chair.

“Language, young lady.”

“Sorry, Daddy… But Mummy’s a gossip and now Gran is gonna be all over me!”

“Oh?” Draco chuckled at this because the man sounded entirely too pleased with this news.

“Torture is illegal, you know.” Hermione groused.

“Yet it can be so satisfying for a parent… even from afar…” This, too, made Draco snicker. He really liked her parents already.

“How about we ignore me completely and you tell me about the kiddos!” Hermione ventured, making her father laugh.

“Alright, but only because I’ll get the gossip from your mum later and we both know it. Guess who’s already reading?” He sounded so proud, it tugged at something for Draco. He watched Hermione light up. “I knew he was my little genius, did I not tell you?! I told you!” She cried happily, bouncing in her seat.

“Yes yes, you should never have dropped the crystal ball class… Let’s set you up at the fair to tell people’s fortune!” Her father laughed, making Draco burst out laughing so hard he had to dash out of the room for a moment so he wouldn’t be overheard.

“You’re such an arse…” Hermione laughed.

“But a lovable one.”

“Debatable.”

“Pfft.”

Hermione and her father had a stand-off of affectionate smiles.

“Miss you, Daddy…”

He nodded, blinking a fair bit. “I miss you, sweetpea… Your mum told you we’d be home in a few weeks?”

“Yeah, she said three, no more than four.”

“That’s right. Just wrapping things up down here, making sure we leave the orphanage and the clinic running smoothly. The kids are ready to make the move, too… It’s time to come home.”

“You’ll let me know the week of, your travel plans and everything?”

“Of course… I have to go baby girl but we’ll talk again before then, alright?”

Hermione felt weepy for some reason. “Promise?”

“Always.”

“Love you, Daddy… give my love to Aya and Leo.”

“I will. Bye-bye, Sweetheart.”

“Bye, Daddy.”

The computer chimed as he signed off and Hermione huffed a little, trying not to cry. She just saw them, for Merlin’ssake… and she’d see them again in a few weeks! There was no reason to be such a baby.

“Hey…” Draco came in, hating seeing her upset. “Hey, let me hold you.” He made her stand up so he could sit and have her in his lap in her chair, a request she complied with completely by curling up in a ball and burying her face in his neck.

“I liked your parents.” He smiled, holding her close. Her sniffle turned into a chuckle, as he’d hoped. “Was that Leo you were talking about?” He asked.

“Yeah… he’s only three and he’s reading on his own, like I did. He’s my sweet little genius.” She bragged, smiling again.

“They’ll be home soon.” He murmured, cuddling her and kissing her curls. She nodded, knowing he was right. She was just a Daddy’s girl and was easily emotional when it came to missing her father. Draco just couldn’t help thinking that she’d be such an amazing mum… and about little baby geniuses with constellation names.

Chapter Text

Dear Lovebirds,

   Congratulations, your government officially has a triggered - and curable - case of amnesia regarding your soul bond. I placed a glamour on the paperwork in the Bond Office that will fall whenever your marriage paperwork self-files the day of your wedding. The glamour will only last a year, so do try to remember my earlier thoughts about the loveliness of the Yule season.

Best Wishes and No Pressure At All,

Kingsley

   P.S. Draco - You might want to check your family tapestry… just a thought. (Another one.)

   P.P.S. Also keep in mind that I didn’t Obliviate anyone and you two are known figures… Sadly, I can’t control word-of-mouth.

“Your boss is honestly both so hilarious and… oh, shite…”

“What, the bit about gossip? He’s right, and it is sadly… Or about the tapestry? You think the tapestry would have caught it, too?” Hermione wasn’t so concerned with that, actually, she was more impressed and intrigued with sentience of the tapestry’s magic… but she watched her already pale soulmate turn even whiter and gleaned that he definitely was concerned.

“We should probably check.” He rasped, suddenly rather without air in his lungs.

Hermione cocked her head at him, not sure she understood the origin of his stress. “Babe I get why we didn’t want the Bonds and Marriages Office to know, thus publicly recording us as… already… but would the tapestry be as bad?”

“Hmm?” Draco snapped out of staring worriedly into space. “No! No, not in that sense, sweetheart, no… It’s my mother!” He shook his head, trying to find the words to explain. “Think about how the Minister reacted this morning. Immediately suggested when we should marry, then did it again in the letter! Now imagine my parents, who are already… eager?”

Hermione chuckled, finally seeing where he was going with this.

“Yes, now you’re getting it. You’ve heard that expression, I’m sure, about how ‘every little girl (supposedly, you would know better than I) spends her life planning her wedding’? Well, I swear to Merlin, Hermione… For my mum, her life has been spent planning mine!”

“Oh gods…” Hermione was horrified yet 100% not surprised. The level on which she was not looking forward to that pressure cooker was… infinitely high. Add it to her own mum and… shudder…

“Agreed. Now, the last point I’ll make is that I wouldn’t even care about that, any of that, if it weren’t for the fact that I made you a promise and I refuse to slack on it; I promised you I would put in the work. That I would do whatever it took to show you how loved you are, and that I am someone who will endeavor to deserve you every day of your life; that I will never fail you again…”

“Draco-”

“No, let me finish.”

Hermione nodded, the sudden lump in her throat nearly choking her.

“I promised to do those things with no expectations or guarantees. Finding out about our bond should not be some… ticket to skip the line, and I don’t want to treat something so precious that way, not ever.”

She didn’t know if he was referring to her or their bond, and she thought maybe he meant it to be ambiguous. She felt overcome with emotion, though, and hiccuped out a small and somewhat pitiful sounding sob, seemingly from nowhere. He cupped her face, leaning in close as he continued to say the most perfect things to her, though, understanding completely why she’d gotten emotional.

“I want to keep our bond private, for now, sweetheart, because I simply refuse to let others dictate how I make it all up to you. How and over what time period I earn your love and trust and respect in a way that makes them mine forever. Because make no mistake, Princess, that’s what I want… I want you, my darling, to be my forever… but I haven’t earned it yet. Not truly.”

“But… I love you.” Hermione sniffled. She didn’t like the idea that he still felt so unequal in their relationship, not at all.

Draco smiled, hugely. “I know you do… and I love you more than anything, but you know that’s not what I mean. Let me woo you, and spoil you, and love you consistently every moment of every day for awhile… You deserve that. And when I ask you to marry me, I want it to be a surprise. One that isn’t too soon or too late but a beautiful memory and nothing to do with pressure from others because of our bond… okay?”

“Well when you say it like that…” She huffed, her mind boggled by how he was just… so romantic all the damn time…

Draco chuckled, kissing her forehead and giving her a hug.

“I’m not in a rush, you know… That isn’t what I meant.” Hermione mumbled into his shoulder.

“I know.”

They stood and swayed in their hug for a minute, just taking comfort in each other.

“I’m not… not in a rush… I mean… I’m at regular… speed.” Hermione made a weird, embarrassed face into his shoulder, wondering if she could possibly be more of a weirdo.

Draco grinned, his head entirely on top of hers so he knew she’d miss it. She was so adorable… he could literally feel the heat from her blushing through his t-shirt! “Regular speed, huh?”

“Shut up.” Hermione poked him right in the ticklish part of his ribs, smiling to herself. “So… What now? Are you going to sneak over to the manor and check? It’s not like you can change it, the magic is sentient… so what’s your plan if I am on there?”

Draco smirked down at her. “Just because I cannot… doesn’t mean it can’t be done. Go ahead and test our theory about Mipsy.”

Of course, Hermione realized. House Elf magic could likely glamour it! Smart…

“Mipsy?” She called hesitantly, still feeling like she’d always be inconveniencing the little creature. The elf immediately popped into the room, bouncing with how ecstatic she was to have been summoned by Hermione, her enthusiasm only confusing Hermione more though.

“Young Mistress finally has need for Mipsy?!” She cried, pulling on her ears with joy.

Hermione looked to Draco in panic but he just gave her a nod of encouragement and no guidance what-so-bloody-ever… arse.

“Yes… Hi Mipsy. Thank you for coming so quickly… Umm. Draco and I were wondering if you could help us with something… but it would be a secret, for now. Would that be alright with you?”

Mipsy considered this. “What kind of secret? Mipsy doesn’t like lying.”

“No! No no no… I agree! Lying is bad…” Hermione backtracked, waving her hands. “Umm… Draco, help?”

He kissed her head and she huffed, wondering if she’d ever feel less brutally uncomfortable with using the services of house elves. Somehow, she thought not.

“Mip, can you see a bond between Hermione and me?” Draco asked the elf casually.

Mipsy looked at Draco like he’d asked if the sky was blue, by any chance. “Master Draco is wanting to know if Mipsy can see your soulmate bond? Mipsy is an elf! Of course she sees!" Mipsy seemed to catch herself being a little harsh and tried again. "Or did Master want to know… if there was a bond at all?" She seemed to catch on that they wanted confirmation and began nodding happily. "Mmhmm, yes sir, it’s there! Mipsy sees it! So bright!”

The two of them nodded, reassured and somewhat comforted. “Yes, Mip, that’s what I meant… we only just found out about it, that’s all. We wanted to ask you… because you’re an expert!”

“Oh! Expert, yes... because Mipsy is an elf.” Mipsy nodded sagely, reiterating the obvious. “Yes, Mipsy first saw it when Master and Mistress made Mipsy break in here while you slept. It was awkward for Mipsy… but then it made Mipsy very happy!”

Hermione snorted, bending over with laughter for a few uncontrolled seconds, then immediately straightened up and pretended she hadn’t just done that; she valiantly tried to keep a straight face and her skin was a bit red from the effort it took not to laugh. “Thank you, Mipsy… that’s very kind.” She managed. Draco patted a condescending good job on her shoulder, making the giggles threaten to return immiediately. She elbowed him again in retaliation.

“Mipsy is happy to serve Young Mistress!” The little elf grinned, bouncing a little on her toes. She really was so sweet, Hermione couldn’t help but adore her. She just felt badly asking her to do things… Maybe they could just be friends?

“Umm… Thank you, Mipsy, I’m… very happy to have you, too.” She managed, honestly not knowing what the right thing to say was. “Do you happen to know, umm… Do Draco’s parents know about the bond, too?”

Mipsy quirked her head and gave a deceptively simple answer to a genuinely simple question. “Only Elves can see.”

Draco mistakenly took this as a blanket ‘no’ and figured it was a good time to recruit her as their spy… she seemed committed to their cause more thoroughly now that it had been explained better. “Mip, we’re worried that the bond could show up on the family tapestry and give away the good news before we’re ready for everyone to know about it. Do you think you could help us by making sure no one sees it… if that is the case? We want to share the good news ourselves, in our own time.” He used the puppy-dog eyes that had always gotten him extra biscuits growing up and it seemed to work like a charm.

“Oh… Of course Master Draco, Mipsy can do that! That’s a good secret. Good secrets are Mipsy’s specialty.”

Hermione had to wonder what else would fall under the category of ‘good secrets’… In fact, it fucking fascinated her to find out what defined this elf’s moral compass. Alas it didn’t seem like she’d be able to find out more at the moment since she needed to pop away and take care of this little mission for them… but another time, absolutely. Mipsy was a little enigma.

“Fantastic! So you’ll go take care of that for us now?” Draco pressed.

“Yes, Mipsy will go right now!”

“Tha-” She’d popped away before Hermione could even thank her, her breath fizzling out of her mouth.

Draco chuckled at her huffiness, giving her another kiss on her forehead. “I’m sure she knew you appreciated it, love.”

Hermione turned her face up to his and glared at him for the entire fifteen-seconds she could maintain it before softening again. He was too handsome, it messed with her resolve, she decided.

Suddenly, the peace that came with having the last thread tied up in a bow utterly dissolved as something occurred to her.

“Umm. Babe? We determined that there is pretty much no other reason that Mipsy would answer to me other than the fact that we are bonded and she can see it, right?”

“Right.” Draco suddenly got a sinking feeling he’d missed something.

“Right… So, assuming they’ve noticed that one of their main house elves now answers to a second Mistress… wouldn’t it therefore actually make sense that your parents already know and… perhaps… that fact might explain at least some of their… erm… enthusiasm? Like maybe they’re aware but waiting for you to say something to them?”

Draco thought that possibility through and realized…

Shit. His parents totally already knew. They knew before he knew… which felt a bit bullshit…

And he was a giant idiot for not realizing all of that… immediately.

Or at least a lot earlier.

Just… Wow.

“You might have a point.” He murmured, blushing.

Hermione nodded, thinking her own unimpressed thoughts about how neither of them had figured that out for so long. Still, though, she agreed with Draco’s reasoning about not wanting to discuss it with his parents until he was ready, or felt they were ready. Perhaps, by not bringing it up themselves, the Malfoys did too? It was a nice idea, anyway.

“Want to continue to not say anything to them anyway, though, and just see how long it takes them to crack?” She smiled.

Grinning like she’d just solved all his problems, Draco nodded enthusiastically. “Yes… Yes I do.”

One last realization dawned, making Hermione sigh. “And do you think they’ll crack before Pansy or… after?”

Chapter Text

“I don’t understand your issue! Mirrors are liars, Granger… Be a good maid of honor, drink the fucking polyjuice and start trying on the dresses! Chop Chop!" Pansy demanded, thrusting a flask at her and stamping her foot.

“Pansy… You cannot possibly be this high maintenance…” Pansy started to raise a brow and open her mouth before Hermione cut her off, holding up her hand. “NO… Do not answer that… Silly me. Give me the flask.” She held out a dejected hand, ignoring Pansy’s triumphant grin and the sound of Draco’s snorting laughter from outside the door where he’d obviously been eavesdropping. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she took a swig of the disgusting potion and thrust the flask back at her friend. It only took about fifteen-seconds before the feeling of being twisted inside-out took over, her skin burning and crackling and bubbling as she grew 4 inches and two cup sizes, her hair going from long chocolate curls to a sleek black bob.

“I am so stunning.” Real-Pansy sighed happily, making Hermione-Pansy scoff and roll her eyes so dramatically that she almost fell over backward.

“Humble, too.” She remarked drily, making the bride-to-be cackle with laughter and clap her hands with glee.

“Fuck humility, let’s get you in a wedding a dress! I want to see myself from all angles.” Real-Pansy rushed over to the rack of potential dresses she’d brought over and unzipped the first garment bag. Hermione-Pansy took a long swig of champagne straight from the bottle and began to undress.

Draco was in the kitchen putting snacks together for the witches when Ginny came rushing through the floo.

“Sorry I’m late!” She looked frantically around the loft and saw only Draco. “Where are they?”

“Oh… oh it’s so good…” He grinned evilly, pointing down the hall that led to the bedrooms. “Dressing room… Go. You’ll never even… Just trust me.” He nodded, handing her a plate of nibbles to take with her.

“Thanks!” Ginny dropped her purse and scampered down the hall, eager to see what could possibly be so funny. Draco counted down from five on his fingers, only getting to two before he heard Ginny’s wild howling laughter ring out through the apartment. Apparently she’d encountered the two Pansy’s… Draco chuckled to himself, happy for his old friend that she was getting married but also deeply entertained by how high maintenance she was being about it. Poor Neville…

The girls had transfigured a large platform and expanded Hermione’s regular 3-way mirror to be about twice as wide to accommodate the width of some of the gowns. After Draco had supplied the girls with snacks he’d retreated to the study to get some more work done, wanting to leave them to it. It did make him smile though to occasionally hear their giggling penetrate through several walls and several thousand square feet; it meant they were having a wonderful time.

“Pans how do you walk around every day with tits this big?!” Hermione whined, her hands constantly drawn to them to hoist them up or adjust them in some way. She’d never felt so grateful for her own B/C cups in her life before and couldn't wait to get back to her own body.

“A combination of lingerie and sticking charms, Granger. Plus, look in the mirror. You look fantastic.” Real-Pansy smirked. If it weren’t so true then Hermione might scoff but there was something to be said for the va-va-voom rack she was currently sporting. It filled out a gown well… but damn it was heavy!

“True… but I don’t think this is your gown, is it?” Hermione asked, turning this way and that way. The drop-waist style and sweetheart neckline of the strapless beaded bodice were stunning, as was the ethereal skirt made of an almost gauze-like material, but it wasn’t quite Pansy.

“No… I do love it, but not for me. Perhaps I’ll charm it another color for you two…” Pansy considered. “Sit down Granger, it’s my turn.” She shoo-ed Hermione over to sit in her seat and had Ginny help her into the next gown. Hermione sat there muttering to herself about how if she wanted to try gowns on herself then why did she make her maid of honor drink fucking polyjuice...

“Because I’m the bride and I have whims, Granger, deal with it. What about this one?” Pansy stepped onto the platform in what was essentially gown number seven, yet only the first she’d tried on herself. Immediately both Hermione and Ginny oooohed.

The dress was unique, and so completely Pansy… An ivory silk, it looked from the back and sides like a full-skirted ballgown. From the front, however, you could see that the skirt was a whole second piece layered on top of the real dress and entirely open in the front, revealing the dress underneath it - a knee-length strapless cocktail sheath. It reminded Hermione almost exactly of a dress Audrey Hepburn wore in Sabrina and it was perfect…

“Pans… that is it…” Ginny grinned, fluffing the ballgown skirt.

“She’s right, you look amazing.” Hermione stood up, nodding enthusiastically as their friend got teary-eyed.

Real-Pansy ran her hands over the fabric and turned a little, but she agreed. She felt it. This was the one. Hermione grabbed Ginny for balance as her potion wore off, suddenly shrinking back to her shorter, curlier-haired self again. The gown she was still wearing had automatic tailoring charms on it so the rather large air-gap between her boobs and the dress only lasted a moment or so before she found herself, as herself, also standing in her dressing room in a wedding gown.

“Oh Hermione…” Ginny gasped.

“What?” Hermione had a horrid notion that the potion-reversion had left her with one blue eye or something and turned quickly to the mirror, only to find her two friends smiling softly at her in the reflection and nothing wrong with her appearance at all. Only then did she take in how she looked in the gown that Pansy had said no to… “Oh.”

Pansy smiled softly and stepped off the platform, motioning to Ginny to help her drag Hermione onto it.

“Oh but I’m not…!”

“Oh just get on there, Mione!” Ginny all but shoved her friend up there, fluffing the skirt for her once she was. None of them said anything for a minute, neither Pansy nor Ginny wanting to push.

“Gin can you help out of this? This is definitely the one…” Pansy murmured, letting Hermione be. It took her a minute of staring at herself but eventually she snapped out of it. “So, umm… one of you unzip me, yeah?” Hermione asked, stepping down. Ginny and Pansy eyed each other, not saying a word about anything, just nodding and helping her. If Hermione didn’t want to or wasn’t ready to gush about wedding dresses for herself they wouldn’t push her.

“Harry said he’d be here by 7 with pizza. Pans are you staying?” Hermione asked, helping her friend shrink down the gowns to take back with her.

“No, I’m having dinner with Narcissa and doing the invitations.” She reminded them.

“Fuck… Should I be doing them with you?” Hermione asked, not sure how much help her friend would need from her with such a tight time window.

“No no, Narcissa is a pro at this. Plus you have bigger things to deal with and your handwriting is… subpar.” She shuddered and patted Hermione condescendingly on the arm. Hermione wanted to be offended but she couldn’t be bothered, choosing instead to just agree and laugh as she hugged her friend goodbye.

“Mipsy?” Hermione called.

“Young Mistress has need for Mipsy?!” The elf couldn’t have been more chuffed. It literally would not have been possible and Hermione tried not to blush.

“Hi Mipsy… Yes. Umm. Could you please help Pansy? She’s dining with your Mistress at the Manor tonight but needs to transport all these gowns back to her studio first.”

Hermione had steadfastly been avoiding the gazes of her two friends but now had no choice but to look over at their smirking faces. Bitches.

“Of course, Missy Hermione, right away!” Mipsy and the gowns disappeared with a pop.

“Shut up. Both of you.” Hermione deadpanned, squinting at her two best friends. Both girls held their hands up in mock surrender that Hermione didn’t believe for a fucking second.

Mipsy popped back in, all smiles. “Does Young Mistress need anything else before Mipsy takes Missy Pansy to Malfoy Manor?”

Hermione swallowed her guilt and discomfort with an audible gulp. “No, I don’t think so, Mip, thank you. Just say hi to Narcissa and Lucius for me.” She nodded and waved awkwardly while the little elf agreed with so much happiness that she literally bounced, her two friends snickering away behind their hands. Hermione made sure to pinch Pansy nice and hard right as Mipsy was popping her away, hearing Ow! and seeing her eyes blazing with annoyance right as she disapparated. Turning to Ginny who was still chuckling away, Hermione sighed.

“Alright, go ahead.” She sighed.

“No no, I’m not saying anything!” Ginny promised, waving her off and heading out of the dressing room.

“Oh no? Nothing? No ‘Hermione, why does a Malfoy house elf call you Mistress?!’ maybe?” Hermione poked her friend in the ribs, assuming she was like Pansy and knew but was genuinely not saying anything. But apparently not, because Ginny suddenly gasped, turning around as the revelation Hermione had just made hit her like a bludger.

“OH MY GODS YOU HAVE A SOUL BOND?!” Ginny cried, shocked to her core.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, wanting to kick herself.

“I thought you already knew.”

Ginny opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to reason that out. “I didn’t grow up with house elves!” She finally hissed, slapping her friend on the arm.

Hermione chuckled. “Fair enough…”

Ginny looked around, not seeing the Ferret anywhere and dropping her voice to a pseudo-whisper. “Is that how you found out? The elf?”

Hermione shook her head and gathered up the dishes from their snacks and drinks. “No… we have multiple sources.” She laughed.

“Love? You girls done?” Draco called as he walked toward them from down the hall; he’d have felt the wards a moment ago. Hermione and Ginny headed toward the kitchen with the dishes and met him halfway.

“We are indeed. Pansy just left.”

Draco leaned down and gave her a smooch, taking the dishes off her hands and vanishing them to the sink. “Did you girls have fun? Success?”

Ginny looked between them, wide-eyed with her new knowledge and seemingly unable to speak because of it. Soul Bonds were incredibly rare magic, after all. Still though, her reaction was amusing. Hermione rolled her eyes and spoke for her. “Yep to both. Pansy found a great dress and I have never felt more grateful for my modest breast size.” She grinned as Draco burst out laughing.

“Modest is not how we describe perfection, my love.” He laughed, making her preen. He looked toward Ginny and quirked a brow, wondering what melted her brain.

“Oh, I called Mipsy… so Ginny figured out… you know.” Hermione shrugged as Draco caught on.

“I see… well I bet you at least made Mip’s day, no?” This finally broke Ginny out of her awed stupor and into a little laughter.

“Yes, yes, let’s all make fun of Hermione and how awkward she is with house elves.” Hermione groused, flopping onto the sofa.

“She just loves you so much, Mione!” Ginny cried, making it even worse and making Draco laugh even harder. Hermione just scowled.

The lift Ding’ed, signaling Auror Potter’s arrival with dinner. Hermione quickly turned to Ginny with a serious face. “Do NOT tell Harry. I mean it Ginny, not yet. Promise me.”

Ginny nodded, motioning for her friend to calm down. If she understood anything it was that her husband was an overprotective moron.

Draco mouthed Thank you as he got up to go rustle up plates and drinks. Ginny nodded, liking him more and more with each visit.

“Hey Mione, Gin… Malfoy…” Harry came in a bit out of breath carrying two large pizzas. He was in his modified Auror robes, meaning he’d been liaising with the muggle authorities that day. Draco wouldn’t have caught it and even Ginny didn’t immediately make the connection, but Hermione did. The hairs on the back of her neck went up the second she saw Harry’s uniform and she stood up from the sofa, all color draining from her face, practically immediately. Draco may not have understood why but he was by her side in seconds, his hand in hers and his lips against her temple to calm her magic and steady her heart rate.

Harry put the pizzas down, nodding a bit sadly. He saw his wife catch on that something serious was amiss, sinking back onto the sofa.

“We need to talk.”

Harry and Hermione locked eyes for a moment. He hadn’t brought a folder this time, but his uniform and his apologetic eyes said plenty.

“You’ve been with the Metropolitan Police today.” Hermione said, already knowing the answer. Draco’s surprise was well hidden, though he clutched her hand a bit tighter and his breath hitched.

“Yeah.” Harry confirmed, giving her a minute. Hermione nodded, finally breaking eye contact and sat, taking Draco with her. With Ginny on one side and Draco on the other, she felt confident she could take it. Somehow she just knew it was bad. Worse than the folder, even. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, she just… knew.

Metropolitan Police didn’t pull in the Aurors for nothing.

“This is going to be hard to hear.” Harry began, sitting in one of the club chairs across from them.

“Harry, please, just-”

“Mione, I’m not just speaking to you. I’m speaking to my wife, too.” Harry reminded her gently. Immediately Hermione felt terrible, yet also terribly curious. Something new must have developed for it to be worth a new warning for Ginny.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, squeezing Ginny’s hand.

“Harry, it’s fine, just say what you need to say.” Ginny reassured him, sure that nothing could touch her any more than what Ron had already done. Unfortunately, she was wrong.

“The good news is that he’s in custody.” Harry began. “A Metropolitan Police and Auror dual task force arrested him in the early hours of this morning.”

It felt like the wind was knocked out of Hermione’s chest and she couldn’t get it back because she knew there was bad news coming. Thankfully Draco could still speak because she couldn’t.

“What’s the bad news, Potter.” He asked plainly, braced for a hit.

Harry took a deep breath, looking at his shoes, then looked up, meeting each of their faces in turn. “He killed someone. A prostitute. She was reported missing from Camden a week ago and her body was fished out of the Thames on Friday. I only found out when I got on shift at midnight last night. He’s being charged with homicide… on top of the rest of it.”

Hermione was numb, staring into space, the wood grain of her coffee table going from stark relief to a fuzzy blur as she forgot to blink. “You said… you said before that muggle authorities had enough on him to put him away for 20 years but that didn’t include this Harry so what did it include… what did he do…?”

“You mean before…” Harry sighed.

“Yes Harry I mean before he murdered some innocent girl!” She cried, seconds away from breaking.

Harry hated telling her this. He knew she’d feel responsible. But he couldn’t lie, and he refused to keep important secrets either. The best he could hope for is that she would never ask or find out what they looked like… the victims.

“Rape.”

Hermione broke.

Chapter Text

“You said… you said before that muggle authorities had enough on him to put him away for 20 years but that didn’t include this Harry so what did it include… what did he do…?”

“You mean before…” Harry sighed.

“Yes Harry I mean before he murdered some innocent girl!” She cried, seconds away from breaking.

Harry hated telling her this. He knew she’d feel responsible. But he couldn’t lie, and he refused to keep important secrets either. The best he could hope for is that she would never ask or find out what they looked like… the victims.

“Rape.”

Hermione broke.

“Hermione-” Potter croaked, rapidly realizing he may have made a colossal error.

She only sobbed louder, shaking her head no no no at Harry and curling in on herself, her hand in Draco’s squeezing so tight.

“Potter, is there anything urgent you need from her? From us?” Draco asked plainly, wanting to get his girl alone, to bed and cuddling as soon as possible, away from all this. Her magic was going haywire and she was sobbing.

“No… I mean…” Harry seemed at a loss, Hermione’s reaction immensely more dramatic, more emotionally volatile than he’d expected. Had he missed something? “Mione, I…”

Ginny wanted to murder her husband for being such a fucking idiot. Had he never met Hermione? The girl who took the blame for every one of his screwups and misdeeds in school out of loyalty, the girl with a sense of responsibility and guilt as wide as the entire British fucking Isles?! Did he not understand that the second he told her this news, she would immediately and perhaps irrevocably blame herself?! Why oh WHY were men such IDIOTS?!

“Harry, we should go.” She murmured, looking pointedly at him so he knew not to argue.

“But…!” Harry wafted his hand at his hysterical friend, once again unable to read social cues. Ginny sighed, disappointed that he’d been stupid enough to argue anyway; she turned to Hermione, laying a hand gently on her shuddering back and peeking under her curtain of curls to speak in as soothing a tone as she could.

“Love, Harry and I are going to go so that Draco can take care of you now, alright? But we’re only a floo call away if you need anything.” She immediately snapped her fingers and held up her other hand to stop her husband from objecting, again, to that plan as Hermione nodded and blubbered some sort of response acknowledging and thanking her. Draco murmured a ‘Thank you’ as well and threw a death glare at Harry before standing and scooping Hermione up in his arms as she sobbed and curled into his chest.

Ginny dragged her spluttering husband through the floo by his ear as Draco carried her toward the bedroom, murmuring softly to her every step of the way.

“Come on, love… you’re alright… sshhhh… let’s just have a lie down… everything’s going to be okay… I’m here… I’ve got you…”

Settling Hermione onto the bed and cuddling her close, Draco let her cry it out against his neck and shoulder. It hurt him, it hurt him so much to feel and hear her so broken. She was crying so hard that he worried she’d hyperventilate; at some points she was trying to talk back to him through her sobs but he couldn’t make much of it out really, so he just continued to try to soothe her as best he could. The closest he could get to understanding her was the one thing she kept repeating, saying ‘it’s all my fault’ over and over; it felt like a knife to his heart to hear that and was not at all true, but he could understand why she felt that way at the moment. He had plenty of guilt about his own past and he knew the pain of looking backwards and thinking ‘if I’d only done XYZ, then others wouldn’t have been hurt’; it was a slippery slope, the ‘if-only’s’.

He wished so badly that he knew how to fix this for her, to ease the pain, but he genuinely didn’t have a magic cure for this one and it felt like it was killing him. The best he could offer was his love and murmuring comforting nonsense in the hope that at least some of it would get through.

“It’s NOT your fault, it’s HIS fault, he’s the bad guy, you’re my sweet girl, my good girl… I know, I know you feel so bad sweetheart, it’s because you have such a big heart… I love you so much… This isn’t your fault… I love you so much, Princess… you’re okay, it’s gonna be okay… I’ve got you…”

Eventually she exhausted herself, her sobs turning to hiccups and sighs and finally the deep, evenly spaced breaths of sleep. However, her breath was not the usual relaxed and adorable snores he was used to; instead it sounded more like little huffs and puffs, as if even in sleep she was still exuding anguish - too tired to be awake and crying, but not too tired to still be devastated. Draco’s heart ached, as if he could literally feel her pain with her… yet he also felt impotent in his inability to magic it away.

He didn’t know how long he lay there holding her but he didn’t dare move for fear of disturbing the minor respite she’d found in oblivion. Darkness fell around them and hours passed before she stirred even an inch, her eyelashes eventually fluttering against his skin that was still sticky from her tears despite half the night having passed. Draco felt overwhelmed with love for her as he watched her slowly wake up, sniffly and miserable and clinging to him as though he were her only hope. “Hey beauty… How are you feeling?” He whispered, pushing her curls back from her face. For whatever reason he hadn’t even slept yet, he’d just lay there the whole time, thoughtful as he watched over her.

“Awful… like my head is going to explode from all that crying.” She sniffled, nuzzling rather pitifully into his shirt and closing her eyes again, basking in the soothing comfort of his fingers stroking her scalp.

“I bet… Will you let me get you a pain potion, Princess? Or some dinner? Please?”

Hermione felt herself tear up again, feeling guilty that she’d made him miss dinner… And now he was taking such lovely care of her, and… she just felt so guilty!

“Hey… Sweetheart, come on now. I know you feel horrid, darling, but this isn’t on you. I know how it must feel right now with the news so fresh and so terribly… terrible, but truly my love, it really isn’t on you. It’s on him and him alone…” Hermione couldn’t agree even though she knew, rationally, that he was right… she just kept shaking her head as tears ran rivers down her cheeks. “I know…” He crooned softly, stroking her cheek.

“Of all people, I know how hard it is to fight that feeling like hindsight is omniscient, sweetheart, truly I do… It’s okay to cry. Cry as much and as long as you need to and I will always be here to hold you. But please, please at least let me get a headache potion and some food in you, too? Just a little bit? I know you’re dehydrated, more with every tear sliding down those pretty cheeks, and that’s only making your head hurt worse and worse, my love. Please?” He begged, cuddling and imploring her so sweetly that she found herself nodding despite the fact that eating anything felt akin to climbing Everest on crutches.

His immediate and overwhelming relief and happiness was so blatant at her agreement, however, that it made her feel like the effort, however monumental, would be worth it.

“Yeah? Oh, good girl… Do you mind if I call Mipsy? She can get the new sinus headache potion, that’s the good stuff that’ll really help you, from my lab’s storeroom as well as bring you whatever comfort food you want to eat. Anything you want, baby, you name it.” Draco’s eyes were so hopeful that she couldn’t have refused even if she’d wanted to, so Hermione just nodded again, sniffling and in pain and overall feeling a right mess.

“Mipsy?” Draco called softly, aware it was sometime in the middle of the night and also not wanting to aggravate Hermione’s headache. The elf appeared with a soft pop, making Hermione wonder if she somehow tempered the sound level of her apparition due to the time. Elf magic really was bizarrely fascinating.

“Master Draco?” Mipsy whispered rather loudly, like a child might. It actually made Hermione chuckle a little through her tears which thrilled Draco; whatever works would be his new motto if only he could hear the sound of her laughter again.

“Sorry to bother you so late, Mips, but it’s been a rough night over here. Could you please fetch a sinus headache potion for Hermione from my storeroom and… What would you like to eat, sweetheart?”

Hermione felt rather nauseated so if she was being honest, nothing… but she knew that wouldn’t fly, and really, she should eat something.

“If Mipsy might make a suggestion… Tilly and Pip made bread pudding tonight, Missy Hermione.” Mipsy said casually, apparently reading her like a book. She was a little elfin saleswoman and Hermione perked right up hearing that information.

“…Oh? What kind?”

“It bes bread and butter pudding with sultanas, Missy Hermione. With fresh cream.”

Upon further reflection, Hermione felt she could handle eating that.

For Tilly. And Pip.

In bulk.

“Umm. Okay, that sounds good. Please.” She sniffled and nodded shyly. Draco smirked feeling victorious, nodding his thanks with a hidden thumbs-up to Mipsy’s excellent Slytherin tactics and seconding the order before she popped off with a grin and a wink. She was back in under three minutes, a vial of potion and an entire casserole dish of pudding just for them, warm from the oven and doused in cream.

She also brought Hermione a stack of emerald green handkerchiefs embroidered with the Malfoy crest and, hilariously, Draco’s stuffed dragon from his childhood bedroom.

“She brought me a second you!” Hermione chuckled, holding up the stuffy after she’d gone.

Draco was mortified but also found her adorable holding his childhood toy. He’d always gotten comfort from it so who was he to deny her? Plus, it was rather sweet of Mipsy to do… Again he found himself having that yearning in his gut and his heart and his magic for children with her.

Sooo not the time, he chastised himself sternly.

“His name is Mortimer.” He corrected awkwardly, glad the room was dark so she couldn’t see how much he was blushing and rolling his eyes at himself. “He’s very… er, comforting, so… yeah, you should definitely borrow him.”

Hermione grinned so hard her face hurt with how much she loved this man, hugging fluffy Mortimer tight as Draco fed her bread pudding. “Thank you.”

“Mmhmm. Did the pain potion help?” Draco asked, indulging in a huge bite of pudding for himself. He’d been fine missing dinner but it was catching up with him now.

“Immensely, and quickly too! Thank you. It even tasted pretty good. You should mass market that formula, especially during cold season. Truly, I feel loads better. Thank you for going the extra mile for the special stuff. I love you.” Hermione kissed his cheek. As always she was quite impressed by what a genius potioneer he was, but this was her first time trying one of his creations as a patient. It might have been a small feat on the scale of his achievements but she’d genuinely been shocked over the last few minutes to feel her symptoms fade so quickly and so completely.

Draco nodded, glad it had done its job. “Always, always the extra mile for you…” Draco leaned down and rested his forehead on hers for just a few seconds for comfort before kissing it and sitting back up to feed them both more pudding. “And that formula will go wide this year in time for cold season, I hope. It’s patent-pending but I should hear back any day. I'm not concentrating on low-level potions like that right now but when I come up with one, I run with it. You finished, love?”

Hermione nodded and sighed, belly full and eyes finally dry. She finally felt a bit better. Cuddling Draco’s purple dragon stuffy was weirdly cathartic, too… smart Mipsy. The minute Draco left the room to put the leftover pudding in the fridge, though, and the comfort and calming presence of his magic left her immediate vicinity with him, the brilliance of Mipsy’s little gift became even more apparent. It was as if a small amount of the same feeling emanated from the little stuffed dragon, like a little Draco-battery she could draw upon in an emergency. If there was ever going to be one defining moment where it really truly clicked for Hermione about how special the magical bond was between house elves and their families, it was this one, and she’d remember it for the rest of her life.

Draco came back into the bedroom to find her staring at Mortimer like he held the secrets of life and the Universe as well; it was mildly disconcerting. “Babe? You alright?”

“Huh?” Hermione looked up and realized she’d been caught having an existential moment again, something that usually gave her weird faces apparently.

“You looked like you were performing rather novice legilimency on my dragon.” Draco chuckled, climbing back into bed.

Hermione laughed at that, wishing she could. She’d bet little Mortimer would have some very funny stories of Draco as a bratty little boy were that possible. “No, no… but I just had a revelation about our soul bond I think.”

“Oh?” That piqued Draco’s interest. He admittedly didn’t know much about them; they were so rare that beyond being coveted the details of how they worked or what they felt like wasn’t widely known.

“Yeah… I realized how your magic was like…” Hermione paused, trying to find the right words to describe it without sounding unbearably lame. “Hugging me?”

“My magic was hugging you?” Draco repeated, not wanting to sound skeptical but also… huh?

“Hear me out. I was so upset and it was as though your magic surrounded me and calmed me down, it soothed me… You know, like a weighted blanket for the sympathetic nervous system. I didn’t even realize it was doing it, not consciously anyway, until you left to go to the kitchen and took your magic with you.”

Draco began to understand now and it made more sense. “Thus taking the… soothing blanket of magic with me? I see…”

“Exactly! I could literally feel it going away, going with you! I could even feel that you were in the kitchen, specifically! Or, rather, behind me and to my left… which is where the kitchen is. It was like a subtle pull."

Draco was impressed by that, but it made sense with what he’d heard. The closer soulmated couples became, the more aware of each other’s magic they were. One thing still stood out though. “What does any of this have to do with Mortimer? Or does it? I’m confused on that bit…” If she hadn’t been staring so oddly at his childhood stuffy he wouldn’t have even mentioned it… but she really had been.

Hermione laughed, hugging the dragon closer. “I figured out why Mipsy brought him to me!” She smiled. “It’s sortof the same reason she brought me the hankies, though for a different purpose… She saw, maybe even felt how upset I was! Mortimer has some of your magic leftover from when you were a child… not a lot of it, but enough that I can feel you when I hold him.”

It took Draco a minute to get it, but once he did, his heart utterly melted for how sweet and thoughtful his nanny elf was. “So… she brought it to you in case I had to leave you alone for a bit, so… you wouldn’t actually have to be without me?”

Hermione nodded, smiling.

In all the years of his growing up and all the hundreds of thoughtful things Mipsy had done for him as she helped raise him, Draco honestly couldn’t think of a thing he was more grateful for than this one.

He’d finally gotten her to sleep again with the help of half a vial of Dreamless Sleep potion. She’d been too scared of nightmares to attempt it otherwise, staring despondently into the darkness and refusing to talk more about it all for fear of another bout of sobbing she just couldn’t take at the moment. So it was either stare and let her mind run wild with terrible thoughts or take the potion… in the end, he hadn’t had to work too hard on selling that option, letting her climb on top of him like a little koala again before she fell asleep.

Her only condition was that he take the other half and he had, though his old wartime tolerance made it take a while to kick in. He was glad of that though; it allowed him to ensure she fell asleep soundly… safely. If the world didn’t feel so much like it was falling to shit around their ears, he might even have laughed about the fact that it was a bit odd, having Mortimer in the bed with the two of them… but he just couldn’t find laughter in himself anywhere.

Tuesday morning dawned and Draco assumed the best thing he could do was cancel his appointment with The Boy Who Was a Total Fucking Idiot for the Lordship claim meeting at Gringott’s and to stay home instead, giving his witch his full attention. However, when he brought this up to Hermione, who from the moment she woke up was again staring into space and existing in a state of pure despair, she told him he should go, that it was important.

“My darling… you are what is important! You are everything! Holding Potter’s hand while he identifies himself to the goblins, who by the way already know who he is and probably epically judge him for not having done this little errand the day of his 17th birthday or at least as soon as the war was over, is just… a fucking favor!” Draco cried, looking at her like she was insane for not understanding that she came first for him, that she would always come first for him. He almost seemed… hurt by it. Hermione of course immediately started to cry again, which made Draco feel terrible and more than a little confused. “What…? No! My love please don’t cry… I’m sorry! I… I know it’s important that Potter get this done, I wasn’t trying to undermine-”

“I know that!” Hermione sobbed, an absolute crying mess. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I don’t know you love me! Of course I know that! I promise!” She dissolved into sobs nearly as bad as the night before and Draco felt just as helpless if not more so. At least the night before it had been very clear-cut what she’d been crying about… now she’d gone from catatonic to hysterical and the trigger had been whether he’d help Potter at the bank? Draco didn’t get it…

“My love please talk to me… I can’t help if I don’t understand.” He murmured to her, rubbing her back and holding her close, her body in a tight ball of misery in his lap. At first it was just more of the squeaking akin to dolphin sounds and the gut-wrenching wailing like the night before, her words not quite able to fully form around her wracking sobs. Eventually though, he was able to make it out, and his heart broke… again. Or perhaps it broke more, yet again he wasn’t sure, he just knew it was awful.

“Ww-why didn’t I rr-report him?! If I’d just… If I’d just rr-reported him… that gg-girl would still be alive! She’s dead… because of me! Because I’m a coward… because I just wanted it to be over, to be left alone… I just wanted my… my mum! I just wanted my mum…”

Draco closed his eyes and sighed, hugging her tight. “Oh my love, of course you did, of course you wanted your mum… And I promise you, this isn’t because of you! You are not a coward! You are the bravest witch I have ever met! You spent every year of school and the entire bloody war taking care of everyone else, making sure they were okay, making sure they lived, they survived… that they came out whole… You deserved to be taken care of, too! You deserved for this never to have happened in the first place, especially by someone you trusted, someone you’d kept alive and whole all those years… but it did happen, and while I understand completely how awful you feel about what Weasley went on to do afterwards, I cannot allow you to feel guilty for finally, for once, taking the care you deserved for yourself! You deserve to-”

“But I should have known that-!”

“That what? That he wasn’t just a friend a bit messed up from the war who wasn’t hearing ‘no’ from the witch he was obsessing over a bit too hard like it seemed, maybe? You truly think you should have been able to foresee that he’d go on to rape other women? To murder a woman? No one else, mind you, just you… What happened to you being convinced that Divination is thestral shit, my little skeptic, hmm?” He asked plainly, looking her right in the eye so softly as he cupped her cheeks.

She had no answer to that. She truly didn’t. Looking back, she would never, ever have foreseen Ron doing this. Even at his absolute worst, she had genuinely thought that he’d only been obsessed with her… that if she was removed from his orbit that he’d figure himself out and grieve Fred and eventually he would find someone else, someone more… him. A Lavender-type. She knew she’d never forgive him, she knew she’d never want to see him ever again, but she genuinely thought that his behavior started and stopped with herself. It was selfish and naive, she realized, to assume that, but she had assumed it all the same.

And, apparently, it had cost a life.

Draco sighed, watching her silently castigating herself for whatever new angle of sin she’d come up with. “My darling, you were not the only one aware of what he’d done to you, remember? In fact, if you ask me you are the least culpable of everyone who was aware of it, and there are quite a few names on that list. Your friends. His parents and siblings. Even your healers could have made a report or pushed for one given your injuries. Yet no one did… It wasn’t just you who thought it was best left in the past, my sweet…”

Hermione let that sink in and realized that he was right.

Again.

She wasn’t the only one who could have said something if they’d had concerns…

“But… I was the… victim! Gods I hate that word… But that makes it my responsibility, right? No one else’s… right?” She felt so weak and icky and lost.

“Sweetheart, it’s just a word. Don’t let it hold any power over you, because you really are the strongest witch I’ve ever known, despite what he did to you that night, what he tried to do… And to me, the fact that you were the one injured, hurting, upset and in the hospital wishing your mum was there with you… Baby, no one in their right mind would be expecting you to be getting out your divining rod to predict your attacker’s future behavior at that point! If anyone should have been doing that, it was Potter, but honestly, I think even he gets a pass here! No one is to blame for this, sweetheart, but Ronald Weasley, and Ronald Weasley alone. I beg you… do not do this to yourself.”

It took a moment or two but Hermione nodded, her chin wobbling as her eyes overflowed some more, this time perhaps in relief. She still felt terribly guilty, but he was right, she supposed. It just still hurt so much. But she’d try.

“I’ll be fine… I promise.” Hermione assured him. The only reason she wasn’t crying anymore is simply because she seemed to be occluding so hard that it was enabling her to take some sort of break in order to come speak to his father of all fucking people… It had been such an odd request and she wouldn’t even tell him why. She just kept insisting that Draco use the time to go help Harry navigate Gringott’s while she ask Lucius about something, muttering about how it would ‘help’ and how ‘Lucius will tell me the truth…’

Knowing his father, that seemed ominous as fuck to Draco but there was no way in hell he was going to deny her anything, not today, likely not ever, but definitely not today.

They arrived at the Manor without notice mid-morning and headed for Lucius’s study, Draco planning to pick her up again on his way back. He honestly really had not wanted to leave the loft, preferring to treat her melancholy with desserts and Disney films and leave Potter to figure his shit out for himself for once, but she’d insisted. Needless to say, Lucius went from thrilled to see them to terrified quick enough to cause whiplash as soon as he saw that Hermione was being escorted in as a sniffly, red-eyed mess holding a stuffy. He looked to his son with pure panic but sadly Draco had no answers for him what with not knowing why Hermione wanted to talk to his father in the first place. All he knew was that if his father upset her further, he’d fucking murder him dead.

“Draco, Hermione, what, err, brings you…?” Lucius asked nervously.

Draco settled Hermione in one of the green leather chairs in front of Lucius’s desk, petting her hair and making sure she was comfortable. “I’m not sure, Father. Hermione wanted to speak to you and I’ve a meeting with the goblins with Potter to get to… I thought the two of you could chat and I’d swing by afterwards if that’s alright?” Draco kept an eye on his silent and sad girlfriend, toting Mortimer around with no shame and somehow still ridiculously beautiful despite having been crying her eyes out for the majority of the morning and the evening prior.

“Ahhh…” Lucius looked like if he were on a ship, he’d jump. “Of course, son! We’ll have tea!” His voice had gone up an entire register and he was gripping the edge of his desk rather desperately, but at least he’d agreed. “I’ll just walk you out, shall I?” Lucius was quick as a cat, herding Draco toward the floo parlor. “Quick, what is this about and why does it look like she’s been crying since the beginning of time, Draco?!”

“I don’t know and because she has been! Get back in there do not fuck this up!” Draco hissed, bodily shoving his father back into his office and peeking in behind him, his face morphing back into the embodiment of calm and adoring. “I love you, darling… I’ll be back as soon as I possibly can, alright? Remember, if you need me… just hug Mortimer, yeah?”

Hermione gave a watery chuckle and waved him off, reminding him that Harry wasn’t exactly popular with the goblins and likely was waiting for him before going inside the bank at all. Draco grumbled about how stupid bloody Gryffindors maybe shouldn’t break into banks if they’re going to be scaredy-cats when the goblins hate them later in life and stomped back off toward the floo again, leaving Lucius and Hermione in very awkward silence.

“You seem terribly upset, my dear.” Lucius said softly, offering her one of the apparently infinite Malfoy crest-embroidered handkerchiefs.

“Thank you… Sorry, I’ve been blubbering since last evening and it is getting rather exhausting.” Hermione sniffled, accepting it gratefully. She’d forgotten hers at home.

“Would you like some tea? I find that a good cuppa can cure all manner of ills.” He asked kindly, opting to sit next to her rather than returning to sitting behind his desk.

“That would be a balm, yes, thank you… and thank you for being so gracious about me intruding so rudely on your morning like this.”

Lucius admitted to himself that once the initial panic of seeing her so upset had gone, he was terribly curious, and he found himself feeling awfully soft toward her and wanted to ease whatever was making her feel such obvious pain. He assumed it had to do with the Weasley business but that was just a guess.

“Oh, nonsense my dear, you’re always welcome here. You simply caught me by surprise, that’s all. Flip?”

“Master Lucius called, sir?” The elfin version of Fitzy but far more serious… and wearing tails and spats. Hermione found Flip hilarious.

“Could you bring a tea service please.”

“Right away, sir.”

“Thank you.” Lucius murmured, eyeing his young companion who was suddenly smirking to herself until his elf had gone. “You and my son have some joke about elves… I had thought you a crusader for elvish welfare at one point but now I’m not so sure.” He quirked his eyebrow at her, curious if she’d let him in on the folly. When she burst out laughing he felt as though he’d performed the most spectacular magic given how dejected she’d seemed only a moment or two earlier. In fact he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a warmth in his chest. It was a lovely, fatherly feeling he could get used to with this witch.

“Oh… I was! I am… It’s just… It’s such a silly joke, I don’t know whether you’ll laugh with me or at me.” She grinned at him and Lucius thought his future daughter really rather beautiful. He was genuinely so glad for his son.

“Try me.”

“Hmm… Alright. So remember when Draco and I told you that I’d taken him to my ancestral home where I grew up for a bit of a tour the other week?”

“I do.” Flip arrived with the tea service just then and set it on the little table between them. A tower of fresh scones and pastries smelled heavenly and he popped away as Lucius poured her a cup of tea. “How do you take your tea, my dear?”

“Just milk, please… thank you. Anyway, I had planned to go to the house that day in any case, letting my father’s steward know to ready the house for my parents return from Africa next month. When I told Draco that I needed to speak to Fitzy, he assumed we had a house elf… in our muggle house.”

Lucius chuckled hard at this because he would have assumed exactly the same thing. A human named Fitzy… the indignity!

“Yes, exactly! Short for Fitzgerald of course but you can see where you'd make the mistake. It brought about the most fabulous conversation that I’d been waiting my whole life as a witch to have… You see, for reasons that utterly escape me, the muggle aristocracy give each other nicknames during childhood or adolescence… you know in boarding school or whatever… I swear to you, Lucius, they all sound like bloody house elves!” She smiled as Lucius openly guffawed like a peasant.

“Oh… Oh I beg you… examples!” He laughed, his eyes positively dancing with mirth. Now he understood what she and Draco must have been laughing about when they arrived for dinner that first night and it made total sense.

“Well you’ve met Goldie! However that one rather skirts the fence; I’ll share with you the same ones as I shared with Draco, my personal favorites… Take my mother, to start. My mother is a Duchess, remember, yet she insists people call her Kitty… as in, meow. She’s a royal, Lucius, it’s unseemly! Her father is Prince Edward for Merlin’s sake, yet she insists people refer to her as a mouse-hunting familiar! I make fun of her relentlessly about it of course, and give her cat toys and little fishy treats for her birthday.”

Lucius roared with laughter at that. “Oh! Draco’s favorite, a common one I am sad to say… Twink… Try keeping a straight face when a Lord or a Marquess introduces themselves at some horse show or polo match and says ‘just call me Twink!’” He tried to wave her off, wheezing with laughter, but she wasn’t done.

“Then of course there’s Tippy, another common one usually for girls, or its counterpart Tip, usually men and in my opinion extra unfortunate as its definition as a word is literally ‘garbage refuse.’” Hermione grinned to herself over her cup of tea as her boyfriend’s father was simply pink with laughter. However, she felt the melancholy seep right back into her bones the very next moment, like an ocean wave reclaiming the sand on the beach. It had been a nice respite though, laughing with him over something silly… and she had promised him that joke days and days ago.

“That… that is hysterical.” Lucius sighed, wiping an errant tear from the corner of his eye. Hermione hummed, not sure how to bridge the gap and ask about… what she’d come to ask about. It was so awkward.

“May I ask you something?” Lucius decided to help her out, which she infinitely appreciated.

“Of course.”

“Is that Mortimer you’ve got there?” His smile was friendly as he eyed the stuffy in her lap and she could tell he genuinely wasn’t judging, he was just curious. She couldn’t blame him. She was about to turn 23 for Merlin’s sake and here she was, carrying a stuffy around and crying… yeah, she really didn’t blame him for that question one bit.

“Oh… you noticed him, did you?” She smiled with a bit of a sigh, eyeing the baked treats she should probably partake in but couldn’t quite find the stomach for.

“I admit I hadn’t seen him in a while, so… he stood out, shall we say. Draco always did find him quite comforting as a boy, especially when he was upset. It’s sweet that he thought to lend him to you when you’re feeling down.” Lucius thought back to his son's interesting wording from earlier. If you need me, hug Mortimer… Was he being hyperbolic, or was there something more there?

Hermione figured she might as well come clean. “The credit actually goes to Mipsy for thinking of it. He has some of Draco’s latent magic in him… so he’s rather more calming than the average stuffy at the moment, especially for me.” She looked up at Lucius, curious to see how that admission landed. She found his face to be curiously emotional, in a sweet way.

“I’m very glad to hear that, Hermione.” He murmured. Something in his eyes felt so trustworthy, so… sorry… and so terribly genuine. “My son said there was something specific on your mind. I can only help if you tell me, my dear.” He said quietly, as if he could sense her anguish. She nodded, fresh tears filling her eyes but not spilling over.

“I… I wanted to ask you the most bizarre thing but it’s because I know you’ll tell me the truth.” She shrugged. “It isn’t that I don’t trust Draco or Harry or even Kingsley to do so… Hell I could even ask my solicitor if I wanted to, which I do not… I just, for some reason, felt like you’d give it to me straight, whereas they…” She shook her head and fidgeted with the handkerchief and the stuffy in her lap.

“Ask your question.” He offered plainly. Everything about his face, his tone and his demeanor told her that she was right - he would tell her the truth. He didn’t need to confirm it with words.

“You likely won’t have heard yet but… they caught Ron Weasley.” She began. He had heard but didn’t know any details yet. He didn’t want to prejudice the conversation so he simply sat and listened. “He, umm… He was stalking me and Draco because he is obsessed with me… You already know that, we talked about it the other night…” She felt so awkward and ashamed but she had to get through this part, the part they’d left out of the conversation over dinner. Cowardly as it was, it helped to close her eyes. “He tried to rape me, you see…”

The harsh gasp of Lucius’s breath caught her off-guard and she opened her eyes, finding devastation and horror and sadness and fury and… a father in front of her. There was something lovely about it, in a way.

“He… he hurt you?” Lucius stuttered, the fingertips of one hand loosely over his mouth and the other with a white-knuckled death grip on the arm of his chair. Hermione melted.

“He did… but not as badly as he wanted to. Harry got there just in time. I was in St. Mungo’s for a few days, but… I mean, he didn’t succeed in… raping me, you know, all the way… Just beat me and… stripped my clothes. That’s when Harry, um…” Hermione was mortified that the words had tumbled out of her mouth in that way, absolutely mortified…

“Oh my dear… my dear… I am so sorry…” Lucius keened, his heart aching for her. He was trying so hard to stay present, emotionally and literally, and not let his anger take over and drive him to go commit ginger murder, but it wasn’t easy. He couldn’t even imagine how Draco must have felt when he’d learned of it.

Hermione nodded, trying to get her tears back under control. She needed information, not to keep crying for bloody ever. “I’d been fending him off, his slowly escalating aggressive behavior and advances, since the end of the war and he’d got me pretty mentally groomed to the idea that no one would believe me or take my side if I tried to get help or if I tried to even tell anyone anything… Growing up, Harry always took his side in our group squabbles, so did Ron’s family members, it didn’t matter if I was right… so when this happened… even though everyone took my side wholeheartedly, Harry did, all of the Weasleys did… I didn’t trust it right away! And I just wanted it all to go away, to pretend it had never happened… to never see him again… I wanted my own mum… And I… I didn’t report him, Lucius. I told Kingsley at the time that I’d fallen down the stairs.”

She felt the shame wash over her, the regret, too. But she saw no recrimination from Lucius, none at all. In his eyes she saw only a ruthlessly contained fire and fury on her behalf, a fatherly love and a deep well of sadness that she’d ever had to go through such a thing. And regret. Regret that he’d ever had a part in her being hurt in the past too, in any manner or way. Like his son, Lucius had extremely expressive gray-blue eyes that seemed to often preclude the need for words, especially in conversations like this.

“Oh my dearest girl…” He sighed, squeezing her hand. There was no pity in his voice, just sympathy and affection. “Tell me how I can help you now. What can I do?” He asked, genuinely seeming almost desperate to help her. She’d come to him, now he was restless to be of some use.

“Lucius…” Her tears overflowed like rivers down her face as she looked at him. “He’s been raping muggle women… and he killed one!” She burst into active crying for a moment, clutching Mortimer to her chest until Draco’s magic seeped into her core, calming her down. Later Lucius would look back and be able to remember exactly how it did that and how it was amazing… but in the moment he was too preoccupied with his own overwhelming shock at what she’d said.

“If I had reported him…” She got herself under control again, swallowing it all down. This, this was what she’d come for… “If I had reported him… Tell me the truth, please. What would have happened?”

Lucius felt so many emotions all at once, it was almost enough to choke him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he squeezed her hand and took a very deep breath, considering that question. It wasn’t an easy one, and she was trusting him to tell her the truth… not the ideal version or best case scenario. She came to the back room politician for a reason. Opening his eyes, he realized for the first time just how easy it must have been for Draco to love her.

“I know this is hard, but you did the right thing, dearest.”

Hermione blinked a few dozen times, readying herself for his reasoning. “But… why? A girl is dead because… I didn’t…?” She looked to him as though he’d either condemn her or absolve her but either way, she needed to know… to understand… and she trusted him to tell her.

It was a heady thing, and Lucius did not take it lightly.

“Because, my dear…” Lucius sighed, unsure how harsh to be. How honest.

“You can tell me!” She pleaded.

“Dearest, the press would have eviscerated you as a ‘tease’ and interviewed people who hated you to back up their narrative to sell more papers. They’d have painted him as a war hero scorned, pitting you against him and pulling out every other affair you have had, or even been rumored to have had, since you entered the Wizarding world. He would have had an ace lawyer from a top firm working pro bono simply for the publicity of the case. It likely would have been an attractive woman, too, and she would have made it her mission to ruin you, to end your career and capitalize on your pain… He would have walked, with a book deal and with women lining up to comfort him and to badmouth you. You’d have been in danger of retaliation on multiple fronts, not just him, and your life would have been ruined on the public stage.”

Hermione already knew this but she had to pry, to push… to make sure… “But… but I was beaten to hell, Lucius, and I had my memories, too! Harry walked in and pulled him off me! Surely that evidence would have been enough…?”

Lucius was silent for a moment, which was an answer in itself. “The wizarding world, as you are finding with this Marriage Law, is pitifully behind when it comes to how we treat our women in the legal system. Public opinion has as much sway in court cases of things like sexual assault as evidence does, oftentimes it has far more. As of now, it is almost unheard of for a complaint like the one you’re talking about even making it to trial, let alone jail time for the perpetrator, and that is before you even consider the implications of blood status… Sadly, yes, that too would have worked against you… even now, even you, the war heroine you are, would be reduced back down to your sex and your blood status in trying to file a case such as this one; I’m sorry. Taking care of yourself, keeping yourself safe in Africa with your parents this past year… that was the smartest and best thing you could have done. I know it is tragic and horrible the crimes he has committed, but I do not believe there is anything you could have done to prevent this, Hermione… not by pressing charges. Not at all. And if you had stayed, you'd have been in danger. You did right. Forgive yourself.”

Hermione nodded somewhat absently, staring off into space as she absorbed what Lucius had said.

Putting her lingering guilt aside, grateful for how much he lessened her burden, she had to acknowledge that Lucius had made an excellent point.

The state of affairs... they were sooo wrong…

“Lucius?”

“Dearest?” The nickname was so sweet she could just about melt and she looked at him with as much love and forgiveness as she could muster.

“Thank you… But if that’s really what it’s like…?”

“Then you and I have some work to do, don’t we?” He smiled, hoping that was where she was going.

Hermione chuckled, wiping her face for the umpteenth time. “Ahh… what’s that line? ‘I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’”

“Is that from a book?”

“No, a very famous black and white film called ‘Casablanca’… You’d like it.”

Lucius considered a moment. “We could watch it together. Sometime?”

Hermione grinned, feeling better than she had since Harry had told her the news, by far. “I’d love that.”

Draco had been so focused on Hermione since Harry had dropped the bomb on them the night before that he had taken very little time to process just how furious he actually was at the man. He understood that he had a job to do and that he was genuinely imparting some fairly basic information the night before… he didn’t begrudge that. It was the manner of delivery. It was about reading the fucking room… It was about knowing your audience you daft fucking PLONKER!

Yeah, by the time he reached the bank, he’d reached his zenith of fury at the Mr. Magoo of Aurors.

It didn’t help that when he saw him it looked like Potter hadn’t slept and, quite possibly, hadn’t even been allowed near a bed in his home either.

Ha. Draco would have to fist-bump the She-Potter later for her solidarity to his witch.

“Potter.” Draco gritted out, knowing he couldn’t explode on the pathetic kicked-puppy of a man on the steps of Gringott’s mid-morning on a Tuesday. Good, upstanding citizens don’t do those sorts of things after all.

Especially not when any random reporter could be about.

“Malfoy, listen, I wasn’t thinking! How’s Hermione? Is she okay? Is she blaming herself? You have to tell her! It isn’t her fault!” Potter was all over him at a volume that was unsuited for the public eye and Draco was one batshit crazy sentence away from a Silencio! on the nutter, choosing instead to bodily turn him toward the bank doors and shove him, hard.

“Get the bloody fuck inside and shut it, will you?! We are in public!” Draco hissed in his ear. “Do you want the Prophet to hear you? To connect her to you and therefore to your big arrest? No?! Then fucking shut your mouth!” He dragged him into a marble alcove just inside the door that afforded some privacy so Potter could get his shit together because there was no way he was taking a meeting like this.

Once again Harry found himself on the back foot to Draco on this issue and was so exhausted at this point, having only caught about three hours of sleep on the sofa over two nights, that he very seriously considered crying a little bit. Just a little.

“Fuuuuck…” Harry groaned into his hands, taking a few seconds hiding behind them to compose himself knowing full well that Draco Malfoy was standing there and judging him the whole… fucking… time.

Arsehole.

“Just tell me if she’s okay?” He asked, defeated and a bit pathetic. Draco’s anger rather wilted against his will when faced with supplicant Potter.

“Not really, no.” He answered honestly. “I’ve never seen anyone cry like that, to be honest… all last night and this morning too. I barely got her to acknowledge that she could never have foreseen this and had every right to focus on herself, on her own needs after what happened… that this isn’t on her, it’s on him and him alone. But I don’t think she’s fully there. She feels responsible for that girl. For not reporting him…”

Harry was looking so devastated but suddenly turned on Draco like he was the bad guy. “And you left her alone?!”

“What?! Fuck no! You absolute hypocritical four-eyed arsehole! NO! I did not!” Draco wanted to murder him. “For your information you ungrateful bell-end, I didn’t even want to come down here, I wanted to feed her chocolate and watch Mulan, but no, she made me come help you because you’re scared of the fucking goblins! She’s at my parents’ house.” He’d scream-whispered all that at Harry and was now out of breath. However, if it were possible to Avada someone with a look, he’d be compensating by doing that many times over.

Harry stood there, silent and feeling like shit for a few moments while Draco huffed and puffed like a literal dragon.

“Mulan? Really?” He couldn’t help but ask, risking imminent death he was sure.

Surprisingly, Draco just shrugged. “I figured it would be an empowering choice.”

Harry agreed, but had surely never shared a more bizarre moment with anyone. Ever.

“You’re so… good for her.” The admission had weird mouth-feel, but it was still true. Draco turned on his heel and looked at Harry as though he could not possibly have heard him correctly, but Harry Potter had nothing if not an earnest face.

“I will never fail her again.” Harry just nodded, acknowledging all the ways Draco could possibly mean that.

Obviously neither man wanted to continue the conversation further - it was way too intense all of a sudden - so Draco stalked off to get in line, assuming correctly that Harry would follow. The bank was fairly empty so a window became free within a few moments. Harry stayed behind Draco, watching with more than a little awe at the ease with which he handled the interaction, speaking in a pattern of words he’d never heard but seemed to match that of the goblins themselves. It seemed to be a sign of respect, and if so… shouldn’t something like that be taught at Hogwarts?

“Heir Malfoy, state your business with the horde.”

“My companion and I would do business with Ragnok on this day.”

“Ragnok is our chieftain and his time is not for the follies of wizards. State the business you would do and be assisted by those who would deign to do so.”

“Our business is not folly but the righting of wrongs and the executing of justice. Ragnok has been forewarned of our arrival and awaits our presence. We would see it done.”

The goblin eyed them both before nodding decisively. “You would follow me to see resolution.”

Draco didn’t say anything else, just followed the goblin and expected Harry to follow him. They were led to an empty office where the teller bowed to Draco before leaving. “Prosperity, Heir Malfoy, Heir Potter.”

“Justice.” Draco bowed back before taking his seat. The goblin obviously didn’t expect anything resembling manners from Harry because he simply shut the door after that and left. Harry was too overwhelmed to be offended so he simply sat down.

“So… Thank you. For coming.” Harry murmured, ears a bit pink.

Draco huffed, not so mad anymore. “No problem… I guess I understand. Nobody taught you this, did they?”

“Not even a little.”

“Plus that whole… heist thing.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah… Honestly if I hadn’t paid for the damages with egregious interest and helped Mione with her whole ‘ethical replacement security creature’ crusade… yeah, they definitely would not allow me in the building, let alone to still bank here.”

“Wait, you replaced their dragon?! No… not a dragon. You said ethical…”

“Oh, fuck, no way would your girlfriend have allowed them to put another dragon down there, are you insane?!”

“Yeah I got confused there for a sec… What did you get them to replace it with? I haven't gone down to that level since then.” Draco had to admit he was pretty impressed.

“How do you not know this? She said she got the idea from you… some book you’d recommended to her back in like, second year. Which made no sense given all that happened that year, but I swear that’s what she said.”

Draco was so lost… what book… ohhhh… Oh shit. He never realized she’d figured it out.

But of course she did…

He chuckled to himself, rolling his eyes… The more that time went on, all these little sprinkles kept confirming it for him.

Soulmates.

“Mate… you’re zoning out on me.” Harry waved his hand in front of Draco’s face, only to be slapped away.

“I know the book, but I’ll have to think a bit to figure out the creature. Don’t tell me… I want to figure it out.” He smiled, lost in memories. Harry was curious, but didn’t push for now. Their goblin chieftain had shown up.

“Heir Malfoy, Heir Potter. I hear we have some interesting House business to correct on this day. State your intent.”

Harry looked to Draco with mild panic to please explain it, not understanding the nuances of the language or showing respect. Sighing, Draco launched into the explanation as he knew it.

“Ragnok, it would appear that Heir Potter’s magical guardians were negligent in explaining his inheritances and Lordships. We are here to rectify that today. He would like to claim the Lordships for both House Potter and Peverell, as well as take care of any latent or overdue House business you find in the accounts.”

“I am happy to hear this situation is to be rectified Heir Potter, you have several properties in stasis and investments that require attention. I do not know the state of your elves but I would assume some have been lost to time. Shall we begin?”

Harry stared at Ragnok, dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry… Did you just say that I have other property?”

Draco face-palmed, wondering how he didn’t know that. “Rings first… full accounting of your assets later.”

“Right… right, yeah…” Harry agreed. It was obviously going to be a long morning.

Three hours. Three hours and a twitch in his eyelid later, Draco finally stumbled through the floo to his parents’ house. He was exhausted, hangry, and his magic felt itchy and twitchy and upset with how much he missed Hermione. He was pulled from his trajectory toward his father’s study, though, because for some reason he knew she wasn’t there anymore. He just… knew it.

Huh. This must be what she meant, he thought with a smile. Princess, I can feel you… I can feel the pull.

Smiling ever wider, he made his way toward the East Wing of the Manor, the hum under his skin going from an uncomfortable itch to a comforting warmth the closer to her he got. He began to hear piano music and his witch’s beautiful singing voice, making him grin. She was playing for his parents.

Stopping at the door to what his mother liked the call the Blue Room (for obvious reasons), Draco took a few moments to just observe her.

She obviously felt better than she had when he’d left her that morning, thank Merlin…

No more tears. Thank Merlin, Salazar and Circe, no more tears! Whatever conversation she'd had with his father had worked some sort of magic...

And also...

She played so beautifully. Draco could hardly believe that was his witch...

She’d only sung for him a few times and it absolutely wrecked him every time, always songs he’d never heard before, too. Songs she’d grown up singing with her father as he played the guitar and she played the piano, stuff she’d call ‘hippie music’, ‘the blues’ or ‘soul music’ (this name sounded ominous to him but the songs were admittedly some he’d especially liked) or even ‘folk rock’, (another genre whose name Draco thought utterly bizarre yet held some of his favorites)…

The first time she’d played Candle in the Wind for him, Draco had cried, he’d admit it. However it might also have been something to do with the fact that he was over the moon and back again in love with this witch and therefore… you know… biased. Affected. Prone to mooning over everything she does.

It might also be that.

His parents did seem impressed, though, bursting into applause as she finished.

Hermione smiled at them but Draco could tell she felt him there as she immediately turned around, getting up to sprint into his arms. She was so warm and perfect…

“Hi.” It was muffled into his neck as he picked her up off her toes into a tight hug.

“Hey Princess… Do you feel better?” Her nodding against his neck sent her wild curls bobbing and their perfect smell wafting in his face. Heaven.

Draco caught his father’s eye over her shoulder as he squeezed her tight and mouthed ‘Thank you.’

Lucius just shook his head, mouthing back, ‘No… Thank you.’

Chapter Text

Earlier, at Gringott's...

“May your profits rise at your hand and your enemies fall at your feet, Chief Ragnok. Long live the Goblin Nation.” Draco bowed his head in deference to the goblin chieftain who’d given them hours of his day and more patience than they’d any right to, lightly clearing his throat to startle Harry out of his stupor so he’d do the same.

“I would see your gold piled high and your enemies cut low by the blades of your Houses, Heir Malfoy, Lord Potter, aim true. On behalf of the Goblin Nation, gentlemen, pax et fructus inter nos.” The goblin gave a them a nod in return, taking the accumulated paperwork from the meeting and leaving them alone again.

Draco turned to Harry, the newly minted Lord Potter (technically, Lord Potter-Peverell, but that was just a mouthful that felt unnecessary to literally everyone) and gave him a tired stink-eye. “Mate, you and I will be having some… fuck… ‘How to Be a Grownup Wizard’ lessons very, very soon.” He rubbed the eyelid that had developed the twitch, hoping he could get it to stop. So far, no such luck.

“Despite how offensive that was…” Harry admitted with his head resting awkwardly on the low back of his chair, “and the utterly Malfoy way you decided to word it… Yeah, that’d be good, probably.” He sighed, side-eyeing the blonde prat next to him. “Thanks.”

Draco nodded, eager to get home to his witch. He missed her, was worried about her… was eager to be done with this barmy-arse errand…

“Yeah, look, Potter… it’s fine. I have to get home to Hermione, but before I do, I have to tell you… Last night? I get it, okay, it was information that ‘Harry Potter the Auror’ thought needed or was safe to be shared, we can agree to disagree on the details of that until we’re blue in the face but there’s no point, what’s done is done. But… fucking hell mate, the way you went about it...?” Draco took a deep, calming breath.

“I know. Ginny already only barely let me keep my bollocks…” Harry winced, obviously both genuinely feeling guilty but also terrified of his wife. Draco couldn’t help letting out a minor snort; he did like the she-Potter.

“Right, well, you see where I’m going with this then. Leave Hermione out of it from now on! Unless it directly affects or relates to her, she does not need to know. I know she will think she does because she is used to information regarding that ginger piece of shit being her business, her problem, her boogeyman… But he isn’t, or at least shouldn’t be. Not anymore. And given the literal breakdown she’s going through with the small amount of information she already has that she didn’t need, I can tell you… more will only make it worse. Unless it is about Hermione… she is just another member of the public, mate. If anything, she’s one of your perp’s past victims who is traumatized and shouldn’t be re-traumatized by hearing about horrors that she managed to dodge. Understand?”

Harry sat wide-eyed, schooled yet again…

Fuck. He really needed to get his shit together.

“Yeah… You’re right.”

Draco stared at him a moment, gauging his sincerity.

“You’re not going to tell me it’s none of my business, or that you know better what’s right for Hermione?”

Harry shook his head, sighing. “It’s blowing my mind, Malfoy, I promise you, but… I think you might be what’s right for her.”

Draco reeled for a moment, never having thought he’d hear that concession.

“How much did that hurt you to say, Potter?”

Malfoy Manor, Blue Room

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” Draco murmured into Hermione's curls, squeezing her extra tight before leaning down to set her back on her feet. “You have no idea how good it is to see you feeling better, Princess, I…” He shook his head, staving off watery eyes. “ I was worried.”

“I love you… I’m sorry I worried you.” Hermione murmured. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, and for going. I know you didn’t want to… thank you.”

Draco nodded, pushing her hair back with both hands and just standing with her in their bubble for a moment. “Did you get what you needed from… my father?” He asked, still unsure what it had all been about, just so happy it had somehow brought her over the finish line.

Hermione smiled, nodding. “We had a good talk, yeah… Did you eat?”

Draco shook his head. “No and I’ll eat you if you don’t feed me soon.” He growled playfully and leaned down to nip her ear, making her laugh. “Did you three already eat without me?” He asked, looking up to see his parents watching them but pretending not to.

“Who? Us?” Narcissa asked with as much innocence as she could muster… which frankly wasn’t much at all.

“Yes, Mother, you.” Draco smiled playfully at her as he hugged Hermione to him.

His parents were so excited they were staying for lunch that they seemed to spring into action, leaving Draco and Hermione there to roll their eyes and mask their chuckles.

“It’s nice to be popular.” She whispered.

“Hmm. Cheeky.” Draco grinned, kissing her on the cheek and keeping her glued to his side as they all made their way to the terrace for lunch.

“Son, how was the bank? Ragnok give you any problems?” Lucius asked as they sat down.

“No, no, not at all. He was quite pleased Potter was finally getting round to it. There was an astronomical amount of overdue House business that shouldn’t have been there, though, and Potter hadn’t a clue what was going on or what he was even entitled to. It was a mess. I don’t know how he’d missed it all these years, it seemed like it had been purposely kept from him almost.”

Hermione was sitting there looking more and more infuriated as Draco spoke, more and more passive-aggressively murderous, smoothing her napkin out over and over again in her lap, adjusting her cutlery to be perfectly evenly spaced… It made Narcissa curious and Lucius amused.

“Hermione, darling, what did that napkin do to you?” She cooed.

“Hmm? Oh… no… it’s just… Albus Dumbledore was a terrible person.”

Suddenly three people were looking at her like she’d completely lost the plot.

“Love…?” Draco did a cute guppie impression.

“Sorry, I assumed Harry would have explained this during your adventure in banking today. The reason Harry needed you to go help him, babe, the reason he is clueless about his titles and his family assets and… you know… how to be an adult wizard? It’s because of Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore ruined Harry’s life! Oh… thank you Flip, Tip, that looks yummy.”

Flip and Tip had just brought out a lunch spread big enough for an army and Hermione would never be rude to the elves.

“I always thought you lot revered Dumbledore.” Draco murmured, his guilt over the man still confusing for him even years later. His parents looked shame-faced but also fascinated to hear more of what she was going to say. It was so unexpected coming from her, after all.

“Babe… No. If Tom Riddle was a psychopath, Albus Dumbledore was absolutely a sociopath. No question.” Hermione looked deadly serious as she gazed into her love’s eyes and it surprised him. Interested him. They’d never talked about this before…

“What makes you say that, Hermione? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the term…” Narcissa admitted.

“A psychopath derives pleasure from the pain of others…” Draco explained, turning to Hermione. His parents nodded immediately as that described Voldemort to a T.

“But a sociopath, like Dumbledore? They just don’t care what happens to anyone else and will seek their own ends regardless of the fallout. They’re self-serving strategists. If someone is in their way they will throw that person to a pack of werewolves without a second thought just to get to the exit faster. They tend to be the greatest actors you’ll ever meet. They can portray the caring and wise old man with the twinkly eyes, for example, while willfully ignoring students whose home lives he knows are dangerously abusive, bullying in the halls that skirts the line on deadly, teachers that are being possessed by the fucking Dark Lord, campus sexual assaults, you name it.

"For decades he allowed children to be abused while at school and then forced them to return to abusive homes during breaks without a care in the world. He helped almost no one, especially if they were sorted into any House but his own. And that was just what he refused to involve himself in… The lives he did touch were tainted by his poison forever, and Harry is one of his worst victims. Severus Snape was his worst… his absolute worst, because it cost him his life. Dumbledore was a puppet master, and no better than the Dark Lord in the end. You don’t need to cast Crucios to be evil.” She spat, sipping her wine bitterly and taking Draco’s hand for comfort. Her audience was stunned.

“Sweetheart… what the fuck did he do?” Draco asked her, horrified by her little rant.

Hermione shook off her mood and realized he wasn’t eating. “Babe you said you were really hungry. Eat.” Draco looked at her like she was insane.

“Tell your story, woman!”

“Eat your sandwich and I will!”

He opened his mouth to argue and she stuffed an apple slice with goat cheese in it, earning her a glower and laughter from his parents.

“He gets moody when he’s hungry, darling, you just ignore him.” Narcissa chuckled.

“His mother’s right. Having said that…” Lucius cleared his throat and shared a look of solidarity with his son. “I second Draco’s sentiment, dearest, what in Salazar’s name did that man do to raise your ire so spectacularly?”

Hermione felt fortified by the first real food she’d had since her crying fest began the night before. She was trying so hard not to crumble on the house elf issue, but they really might convince her if she continued to eat here. Everything they made was so good.

“What did he do? A lot! I’ll try to summarize but hatred makes me a bad storyteller. Some of this story you’ll already know but much of this we didn’t even find out about until after the war ourselves when it was too late and the bastard was already dead… sorry sweetheart, I’m not trying to be insensitive.”

“No… sounds like this rant might make me feel better!” Draco smiled down at her, smooching her worry away and bidding her to continue before they all died of curiosity.

“Hmm. Alright. So, the Potter’s will had extremely specific instructions regarding custody arrangements for Harry in the event of his parents’ death. There was a list of people in descending order who they had approved of to take him in and one person in particular that they had said should never, ever be allowed anywhere near him. The Fidelius charm on their home with Pettigrew as Secret Keeper was cast and sealed by Dumbledore, so he knew from the first day they went into hiding that Sirius Black was not the Secret Keeper, and therefore never betrayed the Potters. The night they died and the charm fell, Dumbledore was alerted immediately as he was the one who had placed it. However, he immediately sent Reubus bloody Hagrid to the house with the specific instruction that he remove Harry Potter.”

All three Malfoys ignored propriety and exploded with indignation and confusion. Hermione couldn’t even separate out who was saying what, only that the general gist was that that was insane!

“I know, alright? I agree with you, it’s insane. But here’s where it gets sinister… Ignore for a moment how Dumbledore even knew that Harry had survived at all and why he sent Hagrid, a man with no wand, in his place to ‘rescue’ Harry… just ignore that bit for now. Sirius Black was Harry’s blood-sworn godfather, literally incapable of harming him without killing himself, and as we established earlier, not the Secret Keeper… Sirius also shows up in Godrick’s Hollow that night, running into Hagrid essentially kidnapping his godson from a giant pile of rubble on Dumbledore’s orders, he says.

"Sirius is of course incensed and confronts the Headmaster about this since he seems to have conveniently shown up right as his plans for Hagrid and Harry look to be about to go off the rails. Now, does the Headmaster allow Sirius to take his godson, as is his legal right? No! He uses his influence over him as the leader of the Order to send Sirius after Peter… Sirius is so in shock over the Potters’ deaths and he’s grieving and he’s angry, he doesn’t see the trap for what it is and ends up in Azkaban without trial for a crime he did not commit. He got played. Dumbledore knew he was innocent, knew Peter had sold out the Potters to the Dark Lord, knew he was an animagus and had framed Sirius for killing the 12 muggles, knew all of it, and he said nothing.”

“But… why? I never understood that… He was always one of Dumbledore’s favorites.” Narcissa asked, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

Hermione sighed. “Ah, another tactic of sociopaths… setting weak people up to feel like they owe you. Dumbledore never had favorites in any real sense. He had pawns. But… You asked why he literally, purposefully sent Sirius to prison to rot, despite being innocent, yes? Well, this is where it gets really… evil. You’ve heard the term ‘raising a lamb for slaughter’? That was what he did to Harry. He knew that Voldemort had left Harry as a living Horcrux that night and therefore knew that Harry would one day have to die. What he didn’t understand, Narcissa, that you so brilliantly found, is that he didn’t need to stay dead.”

“He… he knew that? The whole time?” Narcissa murmured, her eyes closed. Hermione reached across the table and squeezed the woman’s hand, knowing that memory haunted her.

“He not only knew it, he planned for it in disgusting ways. He had no legal right to make any decisions whatsoever about what happened to Harry Potter, about who raised him… He was the Headmaster of a school, not God. But he illegally sealed the Potters’ will and made himself Harry’s magical guardian. He also had Hagrid… yes we’re back on Hagrid… take a traumatized and injured 15-month old baby, wrap him in a threadbare blanket and leave him in a laundry basket on the doorstep of his mother’s muggle sister overnight. The one person the Potters had specifically said in their will that should never be allowed near their son because she and her husband hate magic.”

Narcissa exploded. “It was nearly winter! How… how dare he!”

“Oh, I know… But he didn’t care if Harry got hypothermia. He didn’t care that the Dursleys kept Harry in a cupboard under the stairs for the first 11 years of his life, starving and abusing him. He knew… but he did not care… because it kept Harry isolated. When you are raising a lamb for slaughter, you need them weak.”

“Holyyy fuck…” Draco couldn't keep eating. He was too disturbed. Hermione felt guilty, really… she may have overdone it. She just really really hated that man and… well, it’d been ages since she got to rant about how much.

“Sorry babe… Long story short, that’s why Harry was an idiot at the bank today!” She tried for levity, making Draco snort and roll his eyes.

“Context is everything, I get it.” Draco agreed, pecking her on the lips.

“But it went okay? In the end?” She asked.

He nodded, though with a crease in his brow. “Yes, but… he kept saying something about the goblins talking like someone named… Yoda? I don’t know who that is…”

Hermione nearly had wine come out through her nose. “Don’t worry about it, it’s inaccurate.” Hilarious, though.

“Hmm. Well I told him we’d be having ‘How to Be a Grownup Wizard’ lessons after he’d given me a twitch in my eyelid by the end of the meeting. He wasn’t even’t offended.”

“Do not even think of outsourcing those to me, I am busy.” Lucius informed him sternly.

Hermione snorted, very unladylike, and simply could not help goading Lucius. “But he hasn’t even told you when they’ll be!” She cried, fake innocence oozing everywhere.

Lucius managed to hold his glare at her despite his lips twitching. “I’m busy then. And then, too. And oh look, then as well. Pity.”

“Spoilsport.” She sniffed.

“You are full of surprises today.” Lucius told her, smiling softly. Hermione just shrugged, happy to have moved on from her awful morning.

“So did Harry try to follow you back like a puppy after the disaster of last night?” Hermione asked, unsure if she wanted the answer. She was considering not wanting to know anything more at all if that were even possible. Was that possible? She didn’t know.

Draco scoffed, his eyes on fire at the suggestion. “Are you joking?” He saw that she wasn’t and he toned down the indignation a bit, stroking the back of her neck with one hand and pressing on his twitching eyelid with the other. “No, my love… he did not. We had a… productive discussion.” Draco breathed deeply in and out. “After he tried maniacally ranting some cauldron disaster of an apology about last night, I rather shut him down. I believe the She-Potter relegated him to the sofa last night as well.” Lucius snorted loudly at this but pretended it was allergies. Hermione couldn’t find it in herself to feel much guilt; Harry really needed to learn to read a room.

“Get to the part where it became productive…?” She smirked at how much she could tell Draco wanted to go on an anti-Potter rant but was holding back on her behalf.

Draco looked down at her and huffed, unsure if he’d really done the right thing, telling Potter what he could and couldn’t tell Hermione. Best to be honest, he figured. “I told him… and if you disagree, I… well, I don’t think you should disagree and hopefully we can talk about it, but… I told Auror Potter that this case no longer involves you, so… unless it does, sweetheart... you do not need to know about it. It is just re-traumatizing you, telling you details of a case that you in no way need to be involved in anymore. You’re only hurting yourself, seeking out more details, my love, and I hope you won’t.”

Hermione looked at him and loved him so much it almost hurt. She reached up and took his face in both hands and kissed him, keeping his forehead against hers for a moment before she let him go. “Thank you for protecting me.”

It’s all he’d ever wanted to do.

It’s what he’d never gotten to do before now.

“You won’t fight me on this?” He asked, so relieved.

“No.”

“How has it not hit the papers?” Narcissa asked.

“I wondered the same thing, actually, and Potter told me something interesting. Remember how the Minister said Weasley was working as a Trade photographer under a forged license?”

Everyone nodded and cringed in equal measure.

“Well they were able to use that as leverage against every Trade publication and got an injunction. The entire story is embargoed.”

Hermione almost choked on her own relief, sagging into Draco’s side. “I know, love… I was relieved too.”

“I just couldn’t handle that right now, but I didn’t want to seem weak.” She admitted.

Draco cuddled her into him and kissed her hair. “That’s the last word I’d ever use to describe you, my love… ever, ever, ever…”

His parents were mesmerized by them. By the transformation in their son. They hated that they couldn’t bring up the bond until one of them did… it was torture. Didn’t Draco remember that Narcissa had magical sensitivity? She might as well be an elf!

Hermione sniffled and sat up, shaking off the nastiness. There were happy things going on in their world to focus on.

“Did you remember to send off the bottle of champagne to Luna and Blaise while you were in Diagon, by the way?”

“Yep, all set.” Draco checked his watch. “They’re getting married in nine hours.”

“WHAT?!” Narcissa shrieked.

Draco and Hermione went to bed early, tangled themselves up together, just wanting to spend time and be close before sleep.

“Do you think they’ll be happy?” Hermione whispered, sprawled over Draco’s bare chest with his fingertips lightly roving her back.

“Who? Blaise and Luna?”

“Yeah. You’ve been around them more than I have.”

“I have, but not as much as you might assume, love. I’m not as social a creature as I was in school. Or at least I wasn’t until I found you again, maybe. I really only saw them out together on the occasional pub night, sometimes we did a snakes-plus-dates night, but I always went stag to those and left early.”

Hermione found this information reluctantly fascinating. And familiar.

“Soulmates.” She hummed, drawing little runes on his skin with her fingers. He smiled into the darkness, his magic as well as his body wrapping around her, warm and comforting.

“Soulmates.” He agreed. He thought more on her question for a few minutes as they cuddled. “I do think they’ll be happy… Luna and Blaise. He always lit up when he’d talk about her. He’s fascinated by her, enjoys her, appreciates her. Yes, I think they’ll be good together.”

Hermione smiled at his analysis of what would make for a happy marriage. Admittedly he was Blaise’s friend and spent time with him, not Luna, but still. It was awfully sweet.

“Her eccentricities seem to make him happy in an adorable way.” She mused.

Draco chuckled, agreeing. “Yes, he is convinced she’s onto something with her plimpies and her nargles.”

“Hey, for all we know…” Hermione laughed.

“I know, I know. She’s not loony, she’s… special.” He shrugged. “I’ll grant she’s a seer but the made-up creatures is where I have trouble!” He laughed. “She’s marrying a scientist who just nods and says, ‘Yes, my Luna-Moon, tell me more about noogle-poons!’ and I can’t keep a straight face.”

Hermione was shaking with laughter. “Noogle-poons?”

“It could be one of them, you don’t know!”

The ridiculous thing was, he was right.

“I see Mortimer is still with us.” Draco commented, eyeing his purple friend currently ensconced on the nightstand.

“Oh… yes. Call me pathetic but I felt too guilty leaving him behind today, even if I did feel better. It felt like abandonment or something. I couldn’t do it.” Hermione shuddered a bit while Draco chuckled at her.

“That’s okay, love. I suppose he can stay awhile.”

Hermione didn’t care if it was pathetic, her conscience felt at ease. “Thank you.”

“But the minute I accidentally make eye contact with him while fucking you, it’s over.”

Of course right as she descended into riotous giggling, she accidentally made eye-contact with the stuffed dragon herself. She’d swear he was pouting and it only made her giggling fit that much worse. Draco just felt smug.

Chapter Text

Draco woke up to a dark room and an empty bed, prompting him to go in search of his love after a few minutes when she hadn’t returned. He found her in the living room, standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows with a glass of fire whiskey, staring out at the city.

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” Hermione had thought she’d been quiet in her insomnia. Oops.

“No, love…” Draco reassured her, running his hands down her arms. “I think, maybe the absence of you did?” He mused.

“Hmm.” She wondered at that. Wondered if it wasn’t perhaps the most romantic thing anybody had ever said, ever. Wondered if, because of their soul bond, it also might actually be the case. She felt the absence of him, the presence of him, she felt him… He’d become a part of her, as essential as breathing.

“You’re tense, my love.” He murmured, rubbing her shoulders. Hermione shut her eyes briefly, leaning into him as he massaged some of the knots in her muscles away. He was right, she was tense. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She sipped her drink and wrapped her arms around herself, resting the glass against her collarbone and her chin on the glass as she stared out at the city lights, or what of them there were at 3am. London was a far less bright city than New York or Las Vegas by far, but there would always be something to see. She felt off. Broody. She could feel the frown on her face and how it pulled unnaturally on her features; it contrasted sharply with Draco’s warmth and magic that was seeping into the skin of her back like a balm to a burn.

“I wasn’t entirely honest with you today.” She murmured back to him, eyeing him over her shoulder. The surprise on his face was impossible to miss.

“Oh?” His hands only paused briefly before he simply wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his head against hers. “Gonna come clean now, then?”

Hermione huffed softly, dejectedly, entirely unsure it was a good idea to do so, but… it was keeping her awake. “I told you that Dumbledore was a terrible person for what he did to Harry, for other things he did… but that isn’t why I hate him. Not really.” She admitted.

He could tell this was eating at her. That he was missing something. “And you really do, don’t you? You really hate him.” This fact still baffled him, despite what she'd told him. It was just so antithetical to everything he'd always believed, so... strange.

She nodded, hugging the arms that were hugging her and still looking out the window, her eyes haunted. Baffled or not, he believed her.

“Tell me why.”

He could feel her magic burning inside her. Burning.

“For what he did to you.” She whispered, eyes squeezed tight.

Draco didn’t understand. He couldn’t possibly have heard that right.

“Mia…” He felt himself withdraw, not understanding, not wanting to go there… But his witch wouldn’t allow that. She turned around in his arms and looked up at him so fierce, so loving, like he deserved her. He felt himself shaking his head but she held him still. Grounded him. Grounded his magic.

“What do you mean?” He managed finally, his eyes glassy.

“I mean he knew! All of 6th Year he knew what you were dealing with, your task, every bit of it, and he never helped you. He was dying anyway and he could have helped you!”

Draco breathed in heavily through his nose as he reeled back at this revelation, overwhelmed at its implications.

“We both know why I couldn’t be there for you, despite wanting to! Not even sure at the time why I wanted to, but I did, so badly! I saw how much pain you were in, that you were struggling, and I knew something was wrong, but I was helpless! I went to Snape for help and was blown off, I went to the headmaster and was told not to worry my pretty little head about anything beyond helping Harry…” She fumed, struggling to calm herself. “I… all I could do in the end was testify.” She sighed.

Draco was shocked. Speechless. It would take him who knew how many sessions with his mind healer to unpack what she had just told him. He had to fight not go back to a bad place, to stay present for her. To focus.

“Babe, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have just dumped all that on you. I just couldn’t sleep.” She murmured, putting her drink down and hugging him tight. “I love you.”

Draco took a deep breath, smelling her lily of the valley shampoo, feeling her soft skin. He let her magic ground him, hug him.

It was everything good.

“I loved you that year… I always loved you.” He rambled, overwhelmed as the past and the present warred in his mind. “I was just so lost back then.”

“I’m sorry I brought it all up again…”

Draco shook his head, hugging her tighter, choking on bad memories and perfect, springy curls. “Don’t be, it’s good we talk about things. It’s just hard.”

“I love you. I love you.”

“I love you so much, Princess.”

Draco clung to her and everything they were building together, almost shocked to realize it was real.

That he’d survived.

She was real.

Because how many times had he closed his eyes and imagined this? Holding her at night and breathing her in?

That night, that horrible night in the Astronomy Tower when he’d stood there trembling and crying and apologizing to Dumbledore because if he didn’t follow through with the Dark Lord’s directive, he and his entire family would be tortured and slaughtered… it had been the height of hopelessness for him.

Because Draco had been convinced, that night and for every night in the months preceding it and after it, that he would not survive the war. Whether he pulled off killing Dumbledore or not, he wouldn’t make it in the end.

He simply wanted to protect his mother.

He had no hope.

And all he ever dreamed of, ever wished for when he needed solace or peace or a moment to escape to a dream he knew would never come true… when he felt safe behind his occlumency walls and could dream purely for himself… all he ever imagined was Hermione.

It had stopped feeling so taboo to imagine a life with the muggleborn witch of his dreams when he realized he wouldn’t survive to have a life with anyone. There was a freedom in it, in fact.

And the life he imagined for them was beautiful, and detailed.

She… she was beautiful.

And now, standing in the flat they shared together, feeling her arms around him and her magic surrounding him and her lips murmuring comforting things against his cheek, it dawned on him rather stupidly that he was alive, and he’d survived the war, and that life with her was in his grasp if he wanted it because she loved him too.

Wednesday was insane.

It began with Draco screaming, "My eyes, MY EYES!” after he opened the celebratory wedding photo that Blaise and Luna had sent them in the morning post. “Do not look at it! Save yourself!” He had thrown it immediately to the floor and was covering his eyes with one hand and flailing around with the other, being as dramatic as possible.

Hermione managed to stop her snorting giggles long enough to ask what could possibly have inspired such a reaction, only to be reminded that their friends had chosen to wed in a traditional bonding ceremony following the Olde Ways: Olde with an ‘e’ and traditional as in nude.

“And they sent us a photo of that?!” Hermione screeched, bodily jumping away from the upside down photo on her floor as if it were on fire.

“Yes!” Draco cried. “And in it they are jumping for joy!” He hissed, childishly wanting her to understand his pain if not feel it with him at least a little bit. He’d never in his life before this moment imagined it could be possible to think that muggle, non-moving photography could be preferable… until now. The fact that such a traumatizing photo was set to motion could not be un-experienced and he knew down to his very soul that he would never, ever recover.

“Oh dear god…” Hermione paled, cringing even more. “Do you need a potion or… an Obliviate, maybe?”

Draco shuddered, closing his eyes and taking a big breath in as he reached for her. She understood him. “I love you so much.”

Later came the somewhat impromptu meeting with solicitors. However much both Hermione and Draco wanted to not be involved in anything Weasley, it just wasn’t that simple. Not when you were Draco Malfoy and Lady Hermione Granger.

So there were pre-emptive restraining orders and gag-orders that closed every loophole imaginable. Ronald Weasley could not contact her, could not induce anyone else to contact her on his behalf, and could not speak about her and Draco to third parties. They did everything legally possible to make themselves Taboo for one Ronald Bilius Weasley.

Then, motions were filed to have anything that pertained to them and the stalking case classified, just in case. Hermione didn’t want to think badly of the Auror department but she and Draco took the solicitors’ words to heart when they said that the evidence room contents had been leaked in the past and it wouldn’t hurt the case in any way to increase the security of information they definitely wouldn’t want the public to know about, so… why not?

It was a long and stressful meeting, but productive. Productivity had always helped Hermione with feeling in control, something the situation with Ron had been severely testing.

From there, Draco and Hermione had agreed to have a very visible lunch out. They’d essentially been out of sight since the previous Friday and given how fickle the media was, it might as well have been a month; the two of them had gone from the newest ubiquitous ‘It Couple’ to that morning’s classic headline: ‘Mysteriously Hibernating or Already Eloped? Where Are Draco and Hermione?’ - Because apparently Witch Weekly was a beast that needed to be fed.

Thus they found themselves enjoying a romantic and very public lunch on the patio at La Bijou in the Wizarding West End. After politely telling three reporters what she was wearing and by who (a white sleeveless sheath dress by Chanel, all coordinating accessories in black from her slingback heels to her giant sunglasses by same), Hermione was finally able to shoo them all away.

“Vultures! Whatever happened to everyone finding my wardrobe ‘too muggle’ and uninteresting, huh? I miss that! Let’s go back to that!” Hermione spat as she sat down, flipping her curls over to one side and angrily yanking open her menu, crossing her mile-long legs in that way that angled them just so and showed them off perfectly.

It was so sexy. She was so sexy.

Draco just lazed back smugly in his chair with a grin, the umbrella they sat under giving him enough shade to remove his sunglasses and admire her. She’d been the prettiest girl he’d ever seen at 11 but at 22 she was a knock-out. Her perfectly sculpted brows, her perfectly done eyeliner and mascara, her cheekbones that glistened with her tan and that perfect smattering of freckles, her cherry red painted lips looking extra pouty because she was pissed off… and yet she had no idea how truly gorgeous she was. She huffed and fumed, occasionally looking up because he hadn’t answered her. “Are you evening listening to me?!”

Draco chuckled. “Oh I’m listening, I just don’t think I can validate your feelings on this one.”

Hermione immediately opened her mouth to retort but realized she didn’t have one and shut it again, making him laugh and lean over to her, pulling her hand free to kiss the inside of her wrist next to the clasp of her bracelet.

“You’re stunning. You look stunning. You have always been stunning.”

She really didn’t know what to say to that since by the time she’d recovered from blushing he’d gone back to reading his menu, but if you were to ask him he would swear he heard ‘tell that to Lavender Brown’ from behind her menu only a moment later.

By the end of lunch, Hermione’s mood was much turned around for the better, reminding her humbly that her stomach was another beast that needed to be fed on a regular basis if she didn’t want to attack innocent bystanders and journalists just doing their jobs.

“Hmm… So I’ll see you tonight?” Draco murmured, sucking gently at that one spot behind her ear and bending her backwards, a bit Old-Hollywood style. It had been an emotional few days and they understandably hadn’t been intimate, but things were more back to normal now and he was aching for her.

“My meeting should be done by six at the latest.” She assured him, kissing him with promise. “Thank you for lunch, handsome.”

“Love you, Princess.” Draco winked at her and headed off, leaving her with a rather stupid grin on her face.

Reluctantly split up for the remainder of the day, Draco left for St. Mungo’s to see a patient and cover a few of Blaise’s duties in the lab while he was off jumping for joy with his bride for a few days and Hermione headed to Whitehall. Percy Weasley had finally gotten back to her.

After making her way through nearly a dozen hallways, half a dozen stairwells, and at least fifteen greetings with various muggle colleagues and distant relatives from across the social and political stratosphere, Hermione found her way to the Annex. Security was intense at the Annex and only got tighter the farther in she went, forcing her to present multiple keycards, ID badges, her thumbprint as well as her wand at three different checkpoints before reaching her destination.

The Annex was the term given to the area of the building where the Magical and Muggle governments overlapped and did business together, both their public business (only a keycard and wand required) and their covert business (that’s where security got interesting).

Most conspicuously, it was the Muggle Prime Minister’s Magical Liaison Office that was in the Annex, dealing with both Kingsley and Hermione’s offices on a daily basis.

On the floors below that were the security agencies.

Magical Interpol was in the Annex, for example.

The Elite Forces of the Aurory who doubled as MI5 and MI6 were also housed in the Annex - though no one ever saw them or knew their names. Mostly.

Hermione’s status in the muggle world as well as her job title at the Ministry allowed her to maintain a fairly regular presence there without raising any suspicion, so it worked perfectly as her preferred location to meet discreetly with her Ministry spies. Hermione felt no guilt over these meetings; she wasn’t the Minister, after all. She was his advisor… his fixer. It was her job to know things and she would never be a person to turn down information freely given. So, when she needed a place outside the Ministry of Magic to ‘chat’ with someone… the Annex was usually perfect.

“Percy… It’s been a while. Please, have a seat.” Hermione shook the middle Weasley brother’s hand in the rather bland Annex office she kept for this purpose; it was set up like a small conference room with no fuss.

“It has indeed.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, not meeting her eye as he sat down. “You are well, I hope?”

Hermione reached over and patted his hand, waiting until he looked up. “I am well, Perce... really.” She knew he wasn’t asking generally, but neither of them would speak Ron’s name aloud. Instead they merely held each other’s eye for a moment once they had it, as if he could ascertain her truthfulness and wellbeing that way, before nodding in satisfaction.

“But what about you? Are you… alright?” She pressed.

He sighed and looked rather saddened. Percy was always thought of as the automaton of the family but it was a front. He was a proud man but not devoid of feelings. “It’s all just rather awful, isn’t it?” He murmured, shrugging a little.

Hermione thought that described it all pretty perfectly, actually. “It really is.”

Again there was silence for a moment before Percy gathered himself, becoming the poncy professional she knew and loved.

“So… You want to take down Chief Warlock Fawley.”

Hermione smirked and leaned back in her chair. “You know how this game works, Perce. I can neither confirm nor deny.”

Percy did the most elegant version of a soft snort. “No, I am telling you. You need to take him out, Hermione, because he is coming for you.”

Oh.

Well now that was new information.

“Me… personally? Or me as in… my kind? Because I am all over this Marriage Law, you know that.” But Percy was shaking his head, intriguing her further.

“No, you as in you. The law might as well be titled the Ensure Hermione Granger Never Becomes Minister Act. But it’s more than that now that you’re back; he has amendments planned. He’s angry, and I mean angry, about you and Malfoy… didn’t see that coming at all…”

Hermione laughed. “I think it is safe to say that many people didn’t.”

Percy wasn’t deterred by humor, though, and leaned in. “No, Hermione, you’re not hearing me. You need to watch your back. If he can get an amendment approved on Monday that assigns spouses, he thinks he’ll be able to break you up without committing line theft. He’s being careful, or thinks he is. He knows you’ve accepted betrothal jewelry but there’s no contract on file at the Ministry and there’s been no announcement.”

Hermione reared back in shock. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“I wish I was. He wants Shacklebolt out and you as well. He’s a blood purist, though! At least when it comes to the Sacred-28, he is… He would never want an Ancient and Noble House like Malfoy to be, and these are his words I have been subjected to not mine, ‘sullied and tainted’ by someone like you… This whole thing is a smokescreen, it’s a farce.”

Hermione sat back in shock. “Perce have you read the data though?”

“Oh, fuck, I know… the man has stumbled ass-backwards onto a literal national crisis. But we can’t solve it with him in the chair.”

Obviously fucking not.

Hermione tapped her fingernail against the table and stared into space, her mind working out twenty different problems at once.

“Hermione… I hate to say it but if you and Malfoy are as serious as you look, you might want to… ensure you’re protected. Before… Monday.” Percy suggested it uneasily, knowing it was all insane. Hermione just scoffed though, smirking at him.

“Can you keep a secret?” She grinned, knowing it really was going to stop being a secret soon if she kept telling people.

Draco walked into the lab at St. Mungo’s and scooped up a thick chart he knew almost backward and forward at this point, gripping it tight before heading to the Janus Thickey Ward to see how his little mouse was doing. Lucy was the youngest patient in the CCP1 trial by far and the most unusual. Because CCP1 was a potion to reverse the damage brought on by the Cruciatus Curse, the patients in the trial skewed almost entirely adult and almost all were either former Aurors like Frank and Alice Longbottom or were the civilian victims of Death Eaters that had been caught up in raids and been tortured - many all the way back during the First Wizarding War. For them, Draco was giving them their lives back after two decades. Others had been there since Voldemort’s return in the mid 1990’s.

Lucy Avery, however, was different. Patient #011, little Lucy Avery was included in the trial as an add-on, an eleventh patient in a ten-patient trial.

At least, the plan was for ten patients…

But Draco had taken one look at her chart, at her story, at her sweet little face, and changed the rules.

Lucy was only 7, and yet she barely looked over 5; she certainly wasn’t an Auror and she hadn’t even been alive until after the Second Wizarding War had begun, so in those details alone, she was unique. It was also the fact that when a Death Eater had tortured Lucy to the point where she was in a similar state to Frank Longbottom, she had only been two years old. Her muggle parents had been killed, but her magic had saved her life, leaving her in a magical coma.

She was an entirely singular patient who had been unconscious for five years, catatonic for most of her existence, and despite how horrifying and gut-achingly sad that was, Draco knew that if medical trials in the Wizarding World were governed by something like the Muggle FDA, he’d have risked the whole bloody thing by including her.

Thank Merlin we’re an unregulated mess, Draco snorted, thinking how if he shared that gratitude with Hermione it would be a loophole soon closed. She’d have a Wizarding Drug Administration up and running by Yule.

Despite it having worked to his benefit in this particular instance, he rather thought that such a project might be for the best. He resolved to mention it over dinner when he told her all about his Little Mouse.

That’s what Draco called her, knowing that she could hear him now.

Knowing that she’d wake up any day now.

As the youngest patient and therefore the most vulnerable if the whole thing went tits up, Draco scheduled Lucy to be the last patient to begin the treatment cycle, meaning she’d only begun moving her limbs in her sleep this past week. Her guided legilimency sessions showed her brain was waking up and listening, so Draco and Blaise and the nurses were all taking turns reading to her. Even Neville  had come by to do so, having known her since she was brought in he was as invested as they all were. It was merely a waiting game now when she would finally open her eyes.

As he rode in the lift, Draco read over Blaise’s most recent notes, smiling and nodding to himself. He was beyond pleased by her progress and was happy to see that her magical core was replenishing rather than damaged or stagnant as he had feared. They’d have to magically stimulate her musculature as it was negligent at best from lying stagnant since she was a toddler but… her outlook was so good… he couldn’t help but smile.

This trial was the greatest accomplishment of his life, and as his last inpatient, seeing Lucy wake up and learn to use her body and mind almost as if for the first time was the last hurdle before he could claim success and the entire experience was borderline religious for Draco. He monitored Lucy closer than any other patient.

The lift Ding-ed and he was Fred Astaire, dancing his way up to the Nurse’s Station. He had a good feeling about today.

“Moiraaaa… How’s my little mouse today?” He asked the ancient Medi-Witch on duty. The woman appeared to almost be in tears, however, and just waved him in toward Lucy’s room. Draco ran in, hoping they were good tears.

They were.

The first thing Draco thought was how pissed Blaise would be that he’d missed it.

Then he remembered that abhorrent photograph and his sympathy evaporated.

“Hello.” He crooned, making his way slowly to the tiniest 7 year old girl in the world, peeking at him from behind the longest dark blond lashes.

She didn’t say anything, just waved her tiny fingers shyly, smiling and blinking. She was awake.

Draco blinked back his own tears, suddenly wishing desperately for Hermione to be there.

He found a stool on wheels and sat, putting down her chart for a minute and pulling her present out of his lab coat pocket. He'd been saving it for this very occasion. “My name is Draco. Do you remember my voice?”

She nodded, trying to peek at what he’d brought her.

“I’m very happy to see you awake, Lucy. Is it nice to be awake?”

She nodded again.

“Well, I was thinking that you might like a friend now that you’re awake. What do you think?” Draco couldn’t claim any major creativity on this one, he’d gotten her a pink version of Mortimer from the Wizarding Toy Company. Her eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning, though, and Draco felt like his heart was going to explode as she tried to reach for it with her tiny arms. She was weak but enthusiastic.

“You like her?” He asked, watching her hug and nuzzle the pink dragon happily.

She nodded sleepily, happily. “Alright sweetheart, you girls should rest. I’ll come back tomorrow to check on you and see how you are, yeah?” Draco kissed her forehead and turned to go, grabbing her chart on his way. He didn’t expect her to speak at all; in fact, they’d hypothesized that she might need to relearn how to speak altogether. However, before he shut the door, he heard the faintest little ‘fankyoo’ with her wave bye-bye that he almost began crying again.

Moira should have warned him.

Hermione and Draco arrived home within a minute of each other, both absolutely bursting with news and talking at the same time.

“Princess, guess what!”  /  “Love you’ll never believe what happened!”

They stared at each other for a moment before laughing. Draco pulled her into his arms and kissed her, making sure to block out the day and just kiss her.

“Mmm. Better. Hi.”

Hermione grinned up at him, leaning into the hug. “Hi back. Did we both have a crazy afternoon?”

Draco chuckled. “I think so… how about wine and we can thumb wrestle to see who goes first?”

“No! Stop suggesting that! Your thumbs are enormous!”

He laughed, squeezing her tighter. “Fine, fine. But I stand firm on the wine.”

Hermione pretended to think that over for all of five-seconds. “And comfy clothes?”

“No. If you’re taking that dress off it’s not so we can chat.”

“That’s fine, talking can wait.” She didn’t need much convincing, not when he looked like that and kissed her like that she didn’t.

Momentarily stunned, Draco hadn’t seen that coming.

But it had been days and he’d missed her…

Sweeping her up so fast she let out a surprised little eep! followed by giggling, Draco marched her straight toward the bedroom, banishing a certain voyeuristic purple stuffy to the closet as soon as he set her down.

“Missed you…” He sighed, plunging his hands into her curls and kissing her breathless. “So beautiful…” Her heels were kicked off and pieces of his suit were discarded as they made their way across the room, her dress finally hitting the floor right next to the bed.

“Missed you…” She was down to her bra and knickers, pulling him down onto the bed with her, over her, between her thighs, kissing him as desperately as he was kissing her. It hadn’t been right the last few days and that was fine but now it felt like they’d both been let off the leash and they couldn’t breathe without each other, their magic wilde and wanting.

“Gods, darling, the way you feel…” Draco’s hands were everywhere, worshipping how soft her skin was, pulling down the cup of her bra and laving his tongue over the peak of her nipple, wrapping his arm underneath her ribcage as she arched her back to hold her that close…

“Yes, Draco, oh my gods… please…” Her nails scraped through his hair and her legs were a vise around him as she bucked underneath him. He ripped her thong before simply vanishing it, never letting up on tugging at her nipple with his teeth as he pressed inside her and made her cry out. She was so hot around him, so tight and hot and wet and perfect every time he fucked her it was madness… Kissing her deeply and moaning into her mouth and lacing their fingers together above their heads, it’s all Draco could think… this is madness… it’s so… fucking… good… it’s absolute fucking madness… I love her so much… it is absolute madness…

Rolling them until he was on his back, looking up at her as she braced herself on their clasped hands and began to ride him like a goddess, Draco truly wondered if he was going mad. He’d never seen anything so beautiful.

“You’re perfect.” He rasped, barely holding on. Hermione didn’t answer, just placed his hands on her ass instead as she leaned down and began kissing him, letting him move her how he liked. Knowing what made her come, Draco began grinding her against himself, feeling her immediately begin clenching around his cock and moan into his mouth. The feeling of her tits bouncing against his chest and her perfect arse in his hands, he couldn’t help it and began to come, thanking the gods as he felt her coming with him. Fuck. He could feel his body curling in on itself, his fingers pressing too hard on her soft curves as he came so hard, moaning incoherently into her mouth, but it couldn’t be helped… not when she was clenching and shuddering so perfectly above him like that. Gods she was exquisite.

He couldn’t stop kissing her.

Holding her close.

He’d missed her.

“I love you.” He murmured finally, grasping her face to look her in the eye.

“I love you too.” She sighed, kissing him again and resting her forehead against his for a bit before eventually settling next to him, their limbs still tangled. “Do you think it’s the bond, you know, that makes it like this?” She asked after a while.

Draco had wondered the same thing and honestly it was the only explanation that made any sense. “So intense, you mean? So… desperate?”

She nodded. “Like a drug, like… madness.” She murmured, making him smile. It was exactly how he’d worded it to himself multiple times. She was like a drug to him. “Yes, exactly.” He agreed, running his fingers softly over her skin.

“I never imagined anything like this was possible.” She murmured, drawing little runes on his chest with her finger. “Whenever we connect like that, its…” She lost the ability to describe it, and he never had the words to begin with. It was beyond him.

“I know.” He cupped her face and kissed her, finally feeling his magic begin to settle.

“So, tell me why your afternoon was crazy.” Hermione smiled at him, wiggling just far enough away in the bed that she could look at him properly while he talked.

Draco chuckled, happily finding her to be adorable. He sighed, finding himself really proud to share this with her. Really proud of himself, for once. “My final CCP1 patient woke up today.” He grinned, looking over at her as she squealed in excitement for him and attacked him with kisses and hugs and became his little koala bear once more.

“I am so proud of you!” She cried, climbing all over him to hug him tight with all of her limbs and smooch every inch of his face. “Tell me everything!” She demanded, her eyes bright with excitement.

He hugged her tight and shook his head. “You first, give me a hint at least. Why was your afternoon crazy?”

Hermione barked out a laugh and leaned back to look him in the eye. “I met with my Wizengamot source and he came through in a big way…”

“Oh yeah?” Draco was intrigued.

“Oh… yeah. But the news isn’t necessarily good unless we play it right. Fawley is apparently gunning for me.”

Draco frowned. “Isn't that a muggle expression implying he wants to kill you?!”

Hermione shook her head, scrambling back to lie next to him again. “Not in this case, though it wouldn’t break his heart if I died either. No, apparently he’s furious you and I are together. He’s planning an amendment that would assign spouses, thinking he’s being clever about avoiding line theft since we’ve not announced anything.”

Draco felt fury explode through him, startling Hermione who actually felt it through the bond, a new and bizarre experience for them both. “What the absolute fuck?!” He cried, sitting up in bed and staring incredulously at her.

“Oh, I know… But darling, don’t forget two enormously important and really rather lovely facts here.” Hermione grinned at him, sending him soothing, almost smug feelings through the bond. It was strange enough to startle him into listening.

“And what would those be?”

“Well first, remember that paperwork we had to hide in the Marriage Office?”

That said we’re already married?

“Oh shit!” Draco burst out laughing, realizing the entertainment possible if Fawley really did try to break them up via surreptitious amendment.

“Exactly.” Hermione’s grin was so cunning it was practically Slytherin. He was about to descend on her once more when he remembered there was a second thing.

“And the other thing?”

Her Slytherin smile turned evil. “He’s begging for an opportunity to incriminate himself. I say you and I let him do just that. Let him dig his own grave, then come Monday? We bury him in it, in front of the entire Wizengamot, and the press.”

It was official, she was the perfect woman.

“Tell me your plan, Princess. Whatever it is, I’m in. No one gets away with trying to take you away from me. No one.”

Chapter Text

“Are you nervous? About tonight I mean.” Draco asked quietly, stroking her scalp as he pushed errant curls from her face. They’d woken early, making wordless love as the sun came up, and never fallen back to sleep. They’d been chatting and staring lovingly at each other for who knew how long afterward, tangled and naked under the sheets and happier than either could remember despite the stresses in their lives.

“Hmm… Yes and no. There are a lot of moving parts for tonight, many that only came up since yesterday so I don’t have as tight a hold on them as I’d normally like.”

“You mean because Fawley’s motives are so unclear?”

“Yeah. It’s forced me to bring in the other aspect of my job which I hadn’t anticipated.”

Draco smirked. “You mean your spy stuff.”

“Don’t talk about things you don’t have clearance for, handsome.” Hermione rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it, making Draco smirk even harder if possible. It was an odd position to be in, really. As the right hand of the Minister of Magic, of course she had hands in every department. When she mentioned having a specific office for espionage in an entirely separate building during dinner the night before, though, he hadn’t quite expected that. She explained that because she had a public-facing job, she could tell him of its existence, but not what went on inside it, generally speaking. It was… oddly amusing to him for some reason.

“Isn’t there some ‘soulmate exception’ for interesting stuff like that, though?” He asked, completely joking and with no expectation whatsoever of transparency where it wasn’t warranted. He respected his witch’s position.

“Ehh… sortof?” She conceded, enjoying his gobsmacked face. “You’ll never know everything, love. But you’ll certainly find out some interesting things tonight.”

Draco’s breath whooshed out of him. She’d had him going there for a minute, thinking they’d give a former Death Eater security clearance…

“But Kingsley and I did actually touch briefly on upping your security clearance…” She continued as if reading his mind, intent on blowing his assumptions out of the water yet again with her you were never a real Death Eater stance that, apparently, the Minister was on board with?! Draco was speechless. “Of course he yet again felt the need to drop jokes about his availability to officiate our bonding ceremony and how ‘Yule is lovely’… I swear, Draco, I don’t give a flying fuck about how lovely Yule is. At this point we can not pick it, just to spite him. It can’t even be a contender.” She babbled aimlessly, not even realizing the impact of the things she was saying.

Draco realized he was still giving her a head scratch and chuckled to himself - it was the source of her near-veritaserum-level rambling. One of the many little details he’d noticed over the last two, perfect weeks about his love was that if he gave her a head massage and a question, she’d be honest in the most rambling and hilarious way, not even noticing she was doing it until it was too late. His witch was like a cat: if you pet her, she’d purr… except instead of purring it was stream-of-consciousness talking that to Draco was like a goldmine that kept on giving.

Hermione blinked slowly out of her haze as his hand paused its ministrations; he didn’t want her to accidentally give up state secrets or promise him children before she was ready. “Umm.” She blinked a few times and thought back over everything she’d blabbed during her head-scratch, eventually deciding that she stuck by all of it and giving him a decisive little nod to go with her perfectly blushing cheeks.

“I love you.” He murmured, grinning like a fool.

She smiled and pulled him in close, nibbling on his jaw. “I love you, too. What were we talking about, though?”

Draco had a packed day scheduled seeing patients, but it was Thursday, exactly two weeks since he and Hermione had first found each other again and since they’d be having dinner with all and sundry, he’d made sure to carve out time for a special lunch just the two of them. Knowing her day was even more insane than his he didn’t begrudge her a tight timeframe, grateful they’d been able to pull it off at all. Rushing into the front lobby of St. Mungo’s at just past 1pm, Draco saw her coming in the doors with a smile on her face.

“Hey beauty…” He felt such a rush seeing the same appreciation in her eyes that he was sure was reflected in his own. She looked stunning in a navy wrap-dress with curves to die for and legs for days.

“Omigod… Have we talked about my thoughts when I see you in a lab coat?” She asked honestly, ogling him so blatantly that he laughed. “Because if we haven’t, we should. Somewhere private.” She grinned, letting him pull her in close so he could chuckle into the curve of her neck.

“You can’t say things like that, love, when I’m trying to be a gentleman and take you out for a romantic lunch date.” He murmured into her ear, not even caring that they were still standing right in the middle of the hospital entryway where anyone could see or hear them.

“Oh? Why not?” She asked cheekily, holding onto him by the triceps and leaning backwards to look him in the eye.

“Because…” He leaned in again and murmured against the shell of her ear. “Cheeky little witches who say taunting things like that don’t get lunch. They get taken back to the lab and-” He was cut off by the buzzing of his pendant. “Sorry Princess, let me just…” He checked the message on what looked like a military dog-tag he fished out from beneath his shirt.

“Is that… are you using a protean charm?” She asked curiously, recognizing similar spellwork to some she’d fiddled with years earlier.

Draco huffed out a laugh as he checked his watch. “I was wondering when you’d catch on to that. Blaise and I got the idea from those little black market coins you all used to use. Listen darling I’m being paged, it’s something about Lucy. Can you hold tight while I check on her? You can even come with me, it’s non-emergent.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up at the prospect of setting eyes on the famous little Lucy and she nodded happily, slipping her hand in his. Pressing the button for the lift, Draco honestly wondered how it was possible that he’d gotten so lucky.

Draco’s luck had run out.

“Fuck me, Princess, run! RUN!”  He looked at her with eyes that hoped this wasn’t goodbye and took off sprinting across the perfectly manicured Malfoy Manor lawn while Hermione blew off his advice and stood right where she was, watching as an albino peacock with impressive agility steadily gained on him.

“He thought they’d forget about him. Tststst, not smart.” Lucius smiled with amused pity, enjoying his summer cocktail and outdoor theatre, wincing as Draco’s arse was mercilessly pecked and squawked at.

“Ouch.” Hermione hissed, holding out her hand to steal a sip of Lucius’s drink. There was no way she was going inside to get her own and risking missing any of this! Draco was arguing with the bloody thing now… it was priceless!

Narcissa came out to find Hermione and her husband giggling like lunatics while her son played yet another losing game of Natural Selection with Xafod. It was a surreal and special moment.

“Hermione, dear… it’s nearly six.”

“Oh buggar… sorry!” She swiftly covered her mouth and blamed the cocktail. There were times when her personal rules of comportment allowed for a potty-mouth around one’s future in-laws and times that did not. As it was still late afternoon and guests hadn’t arrived yet, she was still Lady Hermione, who shouldn’t swear. In an hour she’d be working and drinking and would drop the honorific in the interest of being real… but for the moment, she was at least trying to be her best self.

“Lucius go rescue him! This isn’t funny after the first… ten minutes.” Narcissa waved him off, seeing her son was now in the fountain.

“Yes, dear.” Lucius chuckled darkly, not even trying to hide whose side he was on. “Xafod! Stand down!”

“So, you said you needed to speak to us before everyone arrived?” Narcissa asked her, curious what new developments had taken place.

Lucius and a charm-dried but slightly limping Draco returned, the first grinning triumphantly and the latter scowling for good reason.

Coughing to cover up a laugh, Hermione confirmed Narcissa’s question. “Ah, yes! We both wanted to speak to you privately before the dinner.” She turned to a slightly pitiful Draco. “You okay?”

He smirked at her and shook his head. “Birds hate me.”

She tried so hard not to laugh.

Truly she did.

She failed spectacularly.

Twenty minutes and a few healing spells to Draco’s posterior later, the couple had a captive audience. They had hoped to avoid this for longer, but Fawley had made that impossible.

“You wanted to speak to us?” Lucius prompted.

Hermione and Draco were busy having a staring contest with each other, each trying to foist the responsibility of this chat onto the other. Since Hermione refused the thumb-wrestling contest Draco tried to initiate, the pair were looking more loony by the second.

“Huh? Right, yes, emm…” Draco huffed, giving in. “So listen, we know you know.” He shrugged, wafting the hand that wasn’t holding Hermione’s as if that nothing little sentence was supposed to mean something. His parents, however, just stared back at him like the non-communicative lunatic he was.

“You know… we know… what?” His father asked, both exasperated and amused.

Hermione rolled her eyes at how well this was going. “Mipsy!” She called, deciding to skip the back and forth.

The little elf popped in with her usual epic excitement. “Young Mistress has need for Mipsy?!”

Draco and Hermione watched his parents smile at the adorableness, but in no way look surprised. Still, though, neither parent seemed willing to fess up, leaving Hermione to come up with a reason on the spot for needing Mipsy.

“Actually, umm… You know what? I wanted to say thank you again for taking such good care of me the other night. You’re the best elf. No no no! Do not… cry! Please.” She begged as the little elf immediately threw herself on Hermione’s feet and began to wail. Giving in, she gave her a task. “You know, Mip, a martini would be great. A big one. With olives, please. Lots of olives.” Grateful to have an opportunity to serve, she popped tearfully away, back with the cocktail before anyone could even form words.

“Olive Martini for Young Mistress!” Mipsy yelled happily, her magic thankfully preventing it from sloshing and spilling over the rim as she thrust it into Hermione’s hand before popping away again for a solo sob-fest.

Awkward silence hung in the air for a solid twenty-thirty seconds while Hermione downed half her drink and cuddled into Draco’s side, steadfastly ignoring him chuckling at her.

“Sooo. As Draco said. You already knew, yes?”

“We did, yes!” Narcissa squealed, practically bouncing in her seat. “We’re so happy for you!”

Lucius just smiled, nodding at his son. He and Draco made eye contact and had a moment between them that Hermione made a mental note to ask about later, but she could tell that it was positive.

“What made you kids bring it up now?” Lucius asked curiously. “The timing feels… ominous.”

They both sighed.

“Remember when I said the Marriage Law was Fawley’s baby and because of that, I wanted him finished?” Hermione asked.

“Vividly.” Lucius replied proudly, much to his wife and son’s amusement.

“Well I’ll obviously explain more tonight in the meeting, but while the law itself is very real, I do not believe Fawley wishes to see even one pureblood-muggleborn marriage come to fruition because of it. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“How is that possible?” Narcissa asked.

Hermione checked her watch and got ready to stand, realizing they would start receiving guests any minute. “Because he hopes to drive every eligible muggleborn out of the country in the next six months. Our Chief Warlock has been a very busy boy… but he is no match for me. Now I know that doesn’t answer all your questions but Draco and I just wanted to assure you privately before everyone got here that we are protected, legally speaking…” She looked over at him and smiled. “And very happy as well. I am sure the bond will come up in the meeting later since apparently our relationship specifically has rather pissed Fawley off, but we wanted to speak to you about it first in any case. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go check that my notes are in order in the dining room before everyone gets here. I’ll see you all in a bit.”

Draco kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand, letting her go with a nod before sitting back down with his parents. He noticed his father looking oddly contemplative. “Father, what?”

“Did she argue with the Sorting Hat, do you think?”

Draco chuckled. “She was a hat stall, actually. Nearly four and half minutes.”

This seemed to placate Lucius. “Ah! That explains it… That girl is a snake, through and through.” He said proudly. Draco  just shook his head. He wasn’t sure what his love had done to bewitch his father, but he liked it. His mother thought it was hilarious.

Chapter Text

“Why am I here, again?” Millie asked her friend of twenty years as she signed her name on the ‘Welcome Sheet’.

Since when did dinner parties have ‘welcome sheets’?

“I told you…” Pansy huffed, dragging her over to where Flip was bartending. “We’re putting on our big-girl robes and accepting our Wizengamot seats, all of us, all at once. We’re doing a coup, Mills!” Pansy thrust a G&T with cucumber into her hand and clinked glasses a bit forcefully, making Milly think she’d already had one or three before Millie arrived.

“Right… So you said. It’s the why part of this that I’m still unclear on, Pans. Are we gonna go over that at some point?”

Pansy mmhhmmf’ed mid-sip while nodding enthusiastically. “Oh, completely! Granger has it all in hand…”

Riiight.

Because those were words that, historically speaking, were known to calm Millicent Callidora Bulstrode right the fuck down…

Also, since when was Pansy so Team-Granger, anyway?

Millie knew she probably spent too much time focusing on her kneazle breeding business… really, she knew that… but still. She felt uncomfortably out of the loop when attending a Hermione Granger-hosted dinner party held at Malfoy Manor at the behest of Pansy Parkinson was suddenly an on-trend thing to do. What were the rules in such an upside down world, anyway? Was she even dressed appropriately for a coup party?

“Hey Mills.” Gregory Goyle stepped up after refreshing his drink and he looked… fit. Millie hadn’t seen him since… everything. “It’s nice to see you. What’s it been, four years? You look amazing. Kneazles, right? How’s that going?” He smiled at her, more confident and well-spoken than he’d ever been in school, yet here she was gaping at him like a guppie in heat.

“Erm… Greg!” She squeaked, topping it off by blinking too many times to be considered even remotely normal. Thank Merciful Morgana other people decided to come say their hellos at that moment because Millie’s brain was soup. At least Greg seemed charmed by her sudden bout of idiocy, or at least was being nice about it? She didn’t know, she was too busy fantasizing about disappearing forever into Narcissa Malfoy’s Persian carpet.

“Hello hello fellow coup conspirators!” Theo Nott bellowed, joining the group with… a one-eared Weasley? Huh?

It was like Pansy understood her on a deep, witchy-sisterhood level because the second Millie took in the sight of Theo and his boyfriend approaching with Loony Lovegood and Blaise, the last two showing off their new wedding rings, she immediately handed her a fresh drink.

“Just be glad you’re seeing them in person and not… their wedding photos.” Pansy murmured to her, audibly swallowing as if nauseated.

Reluctantly intrigued, Millie couldn’t help but ask. “Why? What was wrong with their wedding photos?”

Greg overheard and leaned in. “Nude… jumping for joy… it was so wrong…” He visibly shuddered.

Millie couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing.

Draco stood back, out of the way, and watched his witch work the room. It was packed. People he recognized and expected. People he recognized and could not fucking believe were in his house for this. People he recognized and couldn’t… quite… place…

Aaand people he had never seen before. There were a disturbing number of those, too.

He’d seen his mother work ballrooms and charity galas, political functions and garden parties his entire life. Seeing a powerful witch know exactly how to work a party wasn’t… new to Draco. Not conceptually.

Yet he’d never seen anything like this, and until he had his strange mix of awe and lust in reaction to it under control, he decided remaining an observer was the more prudent way to be… helpful.

She was magnificent. Stunning. Fucking inspiring. She was also dressed like the world’s sexiest legal counsel, which didn’t help.

Why had he given her that diamond necklace for their two week anniversary? Seeing her wearing it was making him uncomfortably hard and unable to concentrate. All he could think about was getting her home and divesting her of everything other than her jewelry and fucking her until she screamed.

Was that possessive and a little bit insane?

Probably.

Did he inadvertently unlock some sort of ‘Malfoy diamonds dripping off Hermione’s naked body’ kink?

Absolutely, and who could blame him?

No one. No one at all, ever.

No, he wasn’t giving himself enough credit. His brain could multi-task. He could want her desperately while also being in awe of how brilliant she is.

And she really, really is. The more he sees her work the more in awe of her he is.

She had the French Minister of Magic, Lord Greengrass and a man Draco was >90% sure was the Head of MACUSA all chortling at some joke she’d told, singing her praises and remarking on her brilliance long after she’d moved on to greet other guests.

She had her assistant running herd over what appeared to be six or even eight intelligence analysts, organizing papers and what looked like photos in little hush-hush groups by the larger Queen Anne sideboard, readying the presentation.

She’d charmed all of their various and sundry classmates into reconnecting as if this were some no-big-deal cocktail party, telling them to eat and enjoy themselves for now. To relax…

The woman was so Slytherin it was ridiculous.

So far he’d heard her speaking fluent French, deftly diverting the charmingly ancient French Minister’s flirting, as well as an entire conversation with a witch he’d never seen before in Russian. She looked to be around sixty and ruthlessly pureblooded if her robes were anything to go by, but Draco didn’t recognize her.

Snorting to himself, he thought back to his first dinner date with Hermione, her adorably wrinkled nose and chastising words echoing in his mind. ‘If I didn’t find you speaking other languages so incredibly super hot, that would have been over the line on sass, Mr. Malfoy.’

He hadn’t understood quite what she’d meant until he’d heard her rushing through a conversation with mystery-lady in Russian a few minutes earlier. He’d had to recall the horror of Blaise’s wedding photo just to tame his reaction.

“Are you going to stand here all night like a wallflower-slash-stalker, staring at your woman while she does her job?” Neville asked, sidling up out of nowhere. Draco scowled at his friend, annoyed at the intrusion. Having to share his stalker-corner would draw attention, defeating its purpose.

“Not now that that you’ve outed me, you arse.” He gave Neville a light shoulder-check, just for the shit-eating grin he was sporting.

“‘Sorry not sorry,’ I believe is the phrase?” Neville dodged another playful punch with a laugh. “You, ehh… have a clue who all these people are?” Neville gestured vaguely toward the rest of the room.

“Ehh… Mostly?” Draco nodded absently with a shrug before turning more purposefully toward his friend. “Listen, Nev, I wanted to tell you something before this all gets going, which should be soon if I’m reading Hermione right.” Draco missed the little smile that his wording inspired in Neville because he was too busy furrowing his brow and figuring out how the hell to word what he wanted to say. Expressing his feelings, especially on the fly to anyone not named Hermione, was not one of his talents.

“Sure, what’s up?” Neville prompted, seeing his anxiety.

“Right, emm… It might come up later, in the meeting, but I wanted to tell you first because… because I owe you, Nev… I owe you everything…” Draco huffed, ignoring the laugh of incredulity that Neville barked out.

“Hmm… Draco, if one of us owes the other one anything, I think you’re confused, mate!” He laughed, sipping his butterbeer.

Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head, staring at Hermione as she charmed the Head of the ICW. What the fuck was he doing here? Draco shook it off, he didn’t care, the more the bloody merrier at this point. His witch was amazing.

“Nev, seriously… I dunno if Pans spilled this news already, but… I do owe you, Nev, for the letter.” He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I’d never have gotten the nerve to send it if you hadn’t, er… made me? And… She’s my soulmate, you know?”

Neville just blinked back at him, unsure if he was being serious, or… just trying to make a point, maybe? “I mean… I know you love her…” He narrowed his eyes in confusion and Draco chuckled. It was understandable, he supposed. Most people never meet a soulmated couple in their lifetime; it was more legend than likelihood, that was for sure.

“No, Nev, I’m not being hyperbolic. We did the spell, the Malfoy elves recognize her, the bond was even accidentally recorded by the Ministry already.”

Neville’s eyes bugged out of his face as he struggled for nearly half a minute to form words, finally settling on a happy scoff and, “I take it back. You do owe me.”

Draco’s laughter was so pure that Hermione felt it in her magic. She couldn’t hear or see him across the crazy crowd of people, but all of a sudden her magic seemed to bloom in her chest; she could feel his happiness, and it gave her so much of her own just for that moment of shared warmth across a crowded room.

Harry and Ginny arrived to see most of their peer group already there, as well as over a dozen people they either didn’t recognize or simply hadn’t expected.

“Whaaat the…” Ginny’s eyes went wide seeing the hustle and bustle of people who obviously worked for Hermione, people who looked like they worked in the government maybe… people who looked… important. It was intimidating.

“Yeah… I dunno.” Harry shrugged, looking around for friendly faces. He saw Hermione flitting around like a general, dressed like… well, his first thought was a grownup fancy lady, but that just made him feel silly. Most of their friends were in a big huddle near what looked like an open bar so Harry pointed that out, leading Ginny in that direction.

“Hello Ginevra, Harry.” Percy passed them by with a nod and a pile of papers, serious as ever, heading toward a group of people who Harry didn’t recognize but looked as serious as he was.

“I hate when he calls me that.” Ginny grumbled.

“He didn’t even give us enough time to say hi back!” Harry scoffed at the same time, leading them both to laugh. Percy was about as opposite to the both of them as anyone, but he was family. Reaching the group, Ginny pulled Pansy in for a hug first. “Where’s Neville?”

“Why would she know where Longbottom is?” Millie whispered in Greg’s vague direction but Pansy heard her and turned around, annoyed.

“Salazar’s tits, Millie, do you never read your post? I sent you a wedding invitation two days ago!”

Millie stared at her friend, looked across the room to where the staggeringly fit wizard that Neville Longbottom had grown into was standing and speaking in conspiratorial whispers with Draco like two teenage girls and decided that yup, the world was definitely upside down now.

“Two litters were born this week.” Millie finally answered her a bit weakly. “Umm. When’s the wedding?”

Pansy sighed, smooching her cheek affectionately. Millie always did love her kneazles. “Saturday at two.” Turning back to Ginny, Pansy pointed across the room. “Nev’s over there, gossiping with Draco.”

“Do you know who all the extra people are?” Harry murmured to her. He figured if anyone on this side of the room would, it’d be Parkinson.

“Well, I can tell you who most of them are, sure… Why the fuck they’re here? Not so much. But I have a feeling.” Her tone sounded a bit ominous and Harry’s spidey-sense didn’t like it.

“A feeling?” He asked, trying to prompt her to say more.

“Yeah, Potter, a feeling! That guy over there is the Head of the ICW, and that woman over there I overheard someone say is with Magical Interpol… oh and the guy who looks like a slightly taller professor Flitwick? That’s the French Minister of Magic.”

The entire group had stopped speaking and was looking at her with mixed expressions, most of them some version of fear.

“What… why would those people be here for this?” Ginny asked.

Surprisingly it was Luna who answered her before Pansy could, and of course she did so in her usual, airy voice devoid of concern or worry. “Because Hermione discovered something since we saw her last, something big, something illegal, and she’s going to tell us about it.”

They all stood there silently for a minute before George piped up with his usual levity.

“Oh. Well if that’s all…”

Draco could feel the pull towards his soul mate under two circumstances, he was finding.

One: If she was somehow distressed the pull would make itself known no matter what.

Two: He could seek it out regardless if he simply took a moment to meditate and reach out with his magic, enabling him to tell where in his vicinity she was.

He’d just left the loo when he got a bit of a tingle in his magic, making him want to seek Hermione out, to check on her. He wasn’t sure of her mood but he at least knew she was stressed, maybe even annoyed. There were nearly double the number of people in the room he’d expected and several he’d never even seen before, deferring only to her in little whispering huddles as they conferred over their notes. By the time he got toward the other end of the room, he’d been forced to greet three people he did know yet hadn’t expected and when he finally laid eyes on his witch she was in yet another intense and speedy conversation in Russian with the unknown brunette he’d noticed earlier as well as a third person this time, someone glamorous but alarmingly short in stature… Gran?!

“Ah! Cissy’s boy has come at last.” Switching to English, Gran’s shriveled-raisin mouth pinched in mock-disapproval at his late arrival to greet her, though her eyes danced with humor; in his defense, though, he hadn’t known she’d be there! He was gobsmacked to see her! He felt... naked!

“Gran don’t toy with him, you didn’t say you were coming and, funnily enough, I distinctly remember not inviting you.” Hermione told her, clearly annoyed. Draco could feel her annoyance through the bond now, there was no ambiguity about it, she was pissed.

“Pfft, details. You should always be on your toes when it comes to me, young Draco.” The old bat lifted one eyebrow and presented him her hand. He barely found her knuckles to kiss under the giant, blinding gemstones of her rings but he couldn’t fault her logic. When he’d recovered from his shock and laughter, he even said so.

“You’re quite right, Your Grace. You did warn me of that at least.” He smiled, turning his attention to the Russian witch… muggle… intimidating woman he didn’t know. Hermione sighed.

“Draco… this is Lady Katerina Dolohov… with Magical Interpol.” Hermione grasped his hand and squeezed as his eyes flashed to hers in alarm and he sucked air in audibly through his nose.

“I understand your concerns Lord Black. My nephew was a monster.” The rather elegant woman told him softly in a heavy Russian accent. “But his sins are not mine, and I have been working with Marigold here for many years if you need a… reference.”

Now that caught Draco’s attention, snapping his eyes back to the Dowager.

“What? You thought you were the only toff who ever had a day job? Pfft.” She scoffed, waving him away like boring house fly.

“You are retired, Granny. Don’t act like you didn’t come with your old friend simply for the fun of it. It's an abuse of your security clearance and you know it!” Hermione hissed.

Draco gave his head a little shake to bring himself back to reality. “I apologize for my reaction, Lady Dolohov. If anyone knows that the sins of one’s family should not reflect on the rest… well, in any case, my apologies.” He stammered, swallowing the lump of emotion in his throat.

“No need, Lord Black.”

The Dowager narrowed her eyes, disliking not knowing the details of every story in everyone’s lives, ever.

She’d get the details, though. It was her specialty, after all.

“Hermione, dear, where is that dishy Minister of yours? I’ve yet to see him in this crowd you’ve gathered…” The Dowager murmured, pursing her lips in annoyance at how much she’d shrunk in her old age. She couldn’t see anything in crowds anymore.

Hermione groaned. “Glad to see your priorities are straight and that you’re here for altruistic and helpful reasons, Granny. I’ll be sure to send him over post-haste.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance, turning to Lady Dolohov. “You’ll know exactly when I need you. In the meantime, however, since you’re responsible for bringing her, you’re responsible for babysitting her, and ensuring she stays quiet.” Hermione took Draco’s hand and led him away, ignoring his protesting that if he wasn’t a good host to her grandmother she’d poison him and apparently had the resources to not get caught.

“Tilly!” Draco called out desperately, his voice cracking slightly.

“Master Draco?” One of the elves helping with the event smiled up at him while Hermione pouted.

“See that tiny, elderly yet very elegant muggle woman over there?” Draco asked, suddenly fearing she’d somehow placed listening devices on his person and therefore not taking any chances.

“Umm, yes?” Apparently even Tilly thought he was laying it on a bit thick.

“Can you ensure that she and her, eh, friend have absolutely everything they need this evening?” Draco asked a bit desperately.

Tilly looked to Hermione for confirmation, sensing her Master had perhaps lost the plot completely. Hermione subtly nodded, prompting Tilly to smile up at Draco the way one would at a crazy person and ensure him that she’d get right on it. Draco was oblivious to this condescending exchange entirely, which was probably for the best. His forehead had begun sweating over the whole affair.

“I can’t believe Gran is… was… a spy person!” He hissed in her ear a bit hysterically, tugging on her hand. Hermione sighed, staring at him for a minute, waiting for it to click. Draco took a minute, and it did. “That’s… that’s how she knows everyone… How you… slipped in so easily over there…”

‘There’ being the intelligence community; ‘there’ being the bowels of the Annex.

“She’s supposed to be retired.” Hermione groused, making Draco bark out a burst of mad laughter loud enough to startle those around them.

“Ha! A woman like her? Retire from a career based around nosiness?!” He laughed in his witch’s face at such a notion.

Kingsley walked up to them and for a dark-skinned black man, he was pale with fear. “Hermione.”

“Yes?”

“Why is your Gran here?”

“Do you want the reason she gave or the reason I think?”

“Both.”

“She’s convinced that three of the Russian oligarchs buying up half of Sloane Square are magical; she and Katerina were going on and on about a conversation they’d bugged about a planned Fidelius that Magical Interpol now has to prevent. It’s a whole mess. Gran gave innocent eyes about their meeting running over and just tagging along tonight, suuure that I wouldn’t mind.” Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes as Draco blanched and Kingsley threw back his entire drink.

“And the real reason?” Kingsley deadpanned, already fully aware of what it was but for some reason needing confirmation anyway.

“She’s a nosy old lady who refuses to stay retired and heard something interesting was happening tonight, what else? Katerina should have refused to bring her, which is what I told her, but it’s too late now.”

Kingsley sighed with a rather unmanly little whine at the end. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

Hermione’s lips quirked into a bit of a smirk. “Don’t worry Kings, I’ll protect you.” Kingsley snorted, shaking his head.

“It’ll be just my luck if she says something brilliant tonight… then we’ll never know peace again.”

Hermione stood at the head of the massive dining table, staring out at the coalition she’d brought together for the evening as she leaned ever-so-slightly forward, resting her splayed fingertips on the polished mahogany. Finally, everyone was seated.

“Good evening everyone, and thank you for coming. Before I begin, does everyone have a drink? Enough to eat? Wonderful. One important note to make before we begin is the parchment you all signed when you arrived. I wasn’t only taking attendance, I was securing secrecy. By signing that parchment you agreed magically to not speak of tonight’s discussion or any information that it covers with outside parties. You will not like the consequences if you try and if you try, I will know. Now that you know that, does anyone want to leave?”

Several people chuckled or smiled behind their hands, but no one outright grinned harder than Draco. The Head of the ICW all-out guffawed; Lucius looked proud. The only idiot to raise their hand, however, was Harry Potter.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, already praying for strength.

“Harry…?”

Harry’s ears were red and his wife was pretending she didn’t know him but he was still, for some reason, committed to asking a question.

“Yeah, erm, is it the same parchment curse you used last ti-”

Scoffs and eye-rolls erupted from Neville and Ginny and Hermione took on the face of a parent whose toddler was in the ‘But…why?’ phase.

“No, Harry. It’s a Magical Interpol Regulation Form Curse. We good?” She asked, not feeling even a little bit bad when her friend turned the color of his Auror robes - crimson.

“Yep.” He squeaked, giving her an epically cool-kids thumbs-up. She just nodded.

“Fantastic. I’ll also mention that-” The barely restrained chuckling of Lady Dolohov caught her attention. Hermione sighed, hoping whatever this was wouldn’t lead to her having to Silencio her grandmother. “Something to say, Katerina?”

The woman seemed tickled beyond measure. “Oh, I would only say that, on behalf of Magical Interpol, we appreciated you designing that curse for us, by the way…” The table erupted in laughter as Hermione raised an eyebrow at her. “The intelligence community would be lost without you, darling. Having said that, I really do recommend to all of you that you take her threat seriously.” The woman’s heavy accent would have been scary if she wasn’t so entertained at the moment.

“Umm, MI5… seconds that.” A nondescript bloke in a black muggle suit no one had ever seen before raised a finger while chiming in that tidbit of advice. Hermione’s eyes rolled then immediately cut to Blaise, cutting off whatever excited stream of questions he was about to run away with. Her friend looked like a kicked crup puppy and Draco burst out laughing, whispering comforting maybe later, buddy-type statements in his ear. Hopefully he wasn’t telling him about Gran…

“Thanks, both of you, for… that.” Hermione couldn’t get over how surreal this night already was. “Moving on! The notepads you’ll all find next to your place settings this evening will be keyed to your magical signature the moment you begin writing on them. Only you and you alone will be able to read whatever notes you make on tonight’s meeting so you are welcome to take your notes with you when you go. Any questions before we begin?”

Crickets…

“Alright then. We have a lot of ground to cover tonight so please bear with me. For those of you who don’t know, I work as the Chief Advisor to Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt. My role is non-traditional, however, and incredibly fluid. As our friends from Magical Interpol and MI5 just… awkwardly endorsed… I liaise with the Intelligence Community often, just as I do the Department of Mysteries, Legislation, Education, Health, and whatever other departments need a hand or have an issue at any given time. I am what is known colloquially in government as much as an advisor as a fixer… Simply put, I get things done. Without a rigid job description, I can move fluidly within our government to do so and as a muggleborn who grew up as a member of a cadette branch of the Royal Family, I can easily liaise with the Muggle Government on our behalf. That is my job. For what we are here to accomplish tonight, it is important that everyone understand that.”

Hermione ignored the whispers and surprised, appraising looks she was getting from her classmates and sipped her water.

“Knowing that, let me explain our agenda. First I am going to turn this presentation over briefly to Lord Black, who is going to explain our push on the Wizengamot and how Monday’s mass membership expansion is likely to go. After that, my assistant Lisa will hand out a copy of the law that inspired tonight's meeting. It will come to the floor for amendments on Monday directly after new members are seated, and it is the most dangerous thing to happen to Wizarding Britain since the war. I do not say that lightly." Hermione paused to meet several people's eyes. "Once we go over it, hopefully the same glaring holes that stood out to me will stand out to you, because it is aimed at ruining the lives of every person it touches. My colleagues to my left and our foreign counterparts will then each take a few moments of your time. Any questions?”

Literally everyone who didn’t either work for her or who wasn’t there to present evidence had about a million questions, however none of them could articulate what they were. Everyone just stared at her like they were terrified and she was the only person on the planet who had the secret to their survival; Hermione didn’t read their faces that way, though, she was too professional, too in the zone for that. She merely saw a lack of raised hands and took it as a ‘no’.

“Alright then. Lord Black, the floor is yours.”

Chapter Text

“Alright then. Lord Black, the floor is yours.”

“Thank you, my darling.” Draco murmured as he passed her, briefly squeezing her fingers and letting his eyes linger on her for a second or two longer than strictly necessary. Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek to temper the smile that the interaction left her with as she sat down; she knew that dozens of eyes were on her, two of which belonged to her nosy grandmother, and that she needed to maintain at least a facade of professionalism.

“Right, good evening everyone. First let me say thank you all for coming tonight. I know it was a leap of faith but the subject matter we’ll be going over affects all of us. For some, it could make or break the trajectory of the rest of our lives. As Lady Hermione mentioned, the Wizengamot has recently passed a law during the closed session that is abhorrent at best, catastrophic for the future of our world at worst, and worst is not an unlikely scenario to play out if we do nothing.

"How did they manage to pass this? Well, it wasn’t as hard as it should have been, but it also wasn’t surprising, because there are too many open seats on the Wizengamot.

“Now, as we all know, the overall number of Wizengamot seats is no longer set in stone, but rather fluctuates based on how many of the original three hundred families who created it still exist with an heir available to sit on it. As families have died out, their seats have gone ‘dormant.’ Over the centuries it has shrunk in seated membership by nearly 85%… A quarter of that frankly catastrophic loss has been in the last sixty years alone. And we all know why, don’t we? War. Plain and simple.

"Not just the direct cause and effect you immediately think of, either, where bloodlines are eliminated through death; no, in recent years especially it is far more subtle than that, and the proof is sitting around this table. War changes the way we live as a society; it disrupts time-honored traditions; some changes it forces upon us, others it allows us to choose for ourselves for the first time, but regardless, the outcome is the same: things change. We are different, society is different.”

Draco took a moment to gather his thoughts, realizing his goal of being concise was crashing and burning. He looked up and eyed his classmates one at a time, aiming to get back on track.

“Abbott, Bones, Black, Bulstrode, Goyle, Longbottom, Nott, Parkinson, Potter, Prewett. All names of notably surviving families with heirs that are therefore entitled to front-row seats in our esteemed governing body, yet most of those seats have remained notably empty for years without even a proxy to vote on them. The only one of us whose trajectory toward being seated was even remotely traditional was Longbottom, who was named Scion on his 20th birthday by his grandmother Augusta. Tragically she passed away before she could formally hand him the reigns but it was always Nev’s plan to be seated either this session or next.

"Hannah Abbott, Millie Bulstrode, Greg Goyle, Theo Nott and Pansy Parkinson all inherited their seats when the Second War either took or permanently incarcerated their parents; the Second War also claimed the life of Susan Bones’ amazing Aunt, DMLE Head Amelia Bones. So, all six of those seats have at least a four year vacancy gap. Four years of rulings, four years of laws… Our generation had no voice.

"The Black seat has been vacant since my Great Uncle Arcturus died in ’91, so that’s over ten years vacant for me. The First War took Potter’s parents and Weasley’s Uncles, meaning the Potter and Prewett seats have both been vacant for over twenty years. Cumulatively, our lost influence is staggering, and we cannot get it back. We can only go forward from here.

“Now I am not calling any one of us out as having made a mistake in not yet claiming our seat, far from it, we all have our own reasons and those reasons are our own business. For myself, I’ll be honest and say that after the war, I did not feel that there was a redemption threshold I had yet met where claiming the Black seat felt natural. I will also say that a large part of me trusted, or wanted to trust my government not to need me, and also… not to turn on me. Not again. I wanted to believe that I could let the other guy handle it, if that makes some sense? But as it turns out, even when the Minister of Magic has his head on straight and has the best interests of his constituents at heart, many on the Wizengamot may not, which means we all need to step up and play our parts.

“So, how do we do that? Let’s walk it through…

“Monday morning, the first thing the Chief Warlock will do to commence the opening of the new legislative session is ask the bailiff whether there are any new members presenting. Every year this is a formality because with the exception of two, there have not been any new members in decades. Bertram Fawley, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, does not know about us, does not know about our plan, and will assume that this will be like any other year. He is the one who sponsored and pushed for the bill we will be going over tonight that will so thoroughly horrify you and is aimed at ruining the lives of young people specifically. We are going to ruin his day.”

Draco smiled conspiratorially and glanced over at Hermione; she sighed and smirked back at him, giving him a little wink.

“I’m so excited for this.” Kingsley gushed behind his hand to Lucius, making him snort, then try to cover it with a cough. Hermione just grinned at them both before turning back to watching Draco. She was enjoying this more than she’d anticipated.

“Me too, Minister.” Draco chuckled. “Alright, here’s how it’s going to go. Fawley is going to bang his gavel and ask the bailiff if there are any new members presenting, expecting the bailiff to say, ‘No Chief Warlock’. However, he will be in for a surprise, won't he? We will all be assembled outside the chamber in order of least intimidating first, as long as that’s alright with you Hannah.”

Hannah Abbott grinned with more calculation than a greedy goblin. “More than.”

Draco quirked an eyebrow, impressed. “Excellent. 10 points to Hufflepuff…” The table roared with laughter. “Lisa are you marking the roster down?” Hermione’s assistant nodded eagerly. “Wonderful, thank you… So when you are called in to be seated, Hannah, the initiation goes like this…”

Hermione closed her eyes as Draco kissed her cheek on his way back to reclaiming his chair, basking for that brief moment in the feel of his lips against her skin, his hands on her upper arms. Fleeting, but his warmth stayed with her.

“Thank you, Lord Black.” She smiled and sent him a little wink, making everyone chuckle. “Any questions before we move on?”

Harry raised his hand. “Yeah, sorry, erm… speaking of the initiation bit… Can you explain the parties to me? Since when are there three? Because I somehow get the feeling that us lot were raised on a propaganda bunch of bullsh- erm… Sorry… What I mean is…” Harry huffed, looking to Hermione a bit desperately.

“It’s alright, Harry. You’re referring to Dumbledore’s BS about the Light families versus the Dark families, yes?”

Harry sighed happily, nodding. “Yes! I didn’t even know the Grey was… a thing…”

Hermione stood silently for a moment, debating with herself. Eventually she just said fuck it.

“You’re right, and I don’t blame Draco for taking a rather ruthlessly neutral stance on party recommendations just now. I really ought to do the same. Ethically, it really would be the most appropriate thing for me to do the same.” She huffed, nodding absently for a moment. “Obviously, we all know that’s not my style though, don’t we?” She smiled gently and shrugged a bit while the entire table laughed, Lucius especially loudly.

“You’re right, Harry, it was propaganda that Dumbledore built during his time as Chief Warlock, the same way he created house division as Headmaster, Gryffindor good, Slytherin evil. It’s BS, but because it went on for so long, the actual definitions of the what each party stood for got skewed to fit his narrative. No one has pledged the Grey Party in five decades, not because it’s bad, but because the man who defeated Grindlewald made everyone think it was the party of fence-sitters, and it went out of fashion. Dumbledore made it out like the Dark was made up solely of Death Eater families, but that was propaganda, too. Old, pureblood families with traditional wizarding values, both purist and not, tended to remain loyal to the Dark Party because they had no choices. Even those who were neutral during both Wizarding Wars like my good friend Lord Greengrass’s family could not have changed party affiliation during the war even if they had wanted to, it would have been a death sentence. Do I have that right, Lord Greengrass?”

Lord Greengrass was drinking heavily at this point but nodded. “Indeed, my dear.” He shuddered, letting Tilly refill his firewhiskey. “Fascinating stuff, you know. Never thought about resurrecting the Grey… You’re a real ideas woman…” He sniffed audibly and gave her a little toast, making Hermione chuckle.

“Cheers… And Harry the ‘Light’ families were all expected to pledge loyalty to the Order, or give Dumbledore their proxy votes whether they agreed with him or not. Dumbledore did the Wizengamot no favors, and you'd be shocked at some of the shit laws he pushed through by leveraging his power over others.

"But... to answer your real question, which I think was actually which party you should choose?  Grey. I say you all choose Grey. Go in there, as a group and resurrect the Party of Neutrality, of Freedom, at a time when we particularly need it. If nothing else, it shows the youth vote as a united front and as a bonus, it is one more way to screw with Fawley’s mind.” She shrugged. Her peers all seemed to be nodding in agreement and, for whatever reason, her boss looked positively energized.

“Alright, so to recap… Monday morning we will be changing the face of the Wizengamot. Make no mistake, this will make international news. Fawley expects Monday to be spent solely on Amendments for the Bill that Lisa is passing out to you all now, WL780. When this law was voted on in the closed session, Fawley made his case to a group almost exclusively above the age that would be affected by it. With the exception of the Minister, every vote was cast by someone over the age of sixty thanks to multiple seats held by proxies. Thanks to some quick thinking by Percy Weasley, the rightful heirs to two of the seats held by proxy votes that went Fawley’s way on this are here tonight, and they plan to both retake their seats on Monday with the rest of you and contest the votes taken by their former proxies, citing coercion and filing grievances against the Chief Warlock. Say hello to Cassius Warrington and Adrian Pucey. Gentlemen, welcome to our fully legal conspiracy.” Hermione grinned.

Both gentlemen were from Slytherin and were a few years ahead of Hermione and Draco’s class; Adrian was in George’s class and Cassius was in the one above that. They’d both been sitting slightly apart from the group and most of their peers hadn’t noticed them before. Now they stood up briefly and shook a few hands, notably congratulating Draco which was embarrassing.

George whistled. “Hot damn Mione, I feel like there’s a whip joke in here somewhere…” Shockingly, Kingsley and Lord Greengrass were the two who both got this joke first and found it the most hilarious. Percy got it but found it embarrassing.

“Georgie, I’ve already whipped your vote, so mind your manners.”

“Rude.” He muttered happily.

“I don’t get it.” Harry whispered to his wife, who just shrugged. Apparently political humor wasn’t for everyone. The French Minister was snickering, though, and Lucius had never looked more entertained.

“Moving on!” Hermione sipped some water. “While we cannot guarantee an overturn by doing this, we do have an opportunity. Like Draco said, our generation left too many hereditary seats empty after the war for many reasons, but whatever those reasons were, we need to collectively put them aside now. I want to thank all of you for agreeing to step up. Thanks to our efforts this week, we will be taking two votes back from conservative proxies and putting twelve more votes on the board, all under the age of twenty-five. If Fawley expected to make unilateral moves against the young people of Britain on Monday, he will be sorely disappointed.”

Hermione was actually surprised when a short but not insubstantial round of applause went around the table at that news. She found Draco’s eye and he mouthed I love you, causing her to nod back, trying not to blush.

“Hermione can you quickly explain for everyone else how ten people is twelve seats? And help me put names to faces...” Kingsley was making notes and drinking wine, having the odd canapé here and there between bullet points and jokes.

“Sure thing. So you’ll recognize the original conspirators, Kings… Over there is Lady Pansy Parkinson, Lord Theodore Nott, Draco is of course Lord Black, Neville here holds the Longbottom Lordship… but it is Harry Potter that is our winner with two Lordships and the right to a third Wizengamot seat by right of conquest, so let’s all have a slow clap for Lord Potter-Peverell there!” Hermione playfully wrinkled her nose at her friend.

“Wait, a third seat?” Theo asked, chuffed to bits that his plan had gotten even more fancy since he’d last heard about it.

“Oh yes… Harry will be asking Lady Magic to grant him the Gaunt seat by right of conquest on Monday morning. Should be quite a show.”

Harry purposefully tried to sit up straighter in his seat but instead it just looked like he was adjusting himself awkwardly. “Hey, I double checked with the goblins and they agreed with Mr. Malfoy. I killed the noseless bastard like… nine times or something, that seat is the least I can demand… Technically it’s all I would want anyway, it’s not like he had normal possessions or… whatever…” He trailed off, shoulders hunching again toward the end as Ginny patted his shoulder.

“How does someone sit in three places at once? Just… asking for a friend.” George murmured, eyeing Harry with a crooked grin as a few of the seasoned politicians at the table chuckled.

“He doesn’t. His lovely wife will sit in the Peverell seat as Regent and the Gaunt seat will be assigned to whichever party Mr. Potter chooses.” Lucius piped in helpfully, smiling at Hermione.

“Thanks for the, erm… recommendation, Mione.” Harry murmured.

“Cheers, Harry. To finish answering the Minister’s question… We also have Lord Gregory Goyle over to my right, Lady Hannah Abbott next to him, Lady Susan Bones you know, Lady Millicent Bulstrode on the end there... and thanks to the entail rules of the Prewett seat only being inheritable by magical twins, George Weasley was able to take over that Lordship.”

Kingsley looked over his notes and around the table, putting faces to names, eventually nodding to her to continue.

“Does everyone now have a copy of WL780?” Everyone nodded and Hermione mouthed her thanks to Lisa who was uncharacteristically on the ball. “Wonderful. Before we get into the weeds with this legislative piece of…” Hermione stopped herself, cleared her throat, and gratefully accepting some sparkling water from Mipsy. She took a deep breath and started over.

“Before I go over what they're calling The Marriage Law of 2002, let me quickly explain a few things… We are going into Monday with several goals and one big handicap. Now on paper you will see the problem this law is trying to solve: birth rate decline and an overall population crisis… I’ll go ahead right now and tell you that it is real, it is much worse than the law makes it out to be because Fawley did no research whatsoever when he wrote this piece of garbage, and I will also tell you that this law does not actually do anything whatsoever to solve it… However, it creates many, many more problems that are arguably even worse.

I will also tell you that Fawley did this on purpose… and while it looks like you are holding a piece of legislation aimed at purebloods marrying muggleborns, the reason that our friends from International Magical Law Enforcement and Intelligence Agencies, the ICW and the French Minister for Magic is here tonight is because our Chief Warlock has been conspiring against Magical Britain to use this legislation as a non-lethal way to rid the country of the frankly few muggleborns that remain here following the war.

It is subtle, it is underhanded, and it cannot be allowed to go forward as planned…” The table had nearly erupted in fury from people like Harry and Hermione had to hold up her hands to shush people. “The problem lies in the legalities… the Bill has already passed, and so we must work with it as it is.”

“What about Fawley?” Theo fumed.

Hermione sighed, a small smirk overtaking her face. “Oh, Theo… Haven’t you been listening? Monday is going to be a very bad day for Bertram Fawley.”

Chapter Text

“Does anyone have any questions about the law itself? Its parameters, its requirements, its limits?” Hermione asked, taking in the ashen faces of her schoolmates. She had been thorough in going over WL780 clause by clause and Hermione wasn’t surprised when there was a long pause before anyone raised a hand. When someone finally did, however, she was slightly surprised that it was Millie.

“Yes, Millicent?”

“Millie’s fine, Granger…”

“Millie then. What’s your question, Millie?”

“Umm… You may not be the one who can answer it, actually, but… Fawley is an old pureblood family, right, we all know that. So obviously he knows what we all know. Pureblood witches would, on the whole, love to have more babies than they do, if they could. The married ones certainly try hard enough. Yet nowhere in this law that is purportedly meant to solve the birth crisis is there anything about fertility issues. Not studying them, not solving them, not even testing them… I mean, what happens when the people who do follow through on this law and get married, then find themselves unable to conceive or bring a baby to term? I know we all don’t like to speak about it, but…” Millie took a moment to swallow and blink a few times. She looked truly scared. “I don’t want to find myself in Azkaban because I end up like my mother, having miscarriage after miscarriage and then I… miss some deadline?” She looked up at Hermione and then at Kingsley, her eyes wide and wet, before slumping back in her seat and looking at her lap as the girls sitting near her leaned in to squeeze her hand or offer soft words.

“We will not let that happen, Lady Bulstrode.” Kingsley stated softly.

Hermione took a deep breath, catching Narcissa's eye and nodding. “As a muggleborn witch, Millie, I am newly aware of the fertility struggles that purebloods in particular have dealt with for so long. However do not mistake that for lack of urgency on the issue; I assure you it is quite the opposite. Fawley created this law for the purpose of a bloodless ethnic cleansing; he has no deep-seated desire to actually solve the problem that he has used our government’s most dire emergency lever to legislate.

“The Minister and I, however, are more than happy to throw that effort right back in his face and put the full weight of both the Shacklebolt Administration as well as partnering with the private sector toward expediting the search for a solution to this issue. You’ve seen the Amendments we intend to make, Millie, but I’ll do you one better. The best way to take the rug out from under Fawley’s argument about a birth crisis with no solution in place, is to get the ball rolling on one outside of the Wizengamot’s purview.

"To that end, I’ve spoken with Lord and Lady Malfoy as well as Lord Greengrass in his capacity as Chairman of the Board of St. Mungo’s; the Foundation for Magical Reproductive Healthcare and Research was incorporated today and the Malfoy Foundation was its first donor at five million galleons. I was the second with another million. I promise you, Millie… your concerns are a top priority.”

Draco was speechless, his jaw hanging open, his eyes glassy. Neither of his parents had mentioned… Hermione hadn’t mentioned… gods he’d never loved her more…

The entire room seemed speechless, apparently. Or shocked, maybe?

“Put me down for one.” Pansy murmured around the lump in her throat, the first to break the silence.

“One what?” Hermione asked.

“Million, Granger… obviously.” Pansy looked at her like she was an idiot and the tension in the room broke.

“Same!” Blaise shouted, hand up.

“Ditto!” Theo grinned.

Some furious whispering between Ginny and Harry was over as quickly as it began. “We’re in, Mione.” Harry smiled softly at her and Ginny grinned.

“Us too. We'll each match it.” Adrian nodded, motioning to himself and Cassius next to him. Cassius seemed emotional and was looking down at the table, but nodded, briefly meeting Hermione’s shocked eyes.

“Make mine a double, dear.” Hermione’s Gran smirked, looking at her proudly.

Hermione was now doing a bit of a guppie impression since that hadn’t been the reaction she’d expected, or even been going for. “Umm…” Her eyes flew to Narcissa who was beaming at her. “I’ve got it all written down, and I’ll be planning a gala for early August as well.” Narcissa smiled.

“Yes, wonderful, umm… That’s lovely of you all, and incredibly generous.”

Kingsley saw Hermione struggling and needing a break. He gave Draco a nod and stood up. “Indeed… Narcissa did I hear something about profiteroles for dessert?”

Chapter Text

“Let’s all take a quick break before dessert and coffee and… evidence… yes? Good… great… See you all in ten. Fifteen? Let’s make it fifteen…” Kingsley’s chair was the first to scoot back from the table, but then it was an exodus. Draco’s grey eyes met Hermione’s golden brown ones and neither needed to say a word, they both knew to slip away.

Pulled into a darkened study down a nearby hallway that smelled faintly of cigar smoke and brandy, Hermione immediately felt her magic begin to hum as Draco gathered her into his arms and warded the room for privacy. His fingers plunged into her curls and his forehead dropped gently to rest against her own, his breath heavy with emotion against her lips.

“You…” He sighed, clutching at her. “You are amazing…” It all became a bit ragged as he was having trouble putting into words how he was feeling, what he wanted to say… He was overwhelmed by her.

“It was as much your mum’s idea as mine…” Hermione murmured, her arms wrapped around his back as she stood up on her tip-toes just a bit, pressing herself up to him as he leaned down and against her.

Draco chuckled, rolling his eyes a bit. “I’m sure… but don’t sell yourself short. That was also quite the donation, Princess… I can’t… I can’t believe you just… did that…” He marveled. Hermione shrugged and smiled softly up at him, her face illuminated only by the moonlight coming in through the large picture window. How could she explain it?

“You and I are so lucky, Draco… it’s all I could think about since we talked about it; how lucky you and I are that I healed fully and that I don’t have those genetic difficulties, its… and you add in the soul bond on top of it, on top of these lives we both lead where we want for nothing… We are spoiled for riches, love. When we’re ready to have a family, we can have one. Or two, or three, or more?” Hermione smiled shyly; they’d never quite talked about it, but somehow they both knew that they wanted a big family. Draco’s gasp was utterly involuntary, and one of pure joy. He pressed his lips against her forehead before nodding enthusiastically like a fool.

“But women like your mum, and some of your friends? Well… I’m only sorry this wasn’t done sooner. For them.” She huffed, not feeling like she’d explained very well at all why she’d dropped the equivalent of five and half million pounds sterling of her trust fund that afternoon with less than an hour’s forethought. She hoped he’d understood her, though. Usually he was really good at understanding her crazy.

“I really am desperately in love with you, you know.” Draco murmured, his lips ghosting hers as he brushed her hair back from her face over and over in that way that was so soothing, yet sent a little shudder of electricity down her spine at the same time.

“As I am with you.” She replied, staring up into his eyes, marveling as always how they could somehow be both grey and blue at the same time, like the sea.

His kiss was a brush of his lips against hers at first, then another, and another… moaning, falling helplessly into that madness he did not understand no matter how many times it pulled him under its spell. He needed her, he loved her, he could not breathe if he didn’t take her right then. Nothing outside of the two of them together in that moment even existed.

Draco wasn’t even completely in his conscious mind as he peeled up Hermione’s pencil skirt, his tongue doing sinful things to her ear that made her moan like a siren begging to be fucked. He didn’t remember backing her up against the wall as he picked her up behind her thighs and he certainly didn’t know who of them had unbuckled his belt and freed his cock, he was in a haze that made all those steps inconsequential as he slowly impaled her, her arms a vice grip around his neck as they moaned together into each other’s mouths, the pleasure almost unreal as their magic swirled and danced around them.

“Love you… so much…” Draco panted between kisses as he thrust into her, grinding his pelvis up and against her as he pinned her to the wall with his body, making her moan and whimper. She was so wet, gripping him so tight…

“Ahhh love you… Draco yesss… gods yes…” Hermione gasped, the pleasure of him inside her overwhelming her senses as well as her magic. Every time they came together it was more intense, more all-encompassing, more more… If it weren’t so perfect, so right, then it might even scare her.

Neither one of them even noticed the swirls of soft, crackling light bursting and pulsating around them, as though someone was holding a muggle sparkler and twirling it around their bodies as they loved so desperately. All they could see was each other, but perhaps that was the point.

Mipsy was a practical soul and didn’t particularly like having to deal with things that she considered personal. She was a nanny elf, after all; she liked caring for people, preferably children, though she was thrilled beyond measure that her Young Master had found his mate so she could care for her too and hopefully convince her to have some babies very soon. Having said that, her level of comfort regarding the two of them having relations was approximately zero. She was, however, loyal to the last, and therefore guarded the hallway that her Young Master and Young Mistress had disappeared down ten minutes earlier with vigilance… especially when the doorway they were behind began lighting up like it was hiding a close encounter of the 3rd kind.

Yes… Mipsy may have been utterly uncomfortable with the situation but she was a staunch sentinel, you bet your bottom galleon she was.

And thank goodness, too, since Young Mistress’s idiot friend with the glasses came looking for her. Ha! No one gets by Mipsy!

Harry had been wandering around looking for Hermione for the entirety of the ten minutes since she’d left the party and hadn’t found her so he figured he’d ask the little elf with her hands on her hips. She looked… in charge? Harry wasn’t particularly up on House Elf hierarchy but this one looked haughtier than the rest so he figured she might know something.

“Umm… Hello?” Harry smiled awkwardly down at Mipsy.

“Can Mipsy assist Young Mistress’s friend, Auror Harry Potter in some way?” Mipsy raised a non-existent brow and managed to intimidate Harry pretty well, considering she only came to just above his knee. He was extremely thrown-off by Hermione being referred to as any kind of ‘mistress’ by a House Elf, that just seemed very… not Hermione… But he also felt judged somehow by the look he was getting so wasn’t sure how much assistance Mipsy was actually offering.

“Umm.” He swallowed and looked around a little. “I’m looking for Hermione… Have you seen her?”

“Mipsy has seen her Mistress, yes.” Mipsy blinked at him and gave him nothing else, just tapped her toe a few times to ensure he knew he was wasting her valuable time.

“Right… and where was that?” Harry felt like he was pressing his luck since he could tell this elf had no interest in helping him; he just couldn’t seem to stop himself, though, it was a pattern of his lately… or always.

“Mipsy is sure that Young Mistress will return… shortly.” Mipsy made the mistake of letting her eyes flit briefly over her shoulder, leading Harry to do the same. He caught the sight of a closed door down the hall that had some sort of light show going on behind it that looked suspicious as hell. It was obviously silenced, too.

“Umm… what the hell is going on in there?!” Harry started to move past Mipsy but found an impenetrable barrier he couldn’t walk through or even see, he just bounced back a few feet when he tried. Buggaring House Elf magic!

“Young Mistress’s friend Auror Harry Potter will not be intruding on her with the Young Master!”

Harry was confused, and weirded out, and worried, and… weirded out…

“Harry what are you doing?” Ginny asked him, exasperated after having lost him in the crowded room again… Sometimes it felt like she was dealing with a toddler at the mall, honestly.

Harry merely spluttered, pointing between the elf and the strangely back-lit door down the hallway behind her that she was blocking him from investigating. Ginny rolled her eyes, remembering that Harry did not yet know about the soul bond. Even if he did, though, he’d probably still be acting like a little prude if he knew the sister of his heart was having a quick shag during a party. The lights thing was pretty neat, though. Ginny wondered if that was new, since Hermione hadn’t mentioned that the last time they’d had a gossip about how ridiculously good her sex life was these days. She made a mental note to bring it up with her the next day when she and Pansy were set to meet for pre-wedding mani-pedis.

“Harry… What is it you believe is happening right now?” Ginny asked with as little condescension as she could manage.

Harry wasn’t actually sure, now that he thought about it… that’s why he wanted to investigate! Somehow, though, his wife’s tone made him feel like he was missing something obvious that would make investigating a mistake.

Which would only mean one thing.

Eew.

“Oh. Eww. She and Malfoy are totally shagging, aren’t they?” Harry muttered, his ears turning a blazing red.

“Yes dear, they definitely are. I think Draco probably found that whole charitable foundation thing really hot.”

“Gross, Gin…” Harry scoffed.

She just smiled, winking down at a grinning Mipsy and dragging her husband away from the hallway that led to their shagging best friend. “Try to grow up, Harry. We shag all the time, after all.” She reminded him placatingly.

He made a hmmpf noise, his nose still a bit wrinkled. “What was with the lights, though?!”

Ginny knew she’d been asked not to tell Harry, but she also knew that Hermione and Draco were planning on dropping the news tonight anyway so it was effectively moot.

“I don’t know the details of the light thing, per se, its probably a new development…” She hedged.

“Development from what?” Harry asked, so confused. Ginny had to remind herself that Harry was muggle-raised and unlike Hermione, he hadn’t immersed himself particularly thoroughly in knowledge about the wizarding world’s more obscure magics. The knowledge that soulmates were real might actually surprise the hell out of him.

“Gin, you’re keeping something from me… and what was with the House Elf! Since when does Mione have a House Elf?!” Harry cried, as incensed as if Hermione had suddenly declared Quidditch her favorite pastime and Slytherin her true Hogwarts House… although that last one might be more accurate than Harry would like to admit.

Ginny smiled at her husband, standing on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “Harry, calm down. Mipsy isn’t Hermione’s elf, she’s Draco’s nanny elf. She recognizes Hermione as her Mistress because Hermione and Draco are soul bonded, and House Elves can see things like that.”

Harry’s brain seemed to melt.

“They got married?!” He shouted, his knowledge of soul binding being restricted to a type of wedding ceremony that only the most committed of magical couples would choose, like Bill and Fleur Weasley had.

“No, you numpty!” Ginny cried, smacking his arm. “They’re soulmates, they have a soul bond… like… this life and the next? It is super rare magic, Harry, like… they might be the first recorded couple to have a soul bond in centuries, even, I’m not sure. They only just found out.”

Harry’s brain melted even more.

He couldn’t decide if it was because he was blown away that such a thing was even real or that he was hurt that Hermione hadn’t told him… either way, he could feel his face doing a guppie impression but his brain felt somehow removed from the situation, unable to fix it.

“Yeah. That was the face I made when I found out, too.” Ginny smiled, making him feel slightly better.

“Harry, Mipsy said you were looking for me?” Hermione asked, walking up behind the couple and smoothing out her hair. Ginny outright guffawed at her friend’s attempts, taking out her wand and waving it over the disaster that was left over from being thoroughly shagged against a wall or door or wherever. “Oh… thanks Gin. So? Harry, you needed something?”

Draco sauntered up to the group, going for casual and failing utterly as he had just a little too much of a glow about him.

“What’s the matter with Potter?” He asked, looking between Ginny and Hermione.

Ginny snorted, apologizing. “Mipsy was standing guard for you guys… she’s a very loyal elf.” She snickered, unable to help it. Hermione and Draco both turned a bit pink but neither said a word, refusing to break.

“She… you… Gin said…” Harry’s brain just was not functioning well at all.

“Ohhh… So, he knows?” Draco asked Ginny, rather amused by the level of meltdown Harry seemed to be having. He’d grown up but he wasn’t a saint, and seeing Harry Potter look like an idiot would forever be one of his favorite things.

“He does. Only just… obviously.” Ginny smirked, patting Harry’s back.

“Obviously.” Draco grinned, scratching his chin as he hugged a chuckling Hermione against his side. Life was… good.

The sound of Kingsley’s deep, booming voice calling everyone back to the table filtered through the din. Harry deflated, looking a bit like a lost child.

“Harry, I know you have questions. We can talk about this soon, yeah?” Hermione reassured him with a smile.

“Right… right, yeah, of course.” He nodded. He wasn’t used to not being the first person Hermione told about major developments in her life. First it was her parents, her identity, and now this… Part of him felt like he was losing her and he didn’t like it. He wondered if he was overreacting, knew that he probably was… but he still felt a bit sad, all the same.

Hermione was glad the night was almost finished. She was exhausted.

“Alright, quick thing before I turn this over to more interesting professionals… The Dire Circumstances Clause. It’s why this passed without Department Heads’ votes or a Public Comment Period during the Winter Recess… also just happened to be while I was out of the country if you believe in coincidences.

For those of you who don’t know, the Dire Circumstances Clause is essentially an emergency lever for the Wizengamot, only to be used when, you guessed it, circumstances are indeed at their most dire. It allows the Chief Warlock to call an emergency session and hold a vote on legislation utilizing only the hereditary seat holders, thereby cutting out Ministry Department Heads, the PCP and making the entire endeavor completely secretive. The Minister is the only Ministry official whose vote is still required, and his or her signature would still be needed for any Bill passed this way to become law.

Now, remember for a moment that the Chief Warlock and the Minister each have the power to call an Emergency Session at any time. To do so under the DCC is beyond extreme, and it sends a message both of that extremity and unlike a regular Emergency Session, it very purposely cuts out Department Heads’ votes, the only votes that can possibly be held by muggleborns, and before this little coup of ours, the only votes held by anyone under the age of sixty other than Minister Shacklebolt.

The DCC has been used a total of 3 times in 700 years… the 1940’s to reinforce safeguards that kept Grindlewald out of England, during the 18th century in the session that led to the passing of the Statute of Secrecy, and during the Black Death. That’s it. So do not blame yourselves for wondering what dire circumstance you’re currently living in that you managed not to notice. Is our population and birth rate crisis a genuine problem that needs real and multi-faceted solutions? Absolutely. Does it warrant a thrice-in-a-millennia legislative emergency call button? No, it does not.

Which is why I could not stop wondering why Fawley used it. I mean it really bugged me… And as it turns out, my intuition was on to something. Percy, you’re up.”

Percy Weasley stood up but stayed where he was to address everyone. “Good Evening, my name is Percy Weasley. I am the Wizengamot Court Scribe which makes me the de facto Aide to the Chief Warlock as well, whomever he or she may be. However, since Bertram Fawley stepped into that role, I have been maintaining an informal dialogue with Miss Granger, Minister Shacklebolt, Lord Greengrass, and even have a, er… contact? Handler?” Percy looked over at the so-far rather quiet bloke from MI5 for clarification.

“Mate we talked about this. I hate the term ‘handler’. Feels like the opening to too many jokes.” He replied, his accent a bit Yorkshire and his grin a bit crooked. Percy turned pink as everyone laughed.

“Thanks for that.” Percy sighed.

“Behave, Matthew.” Hermione chucked a pen at MI5-guy who caught it one-handed, looking surprisingly chastised. “Go ahead, Perce.” Hermione encouraged, getting a grateful nod from the surprisingly nervous Percy.

“Right… So, Fawley’s careful, but he’s also motivated; also, he can be excitable if he thinks you agree with him, and he isn’t shy about explaining his motivations to those he thinks are of like-mind. He flat-out told me on…” Percy checked his notes quickly. “December 19th that the only reason he felt safe to bring this Bill to the floor in this way was because Hermione Granger was out of the country on sabbatical. He said, and I wrote the quote down from the pensieve memory, ‘without Shacklebolt’s pet mudblood here, we have a real chance to pass a bill that will scare the rest of them out of the country for good’.”

The room was silent as everyone was individually horrified.

“And what was his reaction since I’ve come back, Perce?” Hermione asked, already knowing the answer.

Percy sighed, feeling a bit gross having to quote such things. “He’s furious… beyond furious, actually. He’s scared of you, Hermione, and the political clout you wield. He’s looking to take you out, but he is a staunch blood purist so he is finding that his plan of this Bill is going to backfire spectacularly when it comes to you. You are not going to be scared into moving to France to avoid it and you are not going to be cowed into giving up a career and submitting to your pureblood husband who could legally get away with killing you, which was his second choice for all the muggleborn witches caught up in this… to remove them from society by having pureblood husbands do Merlin-knows-what with them because he made sure to remove all protections for things like spousal abuse.”

“And can you quickly share with the class Fawley’s reaction to my current relationship, please.” Hermione’s smile was more like a grimace, as was the one Percy gave her in return.

“Right, yeah… He literally broke half the glass in the office…”

Mild uproar around the table was quieted by Hermione raising her hand, obviously wanting everyone to hear something specific about this.

“And then?”

Percy looked so uncomfortable but managed to keep going. “Well, he seems to think that because you two haven’t put a Betrothal announcement in the Prophet or filed a Betrothal Contract with the Ministry, the Betrothal jewelry Lord Black bestowed upon you… very publicly… somehow doesn’t count?” Percy sighed with how stupid Bertram Fawley was and literally everyone agreed with him. “He literally thinks that he can get an amendment passed on Monday that will assign spouses, absolutely guaranteeing that you two will be ripped apart, and avoid committing the bloody obvious crime of line theft! Because of the paperwork thing.” Percy again heaved a huge, put-upon sigh.

“Fuck… You two need to file something tomorrow!” Theo cried, absolutely horrified at how utterly unperturbed Hermione and Draco looked by the threat-bomb Percy just dropped on them.

“No need, Theo.” Hermione smirked, turning to look at Draco. He was just grinning back at her.

“What?! Why? How?!” Theo’s blood pressure was rising to dangerous levels and suddenly Kingsley started laughing his ass off, laughing so hard he was crying…

“Pimplesby! Isn’t Pimplesby here?!” Kingsley cried, realizing what an amazing ‘fuck you’ this was going to be.

“Umm… Yes, Sir… That’s me.” The world’s dorkiest man stood up, the rest of the room noticing him for the first time that evening.

Hermione grinned. “Ah yes… Head Researcher Pimplesby. Thank you so much for coming. Please give everyone a short run-down of your part in all this, would you?”

“Right, yes of course… My name is Alfred Pimplesby and I am a former Unspeakable, trained in the Love Room. I was commissioned by the Wizengamot and St. Mungo’s to create a Matching Program that would be used to test compatibility between witches and wizards for this Bill… It tests everything from your magical core to your daily habits to your outlook on life, it is extremely comprehensive… my baby, if you will… my opus…” Alfred looked wistful for a moment before shaking it off.

“As you, Miss Granger and Lord Black, are aware the program is even able to identify soul bonds, if such a thing were to exist in two presenting wix… like it was with you two. Astonishing, really, to have that theory proven… You’re the first to be definitively recorded here in England in three centuries, you know.” His eyes got a bit creepy looking at Hermione and Draco right then but they were distracted by Theo’s excited screeching and the overall excitement, applause and congratulations pouring out from everyone around them. It was overwhelming.

Draco and Hermione laughed, squeezing each other’s hands, and thanked everyone, smiling and nodding. Yes, it was incredible. Yes, it was amazing. No, actually, it was far less of a surprise than they’d have imagined, actually.

And yes, they were very, very happy.

“Wait, he said ‘recorded’! That means Fawley will know about it!” Theo worried.

Kingsley barked out yet more laughter. “No he won’t! That paperwork got… temporarily lost…” He dissolved into yet more laughter, far too pleased with himself. Lucius joined him, pink in the face with mirth at this bit of news.

Hermione caught her grandmother’s eye and smiled. She was sitting between Narcissa and Katerina and looked positively affronted by the fact that she’d teared up over something, no matter how lovely or worthwhile. The Dowager did not do tears… but she did spare her granddaughter a smile in return, all the same.

The room was still a din of a dozen different conversations when Hermione, Katerina and Kingsley all had a simultaneous text notification they’d been waiting for, causing them each to meet each other’s eye with a serious nod.

“At some point you’re going to have to explain how you’re getting a mobile phone to work without exploding in the Manor…” Draco murmured.

“Remind me when we get home, or tomorrow…” Hermione promised, stowing it back in her bag. “The operation went off, apparently, and Dawlish will be here any minute.”

Draco sucked in a deep breath and met his father’s eye as he was bent to the side, listening to Shacklebolt no doubt explaining the same thing. Both Malfoy men nodded a bit grimly and Hermione and Draco opted to relocate, wanting the family to sit as a unit for this.

As she sat down in the chair next to Lucius she took his hand a gave it a brief squeeze for solidarity. “Thank you for being willing to do this.” She murmured.

“I didn’t do anything, little one… I couldn't, remember? But I know what you mean.”

The two shared a look of understanding before the entire room suddenly went dead quiet.

A second Lucius Malfoy had just walked in.

Chapter Text

Seeing the doppelgänger of his father walk into the dining room, dressed in his clothes and carrying his infamous snakehead cane with the emerald eyes, all while sitting two seats over from his actual father… well, Draco would freely admit, it was fucking odd.

He thought back to the evening before, lying in bed with Hermione after they’d made rather frantic love for the first time in days and they’d talked about how they’d both had crazy afternoons at work… His because of Lucy, hers because she’d found out Fawley was ‘gunning for her’ as she’d put it, scaring the shite out of him… Once she’d clarified that she wasn’t being literal, though… Well, their conversation only seemed to get more insane from there.

“He’s begging for an opportunity to incriminate himself, Draco. I say you and I let him do just that. Let him dig his own grave, then come Monday? We bury him in it.”

It was official, she was his perfect woman.

“Tell me your plan, Princess. Whatever it is, I’m in. No one gets away with trying to take you away from me. No one.”

“Welllll… I’ve had excellent luck in the past with last minute operations involving polyjuicing into one of your relatives in order to facilitate crime, so… I’m thinking I’m just going to go with that again.”

Draco’s eyes bugged out from his head. “Mia… What the FUCK.”

“Oh it won’t be me this time! I’ll be outsourcing that shit…”

Draco had never quite grasped until that moment what it truly meant to need a drink.

“Riiight… I’m so glad we’re both focused on the same details as being important, here…” Draco prayed for strength.

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head. “Sorry, I’m not explaining this well at all, am I?”

Snorting, Draco’s face alone gave her a resounding ‘no.’ “Darling, I know you’re brilliant, so… benefit of the doubt, and all that… but… Yeah, what the fuck are you talking about?!”

Once again flashing what he admitted was an excruciatingly sexy, almost deviant smile, Hermione settled in to explain her hastily crafted, utterly insane, and completely brilliant plan. It boggled his mind, scared the shit out of him, and turned him on so much that he’d needed to fuck her into the mattress two more times before they even contemplated dinner. 

So much was riding on the success of the next day, and… fuck… he needed to find time to swing by Gringotts to pick up that necklace from Bog. Two perfect, insane weeks together deserve something special, after all.

Shaking his head a little to bring himself back to the present and confirm that Yup, she’d really gone through with her insane plan, and Yup, his father really had gone along with it, Draco leaned into Hermione’s side, simply wanting more closeness.

It was just fucking weird.

And Fake-Lucius was just as smug as Real-Lucius… Draco wondered if they’d practiced that.

Suddenly the silence was broken by Fake-Lucius who had his eyes narrowed at a spluttering and horrified Harry Potter.

“Potter! How many times do I have to tell you to sit up straight when you’re in uniform!”

Harry’s face went sheet white. “Boss?!”

“Protocol, Potter!”

Dawlish, in the body of Lucius Malfoy, yelling at Harry, was obviously too much for Kingsley. He was laughing so hard he was wheezing, holding his hand up in surrender, ready to beg.

95% of the room was so confused and potentially horrified that they were unable to speak, but if the Minister was laughing, surely this wasn’t… unplanned? Dangerous? Nervous chuckles popped up here and there as people looked to Hermione and the Malfoys for answers since Kingsley had rendered himself useless due to lack of oxygen. Katerina, dark horse that she was, finally took pity on everyone.

“Muzhchiny idioty…” She muttered, standing from her spot between Narcissa and the Dowager Duchess. “Dawlish, how much longer do you have before you grace us with your own face?”

Dawlish turned from happily torturing Harry to his Russian colleague, who happened to look particularly ravishing this evening. He did so like it when she was bossy. Checking the poncy pocket watch the actual Lord Malfoy and his valet-elf had provided him with, Dawlish did some quick mental math. “Around six minutes, give or take, Kit-Kat.” He sent her a saucy wink that she growled at, thus making his night.

“Fine. Sit your ass down for six minutes then while I explain… this… to everyone, yes? Good boy.” She sneered at him, only encouraging his ardor that much more… which she knew. They’d only been playing this game for thirty years, after all.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Dawlish chuckled, taking the empty seat Hermione had vacated at the head of the table.

“As you all can see, we have one final guest this evening, Head of Major Crimes Auror John Dawlish under polyjuice as Lord Lucius Malfoy. Auror Dawlish spent this evening in an impromptu meeting with your Wizengamot Chief, Bertram Fawley, and I will let him explain how that went once his potion has worn off. Before he does so let me introduce myself and explain a little bit about why there is so much high-ranking law enforcement and international government personnel in this room tonight.

“My name is Lady Katerina Dolohov and I am with Magical Interpol; over there you will see David Schwartzman, Head of the International Crimes Division of MACUSA, Hugo Lopez is the Chief Judge of the ICW and of course, the longest serving French Minster of Magic, Michel Dupont, needs no introduction… As to why we are all here this evening to witness what must seem like an insular scheme on your part and within your country’s government, let me enlighten you.

“As Lady Hermione mentioned earlier, your Chief Warlock, Lord Bertram Fawley, has been…” Katerina tilted her head back and forth, decided on how to word it. “Let us say, a bad boy, yes? Committing a variety of crimes based around the notion of eradicating muggleborns from Britain, one way or another, from children to adults. He is, unfortunately, both a creative and a careful man, and even between agencies we are between four and six months away from a clean arrest despite over two years of work. We have been looking for an opportunity like this one…”

The table erupted in shocked whispers, outraged and confused. Perfectly, this was the moment that Dawlish began to bubble and transform, swearing and muttering.

“Oh thank Salazar…” Lucius sighed, not sure he could have stared at ‘himself’ for another minute.

“Oh please, you poncy wanker, I did a perfectly respectable you.” Dawlish scoffed. “But fuck, Malfoy, the cane… Not only did I prick my fingers like ten times on the snake’s bloody fangs… fuck, that’s a stupid pun… but I swear, I’ve figured out why you’re not an arsehole anymore… you don’t carry this thing around like you used to!” Dawlish held up the heirloom walking stick and waved it around a bit for emphasis.

To absolutely everyone’s shock, Lucius let out a belly laugh so full and genuine that it brought tears to his eyes. Hermione felt like she’d been transported to Earth 2 or something as she tried to cover her laugh with a semi-dignified cough, failing utterly. Draco and just about everyone else simply looked on like they’d lost the plot… except for Narcissa. She was just bemused.

“Welcome back, Dawlish.” Katerina murmured, wishing she found him more annoying than she did.

“Good to be back… Still stuck in these poncy threads but not going to waste everyone’s time going to fix that. I’ve got good news and I’ve got intelligence. Before I share any of it, tell me what safeguards are in place.”

Matthew No-Last-Name from MI5 chuckled along with the rest of the IC and answered first. “H got everyone to sign the standard secrecy curse, disguised it as attendance and told ‘em afterward.”

Dawlish grinned proudly at Hermione. “Nice one, lass. Alright then, speaking freely it is! Congrats, girl, you’ll get your arrest.”

Hermione squeezed both Draco and Lucius’ hands and squeaked, sitting up in shocked glee. “You got a confession?! Was it for the trafficking? The missing families? Ooh ooh I know, was it for Imperiousing the proxy-holders?!”

Dawlish’s face squished a little, unsure how to say it. “Yeah… yeah… I got all of that, actually, though not in detail… Mostly he wanted to talk about your murder.”

Hermione was extremely happy she and Auror Dawlish had warned Draco and the Malfoys ahead of time that this was the most likely outcome of the operation. She’d even quickly let her Gran know earlier in the evening.

Had Draco been taken by surprise with such a sentence, Hermione couldn’t imagine how much worse the magical backlash would have been, exploding out through their soul bond. As it was, even despite holding her hand for comfort, Draco’s anger and fear still sent a ripple of pure, raw magic so intense through the room it could have easily been mistaken for a minor earthquake. Silver and glassware rattled and clinked; the windows shook and the chandelier jostled, sending the flames of every candle to triple height.

“Breathe, son…” Lucius murmured, his voice that same soft, comforting tone that had soothed all Hermione’s ills when she’d come to him in tears a few mornings prior. They both felt their magic calm a bit, allowing people to stop holding their wine glasses still. Hermione pressed her face into Draco’s neck and rubbed his arm briefly, feeling him calm even more and helping others to stop looking at him like he was about to explode the trifle.

“Sir?” Harry had been uncharacteristically quiet until now.

“Potter?” Dawlish gave him a nod.

“How imminent is the threat?” He asked, his voice tight.

“Not at all. In fact it seems Fawley has adapted his plans, realizing he was unlikely to be successful in breaking you two up. However, that fact gave him the idea to use this law as a way to gain personal control over vacant Wizengamot seats… If he knew what was going on here this evening he would have shat a hippogriff.”

“I can’t tell if he’s Machiavelli or Hitler… it’s fascinating. Do tell me, Mr… Dawlish, was it?” The Dowager was apparently tired of sitting on the sidelines.

“Yes… And you are?”

“Charmed… Tell me, Mr. Dawlish, how does this little guttersnipe of a man intend to off my granddaughter? Must be good if he’s all a twitter about it.” The Dowager had one perfectly manicured nail resting over her lips, the diamonds and sapphires on her rings practically blinding those sitting across from her as she gave the Head Auror that one raised eyebrow look that she had very much passed down to Hermione. The one that worked like Veritaserum.

“Hmm.” Dawlish smirked, seeing where Hermione got many of the quirks he liked about her. “When Lord Malfoy, Miss Granger and I planned this operation we decided together on my going in with the story that I, as Lord Malfoy, tolerate and even encourage my son’s relationship with Miss Granger because and only because of how she is beneficial to the rehabilitation of the Malfoy name, post-war. However, the plan was to go in rather furious with Fawley, using the fact that because my ability to vote has been suspended and I did not know about the law until this week, he has in essence trapped the House of Malfoy into a marriage to a… M-word.”

Lucius looked like he was going to either cry or be sick and Hermione was whispering to him, reassuring him that she knew he didn’t believe that anymore, yet he still felt ill.

“I know, I know, trust me it was awful to act out and Lord Malfoy is not that man anymore.” Dawlish said frankly. There really were few people if anyone in the room that needed to be told that, yet still, it was a profound thing for the man to say. The man who had arrested him more than once in years prior. Lucius and Dawlish shared a nod and John sighed, turning to the Dowager to keep going.

“Essentially, I went in demanding to know what he was going to do about it… my predicament, so to speak. I told him I was willing to allow my son to date a war hero, to court her, that was fine, it was excellent press, but I had a beautiful plan to break them up and his bloody law ruined that so what was he willing to do for me… How was Fawley going to fix it, I demanded to know.”

“That’s bloody brilliant.” Theo murmured randomly, popping raspberries from the dessert garnish in his mouth like popcorn at the cinema.

Dawlish, a bit distracted and a bit flattered, murmured his thanks with a smirk as Hermione, Lucius and Draco all rolled their eyes.

“Get to the part where he wants to off her, would you?!” Draco snapped, sending the lights flickering again.

“Draco, dear, try to remember that he’s not going to get to off her and you’ll feel much better.” The Dowager cooed over the rim of her whiskey. “But I rather agree, Dawlish, do get on with it.”

“Right…” John Dawlish felt oddly chastised. “So, Fawley saw fit to remind me that it isn’t the Malfoy seat that’s suspended, it’s me… or rather Lord Malfoy that is, so a proxy could be nominated. It was quite a blatant tit-for-tat since it came out of nowhere. I asked him what such a thing might be worth, in trade. He told me that by itself, not much… but in combination with the Black seat, he would be willing to allow the Malfoy name to continue to rehabilitate itself by allowing Draco and Miss Granger to remain together… The Malfoys could even show the world how progressive they are by throwing them the wedding of the century. When I then voiced my concern, once again having to use the M-word… he got this creepy, creepy smile…”

Dawlish shuddered. “The little fucker looked me right in the eye and said straight out that if I continued to support him, left the two seats under his control, said ‘how high’ when he said ‘jump’… Then he would allow Miss Granger the privilege of what he called ‘a pureblood witch’s death’… i.e. in childbirth, killing both her and the child, thereby ridding me of my... M-word problem... and doing me the favor of leaving Draco the most eligible widower in Britain.”

The room exploded in outrage but Dawlish held up his hands to quiet everyone; he wasn’t finished with his tale of horrors.

“After an appropriate period of mourning for his M-word wife and half-breed spawn…” Dawlish swallowed as if bile had risen in his throat to quote such things. “Fawley would grant a special reprieve from the marriage law for the House of Malfoy, and allow Draco to take a pureblood wife… IF he is pleased, mind you. Because right at the end of that offer he told me that any attempt to undermine him, any attempt to go around him or displace him… He’ll still kill her, but instead of a nation grieving with him, Fawley will make sure that Draco goes to Azkaban for her murder. For the murder of the Golden Girl, he’ll get the kiss.”

Dawlish sat silently until the outrage in the room simply tired itself out and went quiet again.

“He plans to make similar… offers to others with open seats… especially those with records themselves or family that had ties to You-Know-Who. Goyle, Nott, you boys are high on his list.”

Everyone was stunned. Horrified. Draco realized that the reason he couldn’t see was because he crying.

Kingsley, who hadn’t spoken in a long time, finally stepped in, his voice somber. “John, you have enough now for an arrest Monday?”

“Absolutely. You want to make it a spectacle?”

Kingsley looked to Hermione who was chewing her lip. Before he could open his mouth to get her attention she raised her eyes to join the conversation. “I want to project your memory of him saying that in open court during my opening statement!” She hissed, her eyes red-rimmed and blazing. “I thought controlling young witches’ bodies and mandating marriages was bad… this is… I want to bury him, Kingsley!” Hermione was vibrating with anger.

Kingsley met her gaze and they just stared for a moment, communicating so much.

“Then we bury him.”

Chapter Text

The rest of the evening at the manor was a whirlwind that, frankly, Draco did not particularly remember much of. He knew it wrapped up quickly, though, and he couldn’t have been more grateful for that because he could freely admit that he was a wreck.

He couldn’t even Occlude, he couldn’t get ahold of himself, his magic was unstable, his mind even felt weirdly separate from the rest of his body…

He. Was. A. Mess.

Yes, they’d anticipated that Fawley might confess to the idea of perhaps putting out a hit on Hermione, or something of that fucked up nature…

But not this.

THIS… This was unspeakable…

And he just couldn’t… stop… imagining it…

And sure, Draco was no stranger to horror, of course he wasn’t. He’d lived nightmares before just as nightmares had lived with him - literally - and they still came back to haunt his dreams even years later. Despite surviving horrors so traumatizing that revisiting them with any clarity meant a night of sweaty sheets and panic attacks, Draco found himself realizing that those nightmares paled in comparison to the scenario he’d been presented with this evening.

Those nightmares, the ones of the war, of awful things like the death of Charity Burbage or even the day Hermione was tortured at the Manor… those nightmares were nothing now.

Without realizing it, without meaning to, without any notion that he deserved it, Draco had somehow stumbled into his dreamworld from the war, the one where he had the one thing he’d always wanted. The most precious thing in the world. It was something he’d always thought to be impossible… yet here he was. Here she was.

Draco Malfoy didn’t just have something to lose, he had everything to lose.

This new, specific nightmare scenario was one he’d never imagined because he’d never imagined this dreamworld ever coming true… this world where Hermione would love him back for real. Where he’d actually have her. It had been a dream, and dreams were good, and safe… but they weren’t real.

He’d only imagined the good things…

The picture that Fawley had painted where he married the love of his life ‘in the wedding of the century’ and watched her grow round with his heir, his baby, their baby… only to watch her die in childbirth? To lose not only her, his love, his soulmate, but their baby too?!

It was literally the worst thing he could imagine, and now… it actually was a real possibility. A specter, haunting his mind, taunting him, choking off his air supply, mocking him for ever believing he could have or deserve happiness…

Draco had never been more terrified in his entire life, and that was saying a lot.

Hermione wrapped up the meeting as quickly as possible because frankly, she was worried sick about Draco. He was practically in a fugue state as she guided him home and his magic felt… off. Clingy and unsure, like a child after a nightmare.

He was staring into space, he was staring at her, staring at her like she might disappear any minute, crying silently, not speaking… He let her lead him into the bedroom and sit him down. She said she’d back in just a moment, that she just needed to change, but it was as if he thought she’d disappear forever in the windowless dressing room because he followed her, unable to lose track of her for even a moment as she hung up her dress and put a nightie on.

She wasn’t upset with him, just that much more worried. He stood docile and let her undress him as he silently watched her. He’d follow her instructions but he wouldn’t, or couldn’t engage verbally with her no matter what she tried. When she finally had him down to a t-shirt and boxer briefs she sat him back down on the bed and knelt in front of him, hands on his thighs. She felt a bit desperate at that point.

“Sweetheart I need you to focus. Please. Can you do that for me?”

Draco nodded, his face just two rivers as he bit down hard on his bottom lip.

“I’m here… I’m fine… I won’t leave you.” She promised, looking him right in the eye.

Instead of being reassured, Draco lost it altogether, pulling her into his lap and sobbing into her hair that she didn’t know that and anything could happen and he was so scared, he was just so scared…

Hermione held on tight, crying quietly herself, trying to do for him what he had done for her and feeling like such a failure at it…

“I love you… I know it’s scary, but I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere… I’m healthy… He won’t get away with it, it won’t happen…”

She didn’t know what to say to make him alright, what promises to make. She knew that it was a hypothetical fear but a genuine one and promises weren’t really credible when you couldn’t mean them, only make them with good intentions and hope for the best.

“I can’t lose you Hermione, not now… I wouldn’t survive it!” Draco sobbed, his entire body shuddering, emotion battering him like a storm to a ship.

“Oh baby you won’t have to! It won’t happen!” Hermione felt so helpless, trying to soothe him with her words, her body, her magic, but it just wasn’t working. Maybe because she was so upset too? She didn’t know, but they were just a mess, the both of them.

Even as his crying eventually became less urgent Hermione could feel his despair, his worry. Kissing his hair, she continued to run her fingers through it and rub his back as he held onto her in his lap so tight, his face buried in her neck. “Mipsy?” She called quietly.

“Mistress?” The elf popped in with her intuitive pile of handkerchiefs - Mips really was an empathetic soul - and she’d somehow managed to snag Mortimer from where he’d been banished in the closet. Hermione idly felt a swell of gratitude for both Mipsy’s wonderful care of them both and her discretion, since thus far it seemed the elf’s interactions with them as a couple were predominantly either when someone was sobbing or naked.

“Aww… Thank you Mip…” Hermione gently nudged Draco so he would look up and see his Nanny Elf shoving comfort items at him with the most earnest face the world had ever seen. He gave a watery chuckle and reached out for his old stuffie and a hankie.

“Thanks, Mip.”

Mipsy’s eyes were watery and unsure. “Master is sad?”

Draco huffed and adjusted Hermione on his lap a bit. “I…” He seemed to really think about it and Hermione settled against his shoulder, making him smile a little. “I’m not sad, exactly, I…” He sighed, his brows furrowing. “I could actually really go for a cuppa, though, if you don’t mind, Mip.”

Hermione smiled, Draco having taken the words right out of her mouth. “Me, too. Something Herbal, please.”

Mipsy thought this was the greatest plan to ever be planned, of course, and added shortbread biscuits and a potion regimen to help Draco and Hermione sleep with ‘no sniffles and no bad dreams!’

She really was the best Nanny Elf ever, and ten minutes later they were both lying in bed headache-free, sniffles-free, and enjoying a cup of mint tea with a dark chocolate covered shortbread biscuit, with Mortimer acting as Draco’s second pillow.

Because sometimes, childhood comforts help. The aged, molting purple dragon had helped Hermione when she was a crying mess; she hadn’t known why it hadn’t felt right, exactly, to bring him back to the manor when she was done with him, but now she knew. Draco needed him to stay.

Mortimer could go home… sometime. Or not.

There was no judgement here.

Hermione finished her tea and scooted down into the fetal position, ready to talk it out whenever Draco was. He huffed and fussed and hauled her closer, entwining their legs and hands so they were nearly nose-to-nose, finally settling after she leaned in and kissed him.

“Do you feel any better?” She whispered.

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Was it the biscuit? You can be honest.” She smiled at him, hoping to at least tease out a tiny one in return. Even better, she got a full smile complete with eye-roll.

“And the tea…” Draco huffed at her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked. “It’s okay if you don’t, or you’re not ready… But I want to help.” She eskimo kissed him and squeezed his hands.

Draco thought about it as he gazed at her across the pillow. She was so fucking beautiful, all wild hair and doe eyes and diamonds and navy satin draped over her perfect tits… Honestly it was as if she had no idea what it did to him to just be around her, be near her, see her, smell her, be able to touch her this way. Sometimes it still felt like…

Like a dream.

“Draco… say something.” She pleaded, worry evident in her eyes.

“I used to have nightmares…” He began, playing with her fingers a little bit because that was easier than looking her in the eye. “You know, about…” He huffed, not sure what to even pick.

“I know. Me too.” Hermione murmured, soothing him.

“But not once since I’ve been sleeping next to you.” He looked her in the eye then and caught her leaning in for a kiss.

“Me too.” She whispered it against his lips and he slid his hand into her hair, holding her there a moment, letting himself savor her. Letting his magic hum with the taste of her.

Hermione made herself pull away after a moment, though, despite the perfection of kissing him. It would be easy to fall into each other like that but what they were talking about was important.

Quirking her eyebrow at him she hoped he’d continue to confide in her, and his little half-smirk told her he knew what she was doing and it would likely work, even if he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts.

“What we heard tonight… that entire scenario he’d painted?” Draco’s eyes met hers and they were so anguished.

“Yeah?”

Clenching down as best he could on the reemergence of his quivering chin, Draco shook his head. “For me, that would be worse than any nightmare I have ever had of the war! And I would never, ever burden you to explain how extreme a statement that is for me…” He took a big shuddering breath in and out.

“Oh, darling…” Hermione sighed; she’d thought this was the case but hearing it confirmed was still hard.

“The thing is, I… I used to… dream of you, you know? Back then.” He sounded somewhere between broken and ashamed, but to her, it was utterly romantic.

“Yeah?” Her reaction was so easily read and he was completely surprised by it, nodding warily.

“That doesn’t… weird you out?”

She smiled eagerly, shaking her head. “Will you tell me about it?”

It was baffling to Draco but he was learning more and more that even retroactively, all Hermione seemed to want was for him to love her as hard as he could. Every time he found himself humiliatingly admitting to something like this, instead of teasing him or being put off by it, she seemed to want to bask in every detail possible.

It only made him love her more.

“You were my safe place, if that makes any sense at all? When things were bad, as long as I could retreat behind my Occlumency walls, you know… You and I had this whole life there… but it was just a dream! I always knew that… I never thought I’d get to have this… and now I do and the thought of us making a… a baby and… and…” Draco closed his eyes as two fat tears sank into the pillowcase.

“It’s almost like he tailor-made the perfect nightmare for you.” Hermione commented softly.

Draco looked at her and felt oddly… seen. “Yeah… exactly. Gods, Hermione, I mean you’re the most important thing in my life, I… Am I being such a selfish arsehole? You’re the one he wants to murder!” He laughed a little with no humor behind it at all and just hoped she’d tell him what to do.

Strangely enough, she smiled, reaching over to cup his cheek. “That may be, love, but I don’t give a fuck about what Bertram Fawley does or doesn’t want with me, because he is not going to have any impact on my life. He is getting arrested on Monday, and you and I did that. So fuck him. What I care about, Draco, is you. You went through your own brand of hell, darling, for years… and now you have something you deem as precious, and you’re frightened of losing it. I just want to make you feel better. Feel safe. Feel loved-”

He cut her off, kissing her, his tongue teasing her mouth open, stroking her own until she whimpered and dragged his bottom lip between her teeth as he lay back again.

“Tell me what you used to dream…?” She couldn’t help it, couldn’t let it go. He wasn’t the only one who’d always wondered, after all.

“You might think some of it strange for a sixteen or seventeen year old boy…” He warned her, sighing with an air of amused defeat.

“Try me.” She bumped his nose with her nose and leaned in to nibble his lip a little, crumbling his defenses.

“These weren’t just sleeping dreams, you get that, right? That’s not what I meant?”

“You meant like… purposeful daydream sort of dreams?”

Draco nodded. “Yeah, though sometimes right before going to sleep, it was often the only way I’d be able to… but yeah it was purposeful, it was my escape, my… wish for my life, if things were different, if things were…” He shrugged, not knowing the right words to explain.

“I get it… pretty please stop stalling?” She begged, batting her eyelashes. Draco chuckled, blushing slightly.

“Fine, fine… So, sometimes in this dreamworld I’d created, it was a fairly parallel universe in terms of our ages and whatnot. We were Head Boy and Head Girl. There was no war, no conflict at all… even our friend groups got along, actually much like they do now, now that I think about it…” Draco scrunched his face and chuckled ruefully.

Hermione grinned, loving this fantasy already. It sounded much like one she’d had for, ohhh, approximately the entirety of their school years, give or take. “And were we already together by then, or did you seduce me while we shared the Heads dorms, you rake, you… you scoundrel?” She giggled.

Draco laughed, feeling lighter than he had in hours. “We were already courting in my fantasy, though it sounds like you have a more rakish one that we should potentially revisit, perhaps when you finally fish out that old uniform skirt you promised me.”

Hermione pursed her lips, giving him an amused ‘perhaps’ face, making him laugh some more and give her ribs a light tickle.

“We did shag fairly constantly though, you know, in this fantasy era of our lives, I will say that… and not just in the Heads dorm, either.” He grinned as she seized excitedly on this with waggly eyebrows.

“Ohhh? Do tell!”

“Yep… I particularly liked to wank imagining fucking you in the library, specifically the Restricted Section. Bent over a table or against a bookshelf, either of those, really... Mmm, and can't forget the fantasy of you on your knees for me somewhere in the stacks or an alcove, that one... gods... Oh! And… can't forget my other favorite: having you on the Express.”

The library fantasy was one she’d expected. Hoped for. Shared. Had many similar variations of her own, even…

The Express, however, was a surprise… and one that made her whimper a little.

“The Express, huh?”

Draco grinned, feeling so smug. He could barely even remember feeling shitty anymore, this was too much fun.

“Absolutely, Princess… all alone in a compartment, knowing our friends are probably looking for one or both of us, some little Firstie might even need the Head Girl with an absolutely dire question of some sort… but we’re busy, you see, because we just couldn’t go the whole trip without you riding my cock.”

Hermione could picture it so perfectly, too. Him sliding her knickers off just so, then pulling her down on his lap, on his cock, telling her what a good girl she is… telling her what to do… making her beg to come…

Draco was so hard and he was watching her blush and rub her thighs together and bite her lip. “You like that idea, Princess?”

“Mmhmm…”

Draco chuckled, feeling vindicated. That particular fantasy was one of his favorites and he’d probably been wanking to it since, ohhh… Third Year? Yeah, the ride home after she’d broken his nose, probably.

“What else? I’m loving hearing about this, though it sounds a bit like our time as Heads was more like a porno…” Hermione smiled at him, having as good a time as he was. They’d stumbled on such a good way to wind down after their stressful night. Draco burst out laughing.

“Hey, I was a teenage boy!” He defended, shaking his head. “No, but… It honestly wasn’t all like that. Honestly most of it was sappy stuff, stuff that was… comforting for me to imagine. Soothing. A life that would be comforting and… and happy, you know?”

Hermione quirked her brow, desperate to hear more, finding his pink cheeks to be the most adorable thing ever.

“Like…?”

He sighed. “Like in between all the library and Heads dorm shagging, you know, there were things like Hogsmeade dates where I’d get to hold your hand where everyone could see and no one judged us… I had a dream where my parents threw us a ball after I presented you with a bracelet over Yule in our 7th Year… I used to dream that one, revisit it over and over just to dance with you.” He smiled wistfully at her and tucked a curl behind her ear.

“I always wished we’d gotten more than that half a dance at Yule Ball.” Hermione admitted a bit shyly.

“Me too, love, more than you know. You were the prettiest girl there that night.”

The two of them lay silently for a few moments, just basking in each other. Draco stroked Hermione’s cheek and her fingers pushed the neckline of his t-shirt aside a bit, letting her hand rest over his heartbeat.

“Did you ever dream about a life for us at the age we are now, or later in life than this even?” Hermione wondered.

Draco nodded, smiling softly. “That was what it usually was, actually… like I needed it to be a ‘someday’ to feel truly comforted by it, to be honest. The parallel world that was such a perfect utopia, well, it often made how bad things were in my reality feel even worse when I would wake up. But a potential future, even one I was convinced was impossible…”

“I get that… why that would be emotionally, I dunno… safer? To go to in your mind, when you need to hide.”

Draco felt his eyes well up a bit again, just from that feeling of being so utterly seen, so perfectly understood. “Yeah… exactly.”

“What, umm… what kinds of things did you imagine?” Hermione wondered, curious in an odd way how the reality was measuring up.

“Well…It wasn’t some fully fleshed out life or plan, I’d just… I dunno, give myself glimpses of a life with you, rather than a whole picture. Special moments, sure, but also utterly inane, everyday moments that were perfect in their own ways… Reading late into the night together snuggled up on the sofa in the Manor library when it’s snowing outside… Taking you to Paris… Brunch with your faceless, curly-haired parents. There’s this spot near the lake on the Manor grounds I love that’s perfect for picnics and swimming and wasting whole summer days that I imagined taking you to a million times… I even liked imagining you being in an utter strop with me about some random thing because you’re so beautiful when you’re angry, but of course in my dreams you always forgave me… Oh, gods, my favorite thing,  probably, was imagining introducing you to people as my wife… Merlin, that one alone, I could have lived off it, sometimes… Or, I liked… umm…” He swallowed, feeling a bit embarrassed to admit this. “Merlin this is hard to say, emm… I liked imagining you pregnant.”

He looked up, desperate for any sign of her reaction. All he saw was pure, happy wonder and love and it made him brave. It prompted him to keep talking. He could even feel it through the bond wafting at him, her love for him in that moment. It made his heart nearly burst. “It was like… the epitome of my dreams, the idea of making a family with you. You loving me back like that, us having that type of relationship, that type of life. I liked imagining… well,  everything about it, really. Planning it together, or maybe it was a surprise and you telling me about it, so excited… I liked imagining that you’d be excited about it, really…” Draco could have gone on for days.

“I would be! I would be so, so excited!” Hermione whispered, her eyes glassy with so much love for him. For him now, for the boy he’d been, needing dreams of her to get through the worst times of his life. She loved him so much, and she couldn’t think of anything more exciting than one day telling him news like that.

“Me too. So much, me too.” He rolled her onto her back as he captured her mouth, desperate for her. Every emotion, every dream, every want poured out of him and Draco groaned, fighting to taste every inch of her mouth, suck and bite her lips and love her with every part of himself.

“I love you.” Hermione whispered brokenly as Draco kissed feverishly along her jaw.

“I love you so much…” He murmured back, right into her ear, as his hand stroked down her neck, fingering her necklace, making her shiver.

Hermione’s hands skimmed along his waist under his t-shirt, urging him to take it off. Draco yanked it over his head and tossed it, taking off his hospital dog-tag necklace as well and tossing it on the nightstand. His hair was left a mess, flopping in his eyes as she pulled him back over her, taking his face in both hands and kissing him deeply as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Draco again moaned into the kiss, letting his weight settle between his forearms and the cradle of his witch’s perfect thighs.

“You’re so beautiful, darling… so perfect…” Draco whispered reverently against her skin, his hand skimming over the navy satin triangle covering her breast, then grasping it firmly, lowering his head to bite and suck her nipple through the fabric. He loves nighties like these… fuck…

With her nails scraping through his hair and her back arching off the bed, Hermione whimpered, wanting more, wanting him. It was never enough. “Draco…”

Surging up to kiss her again, Draco twisted and pulled at her nipple with his fingers, grinding his pelvis against her, feeling how wet she is through his boxer briefs because his minx didn’t wear knickers to bed. “So fucking beautiful… more than I ever dreamed…” He kept kissing her so deeply, so passionately, reverently even as he palmed her breasts and tortured her nipples; he exploited every pleasure spot she had on her neck until she was writhing and he still hadn’t taken her. Hermione was about to ask whether he was waiting for her to literally beg or whether there was a password she’d missed when he suddenly took her hands and pinned them above her head, shifting more of his weight between her thighs and making her gasp against his mouth.

“Can you believe it’s only been two weeks?” Draco asked quietly, nuzzling her face, grinding his cock ever so lightly against her clit as he spoke… like he was trying to kill her or something…

Practically gasping for some kind of grip on her sanity against that kind of assault, Hermione wasn’t feeling very prepared for that question.

“No…” She panted, trying to lift her head to bite his lip, but he moved out of range. “It feels like…”

Draco’s thumb rubbed circles into her wrists above her head as he eskimo-kissed her, wafting his after-shave in her face and making it hard to think. “Feels like we were always…?”

Letting her arms go, he cupped her face, his eyes glassy as he nodded. “Because I’ve always…”

“Some dreams come true, you know.” She murmured, staring into his eyes. Draco didn’t know how to handle the truth of this statement, so he simply poured all his emotion into kissing her.

He was still clutching her face, kissing her as if she were the air he needed to breathe when he finally, finally vanished his boxers and pressed so deliciously inside her. Hermione was so desperate by then that she moaned to the point of obscene, her orgasm already coiling dangerously tight. Pulling one of the straps of her nightie down her shoulder to expose one of her tits, Draco hooked her leg over his forearm on the same side and bent to take her nipple between his teeth, thrusting to hit that special spot inside her over and over. He could feel her getting tighter, clutching his cock each time he rolled his hips and thrust inside her, she was so wet, so desperate to come. Scraping his teeth up her neck and bending her leg back even farther, Draco changed the angle and thrust deeper, hitting her cervix and burying himself to the hilt. She was wrapped as tightly as could be around him now and watching her face, how expressive she was as he moved inside her, Draco knew that no dream could ever have captured a love like this… it encompasses his entire being, his magic, his heart, his soul. It is everything and everywhere, permeating the air around them.

“I love you, Hermione…” Draco let her leg go, allowing her to wrap it more comfortably around him with the other. He never stopped moving inside her, keeping them both on the edge of bliss as he kissed and nipped at her, caressed her, admired her, loved her. “I have always, always, loved you…” He gasped, holding himself back by a thread. She was panting, mouthing that she loved him too, begging him for release, but no, not yet, he had things to say. He felt bold, suddenly… felt safe. He knew that he could, that he would keep her safe. And he wanted it.

“I will give you that dream, love… Would you like that?”

Holding her hips to the mattress he began to fuck her in earnest, looking her right in the eye. Hermione caught his meaning right away and moaned, clenching around him until he swore. “Fuck… Use your words, Princess… Will you let me to fuck a baby into you? Hmm? Once I make you Mrs. Malfoy?” Thrust, thrust, thrust…

Unlocking a heretofore unknown breeding kink, Draco set off one of the deepest, most drawn out orgasms that Hermione had ever had. It seemed to emanate right from where he was thrusting against her cervix, yet it was undeniably his words that truly did her in. Moaning “Yes, yesss, Draco, ohhhh my goddds… please please please…” while her eyes rolled back in her head, Hermione felt rather than saw Draco lose control, too.

“Fuck, Hermione… yes…” He fucked her fast and hard until the pinnacle of her orgasm brought on his own and he gasped. “Gods… Fuck… Mmmine…” Collapsing onto his forearm again, Draco captured Hermione’s lips in a firm kiss, both of them heaving for air through their noses as they refused to part for ages.

“I love you so fucking much.” Draco marveled when he finally had his mouth back long enough to speak, chuckling ruefully the entire time.

Keeping him inside her, on top of her, by locking her arms and legs tightly around him, ensuring he wasn’t going any-fucking-where, Hermione wholeheartedly agreed, giving him an exhausted, sex-drunk grin before pulling him down to kiss her again. She was so tired, but… fuck. She loved him so fucking much, too.

Chapter Text

Malfoy Manor Grounds, Sunrise

“I thought I might find you out here… Couldn’t sleep?” Narcissa asked, worried over her husband’s brooding demeanor. She hadn’t seen him carry his snake-head cane since his acquittal, yet here he was, wandering in the mists of the morning with it. He wasn’t using it, though… he was more taking turns swinging it like a weapon to attack her pristine (or formerly pristine) lawn or just holding it and staring at it like it was something that confused him.

Yes. She was definitely worried about her husband… though after the revelations of the night before she was hardly surprised he was upset.

“No. I could not sleep.” Lucius replied flatly, staring at his soggy slippers. It took all of five-seconds for him to feel guilty, however, knowing that he really did have the most caring wife in the world and here he was, out on the lawn, abusing her grass and her love like a snarky lunatic. He sighed, looking up at her sadly. She’d actually been worried enough about him to venture outside in her dressing gown?! Merlin. “I’m sorry, darling… Perhaps I have been rendered more out of sorts after last night than expected.”

Narcissa hummed, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You really care for her, don’t you?” She knew he did; she could see it in every interaction her husband had with Hermione. It was… beautiful. And surprising in the loveliest way, how quickly he’d taken to her. But she also saw the guilt eating away at him, all his old ghosts, the sins and secrets of his past brought back into stark relief by her presence. It hurt as much as it healed.

“I… adore her, Cissa... And I know it has been going well, the girl has more forgiveness in her than… How? How can she look at me, as Draco’s soulmate, knowing the kind of man I was? Knowing… what I did to our son? To our darling boy?” He looked at his wife like a heartbroken man desperate for answers. Even his voice betrayed him; Lucius felt defeated and lost this morning, and perhaps didn’t even know if he deserved the answers he sought.

Narcissa sighed, hugging him tighter. “You need to tell her the truth, Lu… She has forgiven you because it’s who she is and she sees who you are now. The man you are now. But for your own sanity, for the…” She took a moment to gather herself, to try to word something so delicate. “I know you keep it a secret because you think, at the end of the day, you did what you did, and you need to atone for those sins either way. And perhaps that is so. But Hermione is the daughter that magic has chosen for this House. She is the love that magic has chosen for our son. She deserves the whole picture. To know why her new papa did what he did. You need to tell her, Lu.”

Lucius looked at his wife for a long moment before dropping the cane into the wet grass and burying his face in her neck and hugging her back fiercely. He nodded against her skin, but felt too overwhelmed to speak any longer.

“It’s going to be alright, Lucius… I know it.” Narcissa crooned softly, marveling to herself how lovely it felt to say it and mean it, to be so sure, so confident for once. During to war, the worst of times, she used to say those same words and feel like she was lying through her teeth.

Not now though.

Now she knew it in her bones.

The Loft

“Good morning, my love.” Draco whispered, smiling softly as he watched her eyelashes flutter awake. Merlin she was pretty.

“Mmmff… Morning.” Hermione squinted, snuggling into his shoulder and shutting her eyes again, humming a happy noise as he ran his hand up her back.

“Sleep okay?” Draco asked, tugging gently on one of her curls.

Hermione snorted into the pillow before rolling onto her back. “I was about to say, ‘like the dead!’ but I realized that it would be a pun in absolutely terrible taste… so… instead, I’ll just say yes, thank you. I slept very well, thank you for asking.” She was squeaking with the effort not to giggle by the end and had to peek out at him from behind her hands; she was so grateful that he was rolling his eyes and smiling, too… that joke really could have gone either way.

“Charming, dearest…” He drawled at her, leaning over to tickle her ribs until she cried out in submission.

“Alright! Alright, I give…” She gave him a half-hearted shove before snuggling up to him like a koala with a huff. “And how did you sleep, anyway?”

Draco grinned, feeling pleased with himself as he gathered her close from head to toe. “I had good dreams… surprisingly.”

Hermione looked up at him, a bit confused. “Surprisingly?”

“Well, if we hadn’t talked…” He shrugged.

“Ah… yeah, me too. I really liked that.” She smiled.

“What? Me baring my soul?” He teased, his cheeks a bit pink. In truth, he’d liked it very much, too.

“I don’t know if I’d put it quite like that, but… yeah.” Hermione entertained herself doodling little runes against his skin. “It sounded like there are a lot of lovely things in our life to look forward to.” She murmured, glancing up at him.

Draco nodded, not wanting to let himself get emotional if he could help it, choosing to simply lean down and kiss her instead.

“Do you feel better? After talking and everything?” She asked after they’d cuddled awhile longer.

“I do… Thank you for taking such good care of me last night. For understanding.”

“Always.”

“I realized that we haven’t had even a spare moment, you and I, to learn about Soul Bonds since we found out and I don’t know about you, but for me it feels like my magic is changing every day now with how much more deeply I fall in love with you. Every time I’m inside you…”

Hermione sighed a little and leaned up to give him a long, lingering kiss, letting her nails scrape up the back of his neck into his hair. “I know exactly what you mean.” She murmured against his lips.

Leaning his forehead against hers, Draco just let himself breathe her in. Lily of the valley. Bergamot. Mint.

“It makes the idea of losing you feel like… more than I could bear. I understand.” She admitted.

“Maybe the Manor library has books on Soul Bonds… When some of this craziness dies down, let’s check, yeah?”

Hermione’s eyes lit up as she nodded, making him chuckle.

“I still haven’t shown you the library, have I?”

“I’ve been trying not to mention it.”

“Aww. My poor little swot… Does the library in your family's castle not scratch the itch?” He teased.

"Yours is a magical library, you arse." Hermione poked him right in the spot in his ribs that he hated most, just because.

"Touche." Draco sniffed haughtily, knowing he deserved that.

“It’s too bad we don’t have time today…” Hermione groused.

“Nope!” Draco laughed. “Today and tomorrow are all about Neville and Pansy, and if Pansy catches you trying to sneak off to the library? Merlin help you.”

Hermione grumped and muttered a few rude retorts to this, but otherwise agreed. She knew Pansy Parkinson would flay her alive if she even brought a book along in her purse.

“So is it just us four for lunch?” Draco asked as the two couples did the shaking of hands and kissing cheeks hello in front of the outdoor cafe on Horizont Alley. He was feeling particularly laid back on this July Friday and was loving being out and about, showing off Hermione in her cherry-red 50’s style sundress and matching lipstick. She was just so pretty… and his… He kept catching himself staring and sighing.

“Aye, just us sappy sods, yeah…” Neville deadpanned at him, fully admitting that he was suffering from the same disease as he stared at Pansy like he would happily eat her for lunch.

“Aaand the girls who put up with us… right…” Draco nodded, oddly happy to know that he wasn’t the only one. He couldn’t help grinning at Neville, now that he’d caught him out.

In fact, he honestly had no idea how he’d missed it, the relationship between Neville and Pansy, all this time… They’d done a superb job keeping it under wraps, but now that he thought back on the time since he’d been home, now that he’d been seeing them together this week… there were too many clues, it was so obvious.

They’d been ‘missing’ or ‘unavailable’ during the same weekends or events. They’d each spoken here and there of a potential significant other that they ‘hadn’t been ready to name yet’ but always with a look on their face that Draco now recognized as utterly besotted.

And they were perfect for each other, really. They balanced each other in such a lovely way.

Neville was genuinely crazy about the real Pansy, all sharp edges that hid a secret trove of vulnerability. Pansy would go on a murder spree to protect those she loved but when it came to herself, she needed someone who would protect her. Her life hadn’t been easy and she deserved someone who worshipped her for who she was.

And Neville… It was adorable seeing how much Pansy loved him. How soft the razor-edged witch became for her plant-toting wizard. How she doted on him.

They made a wonderful pair, and Draco was so grateful to have them as friends.

The two girls, deep in conversation with each other about various bridesmaid-ish things, were utterly oblivious to their wizards’ conversation and to Draco’s musings over the happy couple. Neville, however, was eyeing Draco with his concerned face since he’d gone quiet, not realizing Draco was actually just sitting there being sappy.

“Mate, you alright after last night?” He murmured to him after the waiter brought over menus. Draco smiled softly, appreciating the way his friend was both caring and discreet. Of course Neville noticed how distraught he had been…

“I am now, yeah. Mostly.” He nodded, flicking his eyes over to Hermione as a hint that Neville acknowledged with a smile.

“Good… Good. You’ll let me know if you want to talk, though?” He asked, his voice low enough not to raise the girls’ suspicions. Draco’s heart felt full as he nodded his thanks.

“You’ve had an even crazier week than me, though, Nev. How’re you?” The girls seemed to tune back in and the waiter took their order; the group got the usual amount of whisperings and the occasional camera flash but ignored it.

Hermione settled into Draco’s side with their hands intertwined and Neville and Pansy mirrored them across the table.

“Sorry mate, what were you saying?” Neville asked him once the waiter had brought appetizers and drinks and finally let them be.

“I was asking how you are since your week has surely been crazy.” Draco smiled.

“Ah… Well I have finally eclipsed you as my parents’ favorite son, so that’s been nice.” Neville gave Draco a cheeky grin that had the table laughing.

“I see… give them a daughter-in-law and they just forget who brought them back to life…” Draco scoffed. Hermione reared back, her jaw on the floor, as the two men were guffawing at each other.

“You two have the most macabre sense of humor I have ever heard! What is the matter with you?!” She cried, trying not to laugh.

“Don’t worry darling, as soon as Draco tells Alice and Frank you two are soulmates, you’ll be back in the lead.” Pansy assured her, rather nonchalantly.

“Don’t you dare! I should get time to enjoy this!” Neville declared hotly.

“Pfft, stay on my good side, Nev.” Draco grinned, enjoying himself.

“Speaking of staying on people’s good sides…” Pansy cackled. “Did you already piss Hermione off so much that the situation demanded you give her apology diamonds, Draco?!”

Utterly unperturbed at being called out about the necklace, Draco merely raised a rather unimpressed eyebrow. “Hardly,” he scoffed, rubbing small circles into the back of Hermione’s hand with his thumb. “The explanation is far less interesting, Pans. I simply enjoy spoiling her.”

“Ah, but tell the class what the wee granny said about it, Draco… come on…” Neville goaded with a devilish grin.

“What?! You didn’t mention Gran accosting you about my necklace!” Hermione laughed. “What did she say?!”

Draco felt his face turn rather… warm, and his desire to murder Neville ratchet up rather… high.

Rolling his eyes with a pained sigh, Draco admitted, “She said… ugh, Neville I hate you right now…” The entire table laughed, knowing it must be good to elicit this level of embarrassment. “She pulled me aside and said, and this is as close a quote as I can remember, ‘well done on the diamonds my boy, yes… my Reginald had that kink too…’” Draco dropped his face into his hands in mortification as the other three erupted in absolute hysterics, only sitting up straight again after Hermione had whispered some naughty promise or other into his ear for later. Merlin he was so whipped and did not care at all.

After lunch, Draco and Neville left to meet Harry for a robe fitting, after which they would head back to Longbottom Manor where Draco would do his weekly check-in with Alice and Frank.

Pansy and Hermione, meanwhile, had an appointment to meet Ginny and Daphne at the spa before heading to Pansy’s studio to try on the bridesmaid gowns Daphne was bringing from Paris.

At least, that was the plan.

On the boys’ end of the things, the plan went fairly alright. Lucky them.

Pansy had chosen their robes earlier in the week and met with Bedalia Twilfitt, of Twilfitt and Tattings, to place the order. All they had to do for their fitting to go well was show up on time and not burn the place down.

Not a difficult ask, really, yet somehow the appointment managed to give the shop owner a minor migraine by the end.

Bedalia Twilfitt had been making the finest robes available for the English Wizarding community for over fifty years; she’d inherited her shop from her aunt who had done the same for seventy years before that with her ‘friend’ and partner, Wisteria Tattings. Twilfitt and Tattings was an institution on Diagon Alley that catered almost entirely to purebloods and was both astonishingly pricey and rather snooty, offering only the finest and most exclusive of everything.

Their typical clientele was wealthy, demanding, exacting, and often asked for the impossible: a combination that inherently instilled quite a bit of patience in the staff.

Patience that was sorely tested when Harry Potter was added to that client list.

Bedalia had known Neville since he was a boy of course since she’d dressed both him and his grandmother Augusta for her entire career. She of course knew Draco because… obviously; if there was one family that epitomized the Twilfitt aesthetic, it was the Malfoys.

And Harry, well… He was famous, so… sure. Never had he been a client but like anyone else thrilled with the Potter boy’s Dark Lord vanquishing skills, Bedalia was a fan! She simply hadn’t realized before meeting him, however, that he was so… young?

Watching Lords Longbottom and Black lead the Potter heir around the shop instructing him on what he could and couldn’t touch as if he were a toddler was, admittedly, hilarious to Bedalia… though she kept her professional mask on, of course. It simply wouldn’t do to snicker in the face of the Chosen One, would it? Or any client… No, Bedalia Twilfitt was a professional.

“Gentlemen! Welcome, welcome… I hear we have a wedding tomorrow?”

“Good Day, Madame Twilfitt.” Neville bowed and kissed her knuckles. “I am indeed getting married tomorrow, yes. Lord Black is my Best Man and Lord Potter will also be standing up for me.” Of course she already knew this from the conversation and order placed earlier in the week, but the slight blush on the boy’s cheeks was so sweet. It really was too bad Augusta wouldn’t be there to see her grandson marry.

“Congratulations, my dear. Your grandmother would be so proud, and you know to call me Miss Bedalia young man.”

“Thank you, ma’am, my apologies.” Neville blushed.

“I swear, all three of you outgrew your fathers. More handsome, too. Your witches are lucky ladies! Come now, no time to waste…” Bedalia ushered the three past her swooning salesgirls and into a large back room with a comfortable sofa, platform and tri-fold mirror.

“You knew my father, ma’am?” Harry asked shyly.

“Indeed I did, Heir Potter. He and your grandparents were in often, though your father only when forced by your grandmother. Couldn’t stand still, that one.” She gave him a wink and a smile, hoping for her own sake he wasn’t like that. Watching him, however, didn’t give her high hopes.

“You ought to go first, Nev. Show us what Pans picked.” Draco smiled with a touch of teasing, spreading his arms out on the back of the sofa as he sat down and got comfortable. Harry was obviously out of his element and sort of plopped himself down awkwardly, nodding along with Draco’s suggestion. A house elf came and went with a tea service, only making Harry more uncomfortable.

“You say that like she’ll have put me in one of Gran’s housecoats or something.” Neville scoffed, looking only mildly nervous as he went into the dressing room to the sound of the other two chuckling.

“Remember his bogart of Snape?” Harry whispered, making Draco throw his head back laughing.

“Oh Salazar…” Draco clutched his gut. “I had never, ever, seen my godfather so angry as when the Weasley twins kept taunting him about that all year… He’d see one of them in a frock coat with a red hand bag in the halls and that vein in his forehead would throb! It was like they enjoyed detention!”

Even Neville, still in the middle changing, burst out laughing hearing that. Bedalia did her best to maintain a professional mask of indifference but it was difficult.

Finally, out Neville came in a very modern cut black robe that seemed almost a hybrid with a muggle, white-tie tuxedo. It was perfect, and perfectly Pansy. Ever since she’d been free of her parents, Pansy had been exploring muggle fashion and haute couture and her style was somehow both classic, ala Jackie-O, and yet edgy at the same time. Incorporating it into wizarding robes this way was… exactly right. Draco approved. He liked seeing the ways Pans and Hermione made sense as friends, and fashion was turning out to be one of those ways; it made him feel happy.

“Huh.” Harry said, his head tilting to the side as if trying to figure out a puzzle.

Draco chuckled, fixing his cup of tea. “They’re perfect, Miss Bedalia… well done.”

Bedalia chuckled, nodding to the Malfoy heir as she made minor adjustments to the groom’s shoulders. He was a broad man… the Parkinson girl was a lucky witch indeed.

“This is so different from my wedding…” Harry murmured absently, almost not even realizing he was speaking out loud.

“Oh? How so?” Draco wondered. He was new to the Chosen One’s inner circle… He wasn’t even sure when he and the She-Potter had gotten married, come to think of it.

“Besides sitting next to your poncy arse?” Harry quipped almost fondly. Neville snorted and the movement got him accidentally stabbed with a pin, leading him to quietly apologize and promise to stand still while the other two chuckled at him some more.

“Yes, Potter… besides that.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Ehhh… God, it hasn’t even been that long but the world is so different now…? I dunno. We got married so quick after the war ended, you remember, Nev?”

“Mmhmm.” Neville intoned, almost comical in how he was not moving a muscle but was making eye-contact through the mirror.

“Well for one thing, this entire endeavor feels very, uhhh… adult? Fuck that sounds idiotic out loud… Whatever, I mean, with us, Gin’s parents organized the entire thing, or at least her mother did. I think Molly Weasley picked out literally everything about our wedding, as if either of us having an opinion or doing any of it ourselves would be somehow taboo. It was in that lull right after it all, ya know? I was about to start Auror training… Ginny hadn’t even been officially drafted by the Harpies yet… Ron was still my friend, he was my Best Man… He was still a part of our lives, still… normal as far we knew, you know? I mean… it was before he…” Harry shrugged and shook his head, staring off at nothing while Neville and Draco had an entire silent conversation via facial expression in the mirror.

“I’m sorry you lost your friend, mate.” Draco murmured, genuinely feeling bad for Harry about it.

Harry took a breath and looked up, a bit surprised by the thoughtful words. “Thanks, yeah… He was Nev’s friend, too. We all roomed together, you know.”

“You’re all set, dear.” Bedalia shooed Neville back to the dressing room and beckoned Draco to come up. “You only need to do the jacket, dear, since you were in so recently… come on up.”

Harry snickered. “Shop that often, do you Malfoy?”

“I am known for a few things, Potter. Being consistently well-dressed for every occasion every day in perfectly tailored couture is one of those things. Trust me… if you bothered to do the same, your wife would reward you.”

Harry scoffed at this for a moment but the faces that Draco, Neville and Bedalia were all making had him reconsidering.

“Seriously? You think if I had my Auror uniform and my, I dunno… various everyday shirts and whatever tailored… You think Ginny would… reward me… for that?”

Neville and Draco both laughed uproariously out loud while Bedalia continued to smirk and pin, smirk and pin.

“Don’t get me wrong, I literally never want to know anything about your sex life, ever, for any reason… but… yes, that is exactly what I am saying.” Draco laughed, taking the jacket off and handing it to the smug witch.

“Your turn, Heir Potter… Please change into the full set of robes and then come stand on the platform here.”