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Chapter Text

March 3rd, 2004

Hermione stepped into her flat, a wave of accomplishment washing over her. She had just returned from depositing the last of her funds into the vault Narcissa had secured for her. With the vault now restored to its original state, it was as if she had never touched it at all. A profound sense of relief and pride surged through her, knowing she had upheld her promise to herself and Narcissa.

Africa had changed her.

Hermione knew she was not the same woman who had arrived here four years ago. She set her bag down and began preparing a light and simple meal, her mind drifting back over the years that had shaped her into who she was now.

Upon her arrival, Hermione had immediately set to work completing her N.E.W.T.s, determined to achieve all twelve. It had been a rigorous and demanding process, but her unyielding dedication paid off. With her exceptional results and Amara’s recommendation, Hermione secured a coveted position within the Department of Magical Defense and Healing Arts(DMDHA). 

The training was intense, pushing her to her limits and beyond. She immersed herself in the study of healing arts, mastering potions, herbology, and advanced magical medical procedures. Her commitment was unrelenting, and she emerged with masteries in all healing disciplines.

But her journey didn’t stop there. Hermione also trained extensively in magical defense, becoming an expert in wandlessand wordless dueling. The rigorous combat training honed her skills, transforming her into a formidable duelist capable of both offensive and defensive magic.

And as a bonus she also became a master of several hand to hand combat techniques making her an asset on any team.

Throughout these years, she had been on numerous field missions, supporting and healing those in need. Her role as a field mediwitch required quick thinking, resilience, and an unwavering sense of duty. She had faced dangers and challenges, each one shaping her into a stronger, more capable witch.

With her meal ready, Hermione decided to eat out on her balcony. The night was dark and serene, the mountainous region she lived in casting long shadows under the faint light of the stars. She settled into her chair, looking up at the night sky.

A familiar heaviness fell over her as she scanned the constellations. She couldn’t see it—the one that mattered most.

Her dragon.

Draco’s constellation.

Yet the stars twinkled indifferently, and she felt a pang of longing and sadness. No matter how much she had grown and accomplished, there was a part of her that still felt incomplete.

She sighed deeply, taking a bite of her meal, it had lost all of its flavor. The night wrapped around her like a comforting, if melancholic, cloak. Hermione set her plate down on the small table on her balcony and brought a foot up to rest so she could lean her chin on her knee. 

Her eyes once again scanning along the stars searching for her dragon despite knowing he wasn’t there. 

With her appetite gone Hermione decided on savoring the quiet of the night, she heard the faint rustle of wings. An owl swooped down, landing gracefully on the balcony railing. Recognizing the familiar heavy cardstock envelope it carried, she couldn’t help but smile. Gently, she untied the letter, the owl hooting softly before heading to the feeder and water dish she always left out.

Breaking the wax seal, Hermione eagerly devoured the contents of the letter from Narcissa.

Dearest Hermione,

I trust this letter finds you well. I write to you today with a matter of utmost seriousness, one that I hope you will understand the gravity of.

When you left for Africa, I held onto the hope that Draco would, in time, move on from you, release you both from the contract he foolishly made up. And perhaps ultimately you could have found each other again without the weight of the contract looming. However, recent events have shown me otherwise.

Draco and I had a serious row over his lack of initiative in the endeavor. He remains steadfast in his stance, adamantly refusing to move on. He has made it clear that he will wait for you, no matter how long it takes.You are well aware of the nature of Malfoy men; they are intensely possessive of their chosen witches. Draco is no exception. 

This brings me to the point of my letter: it is time for you to come home. You can be with Draco willingly. Find love in each other again, if you both tried. Or you can run and face being apprehended by the authorities and brought back to fulfill your part of the agreement by force. 

I look forward to your response and hope you will choose to return willingly.

With all my love,

Narcissa

. . . 

Hermione’s hands trembled as she finished reading the letter. 

Panic surged through her veins. 

She had always known that the courtship contract with Draco was a looming presence in her life. Like a counter ticking down to zero. She had hoped that her absence and the passage of time would render it null and void. Due to estrangement. 

Clearly, she had been wrong.

Hermione sank back into her chair, her mind racing. The memory of signing that contract, with its elegant parchment and Draco’s husky pleading and begging, came flooding back. 

They had been so young, caught in the aftermath of the war. Broken and starving for love.

At least she had been.

She could see now Draco had been chasing redemption, in his own misguided way. And while it didn’t excuse what he had done, she could understand that feeling. 

She had been so lonely and the contract had seemed like a lifeline from the haunting of the war and a hopeful future. But now, it felt like a chain, binding her to a fate she hadn’t chosen for herself.

That wasn’t exactly true.

She had signed that contract. . .more willingly than she would like to admit. She had desperately wanted the security Draco dangled in front of her, the love, the attention. The feeling of being needed and wanted. 

She raised her fingers to her neck where she thought she could still feel his breath on her neck from that day. 

Taking a shuddering breath Hermione read the letter again. 

When she was finished her stomach roiled with nausea. Hermione couldn’t bear the thought of being forced into a relationship, even if it was with Draco. She wanted to be with him, but on her own terms. Not because of a contract they signed as traumatized victims of war dictating their futures. 

The very idea of the contract controlling such a significant part of her life made her feel trapped, suffocated. She had spent years fighting for her freedom, for autonomy, and she wasn’t about to let that slip away now.

As her eyes scanned the letter again, a specific clause from the contract surfaced in her mind. The stipulation about children—requiring them to be born within a certain timeframe. 

A bitter taste filled her mouth as she realized the implications. If she could remove her reproductive organs, the contract would be void. It was drastic, but it was probably a guaranteed way to ensure her freedom.

Hermione shot up from her chair and went tearing through her flat to her book shelves. She started pulling down autonomy books and magical reproductive health books. She cross referenced various texts and surgical procedures well into the night.

When the first few rays of sunlight spilled over the mountains peaks and into her flat she felt more resolved. 

It wasn’t impossible. 

She could probably even do the surgery herself. . .unassisted. 

But could she really go through with it? 

The procedure was potentially irreversible, and it wasn’t done very often in the magical community. But the alternative—living under the shadow of a contract dictating her future—was unbearable. The thought of Draco’s face flashed before her eyes, his expressions ranging from the arrogant smirk of their school days to the softer, more vulnerable looks they had shared in the war’s aftermath. She could see how his face twisted in that awful sneer as he confessed what he had done to Ron. And yet, despite it all, she loved him, she realized. 

But she couldn’t allow herself to be coerced into a relationship. 

It had to be her choice, or it meant nothing.

With a resolute determination, Hermione stood up and began gathering her medical texts putting them into a brown leathered satchel. She prepped her home to be her recovery ward should she need it. With everything prepped she sent an owl off her to her Department Head letting them know she would be out the remaining of the week due to a personal matter.

Once she was sure all her business was settled, she aparated to a medical lab she had credentials for. The sterile environment and the familiar scent of antiseptic calmed her nerves slightly as she began setting up for the procedure. 

As she closed off the operating room for herself, she took deep calming breaths in a vain attempt to quell the nervousness she felt. 

She cast several diagnostic spells on herself so she could monitor her vitals.

She conjured a mirror to above the operating chair she was setting up. She then divested her clothing and got into a hospital gown.

She couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. 

Hermione’s heart rammed in her chest hard.

This was her only chance to take control of her own destiny.

She cast a muffialto spell over the room and summoned straps to hold down her legs and torso, this would be incredibly painful and she didn’t want to take the risk that her body would twitch and she accidentally kill herself.

Hermione took a deep breath and steadied her hands. With meticulous precision, she prepared the instruments, determined to carry out the procedure that would free her from the constraints of the courtship contract. 

A memory she burried long ago flash in her mind. No, not a memory a dream. Draco reading A Winters Tale to her in a sunny a meadow while she leaned against him rubbing a swollen belly. She blinked out of that daydream and let out a few light puffs of breath, trying to physic herself up.

Hermione whispered to herself, “For my freedom, for my future.”

She felt the weight of her decision settling over her, but she also felt an odd sense of liberation. This was the ultimate assertion of her autonomy. Hermione closed her eyes, summoning every ounce of courage she possessed.

“I have to do this,” she whispered, and with that, she began.

Chapter Text

August 4th, 2004

Draco sat in his office, the crisp parchment spread out before him, as he meticulously applied the finishing touches to his latest report. The lines of his handwriting were precise, each stroke of his fountain pen deliberate—he found muggle pens to be superior to quills.

Sturdy and practical.

Also no mess of spilled inkwells were a bonus.

This report detailed the capture of a prominent Death Eater, Antonin Dolohov, a significant achievement in his ongoing personal mission to dismantle the remnants of the Dark Lord’s followers. May every single one of them rot in hell forever, himself included of course. . .when he eventually got there.

Since joining the Auror force in September 2000, Draco had built a formidable reputation. His sharp mind and relentless dedication had led to the capture of numerous Death Eaters within England and provided valuable leads for their pursuit across the globe.

Recently, all his hard work culminated in a significant promotion. Draco was now in command of his own Auror unit, he had beaten out Potter and Weasley for the promotion and it was something that filled him with joy daily.

The promotion also came with a tangible reward: his own office.

Shelves lined with neatly organized case files, each labeled and dated, spoke of a man who left nothing to chance. A wall was adorned with maps marked with pins and strings, tracking the movements of suspected Death Eaters. On his desk, the only sign of personal touch was two small frames. One was photograph of his mother, Narcissa. Her serene smile provided a rare glimpse of warmth in the otherwise austere room.

The other—was her. One of the captured moments over winter break in 1999. He was leaning over her while she had a book in front of her reading. His face was buried into her hair by her ear.

“How can you even read right now,” he asked by her ear bracketing her in with his arms. Hermione tilted her head towards him and he smiled into her soft vanilla smelling curls. “All I can think about is how pretty you look when you suck my cock,” he growled out as his fingers spread wide on the table on either side of her arms. “Fuck kitten, what have you done to me?”

And in the picture, she laughed.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, but before he could respond, the door swung open. Draco didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The only person who would dare enter without waiting for permission was Harry Potter.

“Malfoy sir,” Harry greeted, his voice carrying a tone of urgency. He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him.

Oh, the other perk of this promotion was he got to order Potter about. It always filled him with glee. This morning he had Potter fill in for the monthly meeting. Since the team has closed the case they’d been working on for half, he sent Potter to get the new case while he finished the reports.

Draco looked up, his grey eyes meeting Harry’s determined gaze. “Potter,” he replied evenly, setting his pen down and folding his hands on the desk. “What has you barging in here this time?”

Harry wasted no time, crossing the room to stand in front of Draco’s desk as he handed a folder out to him.. “We’ve got a situation,” he began, his expression serious. “A new case. Top secret.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. “And what makes this case so special than any other?”

Harry took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for the gravity of what he was about to say. “It’s an illegal potion brewing syndicate. Dangerous and well-organized. They’ve been operating under the radar for a couple of years, and we finally have a lead. But there’s more, we’re getting help from an expert—a medical professional from Africa.”

Draco’s curiosity piqued further. “A medical professional? What do we need a healer for?” He hands opening the file as he waited on Potter to give him more details.

Harry hesitated, his eyes flickering with something akin to discomfort. “Not just any healer,” the man murmured. Draco’s eyes flicked down to the folder that was laying open in front of him.

There, listed under the agents involved, was her name.

“It’s Hermione,” Potter blurted out just as Draco’s eyes flicked to her last name.

Granger.

Draco’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name.

Memories flooded him. Scenes he had wished he could forget. Her laugh. Her smell. The way her brown eyes would glow in candle light. How her legs felt over his as they sprawled on the couch of her dorm, reading. How her lips felt on his, how she tasted, how she felt when he was inside of her, her face contorted in pleasure, eyes drunk on desire for him.

Draco inhaled sharply, forcing his mind to the present.

He hadn’t seen her since the night she disappeared from the Manor in April of 2000. Their past was a tangled web of intense emotions and unresolved issues. The mere thought of her was, as always, distracting.

He schooled his features into a mask of indifference, though the tension in the room was palpable. “I see,” he said coolly. “When does she arrive?”

“Today,” Harry replied. “We’re meeting the whole team in conference room C in an hour. I thought you should know.”

Draco nodded, suppressing the storm of emotions that threatened to break through his calm exterior. “Thank you for the information, Potter. I’ll be ready.”

Thankfully the wizard took the hint of dismissal and Draco heard the door click shut. He quickly pointed his wand lazily locking and silencing the room.

Draco’s breath came in ragged, uneven gasps as he struggled to contain the flood of emotions. The office, once a sanctuary of structure and precision, now felt like a prison closing in on him. He gripped his hair, the sharp pain grounding him momentarily in the present.

He could feel his carefully maintained facade cracking. Memories of their past—the bubble of newness during winter break, heated arguments, the passionate nights tangled in the sheets and the unbearable silence of her absence—flooded his mind. The betrayal he felt when she left without a word of explanation clashed violently with the love that had never fully extinguished.

“Occlude or don’t occlude,” he muttered to himself, the dilemma gnawing at his sanity. Occlusion had always been his shield, his way of maintaining control.

But what would it mean if he hid behind it now?

Would it prove that he hadn’t grown?

That he was still the same scared boy seeking refuge in cold, calculated detachment?

The room seemed to close in on him, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on his chest. He forced himself to take slow, deliberate breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to calm the tempest within.

“Think, Draco,” he whispered harshly.

He needed clarity.

Needed to find a way to face her without crumbling.

He pictured her face, the fierce determination in her eyes, the way her hair always seemed to defy gravity. He remembered the nights he spent thinking of what he would say if he ever saw her again, rehearsing conversations that never happened.

Draco pushed himself to his feet, moving to the window. The view of the bustling Ministry below offered a semblance of normalcy. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass, allowing its chill to seep into his skin, grounding him further.

“Focus,” he told himself.

He couldn’t afford to lose control. Not now. He had to find a way to channel his emotions, to confront Hermione with the composure and strength he had built over the years. He rarely Occluded these days, hardly needed to since he finished a bulk of the therapy he needed to fix his mind. He still went every couple of weeks just to take the mental and emotional load off.

Yet faced with the reality of seeing the witch who crushed his heart and soul with a single short letter had him wavering on his commitment not to occlude with those of his inner circle.

Draco knew the decision he had to make. He couldn’t let his emotions betray him, not now, not in front of her. He would occlude, burying his feelings deep where she couldn’t see them. It was the only way to preserve his dignity, to maintain the image of the man he had become.

If he was being truly honest—he didn’t want Granger to see that he was still in love with her. He was ultimately pathetically in love with her. . .still.

With a deep, steadying breath, he closed his eyes and began the familiar process. One by one, he compartmentalized his emotions, locking away the guilt, the longing, and the anger. He felt the cool, comforting numbness spread through his mind, bringing a sense of order and control.

When he opened his eyes, the turmoil had subsided, replaced by a calm, calculated detachment. He was ready. He would face Granger, but on his terms.

Draco turned back to his desk, his expression now a mask of unyielding composure. He straightened his robes, smoothing out any imperfections, and took one final deep breath.

“Let her come,” he murmured to himself, the words a quiet affirmation. “I’m ready.”

Draco entered the conference room where Harry was already waiting, leaning against the edge of the long oak table, his usual disheveled appearance contrasting sharply with Draco’s composed demeanor. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the enchanted globe hovering above the table, casting a soft glow over the assembled chairs.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked as Draco approached, his green eyes searching Draco’s face for any sign of distress.

Draco stared back blankly.

“Now, Potter, you know I never discuss my personal life at work,” Draco retorted dryly, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm but devoid of any real hostility. Despite their turbulent history at Hogwarts, their rivalry had evolved into a grudging respect and eventually, a genuine friendship over the years.

Harry rolled his eyes, a small chuckle escaping him. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”

“Oh, I’ll be sure to pencil that in,” Draco replied as they took seats on opposite sides of each other.

Despite the teasing banter, Draco could see the concern in Potters eyes. Fuck, he must have forgotten to glamour his eyes, and he couldn’t very well do it now as it would be too obvious he was hiding the fact that he was occluding.

Before Harry could respond, the door swung open again, and in strode Theo Nott, a familiar folder in hand.

“Oh, gods be good,” Draco muttered under his breath, his expression a mix of resignation and amusement.

Theo was a competent Auror and a loyal friend, but his penchant for recklessness often tested Draco’s patience.

Theo grinned broadly as he approached, waving the folder in Draco and Harry’s direction. “Come now Potter, you know our dragon here is a cold-hearted, analytical Auror. Not much room for feelings in that brilliant mind of his,” he teased, his voice light-hearted and teasing.

“I could have sworn Mother has told you eavesdropping is a rude pastime,” Draco teased back. Feeling the tension about seeing Granger again fading. He could feel his habbit of dropping his walls for Theo.

Theo was one of the stealthiest and best intelligence gatherer there was. He played his roles perfectly that sometimes Draco wondered if perhaps the wizard had multiple personalities residing in him.

“Yes, but when you are just so good at it,” Theo grinned and shrugged, “why stop?”

Draco sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, spare me, Brother,” he replied, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Theo really was the best in the department when it came to getting information from the underbelly of the Wizarding world.

Harry chuckled again, shaking his head at the familiar banter. “You two never change,” he remarked, his eyes flitting to Theo’s. Theo took the seat next to Draco.

As they settled around the table, the gravity of their upcoming mission hung in the air. Draco steeled himself, pushing aside thoughts of the past and focusing on the task ahead. Whatever personal history he shared with Granger would have to wait. Right now, there were dangerous criminals to apprehend, and nothing could distract him from that goal.

As Head Auror Gerald Wynders entered the conference room, Draco made a concerted effort not to glance towards the door, resisting the urge to see if Granger had arrived with him.

Pansy and Weasel walked in after. Pansy instantly took a seat by Theo while Ron rounded the table to sit by Harry and across from Draco. That left one seat—next to Ron for Granger.

Fucking. Stop.

He chided himself harshly. Even while heavily occluded she permeated his mind somehow. It was only ever her that could do this to him. Make him so weak.

Instead of contemplating that, Draco opted focused on Wynders as the briefing began in earnest. Problem was, Draco had a hard time focusing, despite his very best efforts, his eyes continued to drift towards the door every few minutes or so. His notepad, which would normally be filled with notes, was blank, the tip of his fountain pen resting on the page.

“The potion being brewed is a combination of Amortentia and brain-altering herbs,” Wynders explained, his voice authoritative yet tinged with urgency. “In essence, it’s a highly potent date rape drug, addictive and dangerous. From the little intel we have its being called: Seduxion. It’s already being used in sex trafficking operations and has started gaining traction on the continent. Our task is to dismantle the ring here and now. We have reason to suspect the herbs are coming out of Africa. As you all read your briefing file, we’re having an expert coming in. Actually its a transfer-”

Before Wynders could continue, the door swung open once more, and Granger swept into the room. “Oh Goddess, I’m late, aren’t I?” she queried, her gaze sweeping over the assembled people.

Despite her tardiness, she appeared composed and unruffled, her demeanor exuding confidence and authority.

Draco’s breath caught involuntarily as he took her in. Time had been kind to her. It took everything in him not to roll his eyes at the observation, of course it would have been. Her skin bore a warm, sun-kissed glow, a testament to her years spent in the sun. Her hair, a few shades lighter than he remembered, was braided elegantly on the sides and gathered into a high ponytail, cascading into loose curls down her back. She wore vibrant red and yellow robes adorned with intricate patterns and beads, a stark contrast to the subdued colors typically seen in the Ministry. The black trousers she had one looked like they had been painted on her. She had a brown leather satchel slung over her shoulder that she was pulling off as she took the seat next to Ron.

He smiled at her. Draco’s stomach roiled with nausea when she returned his smile with as much warmth as she used to. As if they were best friends all over again. Had the witch forgotten that the wizard was hardly ever a friend, especially after the war.

The idiot didn’t even get up to pull the chair out for her. She moved with the grace of a healer, every move was calculated and sure. Honestly Draco wondered if someone else had polyjuiced themselves as Hermione Granger. This person seemed so. . .unknown to him.

It made Draco’s heart clench. She had changed.

“Ah, Healer Granger,” Wynders greeted, his tone cool and slightly disapproving. “Excellent of you to join us,” he added, his displeasure evident at her late arrival.

Hermione’s response was polite but pointed. “Sorry, there was a situation at St Mungo’s that only I could handle. Being such an in demand healer does come with its constraints on my time,” she explained, her words laced with subtle defiance.

Draco blinked, momentarily taken aback by her boldness.

The Hermione Granger he had known would never have been late, let alone apologize in such a manner. Her confident demeanor and assertive presence were a stark departure from the studious, rule-abiding Gryffindor he remembered from their school days.

A stifled snicker from Theo broke the tension, though he quickly covered it with a cough, trying to hide his amusement. Wynders’ expression tightened further, clearly unimpressed by Hermione’s explanation, while Harry sat with his mouth slightly agape in surprise.

Draco found himself torn between irritation at Hermione’s audacity and a strange admiration for her newfound confidence. He couldn’t help but wonder how much else had changed about Hermione in the years they had been apart.

Clearing his throat, Wynders addressed the room. “I am pleased to introduce Healer Hermione Granger. She will be working closely with us to deconstruct the samples of these potions and start developing an antidote. Her expertise in healing and potion-making is unparalleled, and her role in this operation is crucial.”

Draco flashed his eyes to her and blinked stupidly when he caught her eyes on him as well. Those beautiful dark brown eyes. . .wait a second, had those cracks of shimmering gold always been there? He could have sworn he saw the memories of their past flickered in her eyes before she looked away.

Wynders continued, “Healer Granger will also be joining us in the field on stings. Her abilities as a mediwitch are unrivaled, and given the potential for this case to turn dangerous very quickly, having her expertise on-site could make the difference between life and death.”

A murmur of surprise and some concern rippled through the room. Harry glanced at Draco, whose expression remained unreadable, though the tension in his jaw betrayed his feelings.

“Granger’s presence in the field isn’t just for being your personal healer,” Wynders added, sensing the room’s unease. “Her skills in defensive and offensive magic are formidable. She will be an asset not just medically but tactically as well. We are fortunate to have her on this team.”

Harry finally spoke up, his voice steady but with an edge of curiosity. “When do we start integrating her into the operations?”

“Effective immediately,” Wynders replied. “We have no time to waste. The syndicate is growing bolder, and their potions are becoming more dangerous. Granger will begin examining the samples tomorrow, and she will accompany us on the next raid.”

Draco remained silent, his eyes fixed on Hermione. He felt a swirl of emotions—resentment, curiosity, and an unsettling sense of vulnerability. He couldn’t deny that her skills would be beneficial, but her presence dredged up a past he had worked hard to suppress.

Wynders concluded the meeting with a firm directive. “Prepare yourselves. This mission demands our utmost attention and cooperation. Dismissed.”

As the team dispersed, Hermione approached Wynders to discuss her initial steps. Draco watched her from a distance, the unresolved feelings between them simmering beneath the surface. This reunion, under such dire circumstances, was bound to test their limits in ways neither had anticipated.

He had to get out of here.

Draco gathered his things and left the conference room, his feet lead him down the stairs, though the doors of the DMLE and to the Floo’s of the Atrium.

“Malfoy!”

Draco flinched but turned to see Potter running up behind him.

“Are you ok,” the man asked when he was close enough.

“Obviously not Potter. I am taking the day. I-I can’t. Not when she. . .” Draco drifted off as she blew into the atrium. Granger was a force to be reckoned with. Reporters swarmed her, asking her question after question. Yet she glided on by them, as if not hearing their calls for attention and answers.

Slowly her head turned towards them and she gave a small smile at them.

A smile that radiated warmth, kindness and. . .gods the witch was like the fucking sun. And Draco was utterly powerless to resist the pull she had on him, even after all she had put him through in that first year of her disappearance, he still indeed loved her.

“Potter I’ll see you tomorrow,” Draco rushed out as he turned to grab a handful of powder and Floo’ed to the Manor. As his feet touched the marble flooring he found his mother waiting for him.

Hands folded neatly in front of her. Not a single hair out of place.

“She’s back,” his mother asked, her voice lifting with hope.

“She’s back.”

Draco turned his back to the witch, his steps echoed through the grand hallway of the manor, his mind a tempest of emotions. As he reached the door to his study, he took a deep breath, steadying himself. Some of the initial shock and anxiety was wearing off now and he was able to let go of the tightly closed wall he had built within him.

She’s back.

He pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit room. The heavy curtains were drawn, casting long shadows across the walls. The scent of aged parchment and leather-bound books greeted him. This room had been his sanctuary, the place where he had meticulously crafted his plans, his schemes, and his hopes.

He had spent many a night drunk in here.

Drowning in regrets.

Granger’s back.

Draco walked to his desk, his fingers trailing along the polished surface until they found the hidden latch on the side. With a click, the secret drawer slid open, revealing a stack of journals. Each one was filled with his thoughts, his strategies, and his carefully calculated scenarios for when Hermione returned.

He picked up the top journal and flipped through its pages, the neat, precise handwriting detailing every possible approach he could take. It was a map of his obsession, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the extent of his longing.

She came back.

With a flick of his wand, Draco sparked a fire in the hearth. The flames roared to life, their warmth spreading through the room. One by one, he fed the journals into the fire, watching as the pages curled and blackened before turning to ash. The flames devoured his plans, the smoke carrying away his desperation and fears.

As the last journal turned to embers, Draco felt a strange sense of liberation. Instinctively his left hand clasped around his right wrist. Her bracelet still attached to his wrist, even after all this time. Her courtship gift a firm reminder of the promise he made to her. To be a good man, not for her or anyone else, but for himself.

Watching the flames consume his plans made the burden of his meticulous plotting lift form his shoulders, replaced by a raw, unfiltered excitement. Hermione was back, and this time, he would win her heart not with schemes, but with sincerity.

Besides, he had already memorized the best schemes in the journal, he wouldn’t need to keep physical copies of them.

His smirk returned as he stood before the fire, the glow casting a fierce light in his eyes. He would approach this differently. He would be genuine, patient, and attentive. He would show her the man he had become, the man who loved her beyond reason.

His witch came back.

He had a chance—a small one—but it was enough.

He would seize this opportunity with everything he had.

Draco felt a warm tingling sensation come over him. . .it jolted him with surprise as he hadn’t felt this emotion in years.

It was hope.

Chapter Text

Hermione stood in the grand atrium of the Ministry of Magic, her eyes scanning the bustling crowd for a familiar face. The morning sunlight streamed through the enchanted ceiling, casting a warm glow on the polished marble floor. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. 

She hadn’t had time to go over the briefing file with DMLE when she arrived. Someone had been brought into St Mungo’s who’d been doused with a poison they hadn’t seen before. Hermione had been there most of the night having arrived shortly after ten the previous night. After she had gotten the symptoms under control and they started testing, Hermione made her way to the DMLE for the 10am meeting for which she was summoned for. 

Draco had been the furthest from her mind until she opened that door and saw him sitting there across from Harry. His posture was rigid, his eyes a cold grey.

Occluding.

She had selfishly wondered if it was because of her. But she remembered, Draco was a master with Occlumency, had been using it as a tool during their last couple of years at Hogwarts. The sight of those cold white eyes angered her. 

Irrationally so. 

She could barely focus on the briefing, Ron and Pansy would set up wards around the lab she was to be given. Draco would take point, Theo would go underground looking for a lead into the syndicate. Harry would just be Harry until they needed him. 

When the meeting had concluded she had watched out of the corner of her vision Draco rushing out before everyone else. And now that she was in the Atrium, ignoring the press who called her name. Asking her where she had been? Why she had left? If she was back to be with Ron? That question had made her snort with laughter. 

Ron and her were co workers at best. She truly had no desire to foster a friendship with the wizard. During her years of therapy she had come to terms with the verbal abuse Ron had put her through during their school days. Cutting her down. Insulting her. Belittling her intelligence. He purposely went out of his way at times to make her feel smaller than him, as if he was shoving her down so he could prop himself up.

Or was she back to continue her courtship with Draco? 

It was a valid question. Surely it was one of the biggest influences on her return home. She had to speak with him. But perhaps not today, or tomorrow or even a week from now. They had time to sort out the contract business still and currently this mission took precedent over personal matters.

She managed to spot Harry and Draco talking by one of the Floo’s, and she couldn’t help the smile that tugged on her lips when Draco’s eyes met hers. Even after all this time he unknowingly or knowingly sought her out. 

There was hope. 

“Hermione!”

The call of her name snapped her from her thoughts and she looked over to see  Kingsley coming towards her. He had a large smile and his arms were stretched open as he greeted warmly, pulling her into a brief, comforting hug. “It’s good to see you.”

Kingsley was a man who exuded authority and calm, qualities Hermione had always admired.

“And you, Kingsley,” Hermione replied, her voice filled with genuine affection. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

“Of course,” he said, guiding her toward the exit. “Shall we grab some lunch and catch up?”

They walked side by side through the bustling streets of London, eventually settling at a quiet café not far from the Ministry. Once they were seated, Kingsley looked at Hermione with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

“So, how have you been?” he asked, his deep voice gentle and reassuring. “I read about your work in the Uganda branch of DMDHA. Remarkable, as always.”

Hermione gave a small nod, her thoughts briefly drifting back to her time abroad. “It was challenging, but fulfilling,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “I learned so much, but it was also—difficult to be away from everyone for so long.”

Kingsley nodded, understanding the unspoken weight behind her words. “And your parents?” he asked gently.

Hermione’s expression grew somber, and she shook her head slowly. “I tried my best, but even I was unable to restore their memories,” she said, her voice tinged with sorrow. “They are simply just not there. I,” she paused and blew out a long sigh of disappointment. “I was terrifyingly detailed in my spell work, and it seems I was too thorough. My parents will never remember me, or the life they once had with me.”

Kingsley’s face softened with empathy. “I’m so sorry, Hermione,” he said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been for you.”

“It was,” Hermione admitted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I had hoped that after everything, I could give them back their lives, but it’s just not possible.”

Kingsley sighed, shaking his head. “You’ve done everything you could. More than anyone else would have been able to. Your parents would be incredibly proud of you.”

Hermione nodded, grateful for his words, but the ache in her heart remained. “Thank you, Kingsley. It means a lot to hear that,” she said with practiced ease. She had repeated this very statement over the years on repeat.

People pitied her and praised her for her work regarding her parents.

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Kingsley cleared his throat and changed the subject, sensing that Hermione needed a distraction.

“So, how are you finding your return to the Ministry?” He asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I heard you’ve already made quite an impression.”

Hermione chuckled softly, appreciating the change in topic. “It’s been. . .interesting,” she said. “There’s a lot to catch up on, things work very differently here than they do in Uganda. But I’m excited to be back and working within the DMLE.”

Kingsley nodded approvingly. “You’ll be a great asset in the DMLE and at St Mungos. I’m sure you’ll continue to do great things here.”

They chatted about recent events coming at the ministry. Hermione inwardly winced when he mentioned that she’d of course come to the Ministry Autum Equinox gala at the end of the month. It would be nice to have the Golden Trio together again. 

She smiled politely and took a sip of water to delay her response. “As you know I am a healer, my time may be taken up by to many other pursuits to attend but I shall keep my calendar as open as I can allow,” she diplomatically stated. 

“Spoken like a true politician. I’m impressed,” Kingsley stated as they got up from the their table after paying. On the way back there was an uncomfortable silence of sorts. 

She could feel it stretch between them, Hermione had a feeling what it could potentially be. 

“Hermione I have to ask, your medical file was missing from your transfer paperwork,” Kingsley started and Hermione heard her laugh in her head. 

“That’s not a question,” Hermione said petulantly. If only to mildly annoy the older wizard with her snark. As she expected he gave her a very unamused look and she chuckled continuing her snakiness. “Is that paperwork really necessary sir? As you can see I am the very picture of health,” Hermione beamed as she waved a hand down her figure. 

She was indeed healthy looking. She was leaner now. She had found physical exercise helped her work off the mental load of her trauma. With a stronger body came a stronger mindset. She could push herself past what she had thought her limits were before.

“You can look the picture of health but be incredibly vulnerable. We need that paperwork on file Hermione,” Kingsleystated plainly. Leaving no room for debating.

Hermione chewed her bottom lip and the older man sighed. 

“What have you done,” came his questions.She cursed herself being so easily read by the man. But it was truly no surprise since he had been her mentor during the war. 

“I preformed an ancient ritual on myself in 2001, its not exactly reversible either. I don’t want the information getting out to anyone,” she said as vaguley as she could. It was a half truth.

Her mind drifting to a jar that sat under a stasis, her hand writing on the label: March 3rd, 2004. Granger, H.

“Oh Merlin have mercy, what exactly did you do to yourself?” Kingsley asked he looked at Hermione with a mixture of concern and curiosity, clearly taken aback by her revelation.

Hermione took a deep breath, steadying herself. “It’s a deeply personal matter, Kingsley,” she said softly. “I can’t discuss it with you, the only person who knows is my medical proxy. Please understand, it’s not something I did lightly.”

Kingsley nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. “I understand that you have your reasons, and I respect your privacy,” he said. “But you have to realize the implications of this for your role within the Ministry. There are protocols that need to be followed, especially given the dangerous nature of the work you’ll be doing.”

“I know,” Hermione replied, her voice firm but tinged with sadness. “That’s why I’m asking for your assurance that my medical file will be kept sealed. No one else needs to know about it.”

Kingsley leaned back in his seat, his hands folded together as he considered her request. Finally, he gave a slow nod. “You have my word, Hermione. Your file will be sealed and kept confidential.”

Relief washed over Hermione, and she managed a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Kingsley,” she said. “I appreciate it more than you know.”

“Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” Kingsley added, his tone softening. “And if you ever need to talk, my door is always open.”

“I promise,” Hermione said, standing up from the table. “I’ll bring the file to you tomorrow.”

As she walked away, Hermione felt a mixture of relief and anxiety. She knew she had made the right decision for herself, but the weight of her secrets still pressed heavily on her shoulders. She needed to ensure the jar at home was secure, a constant reminder of the choice she had made.

Hermione apparated to the quaint cottage Narcissa had arranged for her. As she swung the front door open, she gasped in surprise at the sight of Narcissa Malfoy, elegantly seated in the living room, calmly sipping tea.

“Mother,” Hermione said breathlessly, her voice a mixture of astonishment and warmth.

Narcissa beamed at her, setting down her teacup and rising gracefully. “Ah, my dear girl,” she replied, her tone filled with genuine affection. She closed the distance between them with a poised elegance and wrapped Hermione in a proper, warm hug.

Hermione let out a small squeak of surprise before sinking into the embrace. The warmth and comfort of a mother’s hug, something she had sorely missed, enveloped her. It felt so right, and Hermione hugged the witch back, her arms tightening around Narcissa as she took in the moment.

“It’s so good to see you, Hermione,” Narcissa murmured, her voice soft and reassuring. “I’ve missed you.”

Hermione pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at Narcissa’s face. “I’ve missed you too,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “It’s been so long and difficult.”

Narcissa nodded, her eyes filled with understanding and concern. “I know, my dear. But you are strong, and now you are back. I promise to help you the best I can. ”

Hermione smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes for the first time in what felt like ages. “Thank you, Mother,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Narcissa stroked her hair gently, a gesture of maternal affection. “You will never have to find out,” she assured her. “Now, why don’t we sit down and have some tea? You can tell me everything.”

Hermione nodded, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders as she led Narcissa to the sofa. They sat together, the comfort of the cottage and the warmth of family providing a much-needed balm to Hermione’s troubled heart.

Hermione and Narcissa settled onto the sofa, the warmth of the tea and the coziness of the cottage providing a comforting atmosphere. Hermione took a deep breath, ready to recount her time at Uagadou.

“Uagadou was incredible,” she began, a mixture of awe and nostalgia in her voice. “The magic there, it’s different. More connected to the earth and the elements. I learned so much, not just about magic and healing, but about myself too.”

Narcissa smiled in triumph. “I knew sending you there would be the best for you. Time, space, and peace do wonders for the soul.”

Hermione nodded, her expression turning somber. “The first few months were awful, though. I felt so isolated and out of place.”

Narcissa patted her hand soothingly. “Yes, I conceded that it did take me an inordinate amount of time to find my letter. How you must have been in agony, my dear girl.”

Hermione smiled faintly, appreciating the empathy. “It was hard. But your letters meant the world to me. They reminded me that I wasn’t alone.”

Over the past four years, the two witches had exchanged monthly letters. Basic, one-page letters that focused on their lives and experiences, never touching upon Draco or anyone else. Just updates on what the other was doing, small glimpses into their respective worlds.

“I remember your first letter,” Hermione said, a small smile playing on her lips. “You wrote about the gardens at Malfoy Manor and how you were planting new herbs for Starrie to try in the kitchens. It felt so mundane, yet it was exactly what I needed.”

Narcissa chuckled softly. “And you wrote about your studies and the challenges you faced with wandless magic. It was fascinating to read about your progress regarding elemental magic. I am so very proud of you.”

Hermione sighed, a contented sigh that spoke of healing and growth. “Uagadou gave me what I needed to heal. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.”

Narcissa’s eyes softened with pride and affection. “I’m glad, Hermione. You are a remarkable young witch, and I always knew you had the strength to overcome the inner turmoil that was weighing you down. You look so well my dear child.”

Hermione felt a swell of gratitude and love for the woman who had become more than just a mentor to her. “Thank you, Mother,” she said softly. “For everything.”

Narcissa squeezed her hand gently. “Always, my dear. Always.”

“There is a favor I need to ask of you,” Hermione started somewhat awkwardly. 

Narcissa smiled kindly, seemingly sensing her discomfort. “Just ask my dear.”

Hermione swallowed and cleared her throat before sitting taller in her chair. She summoned the jar that held her future. Floating in a clear liquid under a golden glowing stasis charm was Hermione’s uterus and ovaries. 

“Oh gods!” Narcissa exclaimed clearly shocked beyond belief. 

“I need you to keep this safe. You’re the only person I trust,” Hermione rushed out quickly. “I perhaps did this somewhat recklessly one night when I was panicking about coming home. I had received your letter. . .in March.”

Narcissa’s mouth fell agape, her eyes glued to the jar. 

“So, after. . .reading your letter that Malfoy hadn’t-uh, moved on. . .and our courtship was-uh, well active, I had a panic attack of sorts.” Hermione released a nervous chuckle. “And under the duress of the such strong emotions, I removed my uterus and ovaries. As a permanent solution to birth control. . .but also a panicked last ditch effort to dissolve the contract,” Hermione explained. “I can confess, I wasn’t thinking clearly at all and um. . .no one knows about it. I didn’t put it in my medical file.”

The silence stretched and she felt the need to explain further. “I need to put it in my file but I am going to charm the ink to only appear my designated medical proxy, which will be you, to read. I figured you should at least know all my medical history in case something were to happen,” she babbled on. “And if asking that wasn’t enough I also need you to keep the jar sa-.”

“Is this reversible?”

Hermione grimaced. “Ah. . .well-the thing is, I-”

“Hermione. Is. This. Reversible.”

Narcissa’s tone was stern. Leaving absolutely no room for excuses or floundering for an answer. 

“I don’t know,” she answered back honestly finally looking up at the witch before her. 

Narcissa’s eyes were a mix of shocked awe and confusion. “You did this to dissolve your contract with Draco?”

Hermione took in a shakey breath. She felt like a child getting in trouble. “Y-yes,” she muttered out. 

Narcissa set her tea cup down on to the table and loosed a sigh.

“Why must my children go to such extremes,” She asked to no one bringing her fingers to her forehead with a shake of her head. 

Hermione bit into her bottom lip and when Narcissa looked back up she sighed again, “gods child. What else have you done to yourself?”

Hermione extended her right hand across the table and removed the layers of glamour charms, revealing intricate tattoos in a warm red-brown hue that contrasted beautifully against her skin. The markings spanned her fingers and the back of her hand, forming elaborate patterns of geometric shapes, crescent moons, and delicate chains of symbols. A large, ornate crescent moon dominated the back of her hand, its design filled with tribal-like patterns. Smaller symbols and lines branched out from the moon, extending across her fingers and knuckles, creating an impression of both ancient artistry and mystical power.

She explained to Narcissa, her voice steady and calm, “I performed an ancient ritual on myself in 2001. I had just finished translating it from an old text and—well I wasn’t even sure it worked until these markings appeared the following full moon. They were designed to store magical power, preventing unused magic from fading away as it tends to do.” Hermione’s eyes gleamed with determination as she continued. 

“And pray tell child, what was the reason for doing this?”

Hermione felt her cheeks flush red and she squirmed in her seat. Amara had asked her the same question, it was frightening how similar the two witches were.

“Reckless curiousity,” Hermione admitted because ultimately that’s what it had been. She had been eager and excited at potentially discovering something new. 

“Gods be good. Is that all? Or have you also somehow manage to take over a small country too,” the witch half joked. 

“No that’s all,” Hermione conceded and shook her head. 

“OH! Well,” Narcissa blew out a long breath.

It was the most frazzled Hermione had ever seen the witch. Granted she had only been around Narcissa for a handful of days but she had gotten to know the witch rather well through their short correspondences. 

“Mother, I need you to keep this jar safe. It’s. . .well obviously it’s very important,” Hermione said lamely not really sure what she can say. 

“Are there any parameters in which this. . .jar,” the witch seemed to struggle to get the word out, “of yours needs to be kept? Away from sunlight? In a cold dark cellar perhaps?” The witch was teasing her and Hermione let out a puff of laughter. 

“No. Just keep it safe, and hidden. I trust that you know a place to keep it.”

“And why can’t you keep it,” Narcissa asked genuinely. 

“Honestly, I’m afraid someone will stumble upon it here if I keep it at the cottage,” Hermione explained though vaguely. 

“You mean my son will discover it by happenstance. And pray tell what would he be doing in your home to discover such a thing,” the woman asked with an amused lift in her voice. 

“Mother,” Hermione whined trying to not answer. 

“Come now darling, we are women and adults. I am not foolish enough to think that Draco will be able to stay away from you and you from him,” the woman was now chortling. 

“Mother!”

“Oh my dear child,” the witch laughed now and Hermione could feel her cheeks burning with the teasing. Narcissa’s laughter softened, and she reached out to gently touch Hermione’s arm. “Oh, Hermione, you are precious. But tell me honestly, do you still love Draco?”

Hermione looked away, her cheeks still burning from the teasing. She took a deep breath before answering. “I. . .Malfoy made me feel things I’ve never felt before. He made me feel seen and heard at a time in my life when I was needing a distraction, a purpose. Even after everything, there were these lingering feelings that I couldn’t shake off, even when I tried.” Hermione confessed. She inhaled deeply before continuing with a sigh, “I really did try to. . .well I tried to move on but he was there. In the back of my mind, in my dreams, gods I felt like I was being haunted by his ghost,” Hermione admitted as she brought her elbows up onto the table and rested her face into her palms. She blew out a breath thinking of seeing the wizard that very morning. 

Narcissa nodded, her eyes softening with understanding. “And what is stopping you from moving forward with him, my dear?”

Hermione hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m afraid. I’m afraid that he won’t forgive me for running from him—from us. That what I did caused irreparable damage to our relationship. Mother, I had promised him a second chance and then I ran away just a few hours later!”

Narcissa sighed, her expression thoughtful. “Dear, love is not without its trials. You both have made mistakes, but that doesn’t mean it’s the end. If anything, it means you have a chance to grow stronger together. But you must be willing to take that step, to open up and be vulnerable.”

Hermione swallowed hard, “but what if he hates me for leaving? What if he can’t move past it?”

Narcissa smiled gently, squeezing Hermione’s hand. “My son is many things, but he is not one to give up easily on what or who he cares about. I told you, he is as stubborn, perhaps even more so than his namesake. And he cares about you deeply, Hermione. Give him a chance. Give yourselves a chance.”

“If it was Lucius, if it was you and him, would you give him a second chance,” she asked curiously. 

Narcissa closed her her eyes and pondered the question for a few moments before loosing a sigh with a small smile. “I’ll always give him another chance. He is my one. My forever,” the older witch opened her eyes, they were soft and wet herself. “If your love is as strong as I suspect, Draco has already forgiven you, a long time ago dear. He’s been in mind healing for the past four years. You would be surprised to find the Draco you knew in him anymore.”

Hermione brought her thumb to her mouth and bit down on the nail gently thinking. 

Had Draco changed? 

She had been so angry with him for still occluding but. . .perhaps that was more in self preservation. Perhaps he hadn’t known she was coming back?

“I will keep this jar safe. And I will keep your secret as well. As your mother it is only fair,” Narcissa said giving the jar a distasteful look before returning her gaze back to Hermione. 

“Does Malfoy know that you helped me? That you knew where I was,” Hermione asked suddenly. “If it is only fair for you to keep my secrets, what of your duty to Malfoy. You’re his mother.”

“He treated his chosen witch poorly, is it not my right as his mother to punish him for it,” Narcissa lifted a sculpted brow, as she asked her question. “Keeping your whereabouts secret from him was his penance for his atrocious behavior, I certainly hadn’t raised him that way,” she scoffed and crossed her arms. “He learned that awfulness from his father to be sure.”

Hermione couldn’t help the small smile that tugged her lips. It was nice to have a mother in her life. While she ached for her own mother and father, Narcissa was doing brilliantly filling in those gaps in Hermione’s life. 

“My afternoon is free, is there anything you want to do dear? Before life becomes to hectic for us to spend time together,” Narcissa inquired. 

“No,” Hermione shook her head with a smile. “I am quiet happy just being here with you. It’s nice.”

“Alright then,” Narcissa smiled back before her gaze fell on the jar again. “Dear, do you mind removing your—jar from the table?”

Hermione let out a laugh and vanished the jar back to its original hiding spot with a wave of her hand. Naricssa’s brows shot up, she was clearly impressed.

“I do say, my grandchildren will be very talented indeed,” the older witch muttered into her tea cup casting her eyes teasingly at hermione. 

“Mother please! I would actually have to—to. . .well. . .” Hermione spluttered not able to get the words out as she felt heat in her cheeks again. If the surgery she did was even reversible that would be an entirely different conversation with Draco. 

Would he even want her as she was now?

Barren by her own hand. 

There was pattern. She had been orphaned by her own hand. She had broke her heart by her own hand. And now she had stripped away any childern she might have by her own hand. 

Classic self sabotage.

But would Malfoy want children?

She supposed he might someday considering he put a time frame on the matter. 

“Dear you are still as easy as ever to fluster,” her mother chortled taking a very polite bite of a biscuit. 

“Must everyone in my life tease me,” Hermione mocked groaned, but if she were being honest, she secretly loved Narcissa’s gentle teasing.

It was light, easy and fun. She never felt like she was being guilted or maliciously picked on or singled out for anything. 

Yes. She had missed this, she had missed being home. 

More than she had realized. 

Chapter Text

Hermione arrived at the entrance to the research laboratory floor of St. Mungo’s the next morning. She had just finished dropping off her modified medical file to Kingsley and she had watched him place the sealing charm on the file. 

Narcissa had promised to keep her jar safe, though the witch did not give any hint of where it would be kept. The lack of having control over the jar was unsettling but she knew she could trust her mother to keep it safe. Their late afternoon tea turned into a dinner and then they shared several bottles of wine together talking and catching up. Starrie came to collect a very inebriated Narcissa by the end of it. 

Hermione turned the corner and was met by Pansy, who was already waiting with her wand out, casting the final warding spells around the lab entrance.

“Parkinson,” Hermione greeted, her tone polite but cautious.

Pansy looked up, her expression cool and distant. “Granger,” she replied with a curt nod. “I’ve just finished setting up the wards.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said, genuinely appreciative but also sensing the underlying tension between them. “I appreciate your thoroughness.”

Pansy’s eyes flickered with something unreadable before she continued, her voice precise and detached. “The wards are layered with protective enchantments. They will alert us immediately if anyone tries to breach them by force. Also there is a deterrent that Wesealy set up, should someone try to enter who isn’t apart of the team. The wards will alert the team. I’ve also set up a panic button of sorts,” the sleek beautiful witch continued as she opened the door and walked into the lab.

Hermione nodded, following closely behind. Pansy was immaculately dressed in a smart suit, wand holster strapped to her chest. Pansy waited until Hermione was inside before pointing to the clock above the door. “Should a spell of any kind hit that, it’ll alert the entire DMLE and we can have an army here in about three minutes.”

The conversation felt stilted, and an uncomfortable silence settled between them as they stood int the lab.

Hermione’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the sparse equipment and the scattered samples. Her initial anticipation began to wane, replaced by a growing sense of dismay.

“Thank you,” Hermione said, trying to bridge the gap between them. “I know this must be a difficult position for you.”

Pansy shrugged, her face impassive before she turned to get her suit jacket that was draped over a chair. “It’s necessary, Granger. And I’m a professional,” she said as she gracefully shrugged on the jacket. “I’ll be by every once in a while to inspect the wards, make sure Wesealey’s shoddy spell work is holding up.”

Hermione appreciated Pansy’s professionalism, even if their interactions remained strained. As Pansy left the lab, Hermione’s focus shifted to the work at hand. She approached the workstations, her dismay turning into frustration as she examined the samples.

Curious she raised her right hand and cast several detection spells over the samples. Several magical markers hit, too many in fact. It would seem that several of the samples. . .perhaps even all of the samples were contaminated due to improper handling.

A knock rapped on the door jam and Hermione spun around, magic gathering in her palms. Draco entered the lab, looking far too pleased with himself. “Healer Granger,” he greeted, his usual smirk in place. “I see you’ve found your workspace.”

The magic in her palm faded but her ire did not, her eyes blazing with fury. “Malfoy, this is unacceptable. The lack of samples is bad enough, but the mishandling of what little we have is inexcusable!”

Draco’s smirk faltered slightly. “What do you mean? The team followed protocol.” He stepped up next to her looking at the detection spells hovering above samples, many of them glowing red.

“Protocol?” Hermione echoed incredulously. “These samples are practically worthless! The labels aren’t marked, the vials are damaged, and there’s no sign of any preservation techniques being used. Several magical signatures are all over the samples! Anything that would have been worth finding is now useless! How am I supposed to conduct any meaningful research with this mess?”

Draco’s expression hardened, his own frustration rising. “The team did their best under difficult circumstances, Granger. You can’t expect perfection in the field.”

Hermione stepped closer, her voice low and intense. “I expect competence, Malfoy. Especially when we’re dealing with something as serious as this. Every detail matters, and this level of carelessness could cost lives.”

Draco bristled, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “I’ll speak to them. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“See that you do,” Hermione snapped, turning back to the samples. “In the meantime, I will try to salvage what we have. If you are here to stay then start by sorting through these and identifying which, if any, are still usable.”

Draco nodded, moving to assist her. As they worked together, the tension between them remained eased, replaced by a shared determination to rectify the situation. For all their bickering, they both understood the gravity of their task and the need to set aside their differences to achieve their common goal.

“I’m sorry, you said a department dueling competition?” Hermione repeated the words back to Ron and Harry. 

She had come back in the early afternoon to do some paperwork for her onboarding and transfer while tests were running on the few salvageable samples. 

Both wizards nodded and grinned big.

“I’ve been the reigning Quarter Champion six times in a row,” Harry said smugly as he elbowed Ron playfully. The easiness between them made her heart clench, she had missed the easiness of long friendships.

Very much.

“Will you come and watch,” Ron asked with that hopeful look in his eyes. She immediately recongized it from their time at school. He wanted her fawn over him. Be impressed by him.

“Am I not able to participate myself,” Hermione asked at Harry with a tilt of her head.

“No offense ‘Mione, but you’re just a mediwitch,” Ron said some what dismissively.

She curled her hands into fists in order to stop herself from sending a wandless hex at him. But Hermione gave him a placating smile, “thank you for that elucidation Ronald. Harry?” She turned her head on her other friend. She lifted her brows indicating she was wanting to hear his opinion on the matter.

“Oh! Uh, yeah you can join. You’re apart of the DMLE now,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. He had a look that screamed that he hated being in the middle of her and Ron. “The sign up sheet is in Malfoy’s office,” he finished with a jerk of his head to to indicate behind them.

Hermione smiled standing from her desk. “Excellent, I’ll sign up now,” she delcared with a firm set of her shoulders. She gave Ron a tight smile and made to move around him.

“Woah there,” Ron rushed out grabbing onto her forearm His fingers clasping around her covered scar. “Mione these are no Hogwarts duels. People get hurt sometimes,” he warned.

Hermione felt herself smile as she gently pulled her arm out of his grip. “I can guarantee that I have been properly trained in my time away.”

“Herm-”

“Mate, let it go. If she wants to duel, we should let her. Besides, Hermione is the one who taught you most of the spells you use,” Harry ribbed which got Ron’s attention. He turned and engaged in a back and forth with Harry allowing Hermione to make her blessed escape.

Ron had always thought himself better than she, always underestimating her. Not again.

Never again.

No one would make that mistake after the duels. 

Hermione left Harry and Ron engaged in their playful banter and made her way to Draco’s office. With each step forward her heart sped up. 

What if he ignored her?

What if he refused to allow her to participate?

She found herself in font of his shut door. The name inscribed read: D. Malfoy in bold font. Hermione swallowed and lifted her hand up, hesitation seizing her. 

He had looked cold and distant yesterday. Hadn’t even stuck around to say hello or anything. 

She inwardly scoffed at herself, of course he didn’t want to interact with her. She had run away, fucked off for almost five years with out any explanation. Save for a letter that basically said it wasn’t him it was her. . .Would she want to say hello if it was him who left her?

With a heart that felt as heavy as a stone thumping hard in her chest she knocked lightly on the closed door, waiting for his curt response.

“Come in.”

Hermione pushed the door open and stepped inside, finding Draco behind his desk, immersed in paperwork. His suit jacket was hung up on a a peg behind his chair. His normally styled back hair was mussed with, as if he had run his hands through it multiple times. But what caught her attention was how his wand holster fit across his shoulders and chest. Hermione bit her lip at how attractive Malfoy looked while working.

He looked up, surprise flickering across his usually composed features when he saw her. “Healer Granger,” he greeted, standing up. “What brings you here?”

Hermione felt her lips twitch up before she cleared her throat. He used to always stand when she approached him in the library or class, the great hall or anywhere. He’d always stand to greet her. She swallowed hoping she wasn’t reading too much into it, hope bloomed in her chest. 

She took a breath in and rushed out, “I came to sign up for the dueling competition tomorrow.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, his surprise turning to intrigue. “You want to participate?”

“Yes, I do,” she replied more confidently. “Would there be a reason I cannot?”

“Well I know that your medical file was no-”

“I handed it into Kingsley this morning,” Hermione snapped. Gods she wasn’t even sure why she was even being short with him. Hermione cleared her throat and said, “sorry. I. . .I was provoked earlier and I took it out on you. It won’t happened again.”

He scrutinized her for a moment before nodding. “Make sure it doesn’t,” was his response. She felt her temper flare but then he continued, “you’ll need to sign a waiver and the sign-up sheet.” He opened a drawer and pulled out the necessary forms, handing them to her.

As she took the papers, their fingers brushed briefly. Hermione couldn’t help but notice the slight tension in Draco’s posture as he watched her. She quickly filled out the forms, trying desperately not to think how his fingers had felt, and handed them back to him. She was extra careful not to touch him this time.

“I’ll need to witness your signature on the waiver,” Draco said, his tone all business.

Hermione nodded and signed the waiver with a flourish. Draco added his signature as a witness and then took the forms back, filing them away.

“You do realize these duels can get quite intense,” Draco remarked, his eyes narrowing slightly. “This isn’t Hogwarts.”

Hermione gritted her teeth at the repeated warning but met his gaze squarely. “So I’ve been told. I can assure you, I’ve had extensive training. I’m prepared and ready.”

Draco’s expression softened just a fraction, a hint of respect in his eyes. “Very well. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

She nodded, turning to leave. “Thank you, Malfoy.”

“I’d prefer it if you addressed me as sir.” His voice had her pausing as she met his grey eyes.

She was too far away to see if there was any other color in them.

“You are under my command and I ask that you show my position the respect it affords as everyone else does,” he said raising his chin slightly. 

Hermione felt magic heat her palms as indignation burned through her. He was just like Ron. Flexing his power over her. Looking down at her, underestimating her.

“Of course. . .sir,” she spat out with as much disdain as she could in a singular word. 

He gave her a small nod. “Good luck Healer Granger.”

As she walked out, Hermione felt a sense of anticipation and excitement. Tomorrow would be her chance to show everyone just how much she had grown and learned during her years away. 

She had no intention of holding back.

She was ready—no. She was eager to prove herself.

She finished the remaining paperwork required for her onboarding and transfer in the late afternoon. After stopping by Administration she went back to the lab to check on her samples. 

The test came out inconclusive. Too much contamination to properly identify any one magical signature from the vials and the small amounts of liquid from the potion yielded nothing either. 

She breathed heavily through her nose at the results. Hermione put her hands on her table and leaned her weight on them while she hung her head. She was eager to be an asset, yet this set back. . .no. Sometimes medicine and science had to fail in order to get better results. 

There was a knock on the open door and instinctively she gathered her magic into her palms as Hermione spun to see Harry. He was smiling at her his eye crinkled at the edges. 

“You look like you could use a break,” he started as he walked in. 

Hermione huffed a laugh and shook her hands of the magic, “I could use many things but a break from my recent failure sounds rather appealing.”

“Failure? Does Hermione Granger fail,” Harry teased lightly as he perched himself on a tall stool looking down at the table. His eyes taking in the scene. “You are amazing. I read about your work in DMDHA,” he started as Hermione stood to her full height and started to gather up the reports to bring to Malfoy tomorrow morning. “Failure is not a word I would associate with you and all you had done there. To have received 12 NEWTS from half a world away and then go on to obtain 10 masteries in the healing arts in just under two years. . .Mione, you are brilliant! I’m sure whatever set back you’ve just experienced is only going to launch you forward.”

Hermione paused her movements before setting the reports down in a neat stack. She looked over at him and her heart clenched painfully. “How are you not angry with me? How can you just act like I haven’t been gone for years,” she asked her voice unsure. 

Harry gave her a small smile. “I was angry. Extremely hurt in that first year. But once the case went cold and there hadn’t been a single sighting of you or lead to your whereabouts, I realized you didn’t want to be found. And if you didn’t want to be found then you had your reasons,” Harry said as he reached over grabbing her forearm, his hand carefully placed not to touch the word carved into her skin. “You are my family. Family gets mad at each other sometimes. But family always comes back. I knew you’d come back when you were ready.”

Herminoe took a shuddering breathing and then flung her arms around his neck and squeezed hard. She felt his arms around her center squeezing the breath out of her. 

For a while they just held each other, before she finally said, “I’m sorry Harry. I’m sorry for running away. I’m sorry for not writing. I’m so sorry for everything I made you feel.”

He pulled back and gave her a soft smile as he shook his head at her. “I forgave you ages ago Mione.”

She couldn’t stop the watery laugh that escaped her then and shook her head as her throat closed. She pulled him back into a tight embrace and for a few moments they just held each other. And it did feel like coming home. She had been so worried that no one would forgive her actions. That too much time had passed to be worthy of forgiveness. 

But of course, Harry would. 

She was his family, he would never forsake her. Even if she deserved it. 

“I also might have set up a small dinner party tonight,” he started and Hermione pulled away to take in his sheepishly mischievous face. 

“Might have or did?”

“I absolutely set up a dinner party tonight,” the wizard said with grin. “Everyone will be there, at least the important people,” Harry said with a wave of his hand that reminded her of Pansy. “Except Malfoy, he added and then he shrugged in a very Theo way. She smiled, the snakes seemed to have rubbed off on Harry.

“Who’s all going to be in attendance then?”

“The snakes and their spouses,” he said as if it was obvious and then corrected himself. “Right,” he huffed out when she widened her eyes at him to explain. “Theo and Ginny are getting married next summer. Pansy and Neville got married the winter after our final year. Blaise and Luna are still courting and have not set any date for an engagement or wedding. They’re currently in France handling some sort of business. Ron is coming though, and of course I’ll be there.”

“Who’s cooking,” Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

She couldn’t picture the snakes having the ability, in fact they’d probably just have house elves do it for them. And she didn’t know enough about her friends.

“Oh that’ll be Ron and myself. We’re the only ones who know how to make a proper English dinner,” Harry wrinkled her nose at her and she couldn’t help the chuckle. “Ginny plays for the Harpies, so she’s too busy to learn. Actually she was recently promoted to team captain. Neville works as the Hogwarts Herbology teacher, he cooks but he mainly eats what’s at school. And the snakes. . .well you know how they were raised. House elves for everything,” he rolled his eyes in a very Malfoy-esque manner. 

Hermione snorted that her acertation had been correct. “Luna?”

“Gets too easily distracted by the Nargles that apparently have made a nest under my kitchen sink,” Harry said with a laugh. 

Hermione huffed a laugh herself thinking of how that very much sounded like the breezy minded witch. “What time is this party?”

“Seven,” he said with a nod.

“Alright, do I need to bring anything,” she asked running through her mind what she could make on short notice. 

“Just yourself,” Harry said before winking at her and adding, “and a bottle of wine or two.”

“I can manage that,” she replied giving him a wry grin as she turned back to her samples with a sigh. “I’ve done all I could with what we have here. I’ll need to wait until I get my hands on some other samples. Is there any plans for a raid of any kind sometime soon?”

“Merlin Mione,” Harry sighed and then looked at the clock that hung above her door. “It’s past five, you don’t have to think about work anymore.”

“Harry,” Hermione chided as she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Godric you’re just like Malfoy. All business and work all the time,” he grumbled. “August 10th. Malfoy was planning to get the team together on Monday to go over the details,” he conceded the information. 

“Excellent,” she said as she slipped her white lab coat off and used magic to float it over to its hanger. Then she accoiedher outer robes and shrugged into them pulling her curly hair out from underneath. “Alright, let’s go. I need to stop by the shops for wine. What are you making again?”

“A chicken roast with the normal sides,” Harry said as he stood from the stool.

She nodded and they exited the room, Hermione waved her hand lazily at her side and the door snicked shut behind her before she cast several locking spells. When she turned to look at Harry he was nodding, clearly impressed with the bit of magic. 

Hermione stepped through the Floo Network and emerged into Harry’s living room. The smell of roast chicken, roasted potatoes and vegetables and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and conversation. She smiled warmly at the sight of her friends gathered around the dinner table.

“Hey, ‘Mione!” Harry greeted, getting up to hug her. “Glad you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Hermione replied with more confidence that she actually felt, returning the hug awkwardly holding two bottles of wine.

Ginny came over to take the bottles from her hands and everyone crowded around her to greet her. Ginny was the last one to hug her and handed her a glass of wine. 

Just as Harry stated everyone but Malfoy was there. She’s wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or disappointed. 

As they settled down to eat, Ron, with his mouth half-full of bread, asked, “So, ‘Mione, what were you doing in Africa all this time?”

She took a sip of her wine, gathering her thoughts. “After I finished my NEWTs via correspondence and got my results, I started working in the Ugandan Department of Magical Defense and Healing Arts. I completed my masteries over a two year period and then started going on missions and working in the hospitals that I was granted privileges at.”

Neville asked, clearly impressed, “what kind of work did you do there?”

“I was a field mediwitch,” Hermione explained. “While my main role was to provide medical support, I was also trained in offensive magic. Most of it elemental but all of it is wandless and wordless. In the hospital I mainly did curse or hex removal, surgeries and a little bit of potion making. I also headed an entire ward dedicated to women’s mental and physical health.”

The room fell silent for a moment, everyone digesting her words.

“Wandless and wordless elemental magic?” Harry repeated, his eyes wide. “That’s incredible, Hermione.”

“Must’ve been nice to just fuck off like that. No explanation or anything,” Pansy quipped from her end of the table, her tone dripping with biting sarcasm. Neville shot his wife a look and she huffed indignantly.

Hermione’s smile faltered slightly, but she kept her composure. “It wasn’t an easy decision.” She looked around the table, to all the friends she had held dear to her. “I’m sorry. To all of you that my sudden departure hurt you.”

Pansy rolled her eyes but said nothing more, focusing instead on her food.

Harry reached over and squeezed Hermione’s hand. “We’re just glad you’re back, Hermione. And safe.”

Ginny nodded in agreement. “We missed you.”

Hermione smiled at her friends, feeling the warmth of their acceptance. Despite the lingering tension, she was grateful for the evening, for the chance to reconnect, and for the opportunity to finally begin explaining herself.

She sipped her wine and then blurted, “I signed up for the dueling competition.”

Ron nearly choked on his drink. “You what?”

Harry looked equally surprised but more amused. “I had forgotten to ask Malfoy if you had. I look forward to maybe dueling you.”

Hermione shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “I thought it would be a good way to, you know, show everyone what I’m made of.”

Ginny grinned. “This I have to see. You’ve always been brilliant at dueling.”

“Oh, but dear you have a practice tomorrow,” Theo cooed at the red head giving her a sympathetic look. “I’ll stop by NottManor to get the pensive so you can watch it.”

Hermione snorted as Ginny gave Theo a bright smile before leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. It was then she noticed the sparklingly emerald on Ginny’s ring finger and her heart sank. 

She had missed so much over the years. Weddings, engagements, birthdays, holidays, family dinners. 

“I just don’t think it would be very fair to duel a mediwitch. I mean honestly, you worked in a department for defensive magic and healing,” Ron said stuffing his mouth with a roll. If only he had the thought to do that before the thought had a chance to escape his mouth.

Hermione stole a glance at Ron, who still looked at her disapprovingly. “I can handle it,” she said holding her chip up. 

She knew that look in his eye. That disdainful jealous gleam. It used to make her skin crawl, used to make her want to make herself smaller. 

Not anymore.

“Besides, from what I’ve overheard,” Theo started as he rested his arm on teh back of Ginny’s chair, “Granger is an extremely accomplished witch. Having been apart of over 100 success raids, she has also created several cures for various ailments in Africa.”

“Could we expect anything less from Gryffindors Princess,” Neville added with a wide grin as he lifted his wine glass in salute towards Hermione. 

“Well, we’ll be there to cheer you on,” Harry said, raising his glass. “May the best dueler win.”

They all raised their glasses, toasting to her. Hermione felt a surge of confidence and warmth from their support.

As the evening went on, they shared stories, laughed, and enjoyed each other’s company. 

Hermione stepped outside, the cooler evening air a welcome respite from the lively noise inside Harry’s house. She took a deep breath, letting the balmy summer breeze calm her nerves. The stars twinkled above, and she felt a moment of peace wash over her when she found her dragon in the sky. It was a welcome sight after not having seen it in four years.

She wandered to the edge of the garden, away from the chatter and laughter. The tranquility of the night was a stark contrast to the lively dinner party, and she savored the solitude.

Footsteps approached, and Hermione turned to see Theo walking towards her. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood beside her, offering silent companionship. The silence between them was comfortable, a shared moment of understanding.

After a few minutes, Theo broke the silence with his signature drawl. “I assume you’ll be going on an apology tour soon.”

Hermione chuckled, looking up at him with a sly grin. “It’s always amazed me how well you can read me.”

He smirked, “well I wouldn’t be the best intelligence agent the DMLE has if I didn’t have keen observation skills.”

“Is it that obvious?” Hermione asked, her tone light but with a hint of seriousness.

Theo shrugged. “To me, yes. But to the others—well, they’re a bit more oblivious.”

Hermione sighed, looking up at the stars. “I do have a lot of making up to do. I left without any explanation and stayed away for so long,” she said to him. It was always easy to talk to Theo, he had a sympathetic ear and gave wonderful hugs. “I am utterly terrified of the possibility they won’t forgive me.”

“They’ll understand,” Theo said softly. “And honestly, I think they’ll be more focused on the fact that you are home rather than the hurt and anger they experienced after you left.”

Hermione smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. “Thanks, Theo. Your confidence means a lot.”

“Just speaking the truth,” he replied, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

She nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. “I hope so.”

Theo stayed with her for a while longer, the silence between them once again comfortable and filled with mutual understanding.

“You know,” Theo began, gazing up into the late summer night sky, “just a few days before you left, I made a cruel jab at Draco about you leaving him and never coming back.” Hermione sucked in a breath, the weight of his words settling heavily between them. “ Of course I had no idea you were actually about to do that,” he sighed. “I carried this awful guilt about it for a while.”

Hermione turned her body toward him, her right hand reaching out to grab his forearm, squeezing lightly in reassurance. “Theo, I—goddess, I am so—”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Theo interrupted gently his eyes on her hand before he covered her hand with his own. “While I can accept that you did what you thought you had to, I know there was absolutely nothing I could have done to stop you or change what happened. And I also know that I’m still allowed to be upset with you,” he added, narrowing his eyes in that teasing way she remembered from school.

She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips as she gazed up at him proudly. “You’ve been seeing a mind healer.”

Theo snorted and grinned mischievously. “He’ll deny it, but Draco was the one who encouraged me to go.”

“Malfoy?” Hermione asked, incredulous as she pulled her hand away from him.

“Mhm,” Theo hummed, nodding his head slowly. “He’s different now. Better.”

“Aren’t you suppose to say nice things about him,” she asked mockingly. “You are still brothers, yes?”

“Oh quite right!” Theo grinned at her as he slung a an arm around her neck and pulled her into his side jostling her. “And what kind of brother would I be if didn’t help my brother and his girlfriend fall in love with each other again?”

She spluttered then, “wh-what? Were not—I didn’t say—HE didn’t—hasn’t-”

Theo let out a howl of laughter then started to pull her into back into the house. “Oh perhaps he won’t need help after all!”

Hermione’s mind whirled at the implication of that statement. Of that whole interaction actually. 

Did Draco. . .was he still in love with her?

Did he still want her?

Her heart pounded heavily in her chest with the questions she was too afraid to ask.

Chapter Text

The training hall of the DMLE was filled with a palpable buzz of excitement. The dueling competitions were a revered tradition, and this quarters event promised to be especially thrilling. Aurors and other DMLE personnel gathered around the dueling platforms, eager to witness the displays of magical prowess. The duels could end in one way, someone must yeild or be incapacitated in some sort to discontinue the duel.

Draco stood at the edge of the crowd with Theo and Pansy, his eyes fixed on Hermione. She had easily breezed through the first few rounds, her magic dazzling the spectators. Her mastery over elemental magic added an impressive layer to her dueling skills, leaving many in awe.

He knew she was powerful; he had read her file and the reports of her transfer paperwork. She had yet to earn a dueling mastery, but it was clear that no mere piece of paper could encapsulate her abilities.

Draco was impressed that there didn’t seem to be a duelist who could rival her. It made him want to square off with her, see if he could keep up with her. Keep her attention on him and only him. He felt an old sensation when he watched her.

Immediately he tried to quell it.

He hadn’t felt it in years. The darkness inside of him stirring. 

That possessiveness inside of him that wanted her for himself. That possessiveness that wanted her attention, her eyes on him and only on him. Draco cleared his throat and shifted on his feet to try to distract himself from he feeling.

The crowd quieted as the next match was announced. 

Hermione Granger verse Cormac McLaggen.

McLaggen was a formidable duelist known for his brute strength and aggressive tactics. The two competitors took their positions on the platform.

Hermione’s dueling outfit was a striking blend of elegance and practicality, designed to allow her both freedom of movement and a touch of personal flair. She wore a white crop top that hugged her torso just below her bust but had billowing long sleeves that were embroidered beautifully at the hems. Its simplicity offset by the contrasting black, long-sleeved high-neck bodysuit beneath it. The sleek, tight-fitting bodysuit not only accentuated her figure but also provided an extra layer of protection and agility.

Her ensemble was completed by a two-panel yellow skirt, each panel adorned with intricate red, green, and black embroidery and beadwork that shimmered subtly with her movements. The vibrant colors and elaborate designs added a hint of artistry to her otherwise functional attire, a nod to her appreciation for beauty even in the midst of battle. 

She wore black tight black trousers that stopped at about mid calf, the material was tight but it was clearly flexible from what he had noticed from her previous duels. Her hair was pulled back tightly into a long single plait that cascaded down her back, reaching her waist. Draco swallowed hard when the image of wrapping that braid around his hand popped into his mind. 

He coughed and adjusted the way he was standing as he pocketed a hand that was flexing to do just that. He had a feeling that this witch was going to have him randier than he was when he first had her. 

Everything about Hermione Granger was magnified almost.

She dueled barefoot, a bold choice, yet it seemed to grant her an intimate connection with the ground and enhanced her agility. Each ankle bore a gold dangling bangle, the delicate jewelry chiming softly with her every step, adding a rhythmic accent to her movements and further highlighting her grace and precision.

Cormac lunged forward, casting a barrage of hexes. Hermione effortlessly deflected each one with precise movements of her hands, conjuring a gust of wind that sent Cormac staggering back. With a flick of her wrist, she conjured another gust, stronger this time, and Cormac was pushed off the platform, landing in an undignified heap.

Draco watched, utterly stunned. 

Two moves was all it took!

Cormac was one of the most formidable duelers in the DMLE, up there with himself and Potter yet Granger just kicked his arse right off the platform.

She moved with such ease, such confidence. It was mesmerizing. The crowd erupted into cheers, but the celebration was cut short as Cormac, enraged, aimed a hex at Hermione’s back. Draco lunged forward his wand raised to throw a shield spell, yet with a somehow unnatural perception, Hermione sensed it coming and turned just in time, laughing as she easily deflected the spell.

“I do enjoy taking down small men,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of amusement and disdain. 

She hopped down from the platform. It looked like she was floating down as if she weighed as light as a feather. Her right foot touched down first, the bangles provided a soft gentle ting seemed to chime with a resonance of promised violence in an utterly silent arena. Standing on the same floor as Cormac, who was now red with fury.  The raised platform slowly descended into the floor.

“I want a fair duel, none of your tricks, witch,” he sneered, his wand trembling in his hand. “Fight me with everything you have.”

“Ha!” Hermione placed her hands on hips, shaking her head in almost mockery of his insult. “If a fair duel is what you want, then so be it,” Hermione replied, she swept her arms out wide and slide a foot behind her, bowing deeply in mock respect as she kept her chin raised, eyes narrowed on on the wizard who’d dare insult her. 

She then crouched into a fighting pose, her eyes locked onto Cormac with a calm, determined focus. Hands raised up, one palm out facing him one curled into a fist at her waist.

Draco’s breath caught in his throat. 

She was magnificent, a warrior queen in every sense. 

She was a sun goddess, or a descendant of one. It had to be so.

The room fell silent, all eyes on the two dueling opponents. Cormac charged, casting spells with reckless abandon. 

Darco rolled his eyes.

“Tsk! What a predictable brute,” Theo chided next to him. 

Hermione didn’t flinch; instead, she rushed forward to meet him head-on. She pulled water from various water basins around the arena and swirled a bulk of the liquid around her to deflect or redirect the various spells with fluid forward motion. She moved with a speed and agility that took Cormac by surprise, closing the distance between them in an instant.

In a blur of motion, Hermione engaged him in hand-to-hand combat. Water splashed around them soaking their clothes and the ground beneath them. Hermione dodged his clumsy strikes and countered with precise, powerful blows to his center mass. One brutal punch had Cormac doubled over her fist vomiting his breakfast at their feet.

“Fucking hells,” someone whispered.

“She’s a monster,” someone from Draco’s right. 

A smirk started to curl his lips, his chosen witch was indeed a monster. Fuck. . .he felt his cock starting to harden in his trousers and immediately started thinking of reports he needed to finish before—gods—who was he actually kidding? Draco swallowed and cast a discreet disillusionment on the front of his trousers. So what if he was the most turned on in his life? 

Hermione jerked her open palm up into McLaggens jaw and Draco could help the chuckle at the manifestion of Hermione’s ire and competitiveness. She refused to back down and it reminded him of the Swotty—Gryffindor Princess—Brightest Witch of Her Age, Hermione Granger. 

Whatever training she had received in Africa had honed her physical abilities to match her magical ones, and it showed.

Cormac struggled to keep up after that, his frustration growing with each failed attempt to land a hit made him sloppy. While Hermione’s movements were fluid and controlled, her strikes calculated. She disarmed him with a swift kick to his wrist, sending his wand flying across the room. Then she grabbed his hand, twisted, turned her back to him and shoulder threw him over her with the yell of a witch drunk on her power. 

She brought his wrist straight and then dropped her weight, the snapping sound of bone was flinchingly loud as was Cormac scream. 

“YIELD!” Was her demand. 

“I—I yield!” Cormac whimpered out through gasps of pain. 

Hermione immediately got up leaving McLaggen to roll onto his side cradling and wrist that was definitely broken the wrong way.

The arena was stunningly silent for several moments before it erupted in applause and cheers that echoed soundly around startling Hermione. She looked around before a grin graced her features and she took a bow which only made the onlookers scream their praise louder. She laughed before giving a wave and walking off the sides. 

Draco watched her with a mixture of awe and pride. 

She had proven herself once again, not just as a powerful witch but as a formidable fighter. He couldn’t help but feel a deep respect for her, knowing how much she had grown and achieved since their school days.

As the crowd dispersed, Draco couldn’t resist the pull. He strode his way towards her, as she was catching her breath and wiping the sweat from her brow. He offered her a small smile, a rare gesture of genuine admiration and opened to say something to the affect. 

“Well Granger,” Theo started.

Draco started to looked over at the wizard with a look of utter disbelief. Did Theo just. . .did he just cockblock him?

“If it was any possible, you have somehow become even more terrifying.” He gave a mock shudder and Hermione threw her head back to laugh. 

The sound of it had him turning his eyes on to the witch. It warmed Dracos chest in a way he hadn’t felt in years to hear that laugh. It was her genuine laugh, the one before the war. And then she turned her smile on him and it was like he was looking directly into the sun. She glowed, seriously, she actually glowed with happiness. The gold in her eyes was shimmering brightly, the golden ring around her brown iris looking like molten gold that was churning in circles.

Draco blinked at her, “you’re glowing.”

Herminoe pulled her hands in front of her and curse. She shook them twice and the glowing ceased. Draco tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes, at her. There was something off about her right hand. It seemed— he narrowed his eyes to look more intently— yes, there was a glamour charm there. He couldn’t see what she was hiding but he could sense and see the slightly glow of the magic. 

“Lost control,” she muttered as she composed herself, when she glanced back at him he felt the sharp pain of someone trying to penetrate his mind and his eyes narrowed in on hers. Had she tried. . .?

Draco paused, he hadn’t seen this look in her eyes in a long time, but he knew what it was when he caught it. Just there, hiding in the shadows of her brown and gold eyes was that darkness. 

It was the darkness in her, come out play. 

She turned her smile onto Theo and lifted her chin, “I don’t like to be challenged. Or underestimated.”

The very darkness that had his own slithering closer to the surface as if summoned by hers.

She didn’t come here for some show boat dueling. Like McLaggen, or even Potter and Wesealy and a few other competent duelers. Fuck! Himself included. 

No, he realized she was setting the tone. She wanted to prove she deserved to be respected, to be feared and to be taken seriously. Draco had no doubt she probably would be after just that match alone. no doubt she had already proved she had ever right to be apart of the DMLE.

“Noted,” Theo held up his hands in surrender with a goofy grin. Hermione rolled her eyes and tucked the towel under her braid and turned back to the dueling area. 

Draco had fully with drawn from the conversation. He was too consumed by what would have her so anxious she’d try to get into his mind?

The anticipation in the air was electric as the next match was announced. 

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard his name over the intercom system.

Draco looked over at Theo and smirked as the two wizards made their way up to the platform for their duel. Their rivalry was well-known within the DMLE, and everyone knew this match would be one of the highlights of the competition. 

Both men were exceptionally skilled, and the outcome was anyone’s guess as usual. As much as Draco won against Theo, he also lost. 

The crowd settled into an expectant hush as the duel began. Draco and Theo moved with practiced precision, their spells colliding in mid-air in bursts of colorful light. It was clear from the outset that they were evenly matched. If the other then they would have to push their own limits. 

Unfortunately for Theo, Draco had something to fight for this time. His witches recognition turned out be a very powerful motivator for him.

Draco’s movements were sharp and calculated, his spells a mix of offensive and defensive magic. Theo, on the other hand, was fluid and relentless, his attacks powerful and unpredictable. The platform crackled with the intensity of their duel, the air thick with the scent of ozone from their spells.

Draco’s mind raced as he parried another of Theo’s targeted hex to his hand. He knew he needed to out think his opponent if he wanted to win. Theo’s strength lay in his consistency and keen observation, but Draco had the advantage of cunning and strategy.

As Theo launched another powerful hex, Draco ducked and cast a shielding charm, absorbing the brunt of the attack. He then quickly countered with a series of rapid-fire spells, forcing Theo to go on the defensive.

Draco’s eyes flickered around the room, taking in their surroundings. He noticed the reflective surface of a metal shield mounted on the wall behind Theo. An idea sparked in his mind, a plan that required precise timing and aim.

Feigning a stumble, Draco pretended to falter, drawing Theo in closer. Theo, sensing an opportunity, pressed his attack, his wand moving in a blur. Just as Theo closed the distance, Draco cast a seemingly wild Expelliarmus, aiming it to the side.

The spell ricocheted off the metal shield, catching Theo completely off guard. The red beam of the disarming spell struck Theo’s wand hand, sending his wand flying through the air and into Draco’s upheld hand. The crowd gasped in amazement at the unexpected maneuver.

Theo stumbled back, momentarily stunned by the sudden turn of events. Draco seized the opportunity, casting a binding spell that wrapped around Theo, immobilizing him. The wizard let out a barking laugh as he fell off the platform onto the arena’s floor.

The duel was over. 

Draco stood victorious, his chest heaving with exertion. The crowd erupted into applause, cheering for the clever and daring move that had secured his win.

Elation went through him as he hopped off the platform and made his way to Theo, banishing the ropes for the wizard.

Theo, now free from the binding spell, gave Draco a wry smile as he clapped his hand into Draco’s palm who pulled the wizard up.

“Well played, Brother,” he said, his tone respectful despite the loss. “You always did have a knack for thinking outside the box.”

Draco nodded, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It was a good match.”

“Next time I’ll be the victor,” Theo said completely unperturbed at the loss.

It was one of Theo’s best qualities. No matter if he lost, no matter if things went side ways on a mission it did not deter the man from learning and becoming even better. Draco knew there would be a day where the two men would truly be either evenly matched or Theo would surpass him if he didn’t keep up his training.

As the crowd continued to cheer, Draco glanced over at Hermione.

She was watching him intently.

Their eyes locked and he felt his heart stutter. She gave him a small lift of her chin, approval. Pride flooded him and he couldn’t help the smirk that pulled on his lips.

Yes. 

      Look at me. 

                        Watch me. 

                                         Want me. 

Gods! What he would do to forever live in this moment. The moment when he had her approval and attention. Could he be more pathetic for a witch that had already left him once? Theo clapped a hand on his shoulder and the two men made their way off the platform to stand by her. 

The atmosphere in the dueling arena was charged with excitement as the next match was announced: Harry Potter versus Ron Weasley. 

The two had been friends for years, and their duels were always a crowd favorite, filled with camaraderie and friendly rivalry.

As Harry and Ron stepped onto the platform, they exchanged a grin and a nod. Despite their friendship, both were determined to give it their all. The crowd hushed in anticipation, eager to see how the match would unfold.

The duel began with a flurry of spells, Harry and Ron moving in a synchronized dance of magic and strategy. Harry’s style was fluid and adaptive, his spells quick and precise. Ron, on the other hand, was more straightforward, his attacks powerful and direct.

Ron started strong, launching a barrage of hexes that Harry deftly dodged or deflected. Harry countered with a series of disarming and stunning spells, testing Ron’s defenses. The platform crackled with energy as their magic clashed, illuminating the arena with bursts of light.

Despite Ron’s initial offensive, it quickly became clear that Harry’s flexibility was giving him the upper hand. He moved with a fluid grace, seamlessly shifting between offense and defense. His ability to adapt to Ron’s attacks and exploit openings in his defenses showcased his experience and skill.

Simply put, Harry had a kinetic genius that Ron simply would never have. 

Ron tried to press his advantage, using his strength and power to overwhelm Harry. But Harry’s agility and quick thinking allowed him to stay one step ahead. He dodged a particularly powerful hex, rolling to the side and casting a rapid Stupefy in response. Ron barely had time to deflect the spell, stumbling back slightly.

Sensing an opportunity, Harry launched a series of rapid-fire spells, forcing Ron to retreat. Harry’s movements were a blur, his wand flicking with practiced precision. He cast a Shield Charm, followed by a Disarming Charm, then a Binding Hex in quick succession. Ron struggled to keep up, his defenses beginning to falter.

The turning point came when Harry feinted to the left, drawing Ron’s attention. In a swift, fluid motion, he pivoted and cast Expelliarmus. The spell hit its mark, sending Ron’s wand flying from his hand and skidding across the platform.

Ron, now disarmed, stood there for a moment, breathing heavily. 

Harry lowered his wand, a triumphant smile on his face. The crowd erupted into applause, cheering for the spectacular duel.

Ron retrieved his wand and walked over to Harry, a grin spreading across his face. The two wizards shook hands and then made their way off the platform talking quietly amongst the two of them. No doubt going over the match, it was something they did often. Over analyzing details of a duel or a mission until finally there were no more variables. Despite the annoyance of it, Draco could admit the quality made both men great Arurors. 

The next match was announced, the atmosphere in the dueling arena grew even more charged. 

Hermione Granger versus Pansy Parkinson. 

The tension was palpable, as Hermione moved away from their little group to make her way towards the platform. She slowly pulled the towel from her neck and let it fall to her feet. It was an intimidation tactic at its finest. The laziness of her movements, her sure steps as she made her way to the platforms steps. She was telling Pansy the match was over before it even begun. 

Draco’s heart felt heavy in his chest. Pansy was an extremely cunning duelist, in fact many people were rather afraid of the witch due to her cunning and brutality of spell work. 

Pansy was a master at using her surroundings in a duel, she also had a knack for pulling off very strong and complex spell work quickly.

“This is about to be one hell of a cat fight,” Theo looked over at Draco grinning. The wizard seemed to be overly excited for this match. 

Yet Draco. . .he knew how deeply hurt Pansy was at Hermione’s disappearance. The witch did not open up easily to others but when she did, when she considered someone a friend, they were family to her. And Hermione had been the sister Pansy had never wanted but clearly enjoyed having in her life. 

If there was someone equally upset by Hermione’s actions, it was Pansy. He knew that the raven haired witch could be spiteful and vindictive too. She could carry on a grudge like no other witch he knew. There was no doubt in his mind that Pansy was going to take all her frustrations out in this duel.

Hermione stepped onto the platform with a calm, determined expression. Pansy followed, her eyes narrowed and her stance confident. The crowd fell silent, anticipating an intense and fiercely contested duel.

The duel began with a flurry of spells, both witches demonstrating their formidable magical prowess. Hermione’s spells were precise and powerful, her wandless, wordless magic giving her an edge. Pansy, however, was no slouch; her hexes and curses were sharp and relentless, forcing Hermione to stay on her toes.

Hermione conjured a gust of wind, pushing Pansy back momentarily. Pansy countered with a barrage of hexes, which had forced Hermione back several large steps. She was balancing on the edge. Pansy saw the opening and Draco gritted his teeth as she raised her wand to send another spell. He felt powerless as he saw the stinging jinx come towards Hermione.

In a move no one saw coming Hermione leapt forward into the spell taking the hex to her torso before crumpling onto the floor of the platform. 

Draco took a step forward as Hermione let out a loud groan of pain, clearly Pansy had put enough magic in the spell to have her opponent heaving for breath. But then she was rolling on to her side and pushing herself up onto her knees and then getting to her feet. The bangles on her ankle jingling with the movement. She took a few deep breaths, wincing some before settling back into a dueling stance. 

Pansy let out a huff of annoyance and got back into a dueling stance as well.

As the duel progressed, it became clear that the witches had the same strategy. Wear the others magic down. Hermione had conjured what looked like to be a a protego shield of wind. It deflected the small pebbles Pansy was pelting her way by the hundreds.

Gradually those pebbles turned into larger pebbles, then stones, small boulders, large boulders.

”Where is she conjuring these things from,” Theo asked a look of confusion and disbelief on his face.

Draco actually guffawed when he saw a familar large stone statue was conjured and hurled towards Hermione. It would crush her, no pretego charm would save her from that. But in another turn of events Hermione’s shield not only held but she was able to move that statue out of her way, it crashed into the floor with smoke, dust and the loudest crash. Draco felt the floor vibrating with impact, it actually jostled those standing on the arena floor. 

“Merlins saggy balls,” Theo breathed and let out a loud whooping sound. “That’s my girls!!”

”Mother is going to to kill her when she finds out what Pansy just did,” Draco grinned at Theo who nodded enthusiastically back. 

That stone statue no doubt came from the Malfoy Gardens, in fact he was sure that practicular statue was over 700 years old.

The dust was banished and the two witches stood on the platform, both were breathing heavier now. Pansy, undeterred, lunged at Hermione, attempting to use physical force. Hermione, prepared for this shifted her stance and engaged Pansy in hand-to-hand combat. The crowd watched in awe as Hermione’s training and skills came to the forefront again. 

The two witches grappled, their movements a blur of punches, kicks and blocks. Hermione overpowered Pansy, using her momentum against her, and finally took her to the ground. Hermione locked Pansy in an arm bar grapple, all but securing her victory.

Pansy struggled against Hermione’s hold, but it was clear she was outmatched. Breathing heavily, she finally relented. “I yield,” Pansy said, her voice strained with pain he knew.

Hermione released her hold and stood up, offering a hand to Pansy. The crowd erupted into applause, recognizing the intensity and skill displayed by both witches. Pansy accepted Hermione’s hand, her expression a mix of respect and grudging admiration.

Draco, watching from the sidelines, was in awe of his witch. 

He decided then.

He didn’t care that she left once already.

He wanted her.

Gods, what he would give just to have the chance to have her again.

Fuck. 

“You look absolutely pathetic Brother,” Theo murmured beside him. 

“Because I am,” Draco admitted.

If there was someone who knew how Draco felt it was Theo. The wizard had stayed up with him many nights going over every detail of Hermione’s case with him. Listened to his drunken rants and helped him out of darkness in that frist year.

As Hermione stepped off the platform, Draco couldn’t help but feel a sense relief. Relief that she was on his side of things in the world. He had a suspicion that if his witch ever went dark. . .well she would truly be unstoppable by anyone.

Their children would be unrivaled among their peers. He blinked at the intrusive thought. Children?. . .Fuck he had to get the witch into his bed first. 

The crowd buzzed with excitement as the next match was announced: Draco Malfoy versus Harry Potter. 

This was a duel everyone had been eagerly awaiting, a clash of two of the most formidable Aurors in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Draco stepped onto the platform with his usual composed demeanor, his gray eyes fixed on Harry with a calculating intensity. Harry, in contrast, wore a relaxed but focused expression, his green eyes gleaming with determination. The two men nodded at each other, a mutual respect evident in their gestures, but it was clear that both were ready to give their all.

The duel began with both wizards launching a series of spells at each other. Draco’s movements were precise and fluid, his hexes and jinxes executed with flawless technique. Harry countered with a mix of defensive spells and quick, unpredictable attacks, keeping Draco on his toes.

Draco, relying on his cunning and strategic mind, tried to corner Harry, using spells to limit his movement and force him into a vulnerable position. Harry, however, was known for his adaptability in duels. He deftly evaded Draco’s traps, using his agility to stay one step ahead. 

Gods if he lost to Potter in front of his witch. . .well the thought of that embarrassment alone had Draco’s mind moving faster, becoming more desperate for an opening.

Draco attempted to disarm Harry with a well-placed Expelliarmus, but Harry countered with a Protego, deflecting the spell and immediately retaliating with a Stupefy. Draco dodged, but Harry’s relentless assault kept him on the defensive.

The turning point came when Harry, noticing a pattern in Draco’s movements, decided to exploit it. He feigned a stumble, creating an opening that Draco eagerly seized upon. Draco launched a powerful spell, but Harry had anticipated this. He quickly cast a shield charm, causing Draco’s spell to ricochet back towards him.

Draco barely had time to deflect the rebounded spell, and in that split second, Harry struck. With a swift, unexpected move, Harry cast an Expelliarmus, catching Draco off guard. Draco’s wand flew out of his hand, landing several feet away.

The crowd erupted into applause as Harry stood victorious, offering a hand to Draco. Draco accepted the gesture with a nod, acknowledging Harry’s well-earned victory.

“Good match,” Draco said, his tone respectful, though a hint of frustration lingered in his eyes.

“You too,” Harry replied, smiling. “You almost had me there.”

As Draco retrieved his wand he said, “I hate it when you say that.” With a roll of his eyes and a joyful grin

“But you did,” Potter said consolingly and Draco snickered a chuckle.

“Yes and that is why the score is now 22-25?”

“Only you keep the score mate,” Harry said as he held his hand to to shake, Draco grinned and took his friends hand and shook it firmly.

Then he pulled the wizard in close to whisper, “you couldn’t have let me win in front of her?”

“And miss dueling her myself? Are you crazy,” Harry pulled back with a wicked grin. 

Ah, he too wanted to see if he could perhaps outmatch the witch. His money was on his witch.

The anticipation in the room was palpable as the final match was announced: Harry Potter versus Hermione Granger. The two friends and colleagues stood across from each other on the platform, their eyes locked in mutual respect and determination.

“Ready, ‘Mione?” Harry asked, a playful glint in his eye.

“Always,” Hermione replied, her expression serious but a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

In a move Draco wasn’t not anticipating, Harry ditched his wand and rushed at Hermione, catching everyone off guard. Hermione grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She had anticipated this move; Harry was always full of surprises to everyone else but her it seemed

Harry threw a punch, landing it squarely on Hermione’s face. The crowd gasped, but Hermione merely grinned wider, blood on her teeth as it dripped from her upper lip.

“Is that all you’ve got, Potter?” She taunted.

And then the two were exchanging punches, kicks and escaping the others attempts at a grapple. What took Draco by surprise was how adept Harry had become at wandless magic, sure the spells were very simple and probably not very powerful but they were strong enough to cause Hermione to want to dodge out of the way. 

And then that was when he realized what Potter was doing. 

“He’s meeting her on her terms,” Theo said aloud, almost seemingly putting it together at the same time as Draco. 

“Meeting her on her terms? What does that mean,” Pansy asked from the other side of Draco. She was nursing a bottle of water and hand a towel around her neck.

“Herminoe is a wandless duelist. It also evident that when in a pinch she fights hand to hand combining her magic into her strikes to make them more powerful. Harry is simply dueling her the way that she was trained,” Theo provided the explaination. 

“Well he’s not very good at it,” Pansy snorted a laugh. “He’s a troll dueling a flighty fairy,” she added. 

It was a fair comparison to make. Potters moves were slow, less graceful and Hermione was able to read him easily. 

“If Potter wants to win this duel, he’ll have to either physically overpower her or try to outsmart the brightest witch of our generation,” Draco drawled the conclusion in an almost bored tone despite being anything but bored. 

“Not likely for either,” Pansy said shaking her head. “Did you see how she shoulder threw McLaggen?”

“Oh I’m so glad we are about to talk about that because. . .What. The. Fuck,” Theo punctuated widening his eyes. He did looked scared, and perhaps they should all be. There wasn’t a duelist like Hermione anywhere in the world he was sure. 

The duel carried on and by the grace of gods— or because he was the Chosen One— Harry was able to land a punch to Hermione's stomach which caused her to gasp out in pain and hunch over. Harry hesitated for a split second, his concern for his friend evident. That was all Hermione needed. She moved with lightning speed, using her hand-to-hand combat skills to strike fast and true. She landed a series of precise blows to his center mass, each one calculated to bring Harry to the ground. Two to the stomach. One to the face, which broke his nose. One to the side of the head and a brutal one to his throat.

Draco could hardly keep up with the movement of her strikes, they were fast. She must have been infusing some sort of elemental magic to give her to speed boost but soon Harry was immobilized on the floor while Hermione stood over him. 

Harry struggled to breath for a moment before realizing he was well and truly outmatched.

“I yield,” he said, breathless but smiling.

The crowd erupted into applause as Hermione helped Harry to his feet. She waved a hand over his injuries and he shimmered with a golden glow before his nose cracked back into place and the blood stopped. She hadn’t healed herself yet but as they made off the platform Draco saw the same golden glow over herself and when she turned her lip was no longer cut or bleeding.

Draco watched from the sidelines, his eyes fixed on Hermione, it felt like he was seeing her for the first time.

She was a witch unparalleled skill and strength. 

Her intellect could not be rivaled and now her dueling. . .his respect and admiration for her grew even more. It was mixed with a sense of pride that she was his witch. 

Not yet obviously, but he hoped soon she would be. 

As the crowd continued to cheer, Hermione and Harry exchanged a knowing look, their friendship stronger than ever. The final match had been a testament to their skills and the deep bond they shared, a fitting end to a thrilling competition. Hermione was announced the Fall Quarter champion and the training facility roared with applause and cheers. 

Draco watched as his witch smiled brightly and blushed at the well deserved recognition. 

“Gods she’s in a league all in her own now. There is no one in the DMLE that would be able to take her down,” Theoblew out a sigh. 

Pansy nodded in agreement, “she’s remarkable. Nothing like the Granger we knew.”

“I could best her,” Draco said as a reflex. The darkness inside of him was swirling around, begging, pleading wanting a chance to come out and play with the darkness that called to it. 

Theo and Pansy looked at Draco and then at each other before they both threw their heads back cackling with laughter. 

“Fuck you both,” Draco pouted slightly observing as Hermione went from person to person healing them.

She was examining any injuries that were more serious in nature. He watched as she fixed a broken arm without even breaking out in a sweat. She reset a nose manually. She healed bruises and cuts and showed no sign of becoming low on magic. 

“Brother, she fucked you into submission once. You honestly think you could best her in a duel,” Pansy asked with a raise of her brows.

“I think I would last longer than you,” Draco snipped back. Though Pansy and Hermione’s duel had been the longest of the day. Coming in at over fifteen minutes to complete whereas most duels were decided in less than five. 

“Ha!” the witch scoffed. “She’d have you beat in under a minute I can guarantee it.”

“Mrs. Longbottom,” came Hermione’s voice and Darco blinked to see her so close to him. “Are there any injuries you need tending to?”

“Now that you ask, my elbow is pretty sore from that grapple,” Pansy said rubbing at the joint. “Also please, it’s still very much Parkinson. Nev’s last name is, well—would you want to be called Longbottom?”

Hermione snorted a laugh before holding up her hands. “I’ll take a look,” Hermione cast a diagnostic charm and read it before laying her hand over the affected joint. “It’s a good thing you yielded when you did.”

“Why’s that? Worried I would have escaped,” Pansy snarked at the witch. Though the sneer on her face was all for show Draco knew.

Hermione smiled and chuckled, “because I was about two seconds from breaking your arm in half at the elbow. The joint will probably be sore for a couple of days but I can cast a charm or two to help ease the pain. If it continues to bother you after three days come see me again and I’ll take another look.” The witch explained clinically. As if she hadn’t just admitted to probably destroying Pansy’s dueling arm for the sake of winning. 

Just as promised Hermione cast a few charms and Pansy groaned in relief, “gods that feels good. Your magic is. . .it’s like—fuck I don’t know.”

“Me next Granger. I want to be healed,” Theo perked up. 

“You don’t have any injuries Brother,” Pansy sneered at him, a real sneer this time. 

“But I want to experience Hermione’s magical touch. Her healing touch,” the wizard placed a hand over his heart and gave Hermione his best kicked puppy look which had Draco rolling his eyes. “My heart is broken that I lost.”

Hermione snorted as she read another diagnostic spell on Pansy’s elbow before dismissing the charm. “I don’t have anything to fix a bruised ego unfortunately.”

“Oh a travesty,” Theo dramatically lifted a hand to his forehead and acted to faint into Draco who only shoved him off with a chuckle at his brothers dramatics. 

“Malfoy, sir,” Hermione greeted before asking, “are there any injuries that need tending?”

He considered lying. Just to feel her hand on him. 

“No Healer Granger. I am unharmed,” he heard himself reply and cursed his stupid mouth for moving before he could formulate a way to get those dainty powerful terrifying hands on him. 

She nodded to the group and moved on to the next. 

“You’re pathetic,” Pansy said and when he turned to look at he realized she was talking about him. 

“That was the perfect opening to ask her to dinner,” Theo shook his head. 

Before Draco could say anything Theo slung an arm around his shoulders, “come on. You can have dinner with Gin and I.”

Draco took one last look at Hermione and found her eyes on him again. Once again he felt that spike of pain of someone trying to penetrate his mind and in a curious bid he tried to penetrate hers. Only to find himself completely blocked. She narrowed her eyes narrow at him and he narrowed his in response. 

A draw then. 

For now.

Chapter Text

The night air was thick with anticipation as the team gathered outside the nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of London. The quarter moon cast a pale glow over the abandoned industrial area, its light barely penetrating the dark thick clouds overhead, giving the team the benefit of shadows.

The warehouse loomed before them, a silent sentinel guarding the secrets within.

Hermione adjusted her tactical gear, her fingers brushing against the wand holster at her hip. She had become to using wandless magic that when Harry had taken her the training hall or some practice she struggled with aiming her spells. She was resolute not to use the wand, it wasn’t as reliable as just bending the magic around her to her will with just her hands.

The tactical gear was heavy and bulky, an uncomfortable reminder of her current vulnerability. Draco and Harry had insisted she be fully equipped, citing DMLE protocol and the inherent dangers of their mission. Hermione had argued that in all the missions she’d been on, she had only been injured once, but the wizards had been adamant.

As she fidgeted with the straps of her gear, anxiety gnawed at her. She hadn’t been on a raid in almost a year, since that injury, and the weight of the equipment felt like an ominous portent. She tried to steady her breathing, but her heart pounded in her chest, the sound echoing in her ears.

Most wizards didn’t carry guns. 

She vaguely recalled the sound of a gun going off behind her.

It was a one time. 

The faint sensation of a bullet ripping through her body had her gasping in breath as her body trembled.

Her palms warm with magic as her nerves flared.

She breathed in deeply and slowly, repeating the phrase: it was a one time fluke. Over and over again until it didn’t feel like her heart was hammering the inside of her rib cage.

She glanced at Draco, who was standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable in the dim light. His hair shone an almost pearlascent white until clouds covered the moon and he was cast in shadow. The angles on his face becoming harsher, the shadows deeper. His presence was both a comfort and a reminder of the expectations placed upon her. But now, faced with the imminent danger, she couldn’t shake the doubt creeping into her mind.

What if she wasn’t ready? 

What if the injury had affected her abilities more than she realized? 

The entry and exit scars ached near her waist.  

Perhaps she should have volunteered to stay on the sidelines?

The familiar confidence she usually felt on missions was buried under a layer of trepidation. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to center herself, but the memories of that last mission, the pain, and the recovery, all came flooding back.

She felt the pinching sensation between her brows and her eyes cut upward to the only person she suspected had just tried to get in her mind.

Bright white gray eyes were looking back at her. They practically glowed in the low lighting and the figure Draco made made her shiver despite sweating under all the gear.

“Healer Granger,” Draco’s voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. He gave her a reassuring nod. “We’ve got this.”

She managed a small, tight-lipped smile, appreciating his attempt to bolster her confidence.

She looked over at Harry, who was checking his own gear with meticulous care. He caught her eye and gave her a thumbs-up and bright smile, a silent promise that they were in this together.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione forced herself to focus on the task at hand. She had faced worse before and come out stronger. This mission was no different, she told herself. It was just another challenge to overcome

“Alright, listen up,” Draco said sternly turning to face the small circle gathered. “We have reason to believe this warehouse is being used as a potion lab by our syndicate. We go in quiet, gather evidence, and get out. No unnecessary risks. Understood?”

The team nodded, each member focused and ready. Draco quickly assigned the pairs: Theo and Harry, Ron and Pansy, and finally, Draco and Hermione.

“Stay in contact,” Draco continued, holding up a copper coin. Hermione blinked in her surprise realizing it was similar to the coins she created during the war. “If anything goes wrong, we regroup immediately. Let’s move.”

With that, the team split up, each pair taking a different entry point. Hermione and Draco moved to the side of the warehouse, their footsteps silent on the gravel. The air between them was charged with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

“Just follow my lead,” Draco muttered, glancing at Hermione as they reached a side door.

Hermione rolled her eyes her Gryffindor pride roaring to life in that moment. “Oh, please. I’ve been doing this for years. I think I can handle it.”

She could see him clenching his teeth as if trying bit down whatever quip that was burning his tongue. Instead he pushed the door open with a whispered unlocking charm. They slipped inside, the darkness swallowing them whole. She huffed as her boots thumped softly on the ground and she cast a wordless silencing spell on them. Draco raised his brows at her, she was unsure if he was impressed or annoyed at her.

She silenced his boots as well for good measure. 

The interior of the warehouse was a maze of crates and barrels, the air heavy with the scent of various potion ingredients. Hermione’s mind raced as she catalogued the smells, identifying each one with practiced ease. 

Fluxseed. Peppermint. Knotgrass. 

“Looks like they’re making something big,” she whispered, her eyes scanning the counter tops at the jars that were labeled. Lethe river water, Lacewing fly wings, powdered moonstone. Rose thorns and common rue.

“Obviously,” Draco drawled in a way that reminded her of Snape, his voice equally low. “Let’s just get the evidence and get out.”

They moved deeper into the warehouse, their bickering a constant undercurrent to their actions. Hermione’s annoyance grew with each passing moment, Draco’s presence like a thorn in her side.

As they rounded a corner, they nearly collided with a towering stack of cauldrons. Hermione shot Draco a glare, her patience wearing thin.

“Watch where you’re going, sir,” she practically spat the word.

Draco bristled, his eyes flashing. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy trying to prove you’re better than everyone else, you’d be more aware of your surroundings.”

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but a sudden noise cut her off. They both froze, listening intently. The sound of multiple footsteps echoed through the warehouse, drawing closer.

Without a word, they ducked behind a stack of crates, Draco’s wand in his left hand.

Odd, she thought she remembered him being right handed.

The footsteps grew louder, and Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest. She could feel Draco’s soft breath on her neck, the proximity both unnerving and strangely comforting. Her heart hammered in her chest wildly as she felt his heat seep into her back. She stiffened when she felt his hand and arm slowly pass over her midsection as if he meant to grab and shove her behind him should things pop off.

The footsteps stopped just on the other side of the crates, and Hermione held her breath. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she suppressed the shudder of fear that coursed through her. The silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity. Her heart felt like it was beating too loudly and she silently prayed she was being quiet. Finally, the footsteps resumed, moving away from them.

Hermione exhaled slowly, she turned to look over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Draco’s silver ones. For a moment, the animosity between them was forgotten, replaced by the shared relief of their close call.

“Let’s keep moving,” Draco whispered, his voice softer than before right next to her ear. He unwrapped his arm from around her center and made his way to peak around the crates.

Hermione stayed for a moment trying to suppress a different kind of shudder that ran through her. She’d forgotten.

Or maybe she had not let herself fully remember what it was like to be so near him.

Once she composed herself they continued their search, the tension between them easing slightly. They were a team, after all, and despite their differences, they had a job to do.

As they moved deeper into the warehouse, they found a table covered in potion vials and ingredients. Hermione’s eyes widened as she recognized the components that were particularly dangerous.

“Datura,” she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief. 

“What,” Draco asked besides her. 

“It’s other name is Jimson weed. It causes-”

“Very powerful hallucinations and delirium,” Draco finished as he floated a jar up off the table and into the bag that she was opening.

Hermione looked at the other jars with labels. But it was what was out on the table that snagged her attention. 

She picked up it up, the leaves were waxy and supple. The stem was thick and there appeared to be no flower bud. Her brows scrunched together as she broke one of the leaves, a sticky milky stubstance leaked from the break. She brought the plant up to her nose and took a small inhale. She identified the plant as she brought it away from her. 

“I’m positive this is Somina. It’s a controlled substance plant in Africa, though it can be hard to regulate since it can grow just about anywhere warm and dry,” Hermione stated. 

“So?”

“So,” she huffed out in annoyance by his lack of knowledge. “This can put out an adult hypogriff with only a leaf or two. It would only take a small amount of this,” she held up the broken leaf so he could see the milky white substance still leaking from where she broke it. “To incapacitate someone into a dreamless sleep for a long period of time. Say 12 or more hours? The person would be absolutely vulnerable to anything done to their person and worse, they wouldn’t even remember it.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “We need to get samples and get out of here.” She watched as he took stock of the everyone on the tables. “The mass amounts of ingredients. . .This operation is bigger than our lead suggested. This is—”

“It’s mass production. I know,” Hermione supplied turning back to the table she cast several preservation charms on various ingredients before putting them in various sized jars for transport. “I’ve been on three missions of this size. It’s,” she paused and then turned her eyes towards him. “It’s always startled me the depth of how low evil can go.”

Draco only looked at her before he turned back towards the tables and started the process of gathering evidence. 

Hermione couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for Draco’s competence. He was infuriating, but he was also undeniably detailed and skilled. He wrote down everything they took and made sure to place cushioning charms on the jars and vials so they wouldn’t break in transport back to the DMLE.

Just as they finished, a loud crash echoed through the warehouse, followed by the sound of running footsteps. Hermione and Draco exchanged a look, their instincts kicking in.

“Time to go,” Draco said, his voice urgent as he grabbed onto her arm his fingers curling over the scarred flesh. He pulled her roughly to the shadows.

They moved swiftly, retracing their steps to the side door. As they slipped outside, Hermione’s heart raced with adrenaline. The mission had been a success, but the night was far from over.

Back at the rendezvous point, the team regrouped, their faces a mix of relief and exhaustion. Harry and Theo arrived first, followed by Ron and Pansy. Draco and Hermione were the last to arrive, their expressions guarded.

“Everyone alright?” Draco asked, his eyes scanning the group.

“All good,” Ron replied as he made he way towards her. He grabbed at Hermione’s arm, a tad rougher than he needed to. “You got what we needed? Are you ok?”

Hermione nodded, her mind still racing. “Yes and yes,” she said composing herself enough to shake out of his grip.

“Did he say something to you,” Ron pressed in a quiet whisper and Hermione put distance between them giving him a confused look.

“What does that even mean?”

”You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or maybe—did he touch you,” Ron asked more loudly and Hermione widened her eyes in disbelief. 

“Ronald Billius Wesealey!” She fumed hotly. How DARE he accuse someone of such. . .awfulness.

Ron searched her eyes and then he stepped away his hands up, “Merlin Mione, I was only checking on you.” He seemed annoyed with her and looked at Harry giving him a confused look and shrug.

Hermione inhaled as her cheeks flamed, he made her seem like she was the one overreacting. She scoffed and turned towards Harry shoving her thumb silently in Ron’s direction. Harry shrugged shaking his head. Hermione decided to stay silent after that, her only focus now was getting her samples to the lab. 

The raid had been intense, but it had also revealed something unexpected: despite their differences, she and Draco could work together. They were a formidable team, and perhaps there was hope for their strained relationship after all.

As they headed back to headquarters, Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission was just the beginning. Now that she had the ingredients to make Seduxion herself, she’d be busier doing research and making the potion and potentially an antidote.

Hermione stepped into the welcoming cottage of her home, the weariness from the raid on weighing heavily on her shoulders. She had gone to the lab after the debriefing meeting. And stayed until she caught herself sleeping while standing. It was well into the early morning hours, thankfully Draco wasn’t expecting the team to be in the next morning. Though she knew she would go in once the preliminary tests she set on various ingredients was done.

She dropped her bag by the door and sighed deeply, her eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. Narcissa really had done a wonderful job decorating her home. The older witch had even gone to the storage unit used by her parents and got out several photos of the couple to hang on Hermione’s walls. The cottage reminded her of a fairy tail witch who lived peacefully in the woods.

She trudged down the hall to her bathroom and stripped from her clothes. With some wandless magic a shower started and she threw some shower tablets down. The aroma of lavender, passion flowers and lemon balm scented the humid air. She her stepped under the warm water, luxuriating in the heated water as it soothed her sore neck and back muscles. Hermionetook her time, inhaling the tartness of her tangerine body soap. She let her sandalwood vanilla shampoo and conditioner ground her in a sense of realness. She finger combed through her curls, ringing out the excess water and product from the curls. Once her shower was finished Hermione threw on a long red satin silk bathrobe, tying it loosely around the waist. Before grabbing another dry towel as she continued to scrunch water from her hair as she padded barefoot down the hall back towards her kitchen for a cup of tea.

As she walked further into the living room, she caught sight of Crookshanks lounging on the back of her couch. He was just a fluffy and orange as she remembered him being and she let out a small noise that had the cat turning its golden yellow eyes on her. He trilled a meow and her heart leapt with joy, and she rushed toward the ginger cat, scooping him up into a tight embrace.

“Oh, my handsome boy. Where have you been? I’ve missed you! How did you ge—”

Before she could finish her sentence, her front door burst open, and there stood Draco, looking frantic, hair windswept, panting and glistening sweat. It look like he had yet to change from his clothes he wore for the raid.

For several moments they stared.

Just stared at each other, the surprise evident in both their eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Hermione demanded, still holding Crookshanks tightly to her chest and she felt part of her bathrobe start to fall off her shoulder. 

Curse the Goddess above for allowing the silk to slip further off her shoulder as she tired discreetly to keep it up.

“I’m looking for the little beast,” Draco huffed, his voice edged with irritation as he pointed at said little beast in her arms. “I see that he’s found his way back to its Mistress.”

He scowled at the cat in her arms, and Crookshanks wiggled enough that Hermione set him down, She immediately pulled the fabric of her robe and knotted the sash tighter and doubled knotted it to be sure. She watched in fascination as the cat casually apparated onto the kitchen counter. 

When she turned around, Draco’s cheeks were slightly pink but he coughed said, “that thing has been an absolute menace at the Manor, Granger,” Draco drawled, pushing a stray lock of hair from his eyes.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest defiantly her gaze narrowing on him. “Then why keep him if he was such a horrible house guest? Not that I believe that for a second.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed, his frustration clear. He sighed and then said, “I took him to the Manor when school was finished out of pity that its Mistress had abandoned it.” 

Hermione couldn’t help but flinch at the harsh truth. She had abandoned her familiar. Didn’t even leave instructions for anyone to care for her beloved cat. The last tie she had with her parents.

“I have tried many times to drop this cat off anywhere far away from my home. But he always came back. It was easier to let him stay than to deal with his constant reappearances,” Draco finished rubbing at his temple with two fingers as if talking about the cat was giving him a headache. 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “Maybe he just wanted to keep an eye on you, make sure you weren’t causing any trouble.”

Draco responded dryly, “or maybe he wanted to drive me insane. Either way, he’s your problem now.”

Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle, her tension easing slightly. “Well, I’m glad he’s back. I missed him.”

Draco’s expression softened just a touch as he looked at her. “I suppose he missed you too, Granger. The only person that beast has ever been loyal to is you. I can’t begin to understand why,” he quipped with a smirk that begged her to enter into a verbal joust with him.

She shook her head, amused. “You’re impossible, Malfoy.”

“Do you mean impossibly handsome, impossibly talented, impossibly intelligent, impossibly incredible?” He flirted so easily with her giving her a charming smirk.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but all that came out was a disbelieving chuckle at his forwardness.

His charming smirk pulled into one of arrogance and she couldn’t help but remember all he times he was overly flirty or charming with her, good and bad. He used his charm to get his way, to distract her and confuse her. But he had also used his charm to make her smile and laugh.

Then she shook her head and snarked, “I—no, I meant what I said.”

Hermione let her gaze sweep down his form. Gods he was fit. Why? And when her eyes came up to meet his, she threw her physic lance at him. Unsurprisingly, her attempt was blocked and she smirked, then said, “you are just ridiculously impossible.”

Draco chuckled and then it looked like he was. . .was Draco Malfoy, Snr Auror, Malfoy Heir, dithering? He looked a little lost for words as he ran a hand through his hair. Gone was the flirt and she saw him roll his tonuge along his cheek before he leveled with her with a serious look. “Look, Granger. . .about the raid today. Are you—alright?”

Hermione glanced up at him, surprised by the concern in his voice. “I’m fine, sir.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “It’s just, you seemed—well you didn’t seem yourself tonight,” Draco carefully replied. 

Hermione huffed a sigh. The truth of the matter would come to light one way or another. “It was my first mission since my injury in 2003. I was—shot with a gun in the back on a raid,” she gave him a flat smile and shrugged. “I guess I forgot what it felt like for a moment.”

“Like what felt like?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

“Danger,” she exhaled quietly. 

“I just. . .I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be hurt today is all. It’s not that I don’t trust your abilities, you are an exceptional witch to be sure. It’s—I’m—we’re-”

She nodded in return as she stood to her full height while Crookshanks made he way down the hall, clearly exploring his new home.

“I know,” Hermione said softly cutting him off. They had a courtship, of course he would be more protective of her. Not wanting her in danger or harms way. The fact that he hadn’t dissolved the courtship himself made her wonder. If it had been her, would she have given up? Would she have let him go? Give up hope that he would have come back to her?

“Right well,” Draco said with clearing his throat. Whatever moment they were having was quickly cooling and awkwardness was seeing through. “I’ll just take my leave then.

Perhaps Mother had been right all along. Perfect match, wrong timing. 

As Draco reached the door, he paused, his gaze sweeping over Hermione’s small cottage. “How curious it is that this little cottage is here. Just outside of the wards for the Manor but not off the property line.”

Hermione blinked in shock. “What do you mean this cottage is on your property lines?”

Draco sighed, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Mother is still as meddlesome as ever.” He turned back to face her fully, his expression serious. “This cottage sits at the southern most point of my property. The Manor is located roughly ten miles north, and this cottage is just outside the barrier of the Manor’s wards. Clearly, my mother thought she was being clever.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “You mean to tell me, I’ve been living on Malfoy property?”

Draco nodded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Indeed. I imagine she thought it would be a convenient place for you, close enough for protection yet far enough to give the illusion of independence.”

Hermione felt a mix of emotions—surprise, anger, and a strange sense of comfort. “I can’t believe she did this without telling me.”

Draco shrugged. “Mother has her ways. She probably thought it was the best solution for everyone involved.”

Hermione shook her head, still processing the information. “How did you know that Crooks was here?”

“I followed the magical trace I put on him of course,” he said with a tone as if he were addressing a nonsensical question by a first year student. “That thing loves to apparate everywhere. After he had gotten into a some of Mothers magical plants and grew to the size of a horse, I put a magical trace on him. When I came home this evening he wasn’t in my study where he normally resides. I looked at the trace and saw he was apparating across the property at an exceptional speed. I thought perhaps. . .perhaps he had been catnapped of sorts.”

“Cat. . .napped?”

“Granger, just be grateful I didn’t kill your little beast in the time you were away. Gods know I was tempted to over the years,” Draco said with a roll of his white eyes. 

They were leeched of all color again. He was occluding, even now around her. 

With a tilt of her head she asked, “will you ever not occlude around me?”

“Fucking hells Granger,” Draco grimmaced but she saw as greens and blues cracks started to break up the white. He was lowering his walls for her and the thought of it made her heart flutter.

The silence between them grew charged, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Hermione watched as Draco’s gaze drifted from her eyes to her lips, lingering there for a moment before sweeping down her body and back up again. The way he looked at her, with such raw desire, made her blood thrum with anticipation. She recognized that look; it was the same one that had haunted her dreams for years.

“Malfoy,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. The intensity of his gaze made her feel exposed, vulnerable, but also fiercely wanted.

“How do you still have this pull on me” he asked, his voice low and rough.

Hermione swallowed hard, her pulse quickening.

Slowly, as if he were scared he would startle her, Draco closed the distance between them. She could slightly smell his cologne, eucalyptus, amber, leather and musk. It smelled similar to the cologne he used to wear, just more mature. 

His hand reaching out to brush a stray curl away from her face. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“Even after all this time, I find myself weak against your allure witch.”

The tension between them was almost unbearable now, the air crackling with electricity. Hermione felt a heat spreading through her, pooling low in her belly. She took a step closer, closing the gap between them until she could feel the warmth of his body radiating through the thin silk bath robe.

“Malfoy,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath.

She watched as Draco eyes burned for her, “you’re different now,” he whispered and Hermione felt her heart leap into her throat. “There’s more gold in your eyes than before,” he stated as his hands came up and drifted down her her arms in feather light touches that had her shuddering. “I know you’re hiding something,” he whispered as he leaned in. “Will you tell me your secrets Granger?”

As Draco’s lips hovered just inches from Hermione’s, the spell between them was abruptly broken by a loud, insistent meow. Both of them jumped, their eyes darting to the source of the interruption. 

Crookshanks sat at their feet, his tail flicking impatiently as he meowed again, clearly demanding his dinner.

Hermione blinked rapidly, her heart still racing from the intense moment they had just shared. She took a step back from Draco, her cheeks flushed and her mind racing with the realization that she had been about to kiss him. She hadn’t kissed anyone in so long, the last person she had kissed was—well Draco.

Draco’s expression shifted from frustration to amusement as he looked down at the cat. “Your familiar has a talent for impeccable timing,” he drawled, though there was a trace of disappointment in his voice.

Hermione let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through her hair as she tried to collect herself. “Yes, well, Crookshanks does have a knack for making his presence known when it suits him,” she replied, her voice a bit shaky.

Crookshanks meowed again, louder this time, and Hermione took it as an opportunity to break the tension. She crouched down and picked up the cat, holding him close as he purred contentedly.

“Alright, alright, dinner it is,” she said, more to herself than to the cat.

As she moved to the kitchen, she felt Draco follow, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Do you need any help?” He offered, though his eyes were still fixed on her with that same intensity.

“No, I’ve got it,” Hermione replied, trying to focus on the simple task of feeding her cat. She could feel Draco’s gaze on her, and it made her pulse quicken once again realizing she was completely nude under the red silk.

After a few moments, Crookshanks was happily eating tuna from a can, and Hermione turned to face Draco, her hands wringing together nervously. “So, um, thank you for. . .for bringing him back,” she said, her voice softer now.

Draco nodded, his expression serious once more. “I didn’t bring him back, that thing came back on his own. Though I suspect he would have come back with or without my help.”

With that, he turned and walked towards the door, pausing for a moment as he reached it. He looked back at her, a small, hopeful smile on his lips. “Goodnight, Granger.”

“Goodnight, Malfoy,” she replied, watching as he left the cottage.

Right before the door closed behind he yelled over his shoulder, “and put up some damn wards witch.”

Once the door closed behind him, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

She looked down at Crookshanks, who was purring and munching on tuna. “What are we going to do, Crooks?” she murmured, feeling the weight of the night’s events settle over her.

As she made her way to her bedroom, her mind replayed the near-kiss and Draco’s heartfelt words. She knew that whatever lay ahead, she couldn’t ignore the feelings that had resurfaced between them.

At first it felt like a slow simmer, easy to ignore and write off. But now, it was starting to boil. She thought she had gotten over loving him but. . .she suppose it was true. 

Distance makes the heart fonder. 

Hermione sighed as she plopped down onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling replaying their interaction. It had been easy. It had been. . .charged. It was there still—that thing between them.

Tomorrow she’d ask if Pansy would be willing to put the wards up on her home.

Chapter Text

Draco sat at his desk, his office bathed in the soft morning light streaming through the tall windows. His mind was a chaotic swirl, replaying the events of the previous night on an endless loop.

Sleep had alluded him once again. Something that was becoming to common occurrence since Hermione had come back, not that he blamed his witch. She wasn’t to blame for that. . .no his own mind torturing him was to blame. 

While he had gone home, showered and dressed for bed, he had laid in that bed, awake replaying everything that had happened between them. His mind catching on the fact that he had been standing in front of his witch who had worn nothing but a thin silk red bathrobe. . .he had been so tempted to reach out and pull the tie at her waist. Eager to see it fall apart and reveal what was hidden underneath.

Once the night sky started to lighten to shades of blue and lavender Draco had gotten up to come to the office. He had the mind to come in early and actually get work done, but instead found himself just staring at his desk, the report he was to fill out for yesterday completely untouched. 

He was circling over the thought that he had been so close to kissing her, to finally closing the gap that had kept them apart for so long. The memory of her flushed face, her parted lips, and the way her eyes had looked at him with equal parts surprise and longing haunted him.

She looked like she wanted to be kissed. . .did she want him to kiss her?

Draco snorted knowing that he had wanted to kiss her and never stop.

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his disheveled hair. 

“Fucking Salazar, I was so close.” 

He muttered to himself, the frustration evident in his voice. 

“A second away from kissing her, from holding her in my arms—Fuck! I should have just fucking kissed her,” he continued his conscious stream of thought aloud.

The door to his office swung open without a knock, and Theo strolled in with his usual nonchalance. “Good morning, sunshine,” he greeted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or maybe—were you up all night pining for a certain witch?”

Draco shot him a withering glare but couldn’t suppress the flood of thoughts that poured out. “She was right there, Brother. We were so close, and then that bloody little beast hers had to fucking interrupt. I could’ve kissed her, I was about to get on my knees and beg her. But instead I left and now, I’m here,” the blonde sat back in his chair with a huff, “replaying every second in my mind like some lovesick fool.”

Theo chuckled, dropping into the chair opposite Draco’s desk. “Ah, young love. Or, in your case,” the wizards grey green eyes sparkled with mischief, “long-suffering love. It’s about time you made a move, Brother. You’ve been pining for her since fourth year. It’s honestly getting sad at this point.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Draco snapped, though his tone lacked real anger. It was more exasperation, a sense of being on the edge of something monumental and not knowing how to reach it. “She’s my chosen witch, Theo. And I can’t lose her again. I won’t survive it.”

Theo leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what’s stopping you from just telling her? From showing her how you feel? From just—kissing her senseless the next time you get the chance?”

Draco sighed, slumping back in his chair. “It’s not that simple. There’s so much history between us, so many things left unsaid. I’m her boss now and that adds a new complication to the mix. She’s also just returned, I can’t very well try to fall into bed with her now! And then there’s the glamour on her hand.”

Theo clicked his tongue thoughtfully when Draco mentioned the glamour. The sound cut through the room, bringing Draco’s stream of consciousness to a halt.

Draco’s brow furrowed as he looked at Theo. “What do you know, Brother?”

Theo shrugged casually, but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes. “She didn’t say anything directly, but I saw through the glamour last week at dinner. It’s a seal of some sort, complete with symbols I’ve never seen before. I think it has something to do with moon cycles, though.”

Draco’s frown deepened. “Moon cycles? What makes you say that?”

Theo leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers together. “Just a hunch. Some of the symbols reminded me of ancient lunar runes. If the seal is tied to the moon, it could be absorbing and releasing energy in cycles.”

Draco felt a chill run down his spine. The idea of Hermione carrying such a powerful and potentially dangerous seal on her hand was deeply unsettling. “Why would she do that to herself? It sounds incredibly risky.”

Theo nodded in agreement. “And that’s what worries me. Whatever drove her to perform such a ritual must have been significant. She’s always been one to take calculated risks, but this—this seems different.”

Draco leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “There was nothing in her med-” Draco cut himself off and furrowed his brow as he spun in his chair to his filing cabinet. He pulled drawer open and pulled her file throwing it onto his desk and spun back around to read it as he slammed the drawer shut. 

He flipped the file open, fingering through several pages until he got to the section of paperwork that held the most of information on his witch.

“This is her medical file,” Theo was leaning in looking at the file reading the words despite them being upside down. “Not much here.”

“Nothing about a seal or a glamour on her hand either. Though I remember there was a memo attached,” he trailed off as he continued to leaf through he papers until he found it. “Here, from the Minister himself. Her file is sealed, only her medical proxy can read the entire file.”

“Oh! Well then who is listed as her medical proxy. I am sure we can have a,” the wizard cleared his throat, “civilized conversation. Wait, are you not listed?” Theo asked his a wicked grin.

Draco gave his brother a narrowed looked before he flipped back to the medical file and looked at who was written down.

He sighed and leaned back into his chair. “It’s Mother.”

“Oh fuck.”

The men sighed in unison and sat in silence for a few moments. 

“How did you see through the glamour? It’s extremely powerful.”

Theo smirked, his right eye glinting with a faint, otherworldly light. “Remember that dark magic ritual we performed when we were kids? The one with the crystal?”

Draco nodded, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. “Of course. The one we found in the old tome at Nott Manor.”

Theo’s smirk widened. “That ritual wasn’t just a simple enhancement spell. The crystal we used bound itself to my right eye, permanently altering my vision. I can see through most glamours, illusions, and sometimes even wards. It’s both a gift and a curse.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I thought you had it removed that night?”

It had been a gruesome sight when they were finished. Theo was writhing on the floor, blood streaming down his face, Draco was screaming, Pansy was crying and house elves were sniveling. When Nott Sr arrived he had simply told the children to see themselves out while he took Theo to St Mungos. 

“Ha! You honestly think my father would have let such an opportunity go to waste?” The laugh was cruel and cold and Draco felt his hands curl into fists. 

Nott Sr had truly been an awful man, and that word didn’t encompass the man as a whole. He had been a drunk, killed Theo’s mother in a drunken rage, beat his brother senseless over the smallest infraction. 

Theo shrugged. “No, the bastard just had tests done to see if my eye was still functional, when it was confirmed he kept the thing in there. Still hurts occasionally. But I’ve learned to manage it. It’s worth the discomfort, especially when it comes to situations like this.”

Draco’s expression softened. “I had no idea he—fuck Brother you never said anything.”

Theo waved him off. “ It’s part of who I am now. And it’s come in handy more times than I can count.” Theo’s expression softened slightly. “Look, Brother. I know it’s complicated, with you and Granger. But you’re not going to get anywhere by sitting here and overthinking everything. You love her. She clearly has feelings for you too, if she almost let you kiss her. So stop making excuses and do something about it.”

Draco rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. “You’re right,” he admitted grudgingly. “I need to talk to her. To be honest with her. But it’s terrifying, you know? The thought of losing her again. Of rejection.”

Theo stood up, clapping a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “You won’t lose her. Not if you fight for her. Now, stop brooding and start planning. Figure out what you want to say and go say it. And next time, don’t let a bloody cat get in your way.”

Draco managed a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Theo. I needed that.”

“Anytime, Brother,” Theo replied, grinning. “And when you finally kiss her, make sure it’s worth the wait. That way the witch will want to stay.”

As Theo left the office, Draco felt a renewed sense of determination. He wouldn’t let fear hold him back any longer. He would fight for Hermione, for their future together. And this time, he wouldn’t stop until she was his.

Draco marched through his office door, Theo standing just to his left. Draco looked at the wizard and looked over to see what had his brothers attention. His heart rammed hard in his chest at the sight before him.

There was Hermione, seated gracefully at her desk, leaning back in her chair with an air of authority and poise. Her curls were pulled up into messy bun, wand shoved through it. Her long beautiful neck on display. Her legs were crossed elegantly, one knee over the other, a pose Pansy would undoubtedly label as a “power pose.” Across from her stood Cormac McLaggen, leaning casually against her desk, his expression all too familiar. He was giving her bedroom eyes, eye fucking his witch. Draco felt a surge of possessive anger rise within him, his feet carried him forward.

McLaggen’s voice reached Draco’s ears as he drew closer. “You know, Hermione, I’ve always admired your intellect. It’s rare to find someone who can match me in wit and looks.”

He watched as Hermione’s head tilted to one side slightly,  he could hear a small smile in her voice when she responded. “Is that so, McLaggen? I don’t recall you being particularly interested in my wit or looks during our school days.”

The man held his hands up in defeat and chuckled, “forgive me for not recognizing your brilliance sooner. I am at your mercy,” he said in a what could only be interpreted as a suggestive tone.

Draco’s hands curled into tight fists, the knuckles turning white. He fought the urge to hex McLaggen into oblivion, taking a moment to compose himself before stepping forward.

“McLaggen,” Draco’s voice was icy, slicing through the air. “I wasn’t aware this was social hour.”

McLaggen straightened, a look of annoyance flashing across his face. “Malfoy sir. Just catching up with an old friend, sir.”

Draco’s eyes flicked to Hermione, who now looked back at him with an amused expression. “Granger, may I have a word? In private?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Of course, sir. McLaggen.”

McLaggen shot Draco a glare before reluctantly stepping away. “I’ll see you around, Hermione.”

As soon as McLaggen left, Draco moved closer to Hermione, his heart pounding. He struggled to keep his voice calm, the sight of her with McLaggen still fresh in his mind. “What were you doing?”

Hermione stood up, her expression shifting from amusement to concern. “We were just talking. Just as Cormac said, we were catching up as old friends.”

Draco’s face was a mask of irritation, though he kept his voice measured. “We have important work to do, Granger. What’s your plan for the samples we secured yesterday?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing his underlying frustration but choosing to focus on the task at hand. “I was just about to go analyze them. The preliminary tests I did overnight suggest I’m close to knowing the exact ingredients in Seduxion. It’s crucial we identify its components quickly.”

Draco nodded, satisfied with her answer but still uneasy. He looked at her intently, “instead of catching up with an old friend,” he said mockingly before more seriously, “go do that. This is serious, Granger. I need to know you’re focused.”

Hermione sighed, her shoulders tensing a bit as she slowly folded her arms over her chest. “I am focused, sir. I understand the stakes.”

Draco’s expression hardened further, and he shook his head in question. “Do you? It just looks to be another Wednesday for you.”

“What is your problem,” she finally hissed at him as she abruptly stood from her chair.

She closed the gap between them to the point where he could feel her breasts brush against his shirt with each breath of hers. All amusement gone from her now, the golden rings around her brown orbs started to swirl and glow.

She still had to look up at him, but she was looking at him. 

She smelled divine. Cinnamon, amber, and vanilla with the smell of. . .what he would assume would be a hospital or laboratory disinfectant.

“We can’t afford any distractions. I expect professionalism from my employees, that includes you and McLaggen,” Draco said with stern venom. 

Her eyes narrowed and he saw her intake of breath before she huffed out, “I’ll make sure to keep that in mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some samples to analyze.”

Draco stepped back, watching her as she walked down the row of cubicles towards the elevator. Gods she looked amazing, even if she was practically stomping her way away from him. 

He was about to leave when Theo appeared, leaning casually against the Hermione’s desk.

Theo gave a low whistle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “That was—”

“Awful,” Draco interjected in frustration.

“I was going to say hot,” Theo replied with a smirk. “You know, watching you two, it’s like a slow-burn romance novel. The sexual tension is palpable.”

Draco shot him a glare. “This isn’t a joke, Theo. We have a mission to complete, and I can’t afford distractions.”

Theo chuckled. “Come on, Brother. I rather think you could use a distraction. Especially if that distraction is named Hermione Granger,” Theo snickered as he gave Draco a wag of his brows suggestively.

Draco sighed, as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache starting to form. “There’s more at stake here than just my feelings. We have to be professional.”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Professional? Is that what you were coming over to do before you’d gotten jealous of another wizard sniffing around your witch?”

“I wasn’t jealous,” Draco denied immediately as he opened his eyes to glare at his brother. 

Theo only gave him an unconvinced look in return. 

“Fine! I was jealous,” he confessed in a low murmur.

“Who’s jealous,” came Potters voice and Draco turned to see the messy hair wizard munching on what looked like to be a pastry of some sort. 

“No one.” “Draco.”

Draco and Theo said simultaneously. Draco whipped his head around to glare again at his brother. Just who’s side was he on anyway?

“Of who,” Harry asked taking another bite getting crumbs on his shirt, Draco gave the wizard a sort of pitying look. It was no wonder Potter was still as single as single could be. The man truly was an uncouth animal. 

“No one.” “McLaggen.”

Again Theo and Draco responded at the same time and this time Draco didn’t hesitate to show his ire with his traitorous friend. 

“Shut up. That’s an order,” he snarled at the wizard who was grinning ear to ear. Theo merely winked in response. 

“McLaggen,” Harry asked as he turned to watch the wizard in question for a moment or two. Harry scrunched his face in disgust and turned back to the conversation. “I really don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Ooo and what do you know that we don’t Potter,” Theo asked now intrigued as he sat fully onto Hermione’s desk while Potter took her chair. 

Draco looked at the scene before him. Sometimes it still caught him by surprise that he had become good friends with Potter and Theo had managed to nail down Ginevra Wesealey with a formal courtship.

A lot had changed over four years, and a lot had stayed the same. Such as calling Potter, Potter. Or that Draco continued his early morning workouts like he had when he played quidditch in school. And the fact that any wizard who came around his witch had Draco almost blind with jealousy and possessiveness. 

“He took her to Slughorns Christmas party in sixth year. He bored her with his nonstop talking of himself,” Harry supplied as he swiveled back and forth in Hermione’s desk chair. “When the night was over he essentially forced a kiss on her by purposely standing under the mistle toe, and when he tried to get handsy she shoved him into the food table. It was rather spectacular,” Potter finished with a grin. 

“Oh gods I remember that now. She was red faced angry while she told him off about how he should have the head of a pig if he was going to act like one,” Theo added with a chuckle and shake of his head. “If only Slughorn had allowed her to turn him into a pig.”

Draco blinked, sixth year. . .right that had been one of the worst years of Draco’s life. He hadn’t really remembered much of that year other than the fear and anxiety he felt each second of every day. Oh and the blinding pain he endured when Harry had hit him with the Sectum curse. 

“McLaggen has no real chance, he’s too much of a wanker to understand that though,” Potter finished as he took the last bite of his pastry and then brushed crumbs off his lips and shirt onto the ground. 

Draco banished the crumbs off the floor. Hermione seemed the sort of witch that would be livid if someone ate at her desk and left a mess. Even if that person was the Chosen One. Fuck, he’d be irate if it was his desk with crumbs all over it.

“So what were you going to say to her,” Theo asked. 

“I was going to invite her to dinner. But after acting like a right prick I doubt she’d want to accompany me to a dinner now,” Draco said somewhat sulkily. 

Potter laughed, genuinely laughed.

“What’s so incredibly funny Potter,” Darco asked with a snarl.

“You and her are so similar.”

Theo barked a laugh, “you two keep dancing around each other as if we don’t know what’s going on.”

“And what exactly is going on,” Draco asked as he crossed his arms. 

“Gods you are so emotionally stunned. You’ve had mind healing for four years! It’s astounding you even got the witch to fall in love with you the first time,” Theo ribbed before continuing. “You both are very attracted to one another.”

“That’s obvious to anyone with eyes,” Potter chimed in. 

“Very true,” Theo agreed with the wizard before continuing. “Everyone knows about your courtship and you both act as if it’s not looming over you. Yet you both dread it and rely on it to keep this,” Theo waved his hand in a joining motion, “relationship going.”

“Can you call this a relationship at this point,” Potter asked looking up at Theo with an amused expression.

Theo brought a hand to rub at his chin as he pursed his lips to think. “Hmm, it is the over goal. . .I think it might be a gray area as you say.”

“Enough you two,” Draco said with finality. “I don’t need you speculating about my courtship with my witch while were in the office.”

“OH!” Theo’s face lit up and Draco immediately knew his mistake. “After work drinks then.”

“At The Golden Drunk Turtle,” Potter asked perking up as well. 

“No.” “Yes.”

Draco and Theo said again at the same time. The two wizards looked at him with those green eyes of theirs, and Potter actually pouted while Theo gave him a pleading look. 

“Fine. Two drinks,” Draco conceded before turning to walk back to his office. 

He heard the wizard exchange a snicker and some sort of high five. Gods, having Potter and Theo as friends would put him into an early grave he was sure. 

He turned and added, “get back to work you idiots.”

Theo saluted and hopped of Hermione’s desk as Potter stood and pushed in the chair. 

Draco went back to his office shutting the door behind him, he leaned against it and blew out a long sigh. 

“Gods fucking dammit all to hell,” he muttered as he brought a hand up to scrub at his face. All he wanted to do was ask her to dinner and instead he acted like a complete prick. Maybe he could send her flowers as an apology. . .fuck he could send her flowers! 

Feeling the start of a plan coming together Draco made his way to his desk and sat. He pulled his notebook open and grabbed his favorite golden fountain pen before scribbling down a list. 

How to make Hermione Granger fall in love with me again(Phase 1):

• send her flowers as an apology and welcome home
• gauge reaction to said flowers
• if reaction is positive or neutral continue with following plan:
• ask her to dinner
• talk about her accomplishments 
• BE HUMBLE
• ask for a good night kiss (hope that she kisses me on the lips)
• send her flowers the following day with a note stating I enjoyed her company

Draco sat back in his chair with a grin. He loved making a list. And while it was a meager start of something, it was a start nonetheless. He ripped the page from his notebook and folded it up into a paper crane before placing it into the inner pocket of his jacket. 

He made plans to visit a few floral shops tomorrow to find which one had the best flowers, his witch deserved nothing but the best. And Draco Malfoy did nothing by halves. 

Chapter Text

The following Monday, Hermione got off the lifts and made her way to the section of the floor that was Malfoy’s assigned unit of the bull pen. She had some reports to finish on the samples of ingredients they had collected last week. She was close to break through, and she felt like she was getting closer to nailing down the exact ingredient portions in Seduxion. 

After Draco’s insinuation that she was not taking the threat of Seduxion as serious as he would have liked, she holed herself up in her lab the remaining of the last week and all weekend. She ran test after test, frustrated herself to no end and slept on a very uncomfortable couch.

She was running some preliminary potion tests this week and she was praying that at least one would yield results.

The next phase would be to do trails. . .she’d need to find a lab partner. Someone trusted. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she began making a list of names of people she could potentially trust with the next phase of things.

As she approached her desk, she stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening at the sight of a large floral arrangement. It was breathtaking—asters in the deepest shade of purple, lavender sprigs, lush greenery, and unbloomed tulips of the purest white. The arrangement seemed to radiate serenity and elegance. She couldn’t help herself, she put her leather satchel on her chair and approached the flowers. She could smell of the lavender in the arrangement. Smiling brightly she gripped the perwinkle cylinder vase to bring the flowers towards her face. The greenery tickled her cheeks as she inhaled deeply, fluttering her eyes. 

Setting the arrangement back down, she tilted her head and shook her head. She spun the vase around until she found the card.

Curiosity piqued, Hermione reached for the card nestled among the flowers. It was a creamy thick stock card of high-quality. Granger written in neat script she instantly recognized.

She flipped it over and couldn’t help but snort, covering her smile with her hand as she read the message: 

I’m sorry for being a dickhead boss. I’m glad you’re here. 

                                            -D. Malfoy

She turned her head to look over her shoulder towards Malfoy’s office. Theo was half-turned in the doorway, catching her eye. 

He waved and wagged his brows. Clearly he was on look out for this little stunt. Yet she smiled, waving back before turning her attention back to the flowers.

With a soft sigh, she moved the arrangement to one side of her desk, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind it. She unbuttoned her outer robe and pulled the yellow and red robes off, hanging it on a hook in her cubicle. She settled into her chair, taking a few moments to admire the flowers and reread the note before slipping the card into a pocket of her robes.

”What are these,” came a voice she did not want to hear and Hermione swiveled around in her chair to see Ron looking at the flowers on her desk with disdain. 

“What do they look like?”

”Flowers.”

”Well then it seems like you know what they are,” Hermione said back icily. 

“Yeah well. . .who sent them?”

“How is that any of your business,” Hermione asked as she pulled herself into her desk. 

“It’s just—well don’t you think it’s rather tacky of you to flaunt around that wizards are tripping over themselves for you. I mean come on Hermione, you’re just a mediwitch that very recently transferred to the DMLE,” he scoffed settling his blue gaze on hers. 

She saw it in his eyes, the jealously storming inside of him. Clearly feeling some sort of way that perhaps someone was putting moves on her. She had to resist the scoff that chocked her throat. Here was Ronald Wesealey, once again acting as if she belonged to him. 

“No I don’t think it’s tacky. In fact, I am positive if you ask any witch, she’ll tell you she likes to receive beautiful flowers at work,” Hermione propped her elbows up on her desk, she threaded her fingers together and brought her chin to rest on them while she looked up at him challenging. 

“Gods. It’s just—so immature. Flowers sent to the office. . .look around you Mione, no other witch has flowers on her desk,” Ron spat as he swept his arm out as if that proved his point. 

“That may be, but someone sent me flowers, and I intended to keep them here for the week. I like them—a lot. They are quite beautiful,” Hermione narrowed her eyes at the red head. 

Ron crossed his arms, “you’re not worried rumors will go around that all a wizard has to do is send you some flowers to get into your knickers?”

“I mean it is a good start,” Hermione taunted with smirk. 

“Urgh,” Ron’s face screwed up in disgust, “you let fucking Malfoy ruin you.”

”Perhaps, but again—I really don’t see how that is any of your business,” Hermione shot back.

”Come on ‘Mione, we’ve been friends for ages,” Ron snarled. “You never let me in those knickers of yours despite knowing my feelings for you. But you let Malfoy and apparently anyone else into them.”

”Are you serious right now?” Hermione’s tone went from sarcastic to cold. Frigid even. “Are you trying to slut shame me, without even knowing me?”

Ron scoffed again and pointed to the flowers, “I mean is rather clear you let someone into them if they sent you flowers the morning after.”

“That is bold AND unfounded claim. You have no evidence that I have had sex with anyone in the three weeks I have been back,” Hermione growled. 

He pointed to the flowers, “is this not evidence enough?”

Hermione unthreaded her hands and stood. “If someone wants to send me flowers because I was a great shag, then that is their prerogative and mine,” she seethed as she leaned over her desk to level Ron with a hard look. “You should go back to work.”

”Whatever,” Ron grumbled and turned to go back to his desk. 

“Oh and Ronald,” she called after him. When he turned she grinned, “you are right, I’m just a mediwitch. . .a mediwitch who won the Quaterly dueling competition after only being back a few days,” she bragged.

Ron’s face went red just as she thought it would and he gave her a nasty look before stomping to his desk and flopping down into his chair. 

Hermione huffed and sat back down, her once peaceful mood ruined by Ron. . .then it hit her. That’s what he wanted. He wanted to diminish the value these flowers had on her. Make her feel small and insecure. Make her mind catch on his spiteful and cruel words. 

Hermione took a look at the flowers again, she didn’t know the language of flowers, she honestly just enjoyed the look and smell of the arrangement. She thought back to Malfoy’s note, he said he was sorry and was glad that she was home. 

With the beautiful floral arrangement brightening her workspace, Hermione felt a renewed sense of focus and determination. Fuck Ron and his petty jealous opinions. If he still hadn’t gotten over her rejection of him almost six years ago now, then that was on him and not her. She didn’t owe him anything.

She set to work, the delicate scent of the lavender providing a soothing backdrop to the busy day ahead.

Hermione spent the day immersed in her work, the floral arrangement’s scent occasionally drawing her attention and making her smile. 

The hours flew by, and before she knew it, she had completed her reports. She organized her desk and made her way to Draco’s office, reports in hand. Bag on her shoulder and robes slung over her arm.

As always, when she entered, Draco stood from his seat, a gesture she had come to appreciate. She bit down on her lip to stop from smiling.

“Granger,” he greeted, his tone professional but with a hint of warmth.

“Sir,” she replied with more warmth than she normally did as of late.

Their interactions had been frosty since his—she didn’t even know what it was. That wasn’t true. She had just in denial in the days following their confrontation. She saw it for what it was when she had cooled off.

Goddess be damned, being a mind healer was awful at times. 

She couldn’t play the fool or pretend to be emotionally stupid.

Draco had been jealous. It was obvious. She had seen him jealous plenty of times to spot the tightness in his jaw, the way he very curtly dismissed Cormac. The way his storm gray eyes had tracked Cormac’s sulking form back to his desk. His clenched fists. She had just found it amusing—until he questioned her work ethic. 

Hermione handed over the reports of what she had been working on for the last few days, an update on her potion work. She felt a bit awkward, the interaction stilted. But she couldn’t leave without addressing the flowers. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

Draco took her thanks graciously, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m glad you liked them.” Just as she turned to leave, he added, “How about dinner?”

She turned to look at him, caught off guard. 

“Dinner?”

“Yes, you know, the meal you have in the evening hours,” she watched his lips twitch up in that teasing smirk of his and his mosiaced eyes were alight with amusement. “I know a place in Muggle London I think you might enjoy. How does the day after tomorrow sound?”

Still somewhat in a daze from the unexpected invitation, she found herself nodding. “Alright, that sounds nice.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven at the Muggle Entrance of the Ministry,” Draco said, his smile widening.

She managed a quick smile back before making her exit. It wasn’t until she was in the lift, descending to the main floor, that she realized what had just happened.

She had agreed to dinner with Draco Malfoy. 

Her heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

As the lift doors opened, she stepped out, still processing the turn of events. She couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of spending an evening with him. Maybe this dinner would help her understand her own feelings—and his—more clearly.

It wasn’t until she reached the Floo’s that the panic set in. Date wear.

She hadn’t brought anything suitable for a date—especially not one with Draco sodding Malfoy. Rich, cold, beautiful Draco Malfoy. 

Her wardrobe was filled with sensible, work-appropriate clothing, with nothing even remotely fitting for an evening out. The thought of showing up in her usual attire filled her with a sudden, overwhelming dread.

Without another thought, she grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and threw it into the flames, calling out for the Burrow.

The familiar warmth of the Weasleys’ home wrapped around her as she stepped into the kitchen. Molly, who had been tending to a pot on the stove, turned with a welcoming smile.

“Hermione, dear! What a surprise,” Molly greeted, wiping her hands on her apron. “What brings you here?”

Hermione barely registered the warmth in Molly’s voice. She was too focused on her growing panic. “Hi Molly, I—I need Ginny’s address. I need to borrow something from her, quickly.”

Molly raised an eyebrow at Hermione’s rushed tone but didn’t press the issue. “Of course, dear. I’ll write down the address for you.”

With a flick of her wand, Molly conjured a piece of parchment and quickly jotted down the address. Hermione thanked her hurriedly, grabbing the parchment before rushing back to the Floo.

In her haste, she didn’t even pause to consider the time or the fact that she hadn’t given Ginny any warning that she was coming. All she could think about was her impending date and the glaring hole in her wardrobe.

She stepped into the fireplace again, clutching the parchment with Ginny’s address, and called out the destination. The world spun around her in a blur of green flames until she stumbled into the unfamiliar flat.

It was cozy and warmly lit, the kind of place that felt lived-in and loved. But before she could take in more of her surroundings, a noise from down the hallway caught her attention.

Hermione froze, her eyes going wide as she realized what she was hearing—muffled voices, soft gasps, and then… Ginny’s unmistakable laugh followed by a low murmur from Theo.

Oh Goddess.

Her heart leaped into her throat as the reality of the situation hit her. She had walked straight into their home, completely unannounced, and now she was hearing far more than she ever wanted to.

Hermione’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, her mind racing. 

Should she just go home? 

Should she announce her presence and hope they didn’t hate her forever for the intrusion?

Before she could make a decision, the door at the end of the hallway creaked open, and Theo stepped out, shirtless and looking very—disheveled. He froze when he saw Hermione standing there, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Hermione, ” he said his voice lifting with a question, clearly trying to process the situation. “What are you—”

Before he could finish, Ginny appeared behind him, equally disheveled but with a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she caught sight of Hermione. “Oh, bloody hell, Hermione!” She laughed, clearly not embarrassed in the slightest, “what a time to visit!”

Hermione’s mouth opened and closed, her mind scrambling for something to say. “I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—I just—” She waved the parchment in her hand, words failing her as she tried to explain herself.

Ginny just laughed, patting Theo on the shoulder as she moved around him to approach Hermione. “It’s alright, Hermione. We’re not that easily scandalized, believe me,” she gave Theo a knowing look. He chuckled and nodded his head in agreement. “Now, what’s the emergency?”

Hermione swallowed her embarrassment, still blushing furiously as she handed Ginny the parchment with her address on it. “I—I have a date,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ginny’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “A date, you say? With who?”

Hermione hesitated, and Theo grinned before letting out a loud whoop, throwing his fists in the air as if he had won something. 

Ginny startled and looked between the two, “I’m so lost. What is happening?”

“My Brother finally asked his girlfriend out to dinner,” Theo said preening like a peacock. “That was my advice,” he added quiet pleased with himself.

Ah, that was what all the preening was for then.

For a moment, there was silence, and then Ginny’s own grin grew wider. “Oh, this I have to hear. Come on, let’s find you something to wear.”

She grabbed Hermione by the hand and led her down the hallway, past Theo, who was still standing there looking half-amused, half-self pleased.

“I’ll go pick up take out while you ladies talk,” Theo offered behind them. Right before they got to the bedroom Ginny made Hermione wait while she scourgified their room and picked it up. 

Hermione secretly appreciated the effort. 

Then Ginny was pulling Hermione in their room and to the huge—definitely an illegally extended—closet. She gave Ginny a look and the red head only shrugged. 

“Theo has so many clothes and he just looks bloody fit in all of them.”

Hermione sensing an opening added, “and out of them?”

Ginny bit her lip and groaned while fanning herself, Hermione laughed and sat on the bench in the middle of the closet while Ginny went to pawing through her wardrobe.

“So where is he taking you?”

“Muggle London,” Hermione replied. 

“Oh?. . .OH! That fucking ferret,” Ginny snorted a laugh as if coming to a conclusion. 

“What?”

The witch turned placing a hand on her hip shaking her head. “No, no. I refuse to spoil anything for you.” 

Hermione’s panic began to ebb away, replaced by a nervous excitement. This date was happening—whether she was ready or not. But with Ginny’s help, maybe she could face it with a little more confidence.

“What is Theo picking up?”

“Hm, probably Thai from down the street. It’s his favorite Muggle place,” Ginny said as she pulled a deep red blouse from a rack of blouses. She paired it with a tan knee length skirt before throwing them onto the settee Hermione was perched upon. 

“Molly would be positively upset knowing her daughter didn’t cook,” Hermione teased watching as Ginny pulled down a plum colored dress that zipped in the back.

Ginny snorted. “Please, Mum knows.”

“So you know the place Malfoy is going to take me to?” Hermione questioned bluntly. 

She never was one for subtly and neither was Ginny. One of the aspects of her friendship she always enjoyed with the witch was the openness between them. No pettiness or the typically cattiness that came with friendships of young witches.

Ginny smirked over her shoulder looking very much like the cat who got the cream. “I have a good idea. But again, I refuse to spoil anything.”

Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes, “aren’t you suppose to be my friend?”

“I’m your best friend.”

“Then tell me,” Hermione laughed out an exsaperated laughed. 

“Absolutely not,” Ginny huffed with a raise of her chin before turning back around to pull through dresses. 

“Goddess Ginny, just who’s side are you on,” Hermione narrowed her eyes at the witches back. 

Ginny paused before she turned around. “I’m on ferrets side. You are my friend. My very best friend,” the witch said. “But you left H. And it was really hard, on all of us. We sort of. . .oh what’s that word?”

“Trauma bonded?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed with a snap of her fingers. “We all trauma bonded around your disappearance. And since I’m with Theo, well naturally Malfoy and I have a very good friendship now.”

“Does he still call you Ginevra,” Hermione asked. 

“He’s the only one still allowed to,” her red headed friend grinned and spun around pulling a dark maroon dress off from the rack and tossing it with the other options. “I want you and Malfoy to end up together. He was the one who seemed to bring you back to life after the war. And he was absolutely devastated when you left. Like properly sad and crying devastated.”

Hermione bit into her lower lip. She hadn’t asked anyone what Draco had been like after she had left. A part of her was afraid to ask, but perhaps now with this date maybe she could ask about how he had spent his time while she had been away. 

“I mean the fool drunk himself into a stupor several times in the first few months,” Ginny went on as she grabbed a black dress that had a keyhole cutout, there were long puffy sheer sleeves and it sparkled.

When Ginny tossed it onto the lounger Hermione grabbed it. It was cute, modest, came to probably just below mid thigh. A nice option for a date. 

“But, I am also on your side H. Tell me, honestly,” the witch turned from pawing through clothes to look at her friend. “Are you actually interested in him or are you humoring him?”

“Do you honestly think I would give someone a pity date?”

“Isn’t that exactly what you did with Cormac in sixth year,” Ginny smirked placing her hands on her hips. 

“Oh Goddess. Please that was. . .I just—he asked! And it wasn’t like anyone else was lining up to ask me,” Hermione defended herself.

“So a pity date, for yourself,” Ginny tilted her head and raised a brow.

“What do you want me to say Gin? That I know I’m going to fall head over heels for Malfoy again? That I feel this indescribable connection and pull towards him? That I missed him with everything in my being the last four years?”

“So it’s love then?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione sighed. “What do you feel for Theo?”

“I feel incredibly in love and loved. Once I was over Harry, Theo was impossible to ignore. He was charming and smart and witty and made laugh more than George and Fred ever did. I couldn’t stay away. And when I was gone for games or practices with the team, I missed him. Awfully.”

Hermione groaned and put her face into her hands. “Oh Goddess,” she gasped. “I am in love with Malfoy.”

Ginny laughed then, genuinely laughed and when Hermione looked up the witch was wiping tears from her eyes. 

“Are you just realizing it or is this the first time you said it aloud?”

Hermione scoffed looking up from her hands, “I’m offended Gin. I have several healing masteries, mind healing included. I can do therapy on myself,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “So no, I haven’t just realized the fact. But. . .well, it’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to say it.”

Ginny then moved over to her and petting her curls gently. “There, there my emotionally stunned witch.”

“Who says that?”

“Theo.”

“Theo calls me emotionally stunned?”

Ginny actually guffawed then. “No! He tells Draco he’s emotionally stunned. All the time.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped.

“Oh they say much worse to each other. Always in good fun and light teasing. You’ll see,” Ginny said with a pat to Hermione’s curls. “Do you want me to leave so you can change?”

Hermione shook her head and stood, “no. We are both women.”

Hermione grabbed the hem of her skintight black sleeveless highnecked shirt and pulled it up over her head. 

“Merlin,” Ginny practically moaned.

“What?” Hermione asked as she set the shirt on the lounger. 

“You’re. . .gods you’re completely—”

“Fucking hells!”

Hermione turned to see Theo standing in the doorway.

“What?!” Hermione asked now more exasperated.

Was she ugly?

Horribly disfigured in some way?

She did have the scar on her arm, the scar on her back and abdomen, along with a few small scars over the years of training accidents.

“You—”

“You’re so fucking gorgeous and fit. . .and scarred,” Ginny said with awe.

“That’s what your focused on my lion? Not the bloody dragon tattoo on her back!!” Theo blinked widely. “Salazar, was that done magically or Muggle?”

Hermione laughed then, she had forgotten she had a back tattoo. It was beautiful work of lines and shading. The dragon she missed, inked into her skin so she would have him with her always. Hermione looked over her shoulder at the mirror behind her. The dragons upper body looked to be perching up from a bush of roses, morning glories, cosmos and primroses. 

Roses for Draco.

Morning glories for the part of herself that died during the war. 

Cosmo’s for the father she lost. 

Primroses for the mother she lost. 

The bush of flowers covered the width of her back from shoulder to shoulder while the dragon stretched up to her neck looking up towards a waxing crescent moon. While the tail was woven between blooms. 

“I had it done the Muggle way. I wanted to feel the pain.”

“Gods that’s. . .hard but also so sad,” Ginny said with a grimmace.

“It’s a beautiful piece,” Theo said as he walked in holding two glasses of wine. He handed one to Hermione before walking around and handing one to Ginny. He gave the red head a kiss on the cheek and a small smile. 

“What happened there,” Ginny asked nodding towards the scar on Hermione’s abdomen. 

She pressed her hand to the round scar. “A bullet wound.”

“A bullet. . .as in from a Muggle gun,” Ginny asked holding her fingers up in the shape of a finger gun. 

Hermione nodded, “mhm.” She turned to show them her back, “bullet entered here,” she bent her arm to point at the small entry scar on her back. And then turned to point at the exit scar which was twice the size of the entry. “Exited here.”

It was clinical and precise, no bravado. 

It was silent for a moment and Hermione took a healthy sip of wine. Actually it was two large gulps, emptying the entire thing. 

“Bloody hell H. . .” Ginny sighed before slowly grinning and looking over at Theo who was starting to grin as well.

“He’s going to cream his trousers if he ever gets your top off,” Theo cackled and Hermione’s cheeks flamed hot. 

“Theo,” she gasped scandalized. 

“There, there my innocent witch,” Theo said mockingly. “To be fair, he’d probably cum if you kissed him.”

Now it was Ginny who was cackling, “or just held his hand!”

“Salazar, probably even a cheeky wink would do it for him,” Theo continued. 

The couple was now in a proper fit of laughter. 

Hermione then realized she was standing in front of her best friends wizard, and her. . .contracted intendeds best mate and she grabbed the black dress to cover her lace black bra. 

“Dinner is down stairs ladies, enjoy your time together,” Theo chuckled out either have sensed the shift in Hermione’s comfortability or just excusing himself as a proper gentleman should. 

“Can you send up a bottle of wine,” Ginny asked as he kissed her cheek again. 

“Just one my lion,” he asked with a cheeky smirk at her and Ginny just swatted his arm playfully as he darted away with a laugh.

Hermione watched their easy interactions with a pang of jealously. She wanted something like that—well, more accurately, she wanted it back. She had that same easiness with Draco once. Their quiet study sessions that would undoubtedly turn heated. Soft early morning kisses in her dorm as he left for his workout. Reading on the couch together, her feet in his lap while he ran his hand up and down the length of her shin. 

“Are you listening,” Ginny’s question pulled Hermione out of her memories. 

She blinked a couple of times and refocused on her friend, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if you were going to come to my game at the end of the month. It’s at Falmouth and everyone will be going. Well except for Blaise and Luna, their in France for business.”

“What do they do,” Hermione asked curiously.

“Blaise manages the Malfoy, Nott and Parkinson estates and financial portfolios. Luna just does whatever she wants, which Blaise is always happy to oblige and foot the bill for her travels as long as he can tag along,” Ginny explained as she smiled into her wine. “That wizard is gone for her. Currently she’s looking for some ultra rare ginger root that supposedly grows in France,” Ginny said with a shrug. “Anyways, are you coming to my game?”

“Sure, it’s been a while since I’ve seen idiots flying around on brooms trying throw a ball into a hoop,” Hermione said with a wicked teasing grin. 

“Ha! You know it’s so much more than that.”

“I’ll come to cheer just for you Gin,” Hermione said as she closed the distance between them. She set her empty glass of wine on a shelf and then grabbed Ginny’s and set it next to her. “Gin,” Hermione started, her tone taking a more serious and solemn tone.

“No, no, no,” Ginny was shaking her head and already her eyes were watering and it made Hermione’s heart clench. “I know what you’re about to do and I don’t want it. I don’t need it.”

“But you do love,” Hermione whispered. “And I need it, and want to give it to you.”

Ginny’s lip quivered and then she nodded. 

Hermione took in a deep breath to compose her own feelings. “Ginny, I am so sorry I left like that. So suddenly without a word. You are my best friend, I should have opened up to you about how I was struggling in the aftermath of the war. It’s just, I didn’t feel like I could. I felt I had no right to feel so sad, so despondent and lost. Not when you had lost Fred.”

“Oh H,” Ginny’s voice crack before she flung her arms around Hermione’s neck and pulled her in close tightly. “You lost your parents. Yes they are alive and well, but you lost them and they lost you. You had every right to feel grief, as much as the next witch in the line of grief.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around the witches middle and held her close, breathing in the familar floral scent that was always Ginny. She smelled of wild flowers, and rain on a summer night. 

“You deserved more than the silence I left you in and I am so sorry I hurt you. If I could go back I would have talked to you more about it. Please forgive me,” Hermione whispered out as she buried her face into Ginnys neck as tears pricked her eyes. 

“Forgiven. I forgive you,” Ginny said and Hermione could feel the tears from the witch on her naked shoulder. 

For a while the two of them just stood there and cried, holding each other before finally Ginny pulled back and wiped her tears. “Who else has received one of these heart achingly beautiful apologies of yours?”

Hermione let out a watery laugh as she sniffed and wiped her own tears off her cheeks. “Harry was the frist, I tried to give one to Theo but he absolutely refused to hear it.”

“Hm, yes that does sound like my very emotionally sensitive fiancé,” Ginny nodded.

“And now you.”

Ginny’s face lit up and she grinned, “wait! I got one before Parkinson?”

Hermione scrunched her brows together in confusion and nodded, “Parkinson is a tad hard for me to read, I haven’t had-”

“I can’t wait to rub it in her face when she gets one,” Ginny said with a laugh as she turned to pour Hermione another glass from the bottle that had somehow materialized while the two were hugging.

“Ginny no! You can’t do that.”

“And why not,” the witch asked incredulously. As if Hermione was telling her that she couldn’t play in her quidditch game later this month. 

“Because that would diminish the value of my apology. Also it’s not a competition on who gets their apology first,” Hermione scolded as she took that offered wine glass from the witches outstretched hand. 

Ginny snorted a very unladylike laugh, “I think you forgot. Parkinson and I have a very fierce rivalry for your affections H.”

“How could I forget? You two used to practically whip your nonexistent cocks out and try to measure them around me,” Hermione said crassly as she took a sip. 

“And why wouldn’t we? Being the Golden Girls best friend is a coveted spot afterall. I refuse to lose it to that snake bitch,” Ginny said as she down the rest of her wine. “Now put on that black dress that I saw you eye fucking earlier.”

Hermione laughed taking a sip of wine before trying the dress on, it was a bit loose in some areas, Ginny had a fuller chest than Hermione did. 

“I’ll get Parkinson to make the adjustments, she’s an excellent seamstress,” Ginny said as she pinched the fabric together in some areas.

“Speaking of, why didn’t Parkinson go into fashion? Especially since she is so skilled,” Hermione inquired curiously as Ginny conjured pins to pin the fabric together. 

“Well. . .I suppose the long answer was she felt like she needed to redeem herself. Do something that was good. She has a ten year plan, you know. Work for the DMLE, help Draco and Theo put away as many dark wizards and Death Eaters as they could before retiring and doing something in fashion.”

“So it’s penance then?”

“Something like that. Sometimes I think she wanted to prove to herself that she could be good. That she could walk on the side of light without wavering,” Ginny said more somberly. “Other times I think it was pure rage from what was done to her boys in the war that made her seek vengeance against those that hurt them. And her.”

“I see. . .that makes sense.”

Ginny nodded before patting Hermione softly on the bum affectionaly. “Alright, we got your dress, I’ll send this to Parkinson tomorrow, she’ll accessorize for you and make the alterations.”

Hermione spun and grabbed Ginny’s hand squeezing it softly in her own. “Thank you Ginny. I know I interrupted you and Theo’s. . .evening but I appreciate your help.”

Ginny raised her free hand to Hermione’s cheek and gently swiped her thumb back and forth. “Always Hermione. I’ll always be here for you.”

Hermione smiled before she let Ginny unzip her from the dress so she could change into her clothes. She felt better, having formally apologized to her best friend. And with two apologies down she felt the remaining would be easier from here. 

The only apology she was wavering on was Draco’s. He deserved more than just words and a hug. . .he deserved—Goddess above—he deserved so much more than she could probably give him. Perhaps she could this date as starting point, not for courting but for redemption. 

Chapter Text

Draco leaned back against the smooth leather of the driver’s seat, fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel as he waited. The car—a sleek, black luxury model that gleamed under the dim streetlights—purred softly, the engine’s hum a subtle reminder of the power it possessed. Draco had chosen it specifically for tonight, a reflection of both his taste and the mood he wanted to set.

He wasn’t one to flaunt his wealth unnecessarily, he didn’t have to. Everyone knew he was the wealthiest wizard in Europe. 

But tonight was different.

Tonight was about making an impression.

As he adjusted the cuff of his tailored jacket, he couldn’t help but let his mind drift to Hermione. 

The idea of this evening had consumed him since he’d asked her to dinner. He hadn’t planned on the request slipping out so easily or sure, but there was no going back once the words had left his lips. And gods how his heart pounded in his chest in a few moments it took her to make her up her mind. Now, as he sat waiting for her, he found himself wondering how she would react to all this.

A flash of movement caught his eye, and his gaze snapped to the entrance of the busy Muggle entrance of the Ministry. His breath caught in his throat when he saw her.

She was breathtaking.

Hermione walked toward him, her stride confident but graceful, the streetlights casting a soft glow over her. The black cocktail dress she wore hugged her figure in all the right places, elegant and understated, yet undeniably alluring. A delicate diamond pendant glimmered at her neck, matching the earrings that sparkled beneath the soft curls framing her face. Her hair was swept up into an elegant twist, with a few loose tendrils falling artfully around her face and neck.

Draco’s heart pounded in his chest as he took in the sight of her. She looked every bit the part of a witch who belonged in the Manor’s Hall of Portraits—elegant, beautiful, and utterly captivating.

The very picture of a Lady Malfoy.

As she approached the car, Draco stepped out, moving around to meet her with a confident ease he didn’t quite feel. He watched as her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the car, a mixture of surprise and awe playing across her features. It was subtle, but it was there—the exact reaction he had hoped for.

“Granger,” he greeted her with a small, genuine smile as he opened the passenger door. “You look,” He let his gaze sweep down her body and back up meeting a confident set of brown eyes. Her red painted lips were turned up in a confident little smile. “Seductively stunning,” his lips curled up into a a sideways smirk when he saw color creeping up her neck. 

Hermione’s cheeks flushed a light pink, and she smiled back, albeit a bit shyly. “Thank you. The work of Parkinson and Soon-to-be Nott.”

Draco chuckled, pleased by her response. “Hm, well they certaintly know how to dress a witch.”

He watched the color rush up her neck and into her cheeks before she ducked into the car, her movements smooth and graceful as she settled in. Draco closed the door behind her and walked back around to the driver’s side, slipping into his seat with practiced ease.

As they pulled away from the curb, Draco couldn’t help but glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She was studying the car’s interior, her fingers brushing lightly over the polished wood paneling and the smooth leather of the seat.

“It’s quite the car,” Hermione finally said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Draco smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. “I thought you might appreciate something mundane tonight.”

Hermione laughed softly, shaking her head.

Draco’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. He’d wanted to impress her, and it seemed he had. The evening was off to a good start, his heart fluttered while his stomach clenched with those excited butterflies. 

As they drove through the streets of London, he found himself looking forward to the night ahead. For once, he wasn’t thinking about the past, or the complications that came with their relationship. Tonight, it was just him and Hermione, and he intended to make the most of it.

Draco kept his eyes on the road, but the grin tugging at the corner of his lips was unmistakable. Hermione’s curiosity was something he always found endearing, and he relished the chance to surprise her. He could feel her gaze on him, questioning, intrigued, and he knew she wouldn’t let the matter drop until he gave her a proper answer.

“How do you know how to operate a vehicle?” Hermione asked, her tone a mixture of genuine curiosity and a touch of disbelief. 

It wasn’t every day a wizard pulled up in a car like this, especially one as traditionally pure-blooded as himself.

Draco couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. That hadn’t taken her long at all. He stole a glance at her, his eyes lingering on her form for just a moment longer than necessary. The black cocktail dress she wore displayed her smooth, tan, toned legs in a way that made it difficult for him to concentrate. She was a vision of elegance and confidence, yet there was still a hint of the Hermione he’d always known—a witch who valued intelligence and pragmatism over flashiness.

“I learned how to do a lot of things the Muggle way,” Draco finally replied, his tone casual as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to be behind the wheel of a luxury car.

“Why?” Hermione’s brow furrowed, and she tilted her head slightly, her curiosity deepening. Draco could tell she was genuinely intrigued by this side of him, a side she knew nothing about.

He turned his gaze back to the road, but the grin on his face widened as he spoke. “Because I chose a witch who is Muggle-born. I made sure to educate myself on the world she came from.”

The words hung in the air between them, charged with the unspoken questions. 

Do you want me too?

           Do you want to claim me?

                      Do you want to be mine again?

He didn’t look at her as he said it, but he could feel the shift in the atmosphere. It was as if the confession had made the night more intimate, more personal.

Hermione’s breath hitched slightly, which had him looking to meet said chosen witches eyes. She looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just surprise—it was something more, something deeper. Draco couldn’t tell if it was admiration or disbelief, but whatever it was, it made his heart race.

“That’s. . .thoughtful of you,” she finally managed to say, her voice softer now, tinged with something that sounded almost like affection.

Draco kept his eyes on the road, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. He had meant what he said. Learning about Muggle ways, understanding the world she came from—it was his way of showing her that he cared. That he was willing to bridge the gap between their worlds, no matter how wide it might have seemed at one point. 

“Thank you,” Hermione added, her voice even softer now. “It means a lot to me.”

Draco glanced over at her, catching the sincerity in her eyes before she quickly looked away, focusing on the passing lights of the city instead. He felt a warmth in his chest, a satisfaction that he hadn’t expected. This night was already turning out better than he could have imagined.

The rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence, the tension from earlier replaced by a newfound understanding between them. Draco couldn’t help but steal glances at her from time to time, admiring the way the city lights danced across her features, how the elegance of her dress complemented the soft, understated beauty she naturally exuded.

By the time they reached their destination, Draco knew that tonight would be a night to remember—for both of them. He pulled up to the valet and stepped out of the car, quickly moving to Hermione’s side to open her door. As she stepped out, the way her dress shimmered in the soft evening light made him catch his breath.

“Shall we?” he asked, offering her his arm.

Hermione smiled, her eyes bright as she took his arm. “Let’s.”

As Draco guided Hermione out of the car, he watched as she marveled at the grandeur of the restaurant before them. The building itself was a testament to modern design, all sleek lines and polished surfaces, bathed in soft ambient light. Yet as they approached the entrance, something about it felt odd. There were only a few staff members in sight—a valet who’d taken Draco’s keys and a hostess who gave them a warm but reserved smile as she opened the door for them. 

The place appeared almost abandoned.

Draco watched with amusement as Hermione’s brows furrowed slightly as they stepped inside. The restaurant was undeniably luxurious, but it lacked the bustling atmosphere one would expect from such an establishment. 

No clinking of glasses, no murmur of conversation, no waitstaff hurrying between tables. 

Just the soft hum of ambient music playing in the background. She exchanged a perplexed glance with Draco, but he kept his expression unreadable, giving away nothing.

As they moved deeper into the restaurant, he could sense Hermione’s curiosity only grow. The entire space was immaculate, yet there wasn’t a single guest in sight. The sense of emptiness was almost eerie. Finally, Draco led her toward the back, pushing through a set of swinging doors into the kitchen.

The kitchen was spotless and gleaming, but it wasn’t the sight of the pristine countertops or the shining appliances that caught her attention. It was the table set up in a cozy nook near a large window, where the golden lights of the cityscape twinkled in the distance, that seemed to snag her attention. Draco couldn’t help the smirk that tugged on his lips then. 

The table was elegantly set, adorned with fine china, crystal glasses, and a centerpiece of fresh flowers, white tulips nestled among fully bloomed red roses. 

It was an intimate setting, one that he had meticulously planned the last day and a half.

Draco guided her to the table, pulling out a chair for her before taking his seat across from her. The only other person in the kitchen was a single member of the staff—a chef, by the look of it—who stood at attention, ready to serve but maintaining a respectful distance.

Unable to hold back her curiosity any longer, Hermione looked at Draco, her mind racing with questions.

“Where is everyone? Where are we?” she asked in rapid fire, her voice laced with both confusion and intrigue.

Draco leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady on her as a small smile played on his lips. He enjoyed the slight bewilderment in her eyes. 

“We are at a place I own,” he said smoothly, his tone casual as if this was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Hermione blinked, her surprise evident. “You own this restaurant?”

Draco nodded, his expression one of quiet pride. “Yes, I do. Well, technically, it’s part of a portfolio of investments Blaise has been managing. It’s more of a hobby, really.”

Hermione shook her head slightly, trying to wrap her mind around the idea. “And you’ve closed it for tonight. . .just for us?”

“Of course,” Draco replied, as if it were the most natural thing to do. He reached across the table, taking her hand in his, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. “I wanted tonight to be special. Somewhere we could talk without interruptions, without anyone else around. Just you and me.”

Color bloomed in her cheeks again and Draco was unsure if it was at his words, or the intimacy of the setting sinking in.

“This is. . .it’s incredible,” she finally managed to say, her voice soft as she looked around the kitchen, taking in the effort he had gone through to create this moment for them. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Draco said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Just be here with me.”

The chef approached them then, offering a subtle nod to Draco before presenting them with a menu.

“Pick anything,” he offered as he set his menu on the table in front of him before turning to the chef. “Can you bring us a bottle of 2001 Sacrrene to start?”

The chef nodded and walked off as he watched Hermione’s eyes move along the words of the menu. 

“What would you recommend since you own the place,” she asked never looking up from the menu but he watched her lips turn up in a smile as she continued her perusal.

Oh his sweet innocent witch was in for a treat tonight. “Everything is good here, I guarantee it.”

She looked up then and his heart stuttered. Those big brown eyes on him, rimmed with gold that glowed in the candle light of the table. The light of city glowing behind her. Fuck she looked amazing. 

Did they have to have dinner? 

Would she let him spread her on the table and feast on her until he was sated and she was boneless?

He wanted to know if he could still make her writhe and scream his name.

“Fine, I choose the Chicken Fricassée.”

“An excellent choice,” Draco nodded his head as he thought of his plan as he ran his tongue back and forth on his canine. He forced his dick to soften before making a move.

Draco stood from his seat, giving Hermione a quick, almost mischievous grin before unbottoning his suit jacket. He hung it up on a peg as the chef came back into the kitchen with a bottle of the requested wine. Draco made his way around the counter, grabbed an apron and tied tied an it around his waist while he started to collect the ingredients for the requested dish. 

“What are you doing,” Hermione asked, and when he turned to look at her, he couldn’t help but chuckle at her bemusement. 

“What does it look like I’m doing love?”

“It looks like you are going to cook but—do you even know how to?”

He laughed then, a full belly laugh as the chef had popped the cork on the wine and poured his witch a glass. 

“Mounsuier, the lady has requested Chicken Fricassée. Can you please prepare a light salad for her to snack on while I cook up our meal?”

“Of course sir,” the chef said in a thick French accent. 

The sound of a knife slicing through vegetables filled the room as Draco moved with practiced ease, his motions fluid and confident. He was completely in his element, each movement deliberate and controlled. 

He could feel her eyes on him the entire time. The knowledge of it had him soaring above the clouds. He was sure if gravity wasn’t a thing he would be floating right now. 

Every now and then, Draco would glance up, his grey eyes meeting hers with a spark of satisfaction when he caught her watching him. He was showing off, to be sure. The luxury car, the five star restaurant that he cleared out for her, the art of cooking. But not in the arrogant, self-important way she might have expected from him years ago. 

No. He made sure this was different. He wanted her to see this side of him, to understand the care and effort he was putting into making this night perfect. 

For her. 

For them.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Hermione remarked, her voice carrying a note of surprise.

Draco gave a soft chuckle, his hands never pausing as he expertly chopped herbs. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Granger. I’m full of surprises.” He looked up again, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. “But I’ve had some good teachers, and I’ve had a lot of time to practice.”

Hermione tilted her head, genuinely intrigued. “And what made you decide to learn? Certainly this wasn’t apart of Auror training?”

Draco couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up out of him then. He shrugged lightly, his attention briefly shifting back to the stove as he began to sauté the vegetables. The aroma of fresh herbs and sizzling butter filled the air.

“I suppose it started as a way to keep myself distracted. Busy mind and all,” he admitted with a dismissive wave of his hand. He picked up the hobby roughly a year and half after she left. Something to take his mind off his grief. “But I found that I actually enjoy it. It’s—calming, in a way. And it’s one of the few things in life where you get immediate results for your effort.”

Hermione smiled at that, finding his explanation surprisingly relatable. “I can understand that,” she said softly. “Precise, methodical. . .and with a bit of creativity, you can make something extraordinary.”

Draco glanced at her, his expression softening. “Exactly,” he agreed and she giggled.

Actually giggled.

The sound of it like a thousand small bells in his ears.

He loved the fact that he had her giggling and smiling. And gods it felt like this was flirting. It felt so remiscant of many a debates, conversations and verbal sparring they used to have. 

The chef occasionally stepped in, offering assistance where needed, but for the most part, Draco was the one in control. He plated the food with a careful, almost artistic precision, arranging each element of the dish with the kind of attention to detail that spoke to his perfectionist nature. 

When he finally brought the finished plates over to the table, pride in his eyes, mixed with a hint of nervousness as he waited for her reaction.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Draco said as he set the plate before her, his tone casual but with an underlying note of anticipation. “I’ve put a lot of thought into this meal.”

Hermione looked down at the dish, which was nothing short of exquisite. The presentation was beautiful, the colors vibrant and inviting, and the aroma was mouthwatering. She picked up her fork, Draco’s heart fluttering slightly as she took the first bite.

“It’s amazing,” she said sincerely, her voice tinged with awe. “Malfoy, this is—incredible.”

Draco’s smile widened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he relaxed back into his chair. His suit jacket replacing his apron.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, the confidence in his voice unmistakable. “I wanted tonight to be special.”

“You’ve definitely succeeded,” Hermione replied, her eyes sparkling as she took another bite, savoring the meal. “This is. . .it’s perfect.”

As they continued to eat, Draco watched her, feeling a sense of contentment settle over him. He had wanted to impress her, yes, but more than that, he had wanted to create a memory, something she would remember as uniquely theirs. And as they shared this meal, in this quiet, intimate setting, he couldn’t help but think that he had done just that.

She set her fork down, the clink of silver on porcelain breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. Draco looked up, sensing the shift in her demeanor. His expression grew more guarded, his gray eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to read her thoughts.

“Malfoy,” Hermione began, her voice steady, though she could feel her heart beating a little faster. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. . .about the past.”

He didn’t speak immediately, just watched her carefully, waiting for her to continue. There was an unspoken understanding between them that their pasts were full of sharp edges—things that could hurt if handled carelessly.

“Do you remember the attack on Ron in 2000?” she asked, her gaze fixed on him, searching for a reaction.

Draco’s expression didn’t change, but she noticed the way his posture stiffened slightly, his hands stilling on the table. “I remember,” he replied quietly, his voice devoid of emotion.

Hermione swallowed, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “I know. . .I know he hurt me. What he did was inexcusable, and I never have nor will I ever forgive him for it.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “But what you did to him afterward. . .Malfoy, it was brutal.”

Draco’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his eyes focusing on some point in the distance. “I was angry,” he said, his voice colder now. “He hurt you, Granger. He had no right and I wasn’t going to let him get away with that.”

Hermione nodded slowly, understanding his anger. He knew she had been furious at Ron too he knew, devastated by his actions. But the retribution Draco had orchestrated had gone far beyond anything she had expected—or wanted. But to this day, he had yet to feel any remorse for his actions.

“I know you were angry,” she said softly. “But, Malfoy, you nearly killed him.”

Draco’s eyes flicked back to hers, the coldness in them replaced by a flicker of something else—regret, perhaps, or something close to it. “He deserved it,” Draco said, though the conviction in his voice wavered. “He laid his hands on you. I wasn’t going to let him get away with that.”

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. 

“But that doesn’t justify what you did,” she pressed gently, though her voice trembled slightly. “Malfoy, there are better ways to protect someone. What you did—it’s not something we can just ignore.”

Draco’s expression darkened, and he ran a hand through his hair, the motion full of frustration. “I know,” he admitted after a long pause. “I know it wasn’t right. But back then. . I didn’t know any other way to protect you. I was still—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I was still fighting ghosts from my past, doing things the way I’d been taught to do them. Plotting in the dark and lashing out violently to force submission.”

There was silence for a moment and then he looked up at her, her lips were parted. She blinked a few times before stating, “you’ve—you’re. . .”

“I’ve seen a mind healer for years now Granger. I was intense therapy after you left, daily sessions with various kinds of mind healers. I had a lot of shit to unpack. Those daily sessions became weekly and then monthly. I still see my primary mind healer whenever I feel the need to get things off my mind.”

Hermione reached across the table, her hand finding his. He knew she could likely feel the tension in his grip, the way he was holding himself back. “I understand,” she said softly. “We’ve all done things we regret. But if we’re going to move forward, we need to be honest with each other. We need to face our pasts, not just bury them.”

Draco looked at her for a long moment, his gaze searching hers. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said finally, his voice low. “Everything I did back then, it was because I couldn’t stand the thought of you being someone else’s. But I know now that I went too far. I’m not that person anymore, Granger. I never want to be that person again.”

Hermione squeezed his hand gently, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “I believe you,” she replied and Draco’s heart felt light, so did his head. “And I’m here because I want to believe in us, too.”

Draco’s grip on her hand tightened briefly before he let out a slow breath, the tension in his body easing slightly.

Hermione nodded, and Draco’s heart feeling lighter. It wasn’t an easy conversation, but it was necessary. They both had scars—some visible, some not—that they needed to confront together.

“Tell me about your time in the DMDHA,” Draco started as he pulled his hand from hers to sip at his wine. 

Hermione rolled her eyes and let out a chuckle, “don’t you already know about my time in the DMDHA? I’m positive you’ve read my transfer file.”

Draco nodded, “oh I did. More so after that display of incredible magic during the dueling competition. But—well don’t you want to brag a little? Tell me about your adventures and accomplishments?”

“The Department of Magical Defense and Healing Arts,” she began, her voice steady as she pulled her hand back. He immediately missed the contact of it. “It’s difficult to describe unless you’ve seen it firsthand. Central Africa was one of the hardest-hit regions during the rise of Grindelwald’s followers in Africa, even though it happened so long ago. The scars left by that time, by wars and dark magic that was unleashed, never really healed.”

Draco listened intently, his gaze never leaving her face, absorbing every word.

“It’s not like the work we do here,” Hermione continued, her eyes distant as if she were seeing the memories unfold before her. “In Uganda, the work was grueling. We were constantly moving, constantly on edge. You had to be, to survive. I spent my days reversing curses, healing the sick, warding off the remnants of dark magic that still clung to the land. And my nights—well, I spent them trying to forget what I’d seen during the day.”

Draco could see the pain in her eyes, the way she held herself a little tighter, as if she were holding back the floodgates of emotion. He wanted to reach across the table, take her hand in his, but he stayed still, letting her continue at her own pace.

“I saw things, Malfoy. . .things that no one should ever have to see,” Hermione admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “People who had lost everything—their families, their homes, even their sense of self. They looked to us for help, for hope, but sometimes—sometimes there was nothing we could do. And that’s the hardest part of being a healer,” she said with a shrug but there was a somber tone to her. “Knowing that you can’t always save everyone, no matter how hard you try.”

A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the soft sounds of the city behind her. Draco’s heart ached for her, for the things she had endured, and for the weight of the memories she carried with her.

He finally spoke, his voice low, almost reverent. “Why didn’t you stay? In Uganda?”

Hermione’s eyes flickered with a hint of something—sadness, regret, perhaps. “Because I realized that I was still running away. From everything that happened here.”

From him. 

Draco nodded, she didn’t have to say it aloud, he already knew. If it were him—well perhaps he’d run away as well. But then again. . .he could admit he was utterly desperate for a shred of love and light after the war. He’d probably have stayed and let her destroy him.

He had always admired her strength, but hearing this, he realized just how deep that strength went. She wasn’t just a survivor; she was a warrior, someone who faced the darkness head-on and still found the will to keep going.

“I’m glad you came back,” he said quietly, his eyes locking with hers. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t.”

It was the truth.

A small, tired smile tugged at Hermione’s lips. “I’m glad I came back too.”

He reached across the table then, unable to help himself for wanting to touch his witch. His hands entwined with her, the intimacy of the moment deepened, a silent understanding passing between them. They were both willing to confront their demons, for each other, and for the possibility of a future together. And that, Draco thought, was a good place to start.

Draco stood, the creak of his chair on the kitchen floor breaking the quiet that had settled between them. He reached out, his hand warm as it enveloped hers, gently tugging her to her feet. 

They moved back into the main dining room, the space now transformed. Floating candles hung in the air, casting a soft, golden glow that illuminated the room with a dreamlike quality. The light danced across the polished floors, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere that felt both magical and achingly intimate.

“Malfoy,” Hermione hissed clearly worried about the display of magic.

“Don’t worry, the staff know what I am. . .they’ve all signed the appropriate contracts,” he said smoothly. He bought this place with it being the mind that it could be the sanctuary he needed. Away from Wizarding Britain but not hiding what he was. His secret was trusted with only a select few, the few that were currently here tonight as they were squibs afterall.  

Draco stopped in the center of the room and turned to face her, pulling her close. Hermione’s breath caught as his hand slid around her waist, his other hand lifting hers to rest against his shoulder. The proximity sent a shiver down her spine, and he had to hide the smirk when he felt her relax into his embrace as soft music began to play, the gentle strains of a waltz filling the room.

He let her lead them effortlessly into the dance, their movements fluid and graceful. Draco’s pulse quickened, not just from the dance, but from the sensation of being so close to her, feeling her in his arms, smelling that tantalizing amber vanilla perfume of hers, visually feasting on image she made. 

For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

“You hurt me when you ran away,” he said, his words cutting through the softness of the evening like a knife.

Hermione faltered in her steps, but Draco kept her steady, spinning her out in a graceful twirl that momentarily pulled her away from him. He could see the fear and guilt in her eyes. 

As she spun back toward him, their eyes locked, and the weight of his words settled heavily between them.

“I hated you viscerally for how you had left,” Draco continued, his tone devoid of malice, but laden with the hurt he had carried for so long.

“Malfoy—” Hermione began, her voice trembling as she tried to find the right words, to explain the unexplainable.

But Draco didn’t let her finish. “I just wanted you to know,” he interrupted softly, pulling her back into his frame, the movement gentle yet firm. “No more secrets, right?”

His words were a reminder of the unspoken agreement they had just made in the kitchen—to confront their pasts, to be honest with each other, no matter how difficult it might be.

“No more secrets,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the music, and there was a look in her eyes that Draco couldn’t quite decipher. It looked something between relief and agony. But he didn’t press the issue.

Draco’s expression softened slightly, and she continued to lead them through the waltz, their movements perfectly in sync despite the emotional turmoil swirling around them. The world outside the candlelit room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, bound by the past but moving cautiously toward a future that was still uncertain.

Draco’s hold on her tightened just a fraction, and pulled her in close to he could brush his lips on her temple as he spoke again, his voice softer now, less burdened. “Thank you for coming back.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide and then she chuckled, “we both know I had to come back at some point. Someone made an inescapable magically binding contract between us.”

“Ah yes,” he said with a nod. “How very clever of my younger self. Perhaps I should send him a thank you note for his foresight,” his voice lifted in question as he smirked at her. 

“Goddess, your impossible Malfoy,” she smiled up at him and Draco felt himself melt at the sight. 

They continued to dance, the music guiding them, their movements an unspoken testament to the fragile bond they were rebuilding.

It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t easy, but it was real.

The air between them became thick with tension, every word, every movement charged with unspoken emotion. Draco could see the steady rhythm of Hermione’s heartbeat in her neck, feel the warmth of her body so close to his. The soft glow of the floating candles bathed her in a golden light, making her seem almost ethereal, as if she were something out of a dream.

His thoughts were a whirlwind—filled with everything he wanted to say and do, all the things he’d kept buried deep inside for so long. The urge to pull her closer, to feel her completely against him, was almost overwhelming.

He could sense that same pull between them, the magnetic force that had been building since the moment they had reentered each other’s lives. It called to him, begged him to lower his head and capture her lips with his, to finally let go of the restraint that had been holding him back.

Draco watched her carefully, the way her eyes bounced between his before slowly drifting down to his lips. He was sure the witch wasn’t even sure she was practically begging him to kiss her. 

The image of what could happen next flared vividly in his mind—kissing her until neither of them could breathe, the heat of her body pressed against his, until the only logical conclusion was to carry her away to his bed and continue where the kiss would inevitably lead.

Fuck, he was sure he wasn’t reading her wrong.

She wanted him to kiss her.

She wanted to kiss him.

Draco began to lean down, his resolve weakening with every passing second. He could feel her breath hitch as she realized what was about to happen, her eyes darkening with anticipation.

And then, with a soft pop, the moment was shattered.

Draco froze, his head snapping to the left where a small, overly fluffy ginger creature now sat perched on a pristinely set table. 

Crookshanks. 

That damned Kneazle had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, his large amber eyes blinking lazily as he surveyed the room. With a nonchalant meow, Crookshanks casually knocked a fork off the table, the metal clattering loudly against the floor.

Draco let out a long-suffering sigh, a mix of frustration and exasperation bubbling up inside him. The timing could not have been worse.

He pointed at the cat, his voice tinged with disbelief as he muttered, “See? Menace.”

Hermione bit her lip, suppressing a laugh that she seemed to knew would only make things worse.

Draco’s expression was a perfect blend of annoyance and disbelief, and he let out a long breath to release tension from his posture, replaced by the dry resignation of someone who had just been thwarted by a bloody cat.

Again.

Crookshanks blinked up at Draco, clearly unbothered by the accusation, before turning his attention to grooming one of his front paws, completely unconcerned with the almost kiss he had just interrupted.

Hermione shook her head slightly, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she looked back at Draco. “He’s just making sure you don’t do anything rash,” she teased lightly.

Draco gave her a rueful look, his lips curving into a reluctant smirk. “More like he’s just jealous that someone else might actually have your attention for once.”

Hermione chuckled, the tension from before easing into something lighter, more familiar. “Maybe,” she conceded, her hand slipping from his shoulder as she turned to walk toward the table where Crookshanks now sat like a king surveying his domain.

As she scooped the smug Kneazle into her arms, Draco watched her with a mixture of amusement and lingering desire. The moment had passed, but the charged atmosphere remained, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for another opportunity to rise.

Draco stepped closer, reaching out to gently stroke Crookshanks’ fur as Hermione held him. “I’ll get you back for that one, you know,” he said in a low voice towards the demon spawn in her arms. His eyes flicking up to meet Hermione’s, promising that this wasn’t over.

Hermione arched an eyebrow, her smile turning playfully challenging.

With that, the mood lightened, but the undercurrent of their interrupted moment remained, an unspoken agreement that what had almost happened tonight was only the beginning.

“Let us get you home Granger. Otherwise I fear this beast will eat one of the members of my staff,” he drawled. 

“I doubt he would be able to eat a whole person,” Hermione debated and Draco barked a laugh in return.

”You have not been around your familiar, I have seen this beast swallow rats whole bigger than my fist.”

”Malfoy! You let my cat eat rats?”

Draco blanched recognizing that he may have misstepped with divulging that information. “Well it’s not like this creature listens to anyone Granger. He was rudest house guest I think Malfoy Manor has ever had.”

Hermione turned to her cat in her arms who was looking up at her adoringly. ”Did your Father let you eat rats? Even though you know I don’t like it when you do that Crooks,” she interrogated the cat in a cooing like tone. 

Draco’s brain caught on the word. 

Father.

Did your Father. . .

After-all this time, this cat was theirs still?

Their child?

Their cat?

He blinked when he heard the thing let out a yowling meow followed by a chirping sound before the thing turned its head to Draco and narrowed its eyes at him. 

Oh no, this thing was not going to throw him under the Night Bus. 

“Granger this. . .familiar of yours is lying. I didn’t allow him to do anything, he just did whatever he pleased. Without a care in the world because his Mother was not around to keep him in line might I add,” Draco defended himself as he walked them to the front entrance. 

“You still allowed him to eat rats Malfoy. I can’t believe you,” Hermione said with a shake of her head and a chuckle, clearly amused. 

She followed him out to where his car was waiting for them at the curb. He helped her into the car with her cat in her arms. The little beast seemed to look smug snuggled up in her arms and Draco had to shove down the jealously that coursed through him. 

Gods, he already had to court his witch while wizards were sniffing around her but to have to compete with this creature was a new humbling experience indeed. The two had had an alliance of sorts while their witch was away, but now that she was back it seemed they were both fighting for her affections. 

Just as they used to when they were all together at Hogwarts.

This fucking beast. . .would his witch be terribly cross with him if he killed the thing? 

. . .

Dumb question, she’d eviscerate him should he follow through on that thought.

Draco got into the drivers seat and took off down the street. “I was going to park my vehicle in its garage, I assumed we could walk to the ministry so you can Floo home?” He didn’t want to be presumptuous and assume she would invite him into her home.

“Or you could take me to a bar for an after date drink,” Hermione looked over at him, looking completely at ease with herself in his vehicle. 

“We could be photographed, we’d be on the front pages of the paper,” Draco supplied as an out for her. He knew she hated being talked about in the papers. 

“So? Why wouldn’t I want to be photographed on a lovely date with Britain’s most eligible bachelor and decorated Auror,” she questioned with a smirk.

Draco returned her smirk and then turned his gaze back towards the road. So she didn’t want this date to end either despite her cats best efforts to end it prematurely. 

True to his word, he parked the car in a car park and the three of them walked to the nearest apparition point where Hermione side-alonged with him, clutching his arm in her hands. Draco had to stop the thoughts that raced in his mind of where else he wanted those hands on his body.

Crookshanks apparated in after them meowing, clearly begging for attention. 

Gods he thought the wizards wanting his witch was bad, but they paled in comparison to his witches cat. 

“Crooks, honey,” Hermione cooed at the creature and she crouched down and pet him lovingly. “I know there is food in that dish of yours, and I’m positive if you are truly hungry you can con someone at the Manor to feed you again. Off to home boy, I’ll be home after a while.”

The cat seemed to protest but when she picked up him up and laid a kiss on the top of his head did the creature seem to relax before apparating away. 

The bar was cozy, tucked away in a quiet corner of Diagon Alley, far enough from the bustling main street that it felt like a secret. The low hum of conversation filled the air, mingling with the soft clinking of glasses and the crackling of a fire that blazed in the corner. The dim lighting cast a warm, golden glow over the dark wood and deep red upholstery, giving the place an intimate, almost nostalgic feel.

The bartender had raised an eyebrow when Draco walked in with Hermione on his arm, but after a brief glance between the two, he had wisely kept his mouth shut.

They had ordered drinks—something strong for Draco, something a bit lighter for Hermione—and now sat in a comfortable silence, the tension of their earlier conversation at the restaurant slowly dissipating.

Draco took a sip of his firewhisky, the warmth of it spreading through him as he leaned back in his chair, watching Hermione over the rim of his glass. She was swirling the wine in her goblet absentmindedly, lost in thought, but there was a small, contented smile on her lips that made something in his chest tighten. He had never imagined he would find himself here, with her, like this.

It was strange, surreal even, but it felt right in a way he couldn’t fully explain.

“Tell me something,” Hermione said suddenly, her voice breaking through the quiet. She set her glass down and looked at him, her eyes curious, probing. “What did you do after I left? After everything?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, surprised by the question. He hadn’t expected her to ask about his life after the war, after she had gone. For a moment, he considered deflecting, brushing it off with a joke or a vague answer, but something in her expression made him pause. She wanted to know—really know—and for some reason, he found himself wanting to tell her.

“I...did a lot of things,” he began, leaning forward slightly, his fingers drumming against the table. “For starters, I picked up cooking. Turns out, I’m rather good at it too. I spent a lot of time experimenting in the kitchen, trying to make things from scratch. It was therapeutic, in a way. Gave me something to focus on.”

She smiled, a genuine one this time, and it made his chest tighten again. “I never would have guessed. What else?”

“Well,” Draco continued, a little more confident now, “I bought a flat in Muggle London. Lived there for a while, actually. It was small, nothing like the Manor, but it was—nice. Quiet. I spent a lot of time learning about the Muggle world. Learned how to use a microwave, dishwasher and other appliances. I hate television though, it gives me a headache. I learned how to drive a car and I found that I quite enjoyed it. There’s something oddly satisfying about it—controlling the car, feeling the road beneath you. It’s freeing, in a way, but I still prefer to fly on a broom.”

Hermione shook her head, clearly amused. “I can’t believe it. Draco Malfoy, cooking, living like a muggle and driving a car.”

He grinned, feeling a little more at ease. “Oh, and I got into more than a few scuffles with your beast over clawing the curtains in the Manor. He’s a stubborn little beast, but I think we’ve come to a sort of understanding. He claws the curtains, and I replace them. It’s a vicious cycle, really.”

Hermione laughed, a soft, musical sound that made his heart skip a beat. He hadn’t realized how much he missed hearing her laugh like that.

But then his tone shifted, becoming more serious as he added, “most notably I became an Auror in 2000. I headed the hunts for several escaped Death Eaters. I recently put away Dolohov.”

The smile on Hermione’s face faltered, and Draco saw her eyes darken slightly. She looked away, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass.

Draco watched her reaction carefully, noting the way her posture stiffened, the way her expression closed off. It was a small thing, but he noticed it all the same, and it only solidified the satisfaction he felt in knowing that he had done the right thing. 

His witch never had to worry about that monster ever again.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said after a moment, her voice soft, almost distant. “I didn’t mean to react that way. What you’ve done with your career in such a short time is applaud worthy Malfoy.”

Draco shrugged, leaning back in his chair again. “You don’t have to apologize. I know what he did, Granger. I know what he was responsible for, what he put you through. And that’s why I made sure he paid for it. He deserved worse than what he got, but...it’s something. You’ll never have to think of him again”

Hermione nodded, but she still seemed uneasy, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. Draco felt a pang of regret, wondering if he had gone too far, if he should have kept that bit to himself. But no—she needed to know. She needed to know that he wasn’t the same man he had been, that he had changed, that he had done something, anything, to make up for the past.

Hermione looked up at him then, her eyes searching his, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them.

Draco felt a sense of relief wash over him at her words, and he offered her a small, tentative smile. “So, how about we talk about something else? Something less heavy?”

Hermione smiled back, the tension between them easing. “I’d like that.”

And so, they did. They talked about lighter things—about her work, about the strange and amusing things they had seen in their respective careers, about anything and everything that came to mind. And as the night wore on, Draco found himself relaxing, laughing, enjoying her company in a way he hadn’t in years.

It was just a simple night out, just dinner and a few drinks and conversation, but to Draco, it felt like so much more.

It felt like a new beginning, like the start of something he had never thought possible.

And as they left the bar, the night air cool against their skin, Draco couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, they could both find some peace, together.

As they stood just outside the entrance to her cottage, the night creatures singing around them, Draco couldn’t help but notice the subtle shimmer of the wards surrounding the property. The magical protections were finely woven, nearly undetectable to anyone not well-versed in the art.

He recognized the craftsmanship immediately.

“Pansy’s work, I see,” Draco remarked, his voice low as he turned his gaze back to Hermione.

“Yes, she’s quite adept at warding spells,” Hermione replied, her tone warm but with a touch of shyness that Draco hadn’t expected.

He noticed the slight flush on her cheeks, a rosy hue that could have been from the three goblets of elven wine she’d consumed—or perhaps from him. The thought stirred something deep within him.

He reached out and gently took her hand, holding it between them, their fingers intertwining, his eyes never leaving hers. “I had a great time with you, Granger,” he said softly. “I’d like—well, I’d like to take you out again if you’re amenable to the idea.”

Hermione let out a light, bell-like giggle, a sound that made Draco’s heart skip a beat. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Amenable? Goddess, Malfoy, you sound like a gentleman from the 1800s.”

Draco smiled, a touch of self-deprecation in his expression. “Well, I am, in fact, a gentleman. My mother raised me to act with honor, after all—especially when it comes to courting a witch. I realize now that I botched my first attempt with you years ago, so I would very much like the opportunity to rectify that.”

“Ok,” Hermione said, her smile widening.

“Ok?” Draco echoed, his voice betraying a hint of insecurity that he couldn’t quite suppress. “As in, ‘ok’ you want to go on another date with me, or—”

He trailed off, hating how vulnerable he sounded. But Hermione just looked up at him with that same adoring expression she’d had earlier when looking at her cat. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being on the same level as Crookshanks—a pet, a comfort—but before he could dwell on it, she spoke.

“Ok, I would very much like to go on a second date with you,” she said, her voice soft but sure. “Though I think I might be busy with work for a while.”

Draco’s heart fluttered in his chest, a warmth spreading through him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’m a patient man, Granger,” he replied, his voice steady, but his eyes betrayed the depth of his feelings.

As Draco brought her hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss across her knuckles, Hermione seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then, with a shy smile, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

The touch of her lips was warm and fleeting, but it sent a jolt through Draco, making his heart race.

It wasn’t the kiss he had been hoping for—a passionate, lingering one on the lips—but it was a kiss nonetheless. And, in that moment, he decided that it was enough.

A kiss was a kiss, so he’d considered it a win.

As Hermione pulled back, her eyes were soft, and her smile was still in place. Draco couldn’t help but smile back, even though part of him ached for more. He released her hand reluctantly, watching as she took a step back toward the door of her cottage.

“Goodnight, Malfoy,” she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that made his disappointment fade.

“Goodnight, Granger,” Draco replied, his voice equally soft, though a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

As she turned and entered the cottage, closing the door gently behind her, Draco stood there for a moment longer, his hand brushing the spot on his cheek where her lips had just been. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph.

With a final, lingering glance at her door, he apparated back to the Manor, the memory of her soft kiss warming him the entire way.

Chapter Text

The days blurred into one another as she meticulously documented her potion trials, reviewed her findings, and conducted repeat potion experiments trying to replicate the same results in her lab. 

Despite the demanding routine, her mind often wandered back to the evening she had spent with Draco Malfoy. Though they hadn’t arranged another date, his presence lingered in her thoughts, especially after the unexpected delivery of flowers to her lab the morning after their outing. 

The bouquet of white tulips, red and yellow roses had arrived with a simple, yet elegant note in Draco’s neat script. One side read Granger, and when she flipped it over, her breath caught at the words: 

Thank you for the lovely evening. I look forward to our next. 

                          -D. Malfoy

The gesture was a reminder that, though their schedules kept them apart, something unspoken still lingered between them, waiting for its next chance to unfold.

The following Monday after their date, Hermione was greeted by yet another floral arrangement at her desk in the DMLE. The bouquet was a beautiful mix of white tulips, lavender, and lush greenery, the fresh scent filling the air and instantly lifting her spirits.

She couldn’t stop the face splitting grin on her face, already knowing who sent them. 

The accompanying card, written in Draco’s familiar, precise script, carried a tone of concern that she hadn’t expected: 

I hope you’re eating and sleeping with all the hours you’re spending in your lab. Take care of yourself, Granger. 

                                         -D. Malfoy

The thoughtful gesture made her pause, the hint of worry in his words striking a chord deep within her. When she had turned to look at his office she was surprised to see him leaning against the door jam, watching her, arms folded over his chest giving her a smirk. He winked before disappearing into his office, and Hermione had felt her cheeks heat uncomfortably.

Despite the distance and their busy lives, Draco’s presence was felt in the small, meaningful ways he continued to reach out, reminding her that she wasn’t entirely alone in her tireless pursuit of progress.

The week passed by in a blur, each day melding into the next as Hermione buried herself in her work, barely noticing the hours slipping away. Before she knew it, Sunday had arrived, and Harry was standing in her lab, arms crossed with a playful grin on his face.

“Come on, Mione,” he teased, tugging her away from the cauldron she was meticulously tending to. “You’re going to miss your best friend’s game, and then she’ll skin all of us alive for not fetching you.”

Hermione let out a reluctant laugh as she allowed Harry to pull her out of the lab.

Dressed casually in blue denim jeans and a periwinkle cotton tee, her hair tied back in a ponytail with her curls cascading down her back, she looked more like the Hermione of old—before the war and before the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders.

It was time to cheer Ginny on, and even Hermione couldn’t deny that she needed the break.

The private owners suite at Falmouth Stadium exuded luxury, reflected the opulence Draco was accustomed to. Plush velvet seating, a fully stocked bar with a bartender, and a panoramic view of the pitch made it clear this was no ordinary box. Harry expalined that Pansy, Blaise, Theo and Draco were all now the co-owners of the Falmouth Falcons.

The group of friends, dressed in their respective team colors, buzzed with excitement as they settled in.

Hermione entered the suite, scanning the room of familiar faces. Her eyes landed on Draco’s back, and she froze. He was standing near the open railing , wearing a Falmouth Falcons shirt and a ball cap, paired with muggle jeans that fit his arse just right. She had never seen him so casual, and the sight took her breath away.

He looked effortlessly handsome, and it was unnerving.

“Handsome, isn’t he?” Pansy’s voice broke into her thoughts, a teasing lilt evident.

Hermione coughed, her cheeks flushing as she tore her gaze away from Draco’s arse to look at the smug witch beside her. “I, uh…”

Pansy grinned, clearing enjoying Hermione’s flustered reaction. “Just wait till he turns around,” she added, wagging her brows suggestively.

Hermione let out a disbelieving chuckle, shaking her head. “You’re impossible, Pansy.”

Before Pansy could respond, Draco turned around, catching Hermione’s eye. He flashed her a grin that made her heart skip a beat. It was the one she remembered from their time together, the one that showed his dimples and was full of joy.

“Granger, you made it,” he called out, gesturing for her to join them.

Hermione couldn’t help but cut her gaze downward and she heard Pansy snort a laught as Hermione brought hand up to her mouth to cover the fact that she was openly gawking at him in these jeans.

His crotch. . .Goddess above help her.

She coughed awkward and walked over, trying to keep her composure. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

Thank the Goddess for small miracles.

Draco’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked her over. “Nice colors,” he noted, nodding to her Holyhead Harpies scarf. Harry had wrapped it around her when they apparated to the stadium. 

“Same to you,” she retorted, her gaze lingering on his Falmouth shirt. “Though I must admit, I could’ve sworn we were here to support our mutual friend Ginny.”

Draco waved dismissively, “Ginevra has plenty of fans. I am here for my own amusement and team.”

“And the muggle jeans?” Hermione asked letting herself do a once over on him again. When she brought her gaze up Draco was running his tongue alone his canine. 

The look reminded her of the many times that he did the action before saying something that would throw her off. 

Draco smirked, adjusting his cap to fit backwards only enhancing the attractiveness of himself. She felt herself almost swoon at the sight of him.

“It’s game day, love,” he tilted his chin up in greeting before going over to talk with Theo. 

Pansy nudged Hermione playfully. “See? He muggles up well. You should see how incredibly fine he grimes up,” Pansy snarked fanning herself dramatically.

Hermione rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through her at Pansy’s teasing. “Aren’t you married?”

“Happily so. But I can’t miss an opportunity to help point out to what you seem to blind to,” the witch quirked her chin in Draco’s direction.

“Who’s blind?”

Hermione turned to find George and Harry, both dressed in Harpy Green.

“No one.” “Hermione.”

Hermione and Pansy said at the same time.

Hermione whirled with wide eyes at the witch next to her. The woman was grinning wickedly with delight. 

“About what,” George asked tilting his head and a smirk starting to pull on his lips.

“Nothing!” “Draco.”

Hermione snapped then, “What is your problem? Just who’s side are you on?”

The three of them all laughed then and it only fueled her ire with them. 

“Oh H,” George wheezed. “You are still one of the easiest people to fluster.”

Pansy caught her breath and caught hermione with her dark green eyes. “It’s childish to pick sides, but since you asked,” the witch smirked and cut her gaze to Draco’s back. “I’m on his.”

“Well then H gets me,” George said as he closed the distance between them and slung an arm around her with a grin. He jostled her before bringing her in for an actual hug. “It’s good to have you home,” he said into her hair before he pulled back and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. 

Hermione let out a chuckle and felt her chest warm. It felt as if no time had passed since she last saw George. 

“Granger,” Pansy called. 

Hermione turned her gaze back onto the witch and immediately blushed for another reason. Pansy now standing next to Draco purposely gesturing to his arse in those fucking muggle jeans. 

Goddess he was so fit. 

Why? Why did he have to be so. . .attractive? 

Logically she knew that there was so much that needed to be said before she could even get into bed with him. Sex complicated things. That’s what happened the first time. Well—that and all the unresolved trauma. Goddess they were so fucked up after the war. 

But her cunt, the traitor bitch she was, clenched at the sight of him.

Wanted him.

Draco sodding Malfoy.

Honestly, she was starting to believe in maybe the idea of soulmates. No, there was a different soul connection, one that was stronger. . .what was it called? Twin flame. That could be a possible explanation for why she felt this pull to him.

This—yearning for him.

Draco looked down at Pansy, his expression from what she could see looked to be a teasing seriousness of sorts. But his lips moved with that smirk of his. Pansy looked up at him and stopped pointing at his arse before she grinned. 

George turned them calling out to his parents and Hermione was whisked away to their seats, the atmosphere was filled with laughter and anticipation. Arthur and Molly Weasley were engaged in a lively discussion with Neville and Ron, while Harry and George were already placing bets on the game’s outcome. 

Ron, plopped down into the seat next to Hermione, nudged her somewhat more roughly than needed in her side. “You ready for the Harpies to thrash the Falcons?”

Hermione adjusted in her seat when Ron threw his arm over the back of it. She watched as Draco took the seat in front of her by the railing. “Absolutely. Though I have a feeling Draco might have something to say about that.”

Draco now situated in his seat in front of Hermione, leaned back in his seat turning, a confident smile playing on his lips. “We’ll see, Granger. May the best team win.”

As the players were announced, Hermione couldn’t contain her excitement. She climbed over Draco, who yelped in surprise to have a witch practically in his lap. She grabbed the rail in her right hand and leaned over it and screaming for her friend. Ginny, having spotted Hermione, flew over on her broom and gave her a high fly-by five. Hermione’s laughter echoed through the suite as she threw her head back, her laughter filled with joy.

Then she was pulled back and directed to a seat to her left. When, she found Draco sitting next to her, a concerned look etched on his face. 

“What?” she asked, slightly puzzled.

“I thought—you used to have a fear of heights,” Draco said, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Oh! I worked to get over that,” Hermione replied quickly, not wanting to delve into the details of how she managed to conquer her fear. It was a rather long and frankly embarrassing story. A story of lots of falls and crashes.

She turned her face back towards the game, her eyes glued to the action. Theo stood next to her, both of them cheering loudly when Ginny scored the first 70 points unanswered. The energy in the suite was electric, and the camaraderie among friends made it even more enjoyable.

Theo, ever the life of the party, called for drinks, his voice booming with delight. “Drinks, everyone! Let’s celebrate!”

Hermione roared with delight, her voice mingling with the others.

Theo grinned with wild abandonment. “I’m glad you’re back, Hermione. I’ve missed party Hermione.”

Draco, ever the responsible one, couldn’t help but remind them, “We have work tomorrow, remember.”

“Ok, Father,” Theo teased, giving Draco a mock salute as he opened a bottle of fire whiskey.

He poured generous amounts into glasses, passing them around. The group toasted, their laughter and cheer rising above the noise of the game.

Hermione took a sip of her drink, feeling the warmth of the fire whiskey spread through her. She glanced at Draco, who despite his earlier admonishment, seemed to be enjoying himself. The sight of him in casual attire, relaxed and smiling, was a stark contrast to the usually composed and formal Draco she knew.

The game continued, with Ginny leading the Harpies to an impressive lead. Hermione and Theo cheered for every goal, their enthusiasm infectious. Draco took all of her good nature teasing that Ginevra was crushing his team.

As the match drew on, Hermione found herself caught in the moment. Surrounded by friends, with Draco close by, she felt a sense of belonging and happiness.

Draco was getting more bold with his touches. First it was just playful light shoving, and then he pulled her into his side as he cheered with Falmouth finally got on the board. Then his hand lingered on her lower back while they stood at the bar, drawing mindless soothing patterns that had Hermione suppressing shudder after shudder. 

Despite the complexities of their lives and the challenges they faced, there was a certain magic in these shared moments. And as she looked up at Draco’s smiling face, she knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together.

The match had been thrilling, but suddenly the atmosphere shifted as a brutal collision occurred between two opposing players. Both players plummeted from incredible heights, crashing into the ground below. Medics flooded the field, rushing to the aid of the fallen athletes.

Hermione watched the trauma unfold on the screen, her heart racing. She knew that the Holyhead Harpies player needed immediate assistance and grimmaced watching the medics being wholly unprepared for such a trauma.  

Without a moment’s hesitation, she sprang into action. From the bar, she immediately dropped her drink to the counter and pivoted out of Draco’s hand and towards the railing of the suite that viewed towards the pitch, she ran towards those rails, raising two fingers to her vocal cords so her words boomed over the din of the stadium. 

“Ginny, catch!” she shouted. 

Before anyone could react, Hermione hurtled herself over the rail she conjured a shield charm a few feet below her and hit it at the perfect angle to roll and got to her feet to jump off before it faded beneath her feet, she held up her left arm up for Ginny, who caught her mid-air around her forearm as she zoomed by. Immediately Hermione cast a spell to make herself as weightless as she could so Ginny could maneuver them both easily. 

“Are you—FUCKING CRAZY?!” Ginny yelled, her voice filled with panic, the words caught on the wind.

Hermione only shouted back, “Take me in and drop me roughly 3 meters back, 2 meters up.” 

“Oh my fucking gods!” Ginny panicked. “Oh gods! I can’t believe you FUCKING did this!”

Hermione chuckled but replied, “I can assist.”

“You’re just showing off in front of Draco!” Ginny accused, half-serious, half-frantic.

Hermione threw her head back and laughed as they descended. There was afterall a kernel of truth in that perhaps. 

“Here’s your stop, my crazy lady.” 

Ginny let go of her arm, and Hermione dropped into a controlled fall, using elemental wind magic to slow her descent. Her feet touched the ground, and she immediately sprinted, pushing her body to the limits. She raised her fingers to her vocal cords again. Her words loud enough for the medics on the field to hear. 

“Trauma Healer on site, make a hole. Female, broken legs, 11 o’clock.”

The team of medics made a path for her, and she slid down across the grass, coming to a stop beside the injured woman. Surprisingly, the player was still conscious.

Hermione threw up several diagnostic charms, reading them as quickly as she could. The vitals were steady enough, though the heart rate was elevated from adrenaline and pain.

“My name is Healer Granger. I’m going to take care of you. I promise,” she vowed as the woman groaned but nodded. Hermione held the woman's stare and nodded at her giving her a sympathetic look.

“I can’t—I can’t feel my feet.” She panted heavily.

“I know. I’m going to fix that,” Hermione said, her voice steady and reassuring. She turned her eyes towards the player’s legs and held her hand up. “Scissors.”

A pair was placed in her hand immediately, and she got to work cutting the shin guards off. “Is anyone trained or in training for trauma mastery?” she called out not looking up from what she was doing. Her mind slipping from fun and casual to that of an experienced Healer. 

A young medic stepped forward. “I’m in training, Healer Granger.”

“Good. Get a pair of scissors, you’re with me,” Hermione instructed jutting her chin at the womans other leg. A wizard roughly her age knelt across her at the players other leg. “I’m going to use the ‘see one, do one’ method. Watch closely and repeat the same process. Ready,” She asked she use set her scissors to the side after revealing the area she needed to work with. Her legs where broken at the shins, both having been blown on the out side of the knees. 

“I need a team of 3 on each leg. One to hold the splint, two to tie the wraps as tight as possible. Let’s go, 1 minute prep!” She ordered and teams formed almost wordlessly, medical supplies was passed out. “What’s the status of the male?” She called out over her shoulder

“We got internal bleeding over here, center masse, possible broken neck and back,” someone called out from behind her. 

“Stabilize him as much as you can but try not to jostle him around. I’ll be over there in a few minutes,” Hermione said back not bother to look over her shoulder.

It took the full minute for the teams to assemble and get ready. In the mean time the wizard had cut of the shin guard and the players pants to expose the break.

“Alright here were go,” Hermione looked over at the wizard. He looked pale, really pale, too pale. “Are you going to pass out?”

“No?”

Hermione sat up and wound her hand back slapping the wizard roughly as those around them gasped at the action. 

“No!” The wizard shouted surely, looking less white and more alert.

“Watch and repeat,” She said sternly as she grabbed the womans leg in a firm grip. She took in a breath and then jerked the appendage down and over into place on the exhale.

The player screamed before passing out. Hermione got out of the way as the splint team rushed in following the instruction. She read the vitals and nodded. “She’s still stable, passed out from pain.”

She made her way around to the wizard who gulped and looked at her. She smile and nodded confidentially at him. “Saw one, now do one.”

He took in a few deep breaths before he repeated the same process on the player, the splint team rushing in after the bone was set back into place. He scrambled back and Hermione got to her feet and offered a hand to him.

“Want to do another?”

He looked up at her and smiled, “Yes Ma’am.”

She walked him through the arm break, it wasn’t a gruesome as the players legs and she walked him through a more dirty version of splint that was just as effective but faster to apply. 

“Get her on a stretcher and to the hospital immediately,” Hermione said, her voice firm. “Let’s move, people.”

While the team prepped the female player for transport Hermione made her way over the male player. He was unconscious now as well and she threw up several diagnostic scans to get a sense of his injuries. 

“Fuck,” she muttered confirming that he was bleeding out internally and very quickly. Most notably his lungs were filling with blood. He was going to drown in it.  “Alright I need you all ready to go before I open this man up. Get transport ready,” she deduced as she looked over his other charms. 

Hermione looked over to see the wizard in training looking over the scan. “He’s going to drown if we don’t get some of the blood out,” he stated. He was smart and quick. The wizard looked up at her and she lifted her chin. 

“What would you do?”

”Cut him open, and pour blood replenishing potions down his throat until we get to St Mungos.”

Excellent deduction because that’s what I’m going to do,” Hermione said as she reached into a medical bag until she found a scalpel. 

The wizard had cut the plays chest plate and shirt off and Hermione examined the mans chest. “He’s got a broken rib on this side, I’m going to use the space to get inside. Get ready,” she ordered as she adjusted her weight on her knees so she could get a better angle on where she was slicing. 

The wizard had a least a dozen potions prepped and ready to go. He gave Hermione a nod and she got to work. The first cut was easy, it was when she got to the source of the bleed where it became a problem. Blood squirted onto her face and chest as she grabbed the artery that had been sliced open by the broken rip. She pinched it shut with a sticking charm that would only hold for an hour at best, but it was better than letting the player bleed out all over the pitch. 

The grass beneath them turned red and she could feel the blood soak in jeans and shirt. The air was heavy with the smell of cooper and blood replenishing potions.

Blood got into her left eye and Hermione gritted through the discomfort as she wiggled her hand into the chest cavity She found the lungs easily, her face lifting to read the scan, his left lung was filling with blood and she needed to find the hole quickly. 

The wizard reached over and whipped her face just as she found it, the hold. “I got it. It’s here,” she said as she reached up with her free hand to point at the scan. “I don’t have a way to close it right now so. . .do you want to stick your finger in the hole until we get into surgery?”

The way the mans face lit up with excitement had Hermione smiling as well. This wizard would make a fine Trauma Healer. 

She walked him through how to do it and soon it was his hand in the players chest cavity instead of her own. 

Both players were as stabilized as they could be at the time and and transport was ready to go.  Once she was on her feet she glanced back at Ginny, who was on the ground with the rest of the team.

Her face was pale and worried.

Hermione walked up to her and gave her a clinical explanation. “She had two broken legs, that is the worst of her injuries. A broken arm that will be relatively easy to heal. A concussion and she is probably got a few broken ribs. I did not detect internal bleeding but I will check again when I get to the hospital. Please have their next of kin contacted to meet me at St Mungo’s. Do you have any questions?”

Ginny shook her head and let out a shuddering gasp as she put her hands to her knees and let out sob. 

Shen then turned to the man who looked to be the captian of The Falmouth Falcons.

“Your player is currently bleeding out internally. He’ll require surgery. I was able to confirm his neck is broken, and there were multiple break in his spine. We will not know the extent of the damage until we get him to the hospital and do the required treatment. Please get in contact with his next of kin, there will be forms to sign at St Mungos. Do you have any questions?”

The wizard shook his head and just like Ginny let loose shuddering sigh before bringing a hand up to cover his eyes. 

Hermione stepped back as the teams came together to support one another. She lifted her arm to whip away at sweat and then turned her face up toward the box she had jumped out of. She didn’t know if Draco was still there, or if he had even stayed to watch her. She hoped he had.

Hermione turned and made her way towards where the medical team was exiting the field.

She assisted in the Falcons surgery treatment. She repaired his neck, and she was confident he would play again. His internal injuries were severe but fixable. It was roughly after two in the morning when Hermione was leaving after having updated the teams necessary staff, Ginny included.

Hermione went to her lab to crash for a few hours. She needed a shower and she was sure she had an extra set of healer robes in her lab.

Hermione wasn’t expecting anyone to be at her lab at such a late hour, so she was surprised to see Draco leaning against the wall, he had been conjuring white tulips, for a while apparently, as he had several vases full. When he heard her steps he looked up and immediately banished it all save for a single unbloomed white tulip.

“Granger.”

“Sir,” she repsonded an amused teasing pulling on her lips.

“We aren’t on the clock Granger,” Draco responded as he stood up form he leaned position. His hat was still turned backwards and she bit her lip as she moved to her door and unlocked it with a wave of her hand. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were here for work or—well what are you doing here,” she asked as she pushed the door open. looking up at him from over her shoulder as she walked in. 

“A guess that you’d come here after you were finished being incredible,” he said and when she turned to see him, she caught him looking over her. She looked down at herself and knew she must’ve made a ghastly sight. 

She hadn’t yet changed from her clothes from the game, blood was caked on her hands and arm, dried and crusted in some places.

“You’ve waited all night,” she accused with a smirk, in an attempt to lighten the mood. She flicked her finger in a sure upward motion and lamps illuminated. 

“I’ve waited all night,” he nodded in agreement with a knowing smirk and shrug. 

“You’re shameless,” Hermione chuckled as she went to the small closet door. Opening she found a few sets of healer robes. Thank the Goddess for past Hermione for setting up future Hermione. 

“Perhaps,” Draco amicably agreed as he took a seat on a stool. He looked over her research and work space and smiled. 

It felt like something she wasn’t suppose to see but she couldn’t turn away from the view. His profile, lips turned up in a small soft smile, the slope of his nose and forehead, his chiseled jaw. Goddess why did he have to be so fucking beautiful? 

“I can feel you staring Granger.”

His drawl had her jumping and turning her face away to focus on grabbing a set of robes, and she even prepared and extra set of undergarments for herself. 

“You were incredible today. I have never seen something like that,” Draco said, the sound of his voice, the tone of it had the hairs rising on the back of her neck. “Well of course I’ve seen Potter do reckless things to save someone. But you. . .” He trailed off on an exhale. “Fuck Hermione,” the use of her name had her turning to see him looking down at the tulip in his hands. He was holding it so gently—so reverently it was heartbreaking to see. “You jumped over that rail and I—fuck, I bloody froze. I had never seen anyone,” he directed his eyes up to hers. There was a seriousness to them. “And I mean, anyone, do something like that before.”

Hermione felt her mouth fall open as a she tried to take in more air. Why was she so breathless?

“You really are the Brightest Witch of Her Age,” he said the praise but something in his eyes had her heart stuttering. “I once said a witch like you comes around once a century,” he continued as he took his baseball cap off, set on the table before running a hand through the white strands. Draco let out a sigh, closing his eyes and looking as if he were trying to find the right words. He leveled his gaze on her and continued, “I’d like to amend that to: a witch like you comes around once in a megaannum.”

Hermione shook her head, there was something in his tone that told her this wasn’t something she wanted to hear. It sounded like praise but just the way he was looking at her, that kernel of sadness in those beautiful mosiaced eyes. 

“Honestly,” his gaze went back to the tulip in his hands and he rolled the stem between his thumb and fingers a few times before he set it down on her work bench. “I knew I didn’t stand a chance when I first realized my feelings for you.” His lips quirked up but it didnt light up his eyes. “You were so good. And I was—well I was quite the little shit back then,” he chuckled and shook his head. He inhaled and continued, “and then I knew I never had a chance after my lack of action during the war.” Hermione opened her mouth and took a step forward but Draco held up a hand to her. “No, I can admit that I was wholly undeserving of your kindness and forgiveness then. But I am grateful you bestowed it despite how unwor—”

“What would you have done if you found my parents and I at our home that day? When you came to—capture us.”

The questions rushed out of her as if she were unable to stop it from escaping from her. She had wanted to know since finding out he had been on the team to capture her. She had thought about it over and over again. 

Running through made up scenarios of how she would have reacted. 

How she could have saved her parents.

What she would have had to do in order to save them. 

What she might have had to sacrifice.

The what ifs never really leaving her. 

Draco blew out a breath and widened his eyes, his cheeks puffing with his breath. “Gods Granger—does that matter now?”

“Yes,” she said more breathless than she meant. She took a step forward and nodded encouragingly. “It matters to me.”

She had to know. It was a mystery she could lay to rest.

Draco white mosiaced eyes bounced between her own brown ones, he was looking for something. The blues and greens of his eyes were bright and she swallowed and gave him a pleading look before he finally found what he was looking for and spoke.

“I would have killed them all Granger,” his voice was so sure, the look on his face told her he was telling her the truth. “I would have let you and your parents go. I would gladly accepted my death with my actions.” Draco stood now and closed the distance between them. He reached up and tucked a stray curl that had escaped her ponytail during the night, behind her ear. His fingers lingered slightly as he caressed down the side of her neck. “I would have ended centuries of pure blood breeding and prejudice. I would have ended Noble House Black and Malfoy in order to save you.”

Hermione’s breath hitched and her heart felt like it was in her throat as she looked up into his eyes. “Then how were you unworthy of it?”

The two of them stared at each other for a while just the sound of their soft breathing accompanying the otherwise silent room. She realized it then, saw it in his eyes. That remorse and guilt that only she would be able to absolve. 

“I’m sorry,” she said staring into his eyes. 

Draco’s pupils dilated slightly and she heard his breath catch.

“I so callously threw what your aunt did to me in your face in anger. Even though I knew—I’ve always known you’ve never had an inclination for such violence,” she said giving him a soft look of contrition and compassion. “I have never once thought your aunts actions were your crimes to carry simply because she was dead. Bellatrix LeStrange tortured me, she permanently scarred my arm with a slur, she is the one who did this,” Hermione said pulling up the sleeve of her jumper to reveal her scar. It looked as fresh, as always. Despite having healed, the wound would always look only a few days old. 

Even with her all her masteries, she was incapable of removing the scar. However Hermione knew, even if she could, she’d refused to. It had become a symbol of her survival, her strength and her commitment to always push herself.

“Do you remember when you apologized to me for it,” she asked. Draco nodded his head. “You said it wouldn’t mean anything but you were sorry that she did this to me. And you know what? You were right. Malfoy,” she breathed and leveled him with a serious look of a healer. “You were just as much of victim of that torturing as I was. You were child too, forced to watch another get tortured. And perhaps it was worse for you because you knew me, watched me grow up. Goddess, you had feelings for me.” Hermione reached out and gently laid her hand over his heart. She could feel it pounding hard under palm. “You did what you had to do in order to survive in a war. And there is nothing—nothing,” she hardened her tone and shook her head up at him to emphasize her point, “wrong with that. You never owed me an apology for her actions. Ever. ”

Draco let out a shuddering breath and nodded slowly. “Thank you,” he whispered as he closed his eyes and swallowed roughly. “Gods I didn’t even know I needed to hear you say those things,” he said, voice thick with emotion.

Hermione let out a soft chuckle, “call it healers intuition.”

Those incredibly beautiful eyes opened and Draco gave her an amused look, the intense emotional moment slowly becoming less heavy. “Hmm,” he narrowed his eyes playfully. “It slipped my mind you have a mastery in mind healing.”

At this she did let out a laugh, “that’s beside the point. I should have said that to you years ago.”

“There were a lot of conversation we should have had years ago,” Draco scoffed out with amusement. 

He was right. 

There were a lot of things they should have talked about before jumping into a courtship. 

“Fuck,” Draco chuckled as he brought a hand to cover his eyes. And then he laughed, genuinely laughed and the sound of it startled her. She couldn’t help the grin that pulled at her lips then. 

“What,” she asked. 

“It’s just that. . .I thought I was so worldly and mature after the war. I mean for fucks sake, I had survived a war. I should have been able to talk to you about. . .well—things,” he finished throwing his hands up in defeat before bringing them to rest on her waist, she stepped closer to him, the only thing between them was her hand on his chest. 

Hermione shook her head and gave him a healers look, “you didn’t know how to then. You do now.”

“Oh, is that how it works Healer Granger? One has to learn how to do things they don’t know how to,” he teased. 

“Unfortunately so,” she quipped as she turned to close her close the closet door now that she had her change of clothes. She felt his grip on her waist tighten just a fraction before she stepped easily from his hands.

A soft pop sounded on her work bench had them both turning, Draco wand in hand, Hermione gathering magick in her hand. Only to see Crookshanks sitting there, his tail swishing back and forth, golden eyes glowing in the lamp light. He trilled a meow and hoped down from the table to rub himself against Draco’s leg before trotting over to Hermione, chirping meows and purring the entire way. He wended his way between her legs several times and Hermione let out a chuckle. 

“How?”

“I told you Granger, that beast of yours just pops up. Wards be damned,” Draco was grinning when she looked up at him. “That thing always comes back. And now that its Mother is back, I have a feeling he will be even more of pest,” he said some what petulantly as he put his baseball back on, backwards again. 

Hermione looked down at her familiar to hide the affect he had when he looked so. . .muggle. 

“You did not just call my cat a pest,” she challenged as she shifted her weight, cross her arms over her chest and lifting her eyes to his. 

“Your little ‘cat’” he drawled out the word, “isn’t a cat at all witch. He’s a Kneazel.”

Hermione chuckled, “yeah I know. He’s half Kneazel and half domesticated cat.”

“No Granger, that thing,” he pointed to her feet, “is a full blood Kneazel. And of course its not just your run of the mill Kneazel either. Because Hermione Granger couldn’t just have a normal familiar. No, that beast is a Celestial Kneazel. The most rare bred there is Granger. Where on Earth did you find this beast?”

Hermione blinked and then looked down at her familiar. His flat face, tail swishing while he purred happily rubbing himself on her legs. She shook her head and looked up at Draco, “I found him at a muggle animal shelter before the start of first year.”

“I have reason to suspect that wasn’t by chance. I think the little monster could sense your magic. Tracked you down and simply put itself in your path.”

“He’s a cat Malfoy. There is nothing more to it,” Hermione shook her head with a smile and chuckle. 

“Ha! I have the invoices of the galleons I spent taking your cat to various experts. That thing is not an ordinary cat, he is indeed a Celestial Kneazel. He can apparate anywhere he pleases, lives an extraordinarily long time, can even bestow one of his nine lives onto another being should he choose.”

Hermione snorted a disbelieving chuckle, “Draco,” she cooed and she watched as the tension in his shoulder immediately melted.

Gods he melted at the sound of her saying his name, just like before. She walked around Crooks and placed a hand on Draco’s cheek. He leaned into her touch and she smiled up at him. “He is just a cat. I don’t care about the rest of it.”

Draco nuzzled into her palm, as if he were cat. “Ok Kitten,” was his simple reply. He closed his eyes and just seem to bask in moment, as if he was finally experiencing a long awaited thing. Hermione’s heart stuttered as she realized that was precisely what Draco was doing. 

He was simply soaking up everything he could from this interaction. 

She didn’t want to acknowledge the old pet name. That would mean her heart fluttered for an entirely different reason than just seeing Draco melting at his name.

She pulled her palm away from his cheek slowly and he opened his eyes.

He blinked slowly at her before asking, “what were you doing here?”

“Oh! I was actually going to sleep on the couch,” Hermione said pointing to a brown leather couch along the wall beneath the window. 

“You have a bed Granger. Why sleep—here?”

Hermione snorted and looked up at the clock, “I’m doing for pre-morning rounds in five hours. And I’ll need to check on my newest patients,” she said as she let loose a yawn. 

She made way to step around, her movements sluggish and lazy. First a shower though. But Malfoy stepped into her path. 

“Malfoy.”

“No, I refuse to let you sleep here. You have a perfectly good bed at home and you will use it,” he said sternly. 

Hermione stepped back and furrowed her brows at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused,” he said as she motioned towards her door. “Go home Granger. Sleep in a real bed.”

She shook her head and disbelief. This wizard really thought he could boss her around, tell her where she could and couldn’t sleep?

“No.”

“Granger.”

A warning. 

“Malfoy.”

The dismissal. 

They stared at each other for a few moments. 

“You are wasting time by being stubborn witch. Just go home.”

“No, I want to sleep here,” she argued back as she crossed her arms over her chest. 

The stare down continued. 

Goddess, he really had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. Light gray with cracks and frissures of the lightest blues and brightest greens. Straight nose, squared sharp jawline, thick neck, broad shoulders. . . Goddess above, he was Adonis personified. 

A decedent of Veela somewhere. She had never asked or researched it but there was just no way that all that pure-blood inbreeding led to the masterpiece that was Draco. 

“Please,” the word was softly spoken and Draco let down that imposing stance he had taken up. 

Just seeing him look like he was begging her to listen to him, had her dropping her guard. She felt her arms slowly unfurl as she stared at him. He closed the space between them, his hands shooting out seeker fast to grab her waist. He threw her over his shoulder with relative ease and she instantly started to fight him. 

“Come beast, it’s time to take your Mother home,” he instructed to Crookshanks as he tightened his grip on her while she struggled.

“Put me down Malfoy! You fucking brute! You absolute shit head!” Hermione screeched as she beat her fist down onto his back as hard as she could. She kicked her legs and squirmed in his hold. 

“Gods your mouth is so filthy Granger, who taught you such langauge,” he taunted as he exited the lab. 

Hermione waved her hand at the door and it slammed shut behind them and locked. 

Draco spun on the spot and soon she felt the balmy night air of her cottage. The sounds of night creatures singing their choruses around her. 

He set her down on her feet and steadied her before letting his hands fall away from her waist. 

“Pansy has set your wards,” was his only comment as he looked towards her cottage. He had apparated them just outside the small front gate. “Now inside. Shower and then to bed witch.”

Hermione growled, “and what’s stopping me from Flooing back to my lab?”

Draco smirked, “I’ll sleep outside that lab door tonight.”

“You wouldn't.”

Challenge issued.

“Try me.”

Challenge accepted.

She huffed and spun around, shoving the small garden gate open and stomping her way to her front door, Crookshanks hot on her heels meowing. She turned over her shoulder to see him just outside her wards smirking victoriously. 

“You’re a controlling fucking prick!” She said venomously slamming the door shut behind her before he could respond. She didn’t hear any pop of apparition, but that was normal for him. The few times she had seen him apparate it was alway silent, a black smoke coming off him.

She made her way to the window and didn’t see him standing there anymore and she sighed and made her way to her bedroom. She was tired, so tired. 

She set an alarm charm on a small quartz rock on her side table to go off in a few hours before she quickly showered and fell face first into her bed. Not bothering to get into any sleeping clothes. 

No she passed out into her dreams. 

Dreams that had warm large hands holding onto her waist, a charming smile and those eyes that truly were a masterpiece of art in their own right. She dreamt of her Draco. Her dragon.

Chapter Text

Draco made his way through the long, echoing corridors of Azkaban, his footsteps reverberating against the stone walls. The damp, cold air did little to ease his tension as he approached the visitation area. As per their routine, it was his turn to visit Lucius, a duty he and Narcissa traded each month.

He took in deep pull of the cold damp air to ground himself. Memories of Sunday had been floating up periodically all week. He found himself driven almost to the point of madness whenever he was around Hermione. He swore he could still feel the way she felt in his hands. He blew out the breath calming himself and the urge to occlude. 

He struggled to focus on anything but Hermione this past week, anytime she spoke he had to force himself to look up into her eyes instead of staring at her mouth. Watching the way her lips moved with each word has become a new obsession of his.

Despite the grim surroundings, Draco found some solace in these visits. Over time, his relationship with his father had mended to a degree. Lucius was no longer the cold, distant figure he had once been. Though his tongue remained sharp and his wit intact, there was a newfound warmth in their interactions.

As Draco entered the small, dimly lit room, Lucius looked up from his chair, a pair of very familiar white eyes cracked with green and blue looking at him.

A faint smile playing on his lips. “Draco,” he greeted, his voice smooth but edged with the usual sarcasm. “Punctual as always.”

“Father,” Draco replied, taking a seat across from him.

Lucius leaned back, observing his son with a keen eye. “Your mother informed me that Miss Granger has returned.”

Draco’s expression remained impassive, but he felt a pang of discomfort at the mention of Hermione. Especially when her name fell from his fathers lips. It no longer had the sneer of tone of it, but it still put Draco on edge.

“Yes, she has.”

Lucius’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “I presume I’ll be seeing an engagement announcement very soon?”

Draco stiffened slightly, “Father please. Granger is back for work.” Draco built up his walls, his father was not Legilimens, not like himself and Narcissa, but he was not taking any chances. “She’s an integral part of our current mission at the DMLE. Her skills are—valuable.”

“Skills, work, yes,” Lucius drawled, a hint of mockery in his tone. “But I recall your fascination with her went beyond professional admiration. Afterall you are still courting the witch, are you not?”

Draco frowned, his jaw tightening. “That was a long time ago, Father. Things have changed.”

Lucius arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Have they? I’ll have to inquire our solicitor for the dissolution paperwork of your courtship,” his father drawled. It was a trap, and it took everything in Draco not to react. “Or perhaps you are merely hiding behind the facade of duty. You always were good at putting up a front.”

Draco’s gaze faltered momentarily, but he quickly regained his composure. “I’m not a schoolboy anymore, Father. I understand my priorities.”

Lucius chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Ah, but love has a way of making fools of us all, does it not?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed slightly, his father’s words hitting closer to home than he cared to admit. “I’m focused on my work. Granger’s return is just another complication to manage.”

Lucius’s smile widened, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Oh my dear boy. You know I receive The Prophet. ‘Brightest Witch of Her Age Returns to London: Granger’s New Role in the DMLE’, ‘A Match Made in London: Malfoy and Granger’s Date Stuns Wizarding World’. Oh this one was my personal favorite: ‘Heroic Healer Granger Saves Harpies and Falcon Star Players After Tragic Mid-Air Collision!’” Lucious smirked and continued. “Do you know what all these headlines and articles have in common?”

“The fact that they are about Granger,” Draco drawled in a bored tone. 

Lucius gave him an amused smile. “They all included pictures, with you in the background. The way you look at her. . .oh my dear son, you are gone for the witch.” 

He couldn’t help it. 

Draco snapped, unable to keep his frustration in check. “Thank you for that brilliant observation, Father. Truly outstanding.”

Lucius’s eyes narrowed, his voice taking on that authoritative tone Draco remembered well from his childhood. “Your tone is less to be desired, son.”

Draco sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I just mean to say, I know that.” He paused, the words he had been avoiding for nearly two months now slipping out before he could stop them. “I would know that better than anyone, wouldn’t you agree? She’s only here for our current mission. And whether Granger stays after the mission is completed is of no consequence to me.”

Lucius’s expression softened, the stern mask giving way to a more understanding look. “Oh, Draco,” he said, his tone gentler, as his shoulders relaxed. “I see. You’re afraid.”

Draco looked down, a rare moment of vulnerability crossing his features. The silence stretched between them for a while before Draco finally hung his head and let out a shuddering breath. “Yes, Father. I’m afraid. She was the one who walked away before. What will become of me if she walks away again? What if this next time, it’s for good?”

When it was silent for too long Draco lifted his head to look at his father. Lucius nodded slowly, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “The heart is a fickle thing, indeed. But running from fear only gives it more power over you. You must face it, confront it head-on, as you would any challenge in your work.”

Draco met his father’s gaze, searching for any hint of derision or mockery but finding none. Instead, he saw a glimmer of the wisdom Lucius had always possessed, even if it was often buried under layers of arrogance and ambition.

“What do you suggest, then?” Draco asked, his voice quieter, more contemplative.

“Talk to her,” Lucius replied simply. “Be honest with her, and more importantly, be honest with yourself. If she leaves, at least you will know you did everything you could. And if she stays, then perhaps there is something worth fighting for.”

Draco nodded slowly, absorbing his father’s words. It was strange, seeking guidance from the man who had once been the source of so much of his turmoil, but there was a comfort in it as well.

Lucius had changed, just as he had, and maybe this was part of their new reality.

”I think she’s hiding something. I’ve been patient but, I don’t know, I sense something,” Draco said.

”Ah,” Lucius nodded giving his son a sympathetic look. It slightly unnerved him to see that look in his father’s eyes. “You hurt your witch, she’ being cautious. . .I do declare my grandchildren will be Slytherin.”

Draco hesitated before asking, “how did you ever get Mother to forgive you for all you had done?”

Lucius’s lips curled into a wry grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Do you honestly want to know the answer to that question?”

It took Draco just a moment to realize the implications, and his face turned up in disgust. “No.”

Lucius let out a rich, genuine laugh. “A little wooing also helps,” he said with a smirk.

“Father, please.” Draco shook his head. 

Lucius let out an amused laugh at his son’s obvious discomfort. “I cannot help you with whatever secrets your witch is hiding from you. Talk to your mother. She has been in communication with Miss Granger for years,” he advised. 

Draco’s mind came to a screeching hault, he literally heard the squealing breaks of the Hogwarts Express in his mind. He reeled with this new revelation. 

His mother had been in communication with Hermione for years? 

How could she have kept such a monumental secret from him?

“What do you mean?” Draco’s voice was sharp, his eyes narrowing as he looked at his father.

Lucius raised an eyebrow, his amusement fading into a more serious expression. “You didn’t know? Your mother didn’t-”

Draco cut him off, his patience wearing thin. “What do you mean, Mother has been in communication with Granger for years?” He demanded, his voice echoing off the walls of the room.

Lucius sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled together. “Narcissa has been exchanging letters with Miss Granger since shortly after her disappearance. She felt it was necessary to ensure her well-being.”

Draco’s mind raced, anger flaring up once more. “And you knew about this? All this time?”

Lucius nodded slowly. “Well, I was told about two year ago now. But your mother threatened me with divorce should I tell you. She believed it was in everyone’s best interest.”

“Best interest?” Draco’s voice cracked with incredulity. “How could hiding something like this be in anyone’s best interest?”

Lucius’s gaze was steady, unyielding. “Your mother believed that Miss Granger needed space to heal, to grow. She saw the pain you were both in, and she thought this was the best way to help. Your mother has always acted with your best interests at heart, even if it may not seem that way.”

Draco shook his head, feeling a whirlwind of emotions. Betrayal, confusion, anger, and a hint of something else—relief, perhaps, that Hermione had not been entirely alone during her time away.

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Draco asked, his voice quieter now, the anger giving way to a deep hurt.

Lucius’s expression softened slightly. “She was afraid, Draco. Afraid of how you would react. Afraid that you would track Miss Granger down—Oh do not look so scandalized,” Lucius said with a roll of his eyes. “You know as well as I that Malfoy Heirs are utterly besotted and gone for their chosen witch.” The patriarch scolded. “And I know you son.” Draco fought the urge to recoil at the statement. Regardless that at the fact that it was indeed true. Lucius had known of his sons feeling for the muggle witch since the day Hermione had been tortured in front of him. “You would have tracked her down, and at the time perhaps even dragged her back kicking and screaming.” Lucius deduced correctly. 

Draco’s mind whirled with the new information and his father was right. 

He would have tracked her down, one way or another. He shuddered to think what he would have done to get the information out of his mother. 

Lucius continued on as Draco sat there feeling numb. “Your mother wanted to respect Miss Granger’s wishes. The witch did not want to be found, so your mother offered Miss Granger what she needed most. A reset.”

“All that mind healing,” Draco looked up from his hands into his father eyes So similar to his. That shocking light gray that was cracked with green and blue fissures. 

“You did need the healing son. I had failed you and after—well after the dust had settled you surely needed the help processing all that happened to you and around you. You’re mother ensured that by the time Miss Granger made the choice to come home, you would be able to court her properly. Without scheming, manipulating or lying to her.”

Draco turned his face away, struggling to process everything. His mother, the one person he had trusted implicitly, had been keeping this secret from him. And Hermione—Hermione had chosen to stay away, to heal on her own, with Narcissaas her silent support. It made perfect sense. Dissapearing without a trace from the Manor. . .anger rushed through him with the betrayal.

And now, knowing that his mother had purposely forced him to those mind healing appointments so he could be the better man that Hermione would surely need when she returned. If she ever did. 

“You need to talk to her,” Lucius said softly, breaking the silence. “Both of them. Your mother and Miss Granger. You need to understand their reasons, their motives. And perhaps, in doing so, you will find the answers you seek.”

Draco nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his father’s words. He knew Lucius was right. As much as it pained him, he needed to confront his mother, to understand why she had done what she did. And he needed to talk to Hermione, to finally get the answers he had been seeking for so long.

Taking a deep breath, Draco turned back to his father, his resolve hardening. “I will,” he said firmly. “I will talk to them both. But first, I need some time to think.”

Lucius nodded in understanding. “Take all the time you need, Draco. And remember, we are here for you, no matter what.”

Draco swallowed and then just asked the question that had been burning his tongue. “You don’t care that your heir, your pureblood bred son, is courting a Muggle born?”

Lucius inhaled deeply before exhaling in a slow controlled release. “There was a time I hated you for it. Resented you for failing me and the ideals I raised you with. But,” he paused and the look in his eyes softened. Draco sat back, he hadn’t seen this look on his fathers face since he was boy. “I realized I no longer had any say in the matter. I am here,” he gestured around them. “For the rest of my life. I am separated from my chosen witch, slotted to see her every other month. I am away from my families home. Away from you, my very blood. I have no power here. I am just a resident who will one day die here. My opinion of your life has no meaning. I lost that when I chose the wrong side of things. In short, no Draco. I do not care you are courting a Muggle born witch. From what I know of Miss Granger, you couldn’t have found or picked a better witch to be Lady Malfoy. If anything, I am proud of you son.”

Draco’s throat felt tight and thick and he gave his father a curt nod before standing and turning on his heel and striding out of the room, his mind a tumultuous storm of emotions. He had a lot to think about, and even more to confront. But for the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope. A chance to finally understand, to heal, and perhaps, to find a way forward.

The air in Malfoy Manor was tense, a suffocating silence that hinted at the storm brewing within. Draco Malfoy paced the length of the grand hall, his footsteps echoing ominously against the marble floors. His usually composed demeanor was shattered, his mind a whirlwind of betrayal and anger. Lucius’s insightful words still rang in his ears, a cruel revelation that cut deeper than any curse.

He reached the door to his mother’s private sitting room and paused for a moment, attempting to gather his thoughts, though the fury boiling within him made it nearly impossible. With a sharp intake of breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Narcissa looked up from her correspondence, her serene expression faltering as she saw the storm in her son’s eyes. She placed the letter down carefully, bracing herself for the inevitable confrontation.

“Draco,” she began, her voice calm but wary, “What’s the matter?”

“Don’t,” Draco snapped, his voice dripping with bitterness. “Don’t play innocent with me, Mother. I know.”

Narcissa’s eyes widened slightly, but she maintained her composure. “Know what, darling?”

“About Granger,” Draco spat, the name a knife to his own heart. “You knew where she was all along, didn’t you? You helped her run away, kept in contact with her, and all the while I was tearing myself apart looking for her! Grieving a love I thought I lost!”

Narcissa’s calm facade cracked, guilt and pain flashing in her eyes. “Draco, please let me explain.”

“Explain?” Draco’s voice rose, the anger and hurt he had suppressed pouring out. “Explain how you could betray me like this? How you could lie to me for years? She was my life, my future, and you let her go without a word!”

Narcissa stood, her own emotions now surfacing. “I did it to protect you both,” she said, her voice trembling. “You were both children, fresh off a war. You were both broken, needing time and healing. Hermione was in pieces, Draco. She needed to get away to put herself back together.”

Draco’s expression was a mixture of rage and confusion. “And you decided that for us? You took it upon yourself to make that decision?”

“Yes,” Narcissa admitted, tears welling in her eyes. “Because I couldn’t stand to see either of you suffer. Hermione was drowning, and I did what I thought was best. I didn’t help when she needed an adult. Don’t you remember? We stood by and we let Bella carve into her like an animal.” Draco flinched as the echos of his witches screams echoed softly in his mind. “I had failed her! As a witch, as mother and even as a person. So when the opportunity arose to help her, truly help her. I offered it.”

Draco turned away, his fists clenching and unclenching as he struggled to process her words. “You had no right,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You had no right to make that choice. It is my duty to protect her. She’s my chosen witch!!”

“Duty?!” Narcissa was now standing behind her desk, the word coming out scoffed. “Pray tell, what should you know of duty to a chosen witch? You had pushed her to the limit son. If she had stayed, you would have broken her. Mind and soul. She would not have been the ‘Granger’ you love,” Narcissa’s eyes narrowed in on his and Draco felt a slight tremble in his hand. 

Fear.

“She would have ended up in the Janis Thicket Ward of St Mungo’s. Would have like that dear? Having a catatonic unresponsive witch because your actions broke her?”

“You make the assumption Granger would have broken. She-”

“Draco she was seizing on the floor of the drawing room that day!!” His mother yelled at him cutting him off. She came around the desk, wand in her hand her finger raised and pointed at him. “She was completely coherent but her body was contorting as if she was being curioed!” She held the wand up to her head and he could see the silvery light as she pulled the memory. “Her eyes were dead, there was no emotion there yet she sobbed! And it was happening because of you!” She dismissed the memory charm with a sharp slice through the air. As if she could permanently remove the memory from her mind. “Granted,” his mother huffed, “Hermione was suffering from roughly a years worth of constant occlusion. And perhaps even your brothers confession is partly to blame for the gates breaking. But your actions caused the fractures in the dam. YOU!” She snarled the last word in his face finger pressing hard into his chest. 

Draco felt all the anger in him vanish in that moment. Now replaced with a heavy cold guilt. His mother was right—when it came to Hermione, his Granger, she was always right. 

“I know you love her,” Narcissa whispered. “I know I failed you both at a time when you need me. But please, Draco, try to understand. I am not sorry for what I did. I know that I did the right thing for Hermione. And I tried to sway you away, but you’re much like the constellation you’re named after. You’re possessive, jealous and completely besotted, just like your father.”

“Well I am the Malfoy Heir,” he drawled as agreeance. Once again his mother was not wrong about him, he was all those things and worse when it came to his witch. “So what now?” He asked bitterly. “You expect me to forgive and forget?”

“No,” Narcissa said as she lifted her chin confidently. “I expect you to feel hurt and betrayed. But I also hope you’ll see that I did what I did out of love. Hermione is back now, and you have a chance to make things right. Don’t let this anger destroy you,” his mother said more softly as she laid her palm flat over his heart and patted it soothingly.

Draco stared at his mother, the weight of her words pressing down on him. The anger still simmered beneath the surface, but the love and desperation in her eyes made it harder to hold onto.

“Tell me how you got her out of the Manor.”

Naricssa let out a puff of air, there was a pained looked on her face before she started. “I gave her the vault that belonged to me when I was a girl. When I married your father I purposely had this account put on hold, not knowing if I would someday need means to support myself. I had Hermione added as the beneficiary of the account. Once I knew that money would not be a problem I settled on getting an untraceable intercontinental portkey.”

“How did you get one? They are very expensive and I am positive I would have noticed that much money go missing from any of the vaults,” Draco asked curiously. 

Naricssa let out a chuckle and then smiled in that cool pureblood way, “I drained Bella’s childhood account that had been accuring interest in order to set it up. Once the port key was handled I had gave all information to Hermione the day before my Spring Ball.”

“Bloody hell Mother,” Draco lifted a hand to scrub at his face, his hand paused over his mouth and he waved his free hand for her to cotinue. 

“I knew the investigation into Hermione’s disappearance would be intense and very personal. So. . .I had Hermione obliviate me and plant fake memories of our interactions so no one would know. I do say son, it was rather clever of you when you had your Brother do it for you. A very useful trick.”

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” he said finally, his voice raw. His stomach felt sour. 

Narcissa nodded and while she tried to appear stoic, Draco could see the mix of anguished relief in her face. As if she finally felt free of the burdening secret she had kept all this time.

“I understand,” were her final words before he departed. 

He turned and left the room, the door closing behind him with a heavy thud. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with pain and difficult conversations. But for now, he needed to process, to think about what his mother had said and how to move forward.

As he walked through the silent halls of Malfoy Manor, Draco’s thoughts were a tangled mess of betrayal, love, and the hope.

Hope, he decided was also a fickle thing and had a way of making a fool of him. Hope that had been broken had been thoroughly doused.

He wanted to be alone.

Wanted to destroy something before his anger made him do something incredibly stupid.

Like confront his witch. Hermione owed him an explanation for this—for this secret.  

Draco flicked his hand to close the doors of his study behind him and locked them for good measure before he ran to his en-suite bathroom and expelled everything that was in his stomach until he was dry heaving. 

The guilt was ravaging him.

Guilt of what he subjected his chosen witch to had been consuming him for years now. But now a new guilt settled on top of the pile. 

Guilt for what he put his Mother through.

What he had forced his own mother to witness. 

He sat back on his heels and flushed the toilet, as he ran a hand through his hair, mussing the neatly gelled back style he typically wore. 

Draco knew he deserved to live with his regret, this guilt and the shame. They were his penance for his awfulness to not only Hermione but his Mother, his friends and himself. 

But gods! Merlin! Salazar!!

What he would give to get a reprieve from it. Whole absolution. 

Draco kneeled there, fighting the nausea and guilt until he felt his legs go numb. He then walked on numb wobbly legs to his balcony where he flung open the French doors and plopped down in the chair he used for watching the stars. 

He sat there, watching the blues of the sky fading and turning into golden oranges and pinks and purples until finally the cloak of night settled. He watched as the stars started to wake up, one by one until the whole sky was filled with them. 

He watched the stars. He found his astral guardian, the twins. Then he located his name sake and dipped his chin to the celestial Draco in a sign of respect. His eyes also found his witches astral guardian. 

Draco let out a quick sigh and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Tell me what I must do. . .to rid myself of this feeling and to have my witch?”

He asked.

But as always, the stars were silent. The celestials deaf to his mortal plight. 

Was it wrong that he felt more angry than guilty?

He could feel the embers of his anger. Anger at his mother and anger at his witch. 

His fucking witch. 

Hermione Granger. . .she should have been sorted into Slytherin. 

Perhaps that would have made things easier for him in the long run. He was sure they would have accepted her once she proved her worth to the house. He might have been able to persuade his father to let the two marry in secret. 

Or perhaps it would have made their entire affair even more fraught with peril than it already was. 

He had felt such a connection to her years ago and even en they went on their date just a couple of weeks ago. Every interaction between them felt like they were on their back to each other. Both taking small steps to get there. . .but now—well, he felt like a fool. 

An idea struck  and Draco shot out of his seat, his feet stomped on the find carpets of his room before we got to his study. He tugged his wand from the holster and flicked his wrist. 

The box containing Hermione’s missing persons case burst open and sheets of parchment flew up into the air. Draco meticulously arranged the time line.

He had almost driven himself mad with trying to solve the case.

Drunk out of his mind some nights, ranting to Theo there were pieces of the puzzle that were missing.

He realized now that it was an unsolvable case. 

Draco had prided himself on his resourcefulness, his cleverness, his intellect. It was only now looking at the case that he paled in comparison to Narcissa Aquila Black-Malfoy. 

His mother had plotted the perfect crime, with only she and Hermione the keepers of the information and then having Hermione obliviate her so that only Hermione was the keeper of all the information. . .well—to say the least it was no wonder the dark lord easily fell for his mothers lies. 

She was truly a clever and deviant witch. 

Unmatched in her own right just has Hermione was.

Gods—how did he end up with one clever witch as his mother and the other as his chosen witch?

Was he being divinely punished?

Draco leaned against his desk and brought a hand to scrub at his face as he ground his teeth together. He breathed slow measured breath to try and calm the ire and betrayl he felt tensing his body. 

What was he to do?

What could he even do?

Sure he could go off on Hermione for all her secrets. Fuck, he sensed he could easily hate his witch for all of this. It would be enough to drive anyone to the point of hatred. But when he looked up at the timeline he felt a twinge of understanding. 

Hermione had been broken by the end of the war, barely holding on. He knew that better than anyone since he purposely made his move during their final year, when she was at her most vulnerable. 

And he had been broken. Barely holding on with just the idea of vengeance and desperation keeping him going. 

He chuckled and shook his head, “how did she ever get sorted into Gryffindor?” He questioned. His witch was clever, resourceful and pragmatic. But she was also brave, and stubborn and self reliant. 

Draco waved his hand the papers ordered themselves into a neat stack on his desk, he grabbed the box at the side of his desk and started to place her case back into the box. Packing it up having now solved the case.

As angry as he was, he now had better understanding of what happened, and that was one step in the right direction. He’d take the weekend to think things over, talk with his mother once more before he asked Hermione her side of things. 

He wasn’t the one in the wrong this time, it was an odd feeling to know he was the injured party to someone else’s plot.

He’d make the witch sorry she ever left him, because now that she was back he had no intention of ever letting her go. 

Chapter Text

The early morning light streamed through the enchanted windows of Hermione’s lab, casting a soft golden hue over the meticulously organized chaos that surrounded her. The air was thick with the scent of potions and fresh parchment, mingling with the faint tang of brewed coffee. 

It had been a grueling weekend, one spent hunched over cauldrons and bubbling flasks, her focus solely on the various iterations of Seduxion that she had been mass-brewing. She had a breakthrough and she had been on a manic high of productivity since then.

Her hair was pulled back into a messy knot, a few stray curls framing her face, which bore the unmistakable signs of sleep deprivation. Dark circles under her eyes, a faint flush of adrenaline still present on her cheeks—she looked every bit the part of a witch on the brink of something monumental. 

She was deep in thought, reviewing her clinical trial reports, quill scratching furiously across the parchment as she jotted down notes, oblivious to the world outside her lab.

That is, until she heard the door open. Unmistakable sure even footsteps of posh dragon hide shoes clicked on the floors. 

The moment Draco stepped into her lab, Hermione felt the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. The smile that had started to form on her lips instantly faded. She didn’t dare to look up to know it was him—she could sense his presence, the tension rolling off him in waves. 

But when she did finally have the nerve to glance up, her breath caught in her throat. Draco’s eyes were dark, a storm brewing in those icy silver depths, and his jaw was clenched tight. He was holding folded papers in his hand, crumpled as though it had been gripped too hard, too long.

“Morning sir,” Hermione began, her voice soft, hesitant.

Draco didn’t return the greeting. Instead, he stepped further into the room, the papers in his hand crinkling as he gripped them tighter. “How long were you planning on keeping it from me,” he asked, his voice low, dangerous.

Hermione’s stomach twisted. She set her quill down, folding her hands in front of her to stop them from trembling. “I’m going to need more information of what you’re asking?”

“This,” Draco hissed accusatorially, as he closed the space between them and tossed the folded papers on her work bench. 

She picked one up and unfolded the parchement, her stomach dropping. There, was her unmistakeable handwriting. Her eyes flicked up anxiously to meet his cold light grey eyes. No blue or green to be found. Hermione felt her shoulders drawing up, pulling her elbows into her sides.

“I know you’ve been in contact with my mother the entire time you were away. She actually provided me with these letters. I know she paid for your portkey with a vault that belonged to Bellatrix. I also know she provided an account for you to use. I know that she was the little mastermind behind your disappearing act. You didn’t think to mention any of it?” He was scowling at her, a brows ticked upward in impatience for her response.

Hermione’s mouth went dry. She shook her head as she looked at the letter, her eyes scanning over the words she already knew by heart. “Malfoy, I—”

“How could you keep this from me?” Draco interrupted, his voice rising. “You promised, Granger. We both promised—no more secrets.”

Hermione looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “I wasn’t hiding it to hurt you,” she said quietly. “Mother—she offered help when I needed it the most. I didn’t want to involve you—”

“Involve me?” Draco spat, incredulous. “I’m your—” He stopped himself, breathing heavily, trying to regain control. “Do you have any idea how much it meant to me that we agreed not keep things from each other, especially after everything,” he asked as a he carded a hand through his messy hair as if he had already done it a thousand times that morning alone. “And Friday, I find out from the most unlikely person that that you were getting support from my mother, and you didn’t think I had the right to know?”

Hermione bit her lip, her guilt intensifying as she looked up at him. “Malfoy. . .I—I didn’t want to burden you. I thought it would be best if. . .if—” 

“You thought what?” Draco demanded, his voice cutting through her explanation. “That I wouldn’t be able to handle it? That it was better for me not to know?”

She flinched at his words, the accusation in them slicing through her weak defenses. No, they were excuses. “I thought it was better for you not to know about the circumstances of my—disappearance and those that helped me leave,” she admitted, her voice small. “When I returned it felt like the right decision to continue to keep that information to only the parties that knew.”

Draco scoffed, “well how fortunate for me that my Mother loves talking with Father about her little schemes. That’s who told me by the way,” he added with a sneer. 

Hermione felt her head swim and she wasn’t sure if it was from the lack of food and sleep or the guilt that was making her face feel hot. It didn’t take a mind healer to know he was angry, upset and obviously hurt by her actions. Goddess, for how brilliant she was, she kept hurting him, with all these secrets she kept. 

Draco’s eyes narrowed, the hurt evident in his expression. “You kept it from me, just like you used to keep things from me four years ago. What else, Granger? What else are you keeping from me witch?

Her heart pounded in her chest, and for a moment, she was paralyzed by the weight of the secrets she had yet to reveal. The seal, the bargain, the surgery, the jar his mother was keeping for her, the true extent of her powers—each one a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—reveal them now. 

Not like this.

They were all delicate matters that had to be handled with care and precise timing. Or it would destroy their tentative trust. 

She shook her head slowly, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing else,” she lied, the words tasting like ash on her tongue. “No more secrets.”

Draco stared at her, searching her face for any sign of deception. The silence between them was deafening, heavy with the unspoken truths that lingered just beneath the surface. Finally, he nodded, though his expression remained guarded. “Alright,” he said, his voice strained. “But if I find out there’s more—”

“There isn’t,” Hermione insisted, hating herself for the dishonesty. “I promise.”

Draco looked at her for a long moment, and then, without another word, he turned and left the lab. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and Hermione was left standing there, the guilt and fear clawing at her insides. She sank back into her chair, her hands trembling as she picked up her quill again, though her thoughts were no longer on her work.

She had lied to him. 

Again. 

And the weight of that lie felt like it would crush her.

But she knew—deep down—that some secrets were better left buried, for both their sakes. At least, for now.

Hermione took a deep breath before stepping into the Auror Headquarters. The air inside the DMLE was brisk, charged with the usual hum of activity as Aurors and Ministry officials moved about their work, but today, it felt especially tense. 

It wasn’t just because she was about to face Draco after their earlier confrontation—no, there was something more pervasive, an undercurrent of unease that seemed to permeate the very walls of the department. 

Perhaps it was just her nerves.

She had struggled to focus all morning after Draco had confronted her about her and his mothers deception. She knew that if it was her in his shoes, she would struggle to let it go. It was after-all a betrayal of the vilest sorts. 

To have his lover run away from him, and find out years later that his own mother aided said lover in her departure. . .well—if it was her in his place—she wasn’t entirely sure she would be able to forgive those that perpetrated such a scheme. 

With a file of her meticulously prepared pre-clinical trial reports clutched in her hand, Hermione made her way through the corridors, her heels clicking softly against the stone floors. The familiarity of the place was both comforting and unsettling; it reminded her of the countless times she had walked these halls, often with Draco by her side, discussing stages of the investigation, her research, and plans for the next steps.

She reached Draco’s office and paused for a moment outside the door, steeling herself.

There was no turning back now.

Hermione knocked, her heart in her throat.

“Come in,” his curt voice responded.

Draco was seated behind his desk, his attention fixed on a parchment in front of him, though he was clearly aware of her presence. His shoulders were tense, his expression unreadable—an icy mask that reminded her all too much of the Draco Malfoy she had known during their school days.

The one who had perfected the art of Occlumency to hide his thoughts.

His feelings.

His vulnerabilities.

Hermione felt a flash of anger at it, but it was dosed rather quickly at the realization that she had caused him to to do. To protect himself. . .from her.

Draco didn’t stand as his gentlemanly manners would have dictated, instead opting not even to deign to look up at her as he kept his eyes trained on the papers in front of him. He twirled a golden fountain pen between his fingers of his left hand.

She found the motion odd. He wrote with his right hand—she was sure of it. 

Yet here he was, marking things off with his left before returning the to the action of twirling his pen through his fingers. 

“Here are the pre-clinical trial reports,” Hermione began, her voice steady despite the tension that crackled in the air between them. 

She placed the file on his desk, her eyes searching his face for any sign of warmth, any indication that their earlier conversation hadn’t completely shattered the fragile—thing they had been rebuilding.

But Draco’s expression remained cold, his gaze flicking briefly to the file before returning to what he had been working on. 

“Thank you,” he said, his tone distant. 

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, feeling the distance between them grow with every second. She hated this—hated the wall that had sprung up between them after what felt like weeks of progress. 

What was worse, was the knowledge that she was the one who created it. 

She lowered her eyes to the edge of his desk so she didn’t have to look at him anymore. Her fists clenching at her sides before she folded them together behind her in an attempt to look composed. Contrite. 

“I wanted to let you know,” she lifted her eyes, “that I’ll be starting the clinical trials for Seduxion and its antidote tonight.”

Draco’s gaze snapped up to meet hers, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Who’s going to volunteer for that trail,” he asked, a note of disbelief in his voice.

When she didn’t respond he shook his head as she watched it click in his mind.  He set the pen down on his desk with a firm motion.

“You’re going to dose yourself with Seduxion?”

“Yes,” Hermione replied, holding his gaze. “It’s the most effective way to monitor the effects in real-time, and I’ve chosen Harry to be my lab assistant during the process.”

Draco’s expression darkened at the mention of Harry’s name. His jaw tightened, and Hermione could practically see the wheels turning in his mind. “Potter,” he repeated, his voice laced with disapproval. “You’re going to be under the influence of Seduxion with a wizard in the room?”

Hermione bristled at his tone, but she had expected this reaction. “Harry is one of my oldest friends Malfoy. I trust him completely. And I know you trust him as well. He’s the best person to assist me with this.”

Draco leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t like it,” he said bluntly. “The idea of you being vulnerable like that with another wizard—is unacceptable to me.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Draco held up a hand to stop her. 

“Hear me out,” he said, his voice softening just a fraction. “I understand why you chose Potter, but I’m asking you to reconsider. There’s no reason why Parkinson can’t assist you instead. She’s competent, trustworthy, and there’s no risk of— unnecessary complications or dangers or even misunderstandings.”

Hermione bit her lip, the frustration bubbling up inside her. She knew Draco’s concerns weren’t entirely unfounded—Seduxion was a powerful potion, and it did create an intense, often unpredictable reaction between the one who was dosed and those around them. 

But she also knew that Harry would never take advantage of that. Still, the thought of continuing this argument with Draco, of adding another layer of tension to an already strained relationship, was exhausting.

She sighed, relenting. “Fine,” she said, though the word tasted bitter in her mouth. “I’ll ask Parkinson to assist me instead.”

Draco’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though his expression remained guarded. “Excellent,” he said, his voice still distant but no longer cold. 

He looked back down at the file, signaling the end of the conversation, but Hermione lingered for a moment longer.

“I know you’re upset,” she said quietly, her eyes searching his face for any sign that he was truly hearing her. “But I hope you can understand why I made the decisions I did. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

Draco didn’t look up, but she saw the flicker of emotion in his eyes, a brief crack in his icy exterior. “I know,” he said after a long pause, his voice low. “But it doesn’t make it any easier to accept that you did. And not only you but my Mother as well.”

Hermione nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I’ll let you get back to work,” she said, turning to leave. 

As she walked out of his office in search of the raven haired witch, Hermione felt like she had lost her footing once again with Draco. They had taken a few steps forward only for this to be a a huge set back. . .Goddess, what was she to do?

Telling him the whole truth would probably be a good start, but as she rationalized this morning, those matter were all very delicate and could definitely break everything should she reveal them carelessly.

Hermione moved through the halls of the DMLE with purpose, her earlier encounter with Draco still weighing heavily on her mind.

She found Pansy in one of the less busy hallways, the Slytherin witch leaning against a wall, flipping through a stack of parchments. Ron was talking to her animatedly about something serious if his face was anything to go by. Pansy looked up as Hermione approached, arching an eyebrow in mild surprise.

“Granger,” Pansy greeted, her tone neutral but laced with curiosity. “What brings you here?”

Hermione wasted no time with pleasantries. “I need your help,” she said, her voice firm. “It’s regarding Seduxion and its antidote.”

Pansy’s eyes widened slightly, but she quickly masked her surprise. “I didn’t realize you were that close to replicating Seduxion,” she replied cautiously. “What do you need from me?”

”Wow Mione, you really are brilliant,” Ron interjected. His smile was too big, and there was a lack of the smile in his eyes that had Hermione on edge. 

“I’d like you to assist me during,” Hermione she paused and shifted on her feet. Reluctant to speak about the trails in front of Ron. “I—“ she stopped herself looking at Ron. The less people who knew the manner of the trials the better. “Well I need you come to my lab tonight.”

Pansy’s brow furrowed, her curiosity deepening. The witch looked the Ron and then slowly back to Hermione “Why the secrecy?”

“Because the potion is dangerous,” Hermione admitted, her voice lowering. “Can you please leave?” Hermione directed the question at Ron. Slightly annoyed that he hadn’t yet taken her nonverbal hints for him to leave on his own.

Ron chuckled in that condensing way that grated on her nerves. “What’s the matter? I am on the team.”

”I’ve been ordered keep it quiet and well. . .you’re just loitering around. This conversation has nothing to do with you.”

”But it has something to do with Parkinson,” Ron asked incrediusly. “You’ll trust her over me, one of your longest friends?” He asked offended.

“Well Gryffindors aren’t really known for their ability to keep things hush hush,” Pansy cut in with a feline grin. She looped an arm through Hermione and pulled her into a conference room, locking and silencing the room with a few waves of her wand.

“Now we can speak freely, tell me,” the witch demanded as she took a seat at the table.

Hermione took a breath and took the seat next to her, turning to face the witch. “As you know, Seduxion is a powerful potion, and its effects can be—unpredictable. I’m starting clinical trails tonight, I’ll be dosing myself with Seduxion and I need someone I can trust to monitor the process. Malfoy suggested you.

Pansy smirked at that, a hint of pride flashing in her eyes. “Of course he did,” she murmured, more to herself than to Hermione. Then, louder, she said, “Alright, I’m in. What’s the plan?”

Hermione exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Meet me in my lab this evening,” she instructed. “I’ll explain everything then.”

When Pansy arrived at Hermione’s lab, the atmosphere was already tense, charged with the anticipation of what was to come. Hermione had spent the last hour meticulously preparing the space, ensuring that every vial, every note, every precaution was in place.

The lab was dimly lit, the soft glow of magical lamps casting long shadows across the walls. On one of the counters, a series of vials containing the various Seduxion potions were neatly arranged, each labeled with a number corresponding to the different variations Hermione had brewed over the weekend.

“Evening,” Pansy said as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Hermione turned to greet her, her face a mask of determination. “Thank you for coming,” she said, gesturing for Pansy to join her at the main workstation.

Pansy approached, her eyes scanning the array of vials and the notes Hermione had spread out. “So, how’s this going to work?” she asked, her tone serious.

Hermione took a deep breath and began to explain. “We’ll be spending at least five hours each evening this week going through the different variations of Seduxion and its antidote. The door will be locked and silenced, so the trials can proceed without interruption.”

Pansy nodded, listening intently as Hermione continued. “During the trial, I’ll dose myself with Seduxion, and your role will be to monitor everything that happens—every symptom, everything I say or do. You need to document it all. If the effects of Seduxion haven’t worn off after two hours, you’ll administer the corresponding antidote for that particular variation.”

Pansy’s expression remained stoic, but Hermione could see the wheels turning in her mind as she absorbed the instructions. “And if something goes wrong?” Pansy asked, her voice steady.

“If something goes wrong,” Hermione said, her tone grave, “you’ll need to stun me before you leave the room to get help. Lock the door behind you so the risk of danger is minimized.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow. “Sounds intense,” she remarked, though there was a glint of excitement in her eyes.

“It is,” Hermione replied, her gaze locking with Pansy’s. “This is serious, Parkinson. I’m putting a lot of trust in you.”

Pansy smirked. “Don’t worry, Granger. I’ve got your back.”

Hermione offered a small, tense smile. “Good. Let’s get started.”

As Hermione prepared for the first trial, she noticed Pansy making herself comfortable on the leather couch positioned at the side of the lab. Pansy sat with a notebook open on her lap, quill poised to document every detail of the upcoming experiment. 

She appeared calm and composed, but Hermione could sense the underlying seriousness in her demeanor—this wasn’t just another one of their schemes; it was a high-stakes venture that demanded precision.

Hermione moved to the counter where the array of Seduxion vials was lined up. She selected the first vial, the pale green liquid within it almost mesmerizing as it caught the light. Holding it up, she began to speak, her tone clinical and measured, as if she were giving a lecture.

“This first vial contains Seduxion brewed with a ratio of three and half parts Amortentia to half part Datura, half par of Somina sap extract,” she explained, her eyes on the vial as she rotated it slowly in her hand. “The expected outcome is a moderate sedative effect, with a potential for mild hallucinations and enhanced suggestibility.”

Pansy nodded, her quill scratching against the parchment as she jotted down Hermione’s words. “What about the antidote?” she asked, glancing up briefly.

“The corresponding antidote is a blend of Mandrake essence and Wigan tree bark,” Hermione replied, pointing to a second vial on the counter. “It should neutralize the effects within ten to fifteen minutes, depending on the intensity of the symptoms.”

She paused for a moment, looking over at Pansy. “Before we proceed, record the date and time.”

Pansy dutifully noted the information, her expression focused. “September 6th, 2004. The time is—” she glanced at the clock on the wall, “6:27 PM.”

Hermione nodded in acknowledgment. “Alright. Here we go.”

She held it up, the pale green liquid catching the light as it swirled gently within the glass. Taking a deep breath, she uncorked the vial and downed its contents in one swift motion, the bitter taste spreading across her tongue as she swallowed.

The effect was immediate—a slow, creeping warmth that began at the back of her neck and spread throughout her body. Hermione set the empty vial down, her fingers trembling slightly as she gripped the edge of the counter.

Pansy was already at her side, quill in hand, her eyes sharp as she watched Hermione intently. “How do you feel,” she asked, her voice calm but with an edge of urgency.

Hermione’s breath hitched as the warmth intensified, blossoming into a full-body heat that left her skin tingling. “It’s—stronger than I expected,” she admitted, her voice slightly breathless.

Pansy jotted down notes quickly, her quill scratching against the parchment. “Symptoms?”

“Heat,” Hermione murmured, her mind already beginning to fog. “Tingling. . . everywhere.”

Pansy nodded, continuing to document everything. She glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time. “Let’s see how long this lasts.”

As the minutes ticked by, the effects of Seduxion grew stronger, and Hermione found herself leaning heavily against the counter, her legs feeling like jelly. Her thoughts were muddled, her vision slightly blurred, but she forced herself to stay focused, to stay present.

Pansy remained vigilant, her quill moving swiftly as she recorded every detail. “Anything else?” she asked, her tone clinical.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but her words were lost as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She stumbled, and Pansy was immediately there, steadying her with a firm grip on her arm.

“Easy,” Pansy said, her voice now laced with concern. “Just focus on breathing.”

Hermione nodded weakly, her heart pounding in her chest. The room seemed to spin around her, and she struggled to keep her balance. The warmth had turned into a searing heat, and she felt as if her skin was on fire.

Pansy’s hand tightened on her arm. “Granger, focus. Stay with me.”

But Hermione could barely hear her now, the world around her dissolving into a haze of sensations—heat, dizziness, an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. Her knees buckled, and Pansy caught her, easing her down onto the floor.

As the Seduxion took hold, Hermione’s surroundings began to shift and warp. The cold, sterile environment of her lab seemed to melt away, replaced by the dim, familiar corridors of Hogwarts. The stone walls of the castle rose around her, and she could almost hear the echo of footsteps on the flagstone floors, a distant memory from another time.

Pansy’s voice faded into the background as Hermione’s mind drifted, pulled inexorably into the hallucination. The figure before her emerged from the shadows, tall and imposing, with that unmistakable smirk curling at the corner of his lips. 

Draco Malfoy—yet not the man she knew now, but the boy from their school days, the one who had manipulated her, ensnaring her in that dark and twisted contract.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of fear and something far more primal, more dangerous.

The memories flooded back with vivid intensity—his cold, calculating white gray eyes watching her every move. The heat of his touch as he claimed her in secret, the way his hands had roamed over her body with a mix of possessiveness and desperate need.

In her mind, she was back in that room, the one hidden deep within the castle where they had signed their contract. 

Hermione stumbled back until she could feel the wooden desk against her legs. Draco closed teh distance between them, his body pressed down against hers, pinning her in place. His breath was hot against her ear as he whispered words that sent shivers down her spine.

“Are you done running anway, Kitten,” his voice was a silky drawl, dripping with the same arrogance.

Hermione tried to shake her head, tried to resist the pull of the memory, but the Seduxion had her in its grip, and there was no escaping it. The phantom Draco leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her neck, igniting a trail of fire that spread through her veins.

Her breath hitched, and she could feel the heat building between them, the same unbearable heat that had consumed her during those nights they had spent tangled together, their bodies moving in sync, lost in a haze of passion and desperation. She could almost feel his hands on her skin again, the way they had worshiped her body, every touch leaving her gasping for more.

Tears welled up in her eyes as the hallucination deepened, her body responding to the phantom Draco even as her mind screamed for it to stop. She was caught in the throes of the memory, reliving every moment with painful clarity—the way his lips had claimed hers, the way his hands had roamed her body, leaving no inch untouched, no desire unfulfilled.

“Such a good girl Kitten,” his voice was a whisper in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “You’re mine, and you always will be.”

He bit down on her earlobe and she whimpered at the sensation as he breathed heavily in her ear, “say it. Say your mine.”

Hermione gritted her teeth, as he palmed her breasts, making quick work of the buttons of her blouse and shoving his hands inside greedily. 

“Come on Granger, isn’t this what you wanted? To be mine. You loved it when you were,” he sighed in her ear. His tongue traced the outer edge of her ear and Hermione let out a gasping moan. “Say it. Say what I want to hear Kitten,” his voice was filled with arrogance as his fingers skillfully teased her nipples into almost painful peaks. 

“I’m yours Draco,” she sighed in agreement, her heart fluttering. 

“That’s right Kitten, you’re mine. Forever,” he licked up the side of her neck and hermione felt herself tilting her head back to allow him the access to the length of her neck. 

“Show me how you touch yourself Kitten,” he demanded as he ran his long fingers along the length of her arm, caressing over the word carved into her arm, grasping her wrist in a gentle but firm hold as he slid her hand down between their bodies, between her legs. “Show me.”

Hermione’s hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought against the hallucination, trying to pull herself back to reality. But the potion was strong, and the memories were stronger still, dragging her down into the depths of her past, where the lines between love and hate, pleasure and pain, had always been blurred.

“Draco,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she clung to the remnants of her sanity, trying to remember the man he was now, not the boy he had been. “This isn’t real. It’s not real. . .”

But the phantom Draco only smiled, his hand sliding up to cup her face, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. “It’s as real as it ever was, Granger,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over hers in a mockery of tenderness. “You can’t run from it. You can’t run from me. I’ll never let you go.”

Her breath hitched as the memory enveloped her, the sensation of his body against hers, the heat of his touch, the raw, primal need that had driven them together, over and over, despite everything. 

“Now spread those thighs and show me how you touch yourself,” he demanded as he popped the button her red plaid skirt. “I want to see how you make a mess of this perfect cunt of yours kitten.” Draco’s hand dove under her skirt and cupped her core, he rubbed at her center which had Hermione’s head swimming at the friction.

Hermione whimpered and nodded her head as her legs spread open, “yes.”

“That’s my good girl. My good slut,” his eyes were like liquid silver again and he was running his tongue back and forth on his sharp canine. “Now show me.”

Hermione could him start to push her fingers into the front of her skirt and under her kickers. She could feel the trimmed hairs of her pelvis as she moved her hand further into her knickers.

With a sudden surge of willpower, Hermione forced herself to break free from the hallucination, her mind clawing its way back to the present. The phantom Draco began to fade, his smirk lingering for a moment before dissolving into the shadows of her mind.

The lab came back into focus, the cold, clinical reality grounding her as she gasped for breath, her heart still racing from the intensity of the memory. Pansy was at her side, concern etched on her face as she watched Hermione with a mixture of worry and determination.

“Granger, are you with me?” Pansy’s voice was steady, pulling Hermione further from the depths of the hallucination.

Hermione nodded weakly, her body trembling from the aftershocks of the potion. She pulled her hand out from the front of her trousers her cheeks feeling incredibly hot.

“I’m—I’m here,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Pansy’s quill hovered over the notebook, ready to record the aftermath. “What did you see?” she asked, her tone gentle but firm.

Hermione hesitated, the memory of the hallucination still fresh, the emotions it had stirred still raw. But she knew she couldn’t keep it to herself—not if they were going to get through these trials. “It was him,” she finally admitted, her voice trembling. “The Draco from school—the one who. . .”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, but Pansy didn’t need her to. The understanding in her eyes was clear as she nodded, jotting down the details without pressing Hermione further.

“It’s okay,” Pansy said softly, setting the notebook aside for a moment. “You’re safe. It’s over.”

Hermione took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady herself. “I know,” she whispered, more to herself than to Pansy. “I know.”

“Time for the antidote,” Pansy muttered, reaching for the corresponding vial. “Were about to hit the two hour mark.”

Hermione’s vision swam as Pansy brought the vial to her lips, the cool liquid soothing the inferno raging inside her. Slowly, the heat began to dissipate, the dizziness fading into a dull ache.

Pansy sighed in relief as she watched the effects subside. “That was close,” she muttered, helping Hermione sit up.

Hermione nodded, her breathing finally beginning to steady. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Pansy gave her a small, reassuring smile. “We’ll get through this, Granger. One trial at a time.”

Hermione managed a weak smile in return, feeling a renewed sense of determination. They still had a long week ahead of them, but with Pansy’s help, she knew she could face whatever challenges the trials would bring.

The two witches stayed in the lab for the remaing three hours documenting the whole experience. When Hermione felt like she could stand she did so and button her pants. “I—did. . .what exactly happened?”

“You were murmuring nonsense at first. Whimpering and moaning. Then you started calling for out for Draco. In the most pathetic voice, I’m pretty sure I wrote that down in my observation notes.” Pansy added with a small teasing smirk. “And then you started to touch yourself, first over your trousers and then you undid your pants. Impressively you made it all the way to a hand in your pants before you became lucid.”

“Oh Goddess,” Hermione breathed as embarrassment washed over her. 

She was about to act our her hallucination in real time as well. . .it was now that she was actually thankful that Draco had suggested Pansy as her lab assistant. Having Harry or any other man witness such a scene. . .well it was an unwelcoming thought to be sure. 

“Don’t look so scandalized, it was actually pretty entertaining to watch you like that. The normal calm and collected swotty Hermione Granger writhing on the floor of a lab moaning out for the wizard she wants above all others. . .it was hot.”

“You are not helping,” Hermione groaned as she buried her hands in her face.

Pansy only laughed before composing herself. “So was that the strongest vial of Seduxion?”

Herminoe shook her head, “that was the weakest.”

“Oh fuck all the hells and gods. . .listen I know that you’re a pretty private person but this is a clinical trail—I think it might be best if uh. . .perhaps we get some sex aids and toys for this,” Pansy suggested. 

“What ever for,” Hermione perked up lifting her burning face from her hands. 

“Well if that was the weakest brew, I can only imagine how you are going to be on the more stronger vials. I just think having toys here might help you. Either to take the edge off from the Seduxion or to help bring you to lucidity faster,” Pansy explained. 

It actually made sense. 

“Yeah ok. . .that’s not a bad idea. . .but are you—”

“Granger, I am not some innocent debutante unawares of what is called a sexual appetite. I am not so easily scandalized either when it comes to sex.”

Hermione opened her mouth to ask but then closed it thinking better of it. She did not want to know that much about Pansy and Nevilles married life. Or maybe it was from when before she was married to Neville. . .nonethelss she didn’t want to ask this very moment. Not as she was still coming down from Seduxion.

“I’ll meet you here at 6 tomorrow evening, don’t worry about bringing the sex toys, I know a place to get some,” Pansy offered as she set her journal with her notes from tonight’s session on the work bench. 

“Thank you Parkinson. For. . .well for doing the trails with me,” Hermione started. 

Pansy snorted and waved a hand dismissively. “As if my Brother would have ever let you dose yourself with a wizard in a locked and silenced room.”

“I could have fought him on the matter,” Hermione said defensively. 

“Then you would have had Draco in here to witness your little show,” Pansy gestures to the floor behind them. 

Hermione felt her neck flush with heat before spreading up into her cheeks and ears. 

“And if I were being honest Granger, I doubt my Brother could have left you alone in that state. Now I’m not saying he would have taken advantage of you, but if you had asked him in that whiney voice you use when your horny, he would’ve obliged.”

“Isn’t that the same as taking advantage of me in a vulnerable state?”

“He would have made you ask him several times before acting, the wizard has a thing about consent,” Pansy said dryly and then Herminoe remembered. 

This witch was Draco’s ex. . .in fact this was probably the witch he lost his own virginity to.  Hermione remembered that Draco always made sure that she wanted him to touch her, lick her and be inside of her. He did seem to have an obsession with consent. . .a side affect of constantly having ones autonomy ripped from self or being disregarded. 

Hermione only nodded silently as she opened her own journal and started to write down everything she could remember of the experience while under the potion. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening Granger,” Pansy said as she placed a hand on Hermione’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze before unlocking the lab door and walking out. 

Once she was alone Hermione shut the door again and locked it. . .now alone in the silence of her lab she shivered remembering how vivid it all felt. 

She leaned her back against the wall by the door. 

Curiously she unbuttoned her trousers and shoved her hand into her pants and knickers. She gently grazed her fingers against her soaking core and her breath hitched as the feeling seem to light her up from within. 

Was it wrong to get off to a hallucination?

Was is wrong to get off the a hallucination of her soon to be fiancé?

. . .

She might go to hell for this.

Hermione shoved her pants and knickers down to her knees and circled her fingers around her clit, she threw her head back at the sensation thinking of how his lips felt on her neck. How his breath had felt, how those liquid silver eyes gleamed with desire and delight when she gave into his demands. 

Before she knew it she was panting and moaning as her orgasm came upon her quickly, her muscles clenching as she slouched against the wall by the door, her legs trembling under her as they struggled to keep her upright. 

She felt like she could think more clearly. Hermione cleaned herself up before going back to her journal and documented everything until she no longer felt the lingering heat and tingling in her body. 

That night she opted to sleep on the uncomfortable leather couch as punishment for her impure thoughts of her own boss. 

Of Draco. 

Yes, she was going to hell for this. . .or maybe—maybe if she could bridge the distance between herself and Draco she could experience him in real life instead of in a hallucination. 

Goddess, what a thought.

Could she really get involved with someone she worked with? Someone she was suppose to keep things professional with?

But it was Draco.

The wizard had seen her naked many a times before. He licked parts of her body that she had never even thought she’d want to be licked. He was the one who took her virginity in ever sense of the word. For all that was holy he had his fingers inside of her in some of the most inappropriate places during Hogwarts. And even sometimes during the most inappropriate times as well.

. . . .

Goddess, help her. 

She had been resolute when she came back. The mission before everything else. She was focused and sure of herself. 

Hermione could feel that resolve of hers slipping through her fingers with every moment she spent in his presence. Despite their conflict this morning, she felt herself still being pulled to him. Still wanting to have his eyes on her, see him smiling at her, talking with her. . .Goddess, above. She was pathetically in love with him and had no idea how to go about telling him.

Hermione sighed and turned over onto her side and forced herself to count backwards from a thousand until she fell asleep, thankfully it was just the black void that greeted her in her dreams.

Chapter Text

“Time?”

“6:14 pm, Wednesday, Stepember 8th 2004,” came Pansys normal drawl and Hermione could hear her quill scratching across the surface of the page in their clinal trail notebook. 

“Potion consists of three parts Amortentia, one and half part Datura and half part Somina Extract,” Hermione stated as she grabbed the vial off her work bench and sat down on the cot the two witches had set up yesterday.

It turned out Pansy was a very clinical and logical thinker, she was able to go through the trails as a bystander. Her notes were very thorough and detailed. The witch wrote down everything Hermione said or did, anything that looked out of the ordinary. Some of the things she had read made her face heat uncomfortable from the witches observations.

Hermione pulled cork stopper and downed the entire vial in one gulp. 

It tasted as it always did, sweet, light and unsuspecting.

It truly didn’t take long for the potion to start working. Roughly half a minute later and she was feeling that warm tingling sensation starting in her belly before moving lower until she felt that tingling in her core which made her sigh out. 

She lowered herself to lay on her back on the cot, staring up at the dim lights until finally she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. 

“Enjoy your trip,” was the last thing Pansy said in a teasing sing song tone. 

Hermione’s world spun as the Seduxion took hold, distorting reality into something far more vivid, far more sensual. The dim light of her lab faded away, replaced by the warm glow of candles casting flickering shadows across the walls of a richly adorned room. The scent of cedar, books, parchment and ink something darker, more intoxicating, filled her senses. She was in the Manor’s library. 

She felt him before she saw him—Draco. 

But this time it wasn’t the Draco from her memories, no, this was the Draco from now. Senior Auror Malfoy. 

He appeared before her, his silver eyes piercing through the haze, locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. He was dressed in black, his shirt half-unbuttoned, revealing the sculpted lines of his chest. She could see the silver scars of the sectumsempra curse. The sleeves were expertly rolled up past his elbows, the lines of his serpent tattoo on display on his left forearm. His right wrist was adorned with the ouroboros bracelet that he had made from her Christmas gift. His platinum hair, slightly tousled, framed his face, giving him an almost predatory allure.

“Granger,” he murmured, his voice smooth, low, and dripping with the same dangerous allure she remembered him using on her.

She could smell the mix of his leather sandalwood cologne and eucalyptus shampoo.

He was close—too close—yet she couldn’t bring herself to step back. His presence enveloped her, the warmth of his body seeping into hers as he reached out to touch her, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down her arm.

Her breath hitched as his touch ignited a fire under her skin, the sensation so real, so vivid that it left her trembling. She could feel the roughness of his fingertips, the heat of his body as he pressed closer, his breath warm against her ear.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he whispered, his voice sending a ripple of heat through her. “Running away from what you know you want.”

“No,” she whispered practically panting already from just the feel of his fingers on her skin. 

“No,” he drawled the question in that husky tone of his that had always made her weak in the knees. “Then let me have you again.”

His lips brushed against her earlobe, and Hermione’s resolve crumbled, her body responding to him against her will. 

She couldn’t think, couldn’t reason—all she could do was feel. Every nerve in her body was alive, hyper-aware of his touch, his presence.

Draco’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her flush against him, his body firm and unyielding against hers.His lips found her neck, and she gasped, tilting her head to give him better access as he trailed kisses down the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing her pulse point, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. The sensation was overwhelming, every touch, every caress heightened by the Seduxion coursing through her veins.

She let out a sound, somewhere between a groan of relief and a moan of pleasure.

“Do you remember, Granger,” he murmured against her skin, his voice a silken caress. “Do you remember how you felt beneath me? How you screamed my name? How you felt when I was inside of you, fucking this perfect golden cunt of yours?”

A whimper escaped her lips as the memories crashed over her—memories of their stolen moments, of heated nights spent tangled in sheets, of the way his body had moved against hers, inside hers. She remembered the way he had claimed her, the way he had made her feel alive, powerful, desired.

“Because I remember,” Draco drawled in her ear before tracing the shape of it with the tip of his warm tongue making her shiver. “I remember it all.”

Draco’s hands moved up her body, his touch possessive, claiming.

“I remember how you sounded, you wet you were for me, and how it felt to have your cunt squeezing my cock,” his voice was a low timbering grumbling.

His mouth captured hers in a searing kiss, and she was lost—completely, utterly lost. 

The kiss was everything she remembered—demanding, consuming, a battle for dominance that she didn’t want to really win.

His hands roamed her body, sliding beneath her clothing, caressing her skin with a familiarity that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through her. She arched into him, her body desperate for more, for everything he could give her.

“You’re mine, Granger,” he growled against her lips, his hands sliding up her thighs, lifting her so that her legs wrapped around his waist. He pressed her back against the a shelf of books, his hips grinding against hers, eliciting a moan from deep within her.

She knew it wasn’t real—but Goddess, if felt so real. 

Draco’s hands moved with purpose, hiking up her dress with an efficiency that left her breathless, his lips never leaving hers as he undressed her. The cool air kissed her heated skin, heightening her awareness of every touch, every caress. His fingers easily found themselves in her knickers, petting her softly and slowly. 

The feel of those fingers against her core had her mewling and her eyes rolling into her head.

It felt so good to be touch.

To be wanted.

It all felt—overwhelmingly real. 

She was bare before him, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t been in years. All that mattered was the way he looked at her, the hunger in his eyes as he took her in, his hands sliding over her body as if committing every inch of her to memory.

“Say my name,” he demanded, his voice rough with desire, as he lifted her higher, positioning himself at her entrance. “Say it, Hermione.”

“Draco,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need, her body trembling with anticipation.

He dropped her roughly onto his cock while he trusted into her with one powerful thrust, and the world shattered around them. Hermione cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as he filled her, stretched her.

Claimed her in a way that felt too real.

Too intense to be a hallucination.

”Oh gods witch. You feel perfect,” he groaned into her lips before kissing her roughly. 

They moved together, their bodies colliding in a frantic rhythm, their moans and gasps filling the air, mingling with the sound of flesh meeting flesh. The pleasure was overwhelming, building with every thrust, every kiss, every whispered word of possession.

“Do you hear how wet you are,” he asked and moved his hips lewdly that had her cunt making the most obscene squelching noise she had ever heard. “Soaked and it’s all for me. Mine.”

Hermione’s mind swam, her body trembling as she clung to him, her world reduced to the sensation of him inside her, the way he filled her so perfectly, so completely.

She was lost in the pleasure.

Drowning in it.

Unable to think.

Uunable to do anything but feel.

“Mine,” he growled, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her shoulder as he drove into her harder, faster, pushing her closer to the edge. “You’re mine, Hermione.”

“Yours,” she panted as she held onto him. 

“That’s right Kitten. Mine. Mine. Mine,” He punctuated each word with a thrust and Hermione keened as she began to peak. 

“Cum for me love. Cum all over my cock. I need it. I need it so bad. I need to feel you,” Draco babbled against her shoulder, driving into her harder now, faster. His cock hitting just right that had her struggling to breath through the pleasure he was igniting inside of her. 

She shattered around him, a cry of pure ecstasy tearing from her lips as her body convulsed in pleasure, her walls tightening around him, pulling him deeper into her. Draco followed her over the edge, his release hot and powerful as he spilled into her, his body shuddering against hers.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing, their bodies still entwined, still connected in the most intimate way. Hermione’s mind drifted, the pleasure slowly ebbing away, leaving her in a daze, her body limp and spent.

But as the hallucination began to fade, a sense of dread settled over her, the reality of her situation creeping back in. 

This wasn’t real. 

Draco wasn’t really here. 

She was alone, dosed up on Seduxion to play out the fantasies in her mind with stunning relaism.

And as the vision of Draco faded completely, leaving her alone in the darkness, Hermione felt the weight of despair settle over her, the knowledge that this was only a hallucination.

Hermione blinked her eyes open and stared up at the ceiling, slowly coming back into her body and mind. 

“Ti-time,” she asked as she swallowed, her throat was dry, her body slick with sweat. 

“8:08 pm,” came Pansy’s voice and Hermione turned her head to look at the witch who was furiously scrawling down notes and observations into the journal. The beautiful raven hair witch didn’t bother to look up as she asked, “was it Draco again?”

Hermoine huffed a humorless chuckle as she went back to staring at the ceiling. She pulled the toy from between her legs and gasped as her body seemed to protest losing that fullness of something inside of her. “Do you really need to ask that?”

“Of course,” Pansy said indignantly. “For science and medicine!”

Hermione laughed then,a genuine laugh. Pansy was funny and very witty. She was always quick with a clever response, usually one that had Hermione laughing. 

“Yes,” she conceded finally with a sigh that sounded disappointed to her own ears. “It was Draco.”

“Mhm,” came Pansy’s hum of approval. “From final year or. . .” The witch trailed off now looking up at Hermione.

She only shook her head. But then said, “No, it was him. From now. Present.”

“I think you should talk to him.”

Hermione started to sit up then, the world spun and she grabbed her head to steady herself. Pansy was there in an instant with a vial of the antidote. Hermione paused and then looked up into the witches dark eyes, “I came to lucidity before being given the antidote?”

“Yes, yes,” the witch said waving a dismissive hand. “You’re brilliant at giving yourself orgasms Granger,” Pansy snarked. 

Hermione smiled and coughed to compose herself, “no I just. . .that means that this particular dose isn’t the correct ratio either. Victims have said that when they come out of it they feel hungover, as if they had too much to drink. I just feel—”

“Like you gave yourself one of the best orgasms to date?” Pansy supplied.

Hermione gave the witch a dry unamused look before downing the vial of the antidote, immediately she felt that lingering tingling and dizziness fade. 

Hermione sighed in defeat as she ran a hand over her face. She was tired, extremely so and they still had two more trials to get through. 

“You need a break Granger,” the witch said as she gathered her things. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and then you’re coming to dinner with me.”

“No Pansy, I have work that—”

“That can wait Granger. You’re exhausted, tired and burned out. We’ve been at this for three days, you look like you’ve barely slept and ate. So get dressed, we’ll go to your cottage to get you freshened up and then I’m treating you to a very hearty meal before bedtime,” the witch said placing her hands on her hip.

She was definitely channeling her inner Narcissa and Hermione struggled to put up much of a fight after that. 

The restaurant was dimly lit, the soft hum of chatter around them blending with the delicate clink of glasses. A subtle perfume of roasted garlic and herbs filled the air as Hermione sat across from Pansy. The two witches hadn’t spoken for several minutes, focusing on their meals, but the unspoken tension hummed between them like an electric current.

Pansy had invited Hermione to one of the more upscale bistros in Diagon Alley, a place known for its exclusivity and privacy. As the candlelight flickered between them, Hermione finally took a deep breath and placed her fork down. She could feel the weight of her unfinished business with Pansy pulling at her. This conversation was inevitable, but now that it had arrived, she was uncharacteristically nervous.

“Pansy,” Hermione began softly, meeting her gaze. “I owe you an apology… for everything.”

Pansy’s expression didn’t change as she arched a perfectly manicured brow, waiting.

“I’ve been on an apology tour, as Theo put it. But you. . .I’ve been avoiding this part. The part where I left and never said anything to you. I just—disappeared. And then, when I made the choice to come back, I still didn’t reach out to you. I’m sorry.” Hermione’s voice quivered slightly. “I should’ve written, I should’ve explained. You didn’t deserve to be left behind without an explanation.”

Pansy took a slow sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving Hermione’s face, but her silence cut through Hermione like a blade. When she finally set the glass down, she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she eyed Hermione with a calculating look.

“You’re right,” Pansy said, her voice sharp but calm. “You should’ve written. You should’ve explained. But you didn’t.”

Hermione swallowed, feeling her stomach twist.

Pansy’s lips curled into a half-smile, but there was no warmth in it. “You left us all, Hermione. Not just Draco, but us—your friends, the people who would’ve stood by you if you’d given them the chance. We became your family, Blaise, Theo and I. And instead of leaning on us for help and support, you ran. Now you’re back, expecting what? Forgiveness just because you decided you’re ready now?”

Hermione lowered her eyes to the table. “I know I can’t undo what happened,” she whispered. “I know I hurt you, Pansy. I didn’t mean to, but I did. And I don’t expect anything from you. I just—I need you to know that I’m truly sorry.”

Pansy’s expression softened only slightly, but she still didn’t offer Hermione any easy relief. She shifted forward, resting her elbows on the table, her gaze narrowing.

“Do you even know what it was like for us?” she asked, her voice dropping lower. “We were all worried about you—Draco, Mother, Theo, Harry, Ginny, Blaise. I watched over Draco, made sure he didn’t go mad or drink himself into oblivion. Theo was beside himself with guilt, I had to make sure he and Draco didn’t drink themselves stupid on the nights when they were going over your missing persons case. Blaise was hurt, he felt like he had failed you by not seeing your struggle. And me, well I was angry as fuck Granger,” the witch said with a hard voice that had Hermione flinching. “You left us all, leaving only a letter for Draco that ripped his heart out every time he read it. And you just. . .” She waved her hand dismissively. “Went on about your life, like none of us mattered.”

Hermione winced at the mention of Draco, the guilt cutting deeper. “I know,” she whispered. “I was selfish. I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, but looking back, I see it wasn’t fair to any of you. Especially not to you.”

Pansy stared at her, silent again, the tension building like a storm. Hermione knew that Pansy wasn’t like Harry or Ginny, who had forgiven her so easily. This was different. Pansy wouldn’t let her off the hook without making her work for it.

“You know,” Pansy finally said, her voice cold, “people like me don’t just hand out forgiveness. You don’t get to run away and then come back expecting everything to go back to normal.”

“I don’t,” Hermione said quickly. “I don’t expect that. I just. . .I wanted to make things right. Somehow.”

Pansy raised her eyebrows, then leaned back in her chair again. “And what makes you think you can make it right? You can’t undo what you’ve done, Granger.”

Hermione nodded slowly, the sting of Pansy’s words sinking in. “I don’t expect to. But I can be better now. I want to be better now. I want to be there for you—if you’ll let me.”

The silence between them stretched out again, heavy and uncomfortable. Hermione felt the pressure building, unsure if Pansy would ever let her back in.

Finally, Pansy let out a soft sigh. “I’m not Ginny, or Theo or Neville. Draco, Blaise and I don’t just hand out second chances. You hurt me. You hurt my family. And I don’t know if I’ll ever fully forgive you for that. But…” She paused, her gaze softening just slightly. “I suppose I can give you a chance to earn it.”

Hermione exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I’ll take that. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

Pansy smirked faintly. “Such a desperate little thing aren’t you? This isn’t going to be easy, Granger. You’ll need to prove yourself.”

“I will,” Hermione promised, her voice resolute. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Pansy nodded slowly, her eyes flickering with something like amusement. “Good. Now, finish your meal before it gets cold.”

As the last few bites of their meal disappeared and the tension between them began to settle, Pansy dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin and stood from the table. Hermione followed suit, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering guilt in her chest.

Outside the restaurant, the cool night air greeted them, crisp and refreshing after the warmth of the bistro. The streets of Diagon Alley glowed softly, illuminated by flickering lanterns and the occasional store window still lit.

Pansy turned to face Hermione, her arms crossed casually, though her expression was much less harsh than before. “Don’t make me regret this, Granger,” she said, her voice low but laced with a hint of warmth beneath the sharpness.

Hermione gave a small nod, meeting Pansy’s eyes. “I won’t. I’ll prove myself to you.”

Pansy stared at her for a moment longer, then with a resigned sigh, she extended her hand. “Well, I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?”

Hermione smiled softly as she reached out and took Pansy’s hand, giving it a firm shake. It was a small gesture, but it was a start.

“Take care, Granger,” Pansy added, before pulling her hand back and slipping her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see your tomorrow.” Without another word, she turned and started walking down the street. “OH! And get some sleep witch,” Pansy called over her shoulder before her figure soon blended into the evening shadows and crowd. 

Hermione watched her go, her emotions a tangle of relief and lingering tension. 

She wasn’t entirely sure where their relationship stood, if they had a friendship at all, but she felt lighter—like a small weight had been lifted. 

Turning in the opposite direction, she started her own walk down Diagon Alley, her mind still racing with the events of the evening.

As she wandered, the streets gradually emptied. The once-bustling alley had grown quieter, with only a few scattered witches and wizards heading home. The sound of her boots on the cobblestones echoed in the silence as midnight loomed closer.

Shops began to dim their lights one by one, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. The coolness of the night seemed to seep into her bones as she wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her coat tighter. Despite the late hour, Hermione found herself in no rush to return to her cottage. 

The solitude of the quiet streets gave her time to think—about Pansy, about Draco, and about everything that still lay ahead.

As Hermione wandered through the dimly lit streets, her mind still weighed down by the dinner with Pansy, something started to click in the back of her mind. It was subtle at first, like a whisper barely heard over the quiet of Diagon Alley. 

Then, suddenly, it was as if the pieces of a puzzle she’d been struggling with for weeks snapped into place all at once.

Her steps faltered, and she stopped in the middle of the alley, her breath catching in her throat. Seduxion.

The missing link—something she hadn’t accounted for in her previous trials—was suddenly glaringly obvious. Somina.

It was a very powerful hallucinogenic and sedative. She clearly wasn’t putting enough extract into the potion for it to remain in effect for more than two hours.

Her heart began to race, the answer forming clearly in her mind. The ingredient ratio needed a slight adjustment. The timing for administering the antidote had been off. 

They’d been waiting for her body to burn through the potion itself before administrating, what would happen if it was given immediately after being dosed? If there was a way for a witch or wizard to immediately help themselves before their attacker were able to take advantage of them. Could Seduxion be turned I to a gas to effect the masses in a terrorist attack?

“Of course,” she whispered to herself. Her pulse quickened with the need to act.

Without a second thought, Hermione closed her eyes and turned on the spot, Apparating directly to St. Mungo’s. The sensation of being pulled through space was over in an instant, and she landed smoothly in the corridor just outside her lab.

The stillness of the hospital at the late hour was almost eerie, but Hermione barely registered it. She rushed through the double doors, her mind already racing ahead to her notes and ingredients.

Once inside her lab, she quickly set to work, her hands moving with a frantic precision. Vials, beakers, and parchment scattered across the table as she began tweaking her formula, the surge of adrenaline driving her.

Brilliance had struck, and Hermione was on the cusp of a breakthrough.

Chapter Text

Draco was sitting in his study, the room dimly lit by the flickering fire in the hearth. The air was heavy with the scent of aged leather, parchment and fine whiskey, a glass of which he held in his hand. 

Papers were scattered across his desk—documents from work, correspondence regarding matter of the estate, his own observation notes on Hermione. But despite the disarray, his mind was far from the tasks at hand.

He had been brooding over the tension that had settled between him and Hermione since their confrontation earlier in the week. The questions that lingered, the secrets still left unspoken, gnawed at him like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch. 

The weight of it all pressed down on him, making it hard to focus on anything else.

He saw the hesitation in her eyes when she had promised that she had no more secrets. . .that meant she had secrets she was unwilling to share with him. 

His witch was always a terrible liar.

What was so awful that she felt the need to hide it?

Of course the seal on her right hand was one. He’d yet to see her glowing like he had during the dueling tournament. He wondered if the seal and the glowing and golden rings around her brown eyes were all connected. Perhaps there was some reference materials in the Manor’s library on magical seals. . .though he was entirely unsure where to start on the endeavor. 

Was that her only secret? 

Or were there more?

The study, usually his refuge, felt suffocating tonight. Draco loosed a long sigh and ran a hand through his hair as he leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. 

It was going to drive him mad, trying to figure out what secrets his witch was keeping and why. 

He had hoped the whiskey would help, that the warmth of the alcohol would dull the sharp edges of his thoughts, but it only served to amplify the turmoil within him. His mind kept drifting back to Hermione, to the look in her eyes when she had handed him those reports—cautious, guarded, and yet, something else.

His fingers traced the rim of his glass absentmindedly as he stared into the fire, the flames dancing in his eyes. He wondered what she was doing now, whether she was still locked away in her lab, pouring over her potions, or if she had finally allowed herself some rest.

Pansy had been tight lipped about what exactly the two witches were up to in that lab. Only stating that Hermione was getting closer and closer to replicating the exact dosage of ingredients in Seduxion. 

He hadn’t actually seen his witch at all since their. . .confrontation on Monday. 

“Fuck me,” he sighed as he took a healthy gulp of the fire whiskey enjoying the burn. 

The thought of her alone, so close and yet so far from him, only deepened the ache in his chest.

Just as he was about to take another sip of his drink, the door to his study burst open, and Pansy stormed in, her face pale and eyes wide with panic. The urgency in her expression snapped him out of his reverie.

“Sister? What the hell—”

“Hermione took the strongest dose of Seduxion, the antidote she brewed for it isn’t working.”

Draco felt a cold knot of dread form in his stomach as Pansy’s frantic words registered. Seeing her usual composed demeanor shattered, panic etched across her features, had Draco setting his tumbler on his desk and standing.

“What do you mean the antidote isn’t working,” he demanded, his voice low but laced with urgency. 

His mind was already racing, his pulse quickening at the thought of Hermione lying helpless, trapped in her own mind by a potion gone wrong.

Pansy’s hands trembled as she raked them through her hair, her usual calm facade cracking under the weight of the situation.

“You know she was doing trails on Seduxion this week?” He nodded, of course he did. He was the one who approved it. “Well, she brewed several variations of it and corresponding antidotes. But the antidote for this variation isn’t working. She’s been under for almost four hours now, and—and it’s like she’s locked in. She’s completely unresponsive to me, or anything really. I even tried Legilmency on her and was blocked out. She’s damn near catatonic Brother!”

His heart pounded as the implications of her words sank in.

Seduxion was a powerful potion, designed to induce the most vivid, erotic hallucinations imaginable. The thought of Hermione, caught in the grip of such a vision with no way out, made his blood run cold.

“Where is she?” he asked, already moving towards the door.

Pansy followed close behind him, her voice shaking as she tried to explain. “She’s in the lab. She looked so peaceful at first, but it’s not right, Draco. I’ve seen the way her body reacts when she’s under, but this—it’s different. I tried everything I could think of, but she’s not responding. I don’t. . .I don’t know how to bring her out, and I’m not comfortable doing what might need to be done.”

Draco stopped in his tracks, his mind whirling. “What exactly do you mean? What needs to be done?”

She hesitated, her face pale as she struggled to find the words. “Seduxion… it’s designed to amplify the deepest, most primal desires. It’s all about the physical, the carnal.”

“Yes Pans I know that. Now tell me what needs to be,” Draco said as he made his way around his desk, he ripped his cuff links out of his black dress shirt and started to roll up his sleeves. 

“To break through that kind of hallucination. . .it might require a physical stimulation, something intense enough to jolt her out of it. I don’t—I can’t do that to her, Brother. Not when I know it’s you she’s seeing.”

“Granger sees. . .me?” Draco’s heart hammered in his chest. He understood what she was saying, the implications clear. 

“Every time,” Pansy nodded her head. 

The only way to reach Hermione now, to pull her back from the brink, might be to bring her body to sexual gratification until she was lucid. But that meant. . .Merlin, it meant crossing a line he wasn’t sure he was prepared to cross.

But this was Hermione. 

His Hermione.

His witch.

His Kitten.

His.

Fuck it! He’d face his witches wrath when the time came for it.

His witch saw him anyway in the hallucinations so that meant something—right?

“Take me to her,” he ordered, his voice rough, determined. 

Draco had decided then, he wouldn’t let her suffer, wouldn’t let her remain trapped in a nightmare of her own making. Whatever it took, whatever lines he had to cross, he would do it.

Together they apparated to St Mungo’s, both running down the halls much the chagrin of some of the nurses. Draco’s shoes slid across the floor as they came to a stop in front of Hermione’s lab door. 

He grabbed the knob and tried to get in, Pansy shoved him aside roughly and cast a series of intense unlocking spells. He made a mental note to thank his sister later for taking such serious precautions with making sure no one could get into the lab while Hermione was in such a state. 

Once the door was open he followed her in and took in the scene before him. 

The lights were dimmed low, on the work bench was a what look like to be phallic shaped objects of varying colors and sizes and. . .small plastic things that had buttons on them. . .curious.

The air was thick with the scent of potions and herbs, but Draco’s attention was solely focused on the cot in the corner where Hermione lay. The scent of her arousal was pungent. He had smelled it before when they were younger but this was different.

Intense and heady.

“What exactly have you two been doing in here all week?”

“Fucking each other with sex toys obviously,” Pansy snarked back, her sarcasm more biting than usual thanks to her panicked state. “We’ve been doing her clinical trails idiot.”

Draco heard the soft sounds of panting and he turned to find his witch laying on a cot. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail some of her curls sticking to her sweaty face and she was wearing a light green hospital gown.

Hermione’s face was flushed, she had flipped over on her stomach and was grinding herself against the cot, as if her body was trying to find some sort of relief. He could see her she had a hand between her legs, desperate for anything. Her eyes were closed, she was panting and sweating. He could see the tension in her body, the way her muscles twitched involuntarily, as if reacting to something only she could see.

Draco felt a surge of protectiveness as he approached her, kneeling beside the cot. “Hermione,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

There was no response, her eyelids flickering slightly but remaining closed.

He turned to Pansy, who stood anxiously by the door, wringing her hands. “You’re sure the antidote didn’t work?”

She nodded, her expression grim. “I gave it to her at the two hour mark as instructed which was at 8:07. It normally only takes about five minutes or so for her to become lucid.”

“Is there another dose you can give her,” he asked. 

“Do you honestly think I would have come got you if there was?”

Draco clenched his jaw, his mind made up. “Leave us.”

Pansy hesitated, her eyes flicking from Draco to Hermione. “Are you sure? Brother, if this doesn’t work—”

“I said, leave us,” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

He needed to do this, and he needed to do it alone.

Pansy bit her lip but nodded, backing out of the room and closing the door behind her. Draco listened to the sound of the lock clicking into place, the silence that followed heavy and suffocating.

Taking a deep breath, Draco sat on the edge of the cot, his eyes fixed on Hermione’s face. He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently, hoping for some kind of reaction, but there was none. She was lost, trapped in a world of her own making.

“Draco please,” she whimpered out in a half moan and he immediately closed his eyes trying to think of what to do. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “Hermione, it’s me. I’m here. I need you to come back to me, love. Come back.”

There was a slight twitch, a tremor in her hand, and Draco’s heart leaped with hope. He squeezed her hand again, more firmly this time, as if trying to anchor her to reality. “Come on, come back to me.”

But the tremors only intensified, her body reacting to something unseen, something he couldn’t fight from out here

“Please. . .faster,” she moaned out as she buried her head into the cot releasing a moan and her grinding increased. “Fuck me harder. . .please Draco, please, please, please!”

With a deep breath, Draco leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her temple. “I’m going to take care of you, Hermione,” he whispered, the words a promise, a vow. “Just hold on.”

He knew what he had to do, but the thought of it made his stomach churn. When he said he was going to make his witch regret leaving him he certainly hadn’t thought of something like this happening.

“Fuck,” Draco muttered under his breath, every fiber of his being screaming at him to make this right. 

He started to occlude, to remove himself from the situation so that he could focus on the task at hand without feeling like he was a complete monster for touching his witch so intimately while she was in such a state. 

He released her hand raising from the cot he made his way to the work bench taking a survey at the items available. 

“Fucking hells. . .” He breathed as he took a quick read through of the notes that were available. If she orgasmed she would come out of it. . .but if this was the strongest dosage of Seduxion, probably close to what the syndicate was brewing and selling then just one probably wouldn’t be enough. He’d have to. . .

“Fuck!”

He’d have to give her an orgasm over and over again until she finally became lucid.

Or. . .? The thought struck him like lightening, he could try to over stimulate her body and force it into a climax that she probably had never experienced before. 

He steeled himself, forcing his thoughts to remain clinical, detached, even as his body responded to the sight of her in such a state. He had to help her, and this was the only way.

He carefully selected the first toy, a sleek wand designed to vibrate with precision. He grabbed another vibrator and rolled his shoulders back a few times. With a deep breath, he knelt beside her, his hands hovering over her body as he tried to find the right words to say.

“Love,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. I’m going to help you.”

But she didn’t respond, her head thrashing on the pillow, lost in the fevered dream. There was no time to waste. He set the toys down on the cot and carefully maneuvered her onto her back. He could feel where parts of her hospital gown was damp from sweat, her skin felt heated when he grabbed her thighs. Draco adjusted himself so he was sitting between her legs, her legs over his and spread for him. 

Gods fucking help him!

The witch wasn’t wearing any knickers. He could see she was glistentingly soaked in the low lighting. All the blood rushed form his head straight to his cock and Draco gritted his teeth to try to remain focused.

Taking a few breaths to steel himself Draco occluded more and more, removing his personal feelings from the task at hand. His medical professional had dosed herself with Seduxion and he was going to help her come out of it. 

One way or another.

He gently positioned the wand at the apex of her thighs, pressing it against her most sensitive spot. The moment the vibrations hit her, her entire body jolted, a sharp cry escaping her lips.

Draco’s heart twisted at the sound, but he didn’t stop. 

He could feel something inside of him awakening again. Knowledge that he didn’t know if he would ever need again after she left, but he found himself moving the vibrating wand over her clit in the same way he knew she used to like when it was his fingers or tongue.

He increased the intensity, working the toy on her clit with expert precision, his eyes never leaving her face. 

Her cries grew louder, more desperate, her body arching off the cot as the waves of pleasure tore through her. 

He felt himself smirk, his witch hadn’t changed. She still liked tight hard circles on her clit, he changed from circling clockwise on her clit to counter clock wise and just like she used to, her back bowed off the cot as she threw her head back in ecastacy. 

“Draco,” she breathed out as her brows furrowed together. “Draco please!”

He then instered the slimmer wand into her soaking heat and pressed the button the thing vibrating in his hand. Immediately Hermione started panting harder, her moans breathless as she begged and pleaded with him. 

“Please! Oh. . .Goddess Draco please! More!”

His favorite word. 

“I’ll give you more Kitten. You know I can’t deny you anything,” his voice was huskier and his own breathing had picked up. Watching his witch now writhe because of what he was doing to her was getting to him. 

He felt his pants become uncomfortably tight. 

He shifted the way he was sitting in an attempt to get any relief but only managed to rub himself against the zipper of his trousers which had him huffing out small puffs of air to try and calm himself down.

Draco angled the wand inside of her up and he knew he found that spot inside of her when her mouth dropped open in a perfect ‘O’ shape, her panting moans heaving her chest.

“I remember what you like love,” he said as he twirled the wand expertly with his wrist causing Hermione to writhe against it, grinding against it. She was as greedy as he remember her being, always needy and so incredibly responsive to everything. 

He could see the tension in her muscles, the way her hands clenched the sheets, the way her legs trembled uncontrollably.

“Come back love,” Draco growled, his voice low and commanding. “Cum for me,” he said over the sound of her moans and vibrating toys. “You’re there—just let go. Come on Kitten. Let go for me, let me see you.”

Hermione’s breathing hitched, her body quaking as she neared the brink. Draco pushed the wand on her clit harder, faster, his own control slipping as he watched her unravel. Her moans grew louder, more frantic, until finally, she shattered.

Her release was violent, her body spasming as she squirted liquid down his hand and wrist, soaking the sheets of the cot below her with her orgasm.

The force of it taking even Draco by surprise.

She screamed his name, her voice raw with intensity, as the climax ripped through her. Her back bowing off the cot, head thrown back while she twitched and writhed in what he would assume to be relief and release.

Draco’s heart ached with the need to touch her, to hold her, but he forced himself to stay focused. There was still more to do.

He kept the toys in place, prolonging her pleasure, guiding her through wave after wave until she was completely spent. Only then did he allow himself to pull away, his hands shaking as he set the wands aside.

Draco’s own arousal was painfully evident, his body screaming at him to find release, but he refused to give in. 

No matter how painful his cock felt, or how his balls felt heavy like stones with need. He couldn’t—wouldn’t find release here. Not with his witch still out of her mind on Seduxion.

Not while she was still vulnerable, still coming down from the effects of the potion. He leaned over her, brushing the damp hair from her face, his voice a low, soothing murmur. “Such a good girl Kitten,” he praised 

Hermione moaned weakly and her eyes started to blink open, though completely unseeing. Beautiful brown eyes lined with gold.

Draco sighed with relief as Hermione groaned, her head turning side to side slowly as if she were trying to wake. Draco scrambled out from between his witches legs and threw the toys onto the work bench behind him.

He felt the urge to do something stupid. 

While Draco had restraint, the smell of his witches cunt, how she just looked cumming from what he did to her, the heat of her skin. . .it was all too much. He had only ever found release by his hand. . .he hadn’t touched another witch since she had left. He could feel his control and restraint wavering.

He wanted to do nothing more than sink into her wet hot cunt.

Bury his face between her legs and suck, lick, kiss, bite until his witch was writhing and grinding her wet cunt all over his face.

The urge to shove his fingers inside of her to feel her clench around him. He wanted to use his ring on her, working it into her slowly while she moaned prettily for him. Lose it inside of her golden cunt.

He wanted to fuck himself stupid into her. Fuck her until neither of them could remember their names or what day it was. 

Draco took several steps back his breathing uneven and ragged with want, with need, with—carnal lust. His cock twitched painfully in his pants and he gritted his teeth before going to the door and ripping it open. 

“It’s over, she’s awake,” was all he said to Pansy as she rushed in closing the door behind her. 

But even as he said the words, he knew the truth. 

This was far from over. 

The darkness that had been awakened within him, the need to protect her, to possess her, to have her.

It burned inside of hime lik a raging inferno.  

Draco breathed hard through his nose trying to focus his rambling thoughts. 

Only Hermione Granger could make him like this, breaking through his sturdy Occlumency walls with just the thought of her.

He dissaparated from the hall and back to his study. Draco practically ran to his bathroom, ripping his clothes off as he went, he waved his wand at the shower and stepped under the freezing cold spray. 

He gasped and shuddered against the feeling of the frigid water on his overly heated skin. But he could still smell her. Her vanilla shampoo, the amber and floral perfume she wore. Most of all, how her arousal and cunt smelled and filled the room with its scent. His erection throbbed and twitched between his legs painfully and he groaned. 

He didn’t want to touch himself to this, it was dirty. It was wrong. . .it was immoral—fuck. Fuck it.

Draco didn’t care anymore as the memories of his witch moaning out for him, begging for him and cumming for him arose in his mind. His hand gripped his hard length and he started pumping himself quickly. 

“Kitten,” he breathed heavily as he worked himself. “Gods Hermione.”

He twisted his wrist around the head of his cock and his head fell back as his eyes closed seeing her more clearly now. His other hand shot out to brace on the opposite wall as he worked himself.

It didn’t take him long, unsurprisingly. It never took him long when his witch was all the material he needed every time. His younger self was selfish and awful, but oh was he wickedly clever to take crystal clear images of Hermione when they were together. If only Draco could send a thank you note to his younger self for the wank material. 

When he came, it was intense, borderline painful, making him groan and shake with the force of his own release. 

He stood there under cold water panting heavily, dick in hand. . .he expected to feel sick with himself but all he wanted to do was do it again. 

He wanted to actually touch her, feel her hot went cunt cumming around his fingers and around his cock, taste her with his tongue buried as far as he could get it. . .the thought alone made a whimper escape him as he started to pump his still hard length again.

His witches breathy moans played again his ears and Draco wrapped his other hand around his dick and started fucking his own hands. He tightened his grip and groaned as pleasure licked down his spine. He pulled memories of what it had felt like to be inside of her years ago. 

His witch’s perfect wet responsive cunt all for him. His hips bucked forward at the memories and Draco started to pant heavily now as he fucked his hands picturing his witch under him.

He could see the way her perfect breasts would bounce with the force of his thrusts, how she would look up with half lidded eyes drunk on pleasure that he was giving her. The way her arse would bounce when he was fucking her from behind. The way she bared her neck to him when she threw her head back as she rode him to completion. 

“Hermione, Hermione, Hermione,” he chanted breathlessly as he felt his balls tighten more and more until he was there on the precipice of the edge. Only a few more pumps and he’d be there. 

His legs shook and Draco leaned his back against the cool tiles while he brought himself to release again. His body tensed and he threw his head back onto the tile, not caring that it hurt because the desire to touch, to taste and feel his witch was more overwhelming than anything else. 

When he finally floated down to his body and he felt his cock start to soften in his hands did the shame arise. 

Oh gods, what had he just done? He’d—fuck he had just. . .was he awful for it?

He had to be, otherwise he wouldn’t feel like he had crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.

Logically speaking, he’d only brought himself to satisfaction after getting his very drugged unconscious witch to release with sex aides AND he was in the privacy of his own home. . . .but gods!

Had that been the most erotic thing they had done to date. 

Even masturbating on the train in front of her before licking his own cum off his hand paled in comparison what he had just done to her. The way her body had responded. . .he had never made her cum like that before. 

He let out a soft puff of a chuckle realizing he wanted to do it again.

And again. 

Fuck! He just wanted his witch.

Draco stayed under the cold water until his body started to shiver and his cock and balls all but shriveled up into his body before he finally stepped out of the shower. 

It was decided then. 

No more of the coyness, he’d be more direct in his approach to his witch. Her birthday was coming up soon. . .and he knew the perfect gift.

Chapter Text

Hermione’s flat was quiet for a Satruday morning. Something she enjoyed as she sipped her coffee and thumbed through a herbolgy book going over the ingredients of Amortentia. With the trails concluded she started some other research on how to neutralize the effects of Seduxion faster. The antidote she had created took roughly ten minutes to take affect, too long. If there was a way to somehow make it faster. 

Could there be a way for a witch or wizard to detect if someone had slipped something into their drink? A detection spell specific for date rape potions or drugs?

Hermione got up from the couch and left her book open on coffee table as she set her mug down. She made her way to her shelves and started pulling down all her magical theory on spell creation books.

She had spent the whole week in her lab in order to avoid Draco, but on Thursday a beautiful floral arrangement of white tulips, lavender camellias and lush greenery. It was beautiful and very distracting. She found the card with her name in Draco’s script. She ran her fingers over it before turning the card over. 

I’ve missed you around the office. The place is rather dull and gloomy without you.

                                                       -D. Malfoy

She had smiled and tucked the card into her robe and replaced the previous weeks arrangement with the new one. 

The Floor roared to life behind her and Hermione dropped her books raising her hands gathering magic when suddenly, Ginny, Pansy, and Luna ambushed her flat with a chorus of excited voices. 

“Goddess! You gave me a fright,” Hermione scolded and she crouched down to pick up her books. “How did you even get access to my floo?”

“Harry,” the red headed witch smirked. “You owe us,” Ginny declared, her hands on her hips.

Hermione scoffed, as she set her books down on a table near her carefully. “How can I possibly owe you?”

“You made us miss your last four birthdays and we are going out,” Pansy interjected, her tone half-joking, half-serious.

“This is emotional manipulation,” Hermione cried out indignantly.

“Yes,” Pansy agreed with a smirk. “It typically works rather well on you Gryffindors.”

“Are we really resorting to our houses?” Hermione asked dryly, looking thoroughly unamused.

“Would you rather we ask about what the fuck is going on between you and Draco while we braid hair and sip tea?” Pansy demanded, her fiery temper flaring.

Hermione turned to the more serene presence in the room. “Luna,” she began, seeking a calmer ally.

Luna stepped up to Hermione, taking her hands gently. “You’ll come with us, won’t you, Hermione?” she asked, her eyes full of genuine warmth. “We’ve missed you. And I think you’ve missed us too.”

Hermione sighed, feeling her heartstrings thoroughly pulled. She glanced around at her friends, each one showing their concern and affection in their unique ways. 

“Fine,” she relented, her resolve melting away. “I’ll come.”

The girls cheered, and GInny wrapped Hermione in a tight hug. “Excellent! We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

Pansy grinned, already planning the rest of the day. “We’ll make up for all those missed birthdays in one night.”

As they prepared to leave, Luna stayed close to Hermione, her hand still in hers. “It’s good to have you back,” she said softly.

Hermione smiled, feeling a warmth she hadn’t felt in years. “It’s good to be back,” she admitted, ready to face whatever the day—and her friends—had in store for her.

The scene at Pansy’s flat was a whirlwind of fashion and fun, with clothes and shoes strewn about as the girls raided Pansy’s wardrobe. Each one emerged with a new outfit that sparked laughter and playful comments.

Luna twirled around in a flowing sky-blue maxi dress with puffy sleeves, looking every bit like a ethereal fairy.

“I feel like I’m floating on a cloud,” she said dreamily, admiring the way the fabric billowed around her.

“You’re always floating on a cloud, Luna,” Ginny teased, tugging at her own light green sleeveless corset top and matching silk boot-cut trousers, she paired the look with white heeled boots. “But you look stunning.”

Pansy strutted out in a tight latex mini dress that left very little to the imagination. “This is what I call power dressing,” she declared, striking a pose in her black strapped heels. “It’s all about confidence, ladies.”

Ginny laughed, shaking her head. “Pansy, you could make a burlap sack look like haute couture.”

”Oh you are too kind Gin,” Pansy wrinkled her nose amused at the red head. “Too bad I can’t say the same for you,” she added with a cackling laugh as Ginny lunged for her. 

Hermione emerged last, adjusting the ivory satin dress she had chosen. Long flowing sleeves and mid-thigh length were a departure from her usual style, but the keyhole cutout showcased her cleavage and collarbones tastefully.

“I somehow forgot that you were a fashionista Pansy. You’d find Africa much to your taste, they are much more freeing and open minded,” she explained with a confident smile, feeling entirely at ease in her ensemble.

“Well, you certainly wear that dress Granger,” Pansy said, handing her a glass of champagne. “Let’s see a twirl.”

Hermione obliged, spinning around gracefully. The girls all wolf-whistled appreciatively.

“Wow, you look absolutely gorgeous!” Ginny exclaimed, raising her glass. “To stolen wardrobes and making Hermione look fuckable!”

Hermione laughed, feeling her cheeks warm. “Thank you? Why are we trying to make me look fuckable?”

“For Draco of course,” Pansy deadpanned.

“That wizard is gone for you,” Ginny cooed as Hermione chocked on a sip of champagne. “We’ve got a pool going to see if he’ll kiss you tonight. So the more tempting—the better for those of us who have gold riding on this night.” 

“M-Malfoy? Why on earth would I-”

“Oh come off it,” Pansy scolded narrowing ear dark eyes at Hermione. “You wouldn’t have gone on that date with him last month if you weren’t the slightest bit interested Granger. And he wouldn’t have given you the most intense orgasm you have ever experienced if he wasn’t interested in you. So just stop and admit it. You. Want. Draco. Malfoy,” Pansy leveled her with a hard glare and a sneer. 

Hermione took a sip of her drink, feeling the bubbles tickle her nose. “Alright, alright. You win. But only because it’s my birthday and I don’t want to fight. Besides, when I do want to fuck Draco, that’s my business, not yours.”

“Such a dirty mouth,” Luna finally quipped up where she was holding her champagne flute precariously in her fingers. “Draco would go mad hearing you.”

“Notice how she said ‘when’ not ‘if’,” Pansy teased raising her glass to Hermione. “You two will be shagging like rabbits come next month. I’m calling it now,” the witch beamed. 

“I’ll take that bet,” Ginny said. “But I predict they’ll be fucking like teenagers before the end of the month,” the red head laughed clinking her glass Luna’s and the two witches cackled. 

“I think they will be intimately together in exactly 2 days time,” Luna chirped. 

Hermione’s face was hot, she knew she was blushing but she just stood there, watching her friends debate and bet on when, where and how her and Draco would end up together again. 

“Now, let’s take some photos before we head out,” Ginny called out as she used her wand to float a camera.

They spent the next hour posing and taking selfies, capturing the joy and camaraderie of the moment. Each photo was filled with laughter and light-hearted banter, a testament to their enduring friendship.

As they finished their impromptu photo shoot, Luna looked around with a satisfied smile. “I think this is going to be a night to remember.”

Pansy nodded. “Absolutely. Now, let’s go out and show the world what we’re made of.”

With that, they linked arms and headed out, ready to take on the night with a renewed sense of adventure and a lot of style.

The club was alive with pulsating music and vibrant lights, creating an electrifying atmosphere that perfectly matched the girls’ exuberant spirits. Ginny was suddenly scooped up by Theo, who spun her around effortlessly. She threw her head back against his shoulder, laughing, her joy infectious. He was dressed imactuately in a muggle suit sans tie, jacket open.

“Alright, alright,” Pansy called out over the music, waving them off the dance floor. “Let’s take this party to the VIP booth.”

When Hermione had initially protested the idea, Pansy had simply rolled her eyes and said, “You want me to stand with the plebs? No thanks.”

They made their way up to the exclusive VIP booth, which offered a perfect view of the dance floor and a touch of privacy. As they approached, Hermione spotted Draco, Blaise, Neville, Harry, Ron, Daphne, and Astoria already seated, looking relaxed and enjoying the night.

“Happy birthday, Hermione!” they chorused as she approached, their smiles warm and welcoming.

“Thank you, everyone,” Hermione replied, her smile broadening as she took in the sight of her friends gathered together. The sense of camaraderie and celebration was almost overwhelming.

Draco stood up and offered her a seat to his right. The end seat on the booth, his usual smirk softened by a genuine smile.

“Happy birthday, Granger.”

“Thanks, Malfoy,” she replied, playfully nudging him as she sat down. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“My sister can be quite persuasive,” he said with a shrug, glancing over at Pansy, who was busy ordering a round of drinks.

“She threatened you,” Hermione teased.

“She threatened me,” he confirmed with a teasing smirk that had Hermione chuckling and rolling her eyes. 

Blaise leaned in from across the low table, grinning. “You know she wouldn’t let us miss this. Plus, any excuse to celebrate is a good one.”

“Blaise! I have been back for over a month and this is the first time I’m seeing you Zabini,” Hermione narrowed her eyes at the Italian wizard and Draco snorted a laugh.

“Yes, where have you been Zabini,” Draco asked mockingly with a note of accusation. 

He leaned back, throwing an arm on the back of the couch he and Hermione were sharing. Hermione blinked at herself when she felt the heat of his body warming her own. She had scooted closer to him, into his side and Draco’s arm now rested on her shoulders, pulling her to him, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her shoulder.

“Ha,” the wizard guffawed. “I’ve been handling your investment portfolio that you and Nott fucked up in France for the last two months Malfoy. When I tell you not to touch your finances, you don’t touch them. Gods you created a mess of paperwork. I’m positive I might be getting wrinkles early because you and Nott decided to buy a fucking French Quidditch team, and three yatchs and another stupid chateau that had a garage filled with luxury cars in a single day!”

Hermione blinked and then slowly look towards Draco. “why did you do that?”

“We were drinking too much and as the rich wizards we are, we have too much money to actually know what to do with.” He gave her that winning sideways smirk and Hermione bit her bottom lip. “So the question that night was why not?”

She blinked her surprise at the waste of money and couldn’t hep the snort of laughter that bubbled up from her. 

“What has you giggling” Theo inquired looking a mix of curious amusement. 

“The fact that instead of putting your incredible wealth to good use, you used it so frivolously,” she shook her head before giving Theo a pitying look. “I know of a thousand uses for the money you spent.”

Theo rubbed his chin and then grinned in a way that had Blaise saying, “whatever you’re thinking Nott, don’t. I just balanced your portfolio after your last stunt.”

“As part of my birthday gift I will make a donation of five hundred thousand galleons to any charities or funds you designate the galleons to Golden Girl,” Theo announced lifting his glass to Draco.

“I will double the donation and also allow you to allocate the galleons to whatever causes that you want to Champion Granger,” Draco was grinning mischievously as he clinked his tumbler to Theo’s. 

“No! No! I am going to quit if you do this,” Blaise protested.

“Pans! Want to donate to charity?” Theo turned and shouted towards Pansy’s back, who was in a middle of conversation with Harry, Neville and Luna. 

“For what cause,” the witch asked breaking mid sentence to turn around. 

“For the Golden Girls birthday. Starting bid at 500,” Theo smirked. 

“500? That’s nothing. Put me down 800.”

Theo actually squealed and then turned back towards Draco and raised his brow. “Care to still match?”

“I’ll still donate my original bid along with double Pansys,” Draco said with a cocky smirk in Blaises direction who was his head in his hands shaking his head. 

Theo stood and raised his glass high. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we have just raised 3.9 million galleons for the Golden Girls birthday for whatever charities and causes Granger deigns important!”

Neville raised his glass in a toast. “To Hermione, the birthday girl!”

They all cheered clinked glasses, the sound ringing out above the club’s din. Hermione sat there awe struck at the fact that the wealthy threw away galleons as if they meant nothing. In her stunned stated she was pulled up from the couch and she found herself whisked away to greet everyone that came.

Harry appeared and pulled her along, “come dance with me Birthday Girl.”

“One dance,” she laughed and followed him out of the booth and down to the dance floor, her eyes twinkling. Theo and Ginny followed along with Luna and Pansy. 

As the night wore on, the group settled into an easy rhythm of conversation and laughter. The VIP booth felt like a little oasis amidst the chaos of the club, a place where they could let loose and enjoy each other’s company.

Ginny, still slightly breathless from dancing, plopped down next to Hermione. “So, how does it feel to be back in the thick of things?”

Hermione leaned back, looking around at her friends. “It feels amazing. I’ve missed this. All of you.”

Pansy, returning with another round of drinks, raised her glass high. “To many more nights like this!”

“To many more,” they echoed, raising their glasses once more.

And as they toasted, Hermione felt a deep sense of gratitude and belonging. No matter where life had taken her, it was moments like these, surrounded by friends and filled with laughter, that made everything worthwhile.

Yes, she had missed this. Missed them. Her family.

With the night in full swing as Hermione, still riding the high of laughter and celebration, found herself pulled back onto the dance floor by Pansy. The club’s pulsating beat provided a perfect soundtrack for the evening, and Hermione let herself be swept away by the rhythm.

As she danced, she became aware of Draco nearby. Their eyes met across the crowd, his eyes a brilliant silver in the low pale lighting. She felt her breath catch when he didn’t look away.

As Hermione danced, she felt the familiar thrill of the music pulsating through her body, her movements instinctive and fluid. The rhythm of the bass and the melody carried her away, and for a moment, she forgot about everything but the dance floor and the friends surrounding her. Ginny, Pansy, and Luna danced beside her, their shared energy infectious and uplifting.

In the middle of their revelry, Ron joined their circle. He looked handsome, with a confident smile, and he moved closer to Hermione, matching her rhythm. Hermione gave him a polite smile, trying to focus on the dance and not on the slight discomfort his presence caused. The wizard reached out, placing his hands on her hips, and leaned in to speak over the music.

“You’re an incredible dancer,” he said, his voice warm and admiring. “You look delicious.”

“Thank you,” Hermione replied, trying maintain her polite smile while subtly trying to put some distance between them. However, the wizard was persistent, his grip tightening slightly pulling her flush against him. 

Instantly her magic flared in her palms, ready to strike.

Before she could react further, she felt the wizard’s hands abruptly leave her hips, replaced by a pair of familiar, strong warm hands. She turned her head slightly and saw Draco, his eyes dark and intense, glaring at the other wizard.

“I believe she’s with me,” Draco said, his voice cold and authoritative. Ron hesitated for a moment, clearly unsure if he wanted to fight about this. But then shrugged and backed off, melting into the crowd.

Draco’s hands tightened possessively on Hermione’s hips, pulling her close against him. She felt the spark of electricity through her body, her movements instinctive and fluid as they started to sway in time with the beat together.

“Malfoy, you’re my boss,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the way her body responded to him. “This is completely inappropriate. It could be considered sexual harassment.”

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “Your lips can lie to me,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a dangerous edge. “But your body won’t.”

“I told you, your body won’t lie to me,” he remarked, his tone dripping with satisfaction. His silver eyes burning and shinning with what she know realized with desire and amusement. 

“And I have very recently became. . .reacquainted with yours,” he said sensually in her ear that had her gasping.

Hermione’s mind screamed for caution, but her body betrayed her, pressing back against him, moving in time with his. The way he moved with her, each sway of his hips deliberate and sensual, made it impossible for her to deny the chemistry between them.

“Besides, you already went out on a date with me. A non-work, very much romantic date with me,” he teased swaying their bodies in time with the bass.

Her pulse quickened, frustration mingling with undeniable attraction.

He was right.

He had been right when he said the same thing to her when they started their whole—entanglement. 

“Malfoy,” she started, but the words caught in her throat as he pressed even closer, his presence overwhelming her senses.

“Just admit it, Granger,” Draco said in her ear barely audible above the music. His lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “You want this. You want me.”

Her resolve wavered. The truth of his words resonated within her, igniting a fierce inner battle. She closed her eyes, letting herself be swept away by the moment, the music, and the undeniable connection that flared between them. For now, she would allow herself to be lost in the dance, the consequences be damned.

”Do you want me to say it?” His voice was husky and dark in her ear and Hermione couldn’t help the shudder that ran through her. “I want this. I want you.”

Her heart pounded as she felt his hands tighten on her hips, guiding her movements. The heat between them was palpable, a living thing that made her skin tingle and her breath come faster. 

In that moment, surrounded by the pulsing rhythm of the music and the heat of the crowd, Hermione allowed herself to surrender to the raw, unspoken desire that had been simmering between them for so long.

It reminded her of the first time they had danced together at that Ravenclaw party all those years ago. She could still recall the surprise she had felt, the unexpected electricity between them. 

Now, as then, Draco’s presence was intoxicating.

His nose brushed against her hair, his lips close to her ear. “You look beautiful tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

Hermione’s breath hitched. She leaned back slightly into him, feeling the solid warmth of his chest against her back. “Thank you,” she whispered, not even sure if he heard her over the pulsing music.

They moved together effortlessly, their bodies in perfect sync. It was as if no time had passed, as if they had always danced this way. Hermione could feel the tension between them, a magnetic pull that had never truly dissipated.

Draco’s hands slid up her sides, his thumbs grazing below her ribs, sending a jolt of heat through her. She tilted her head back slightly, giving him better access as he nuzzled the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

“You know,” he said, “I’ve missed this. Missed you.” He punctuated his statement with another firm squeeze to her waist which caused her to whimper. 

Hermione’s heart raced. She turned her head slightly, their faces now inches apart.

Their eyes locked, the moment stretching out. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them and the music and lights that held them in its thrall.

She glanced down at his lips and watched as they twitched into a smirk she knew all to well. She flicked her eyes back up into his, the amusement clear in his eyes. He looked about to say something when Harry was tugging on her arm.

“Present time!”

Hermione laughed and on wobbly legs skittered away with the very drunk wizard. A confident and sure escape. She had been wanting to kiss him. 

Oh Goddess she was going to kiss him!

If Harry hadn’t showed up, she would have kissed her boss.

Her fucking boss. 

Her intended. . .whatever the hells he was to her. Goddess fucking help her. She had half the mind to pull away from Harry and smash her lips to Malfoy’s, as a birthday gift perhaps.

Hermione grappled with the thought as she swayed on the steps to VIP. She felt a hand on her back and turned to see Draco behind her. Her breath caught when his eyes burned up at her. She knew that look. . .she’d caused it a lot years ago.

She misstepped and he easily caught her, “watch your step Granger.”

She nodded stupidly and turned to walk up the steps. Hermione honestly just wanted a hole to open up right then and there. Birthday presents and party be damned. But alas no such luck, she’d have to just pretend she hadn’t tripped over her own feet because she was too busy gawking at Draco Malfoy!

Why didn’t he dissolve the contract?!

Why didn’t he just kiss her?!

Why didn’t she just kiss him?!

Right now. Consequences be damned. Boss or not.

She felt herself getting riled up.

Hermione sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by her friends and a pile of wrapped gifts. Laughter and conversation filled the air as each present was handed to her. She felt a warm glow of affection for each of them, cherishing the thought and effort they had put into their gifts.

Astoria, seated on the opposite side of Draco, smiled warmly at Hermione. “You look stunning tonight. That dress suits you.”

“Thank you,” Hermione parroted back but caught the way the witch put her hand high on Draco’s on thigh to lean over him. Her breasts were pressed into his arm. Hermione felt jealously and possessiveness spike hot in her gut. “You look great too,” Hermione replied. She pulled her eyes up and gave the witch a somewhat cool smile.

First, she unwrapped Harry’s gift. Predictably, it was a set of books—thick volumes on advanced magical healing and rare potions. She smiled, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you, Harry. You know me too well,” she said.

Next, Ginny handed her a small, elegantly wrapped box. Inside was a delicate gold bracelet, adorned with tiny charms each one picked out by a Harpy. Hermione gasped, admiring the craftsmanship.

“It’s beautiful, Ginny. Thank you so much,” she exclaimed, slipping the bracelet onto her wrist.

Pansy’s gift was next. She handed Hermione a small envelope with a knowing smirk. Inside was a single note card that read, “I’ll be by to inspect your wardrobe.” Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, rolling her eyes affectionately at Pansy.

“Naturally, Pansy. I look forward to it,” she said with a chuckle.

Neville’s gift was a collection of potted plants, each one carefully selected for its magical properties. Hermione beamed, her eyes lighting up at the sight of them.

“These are wonderful, Nev. Thank you. They’ll be perfect for my home,” she said, giving him a warm hug.

Theo’s gift was wrapped in dark, aged paper, and as she unwrapped it, she found an ancient-looking artifact. It radiated a faint, mysterious very dark energy. Her head tilted as the seal on under her glamour pulsed with magic. Curious.

“Leave it to you to find something ancient and potentially dangerous,” Hermione teased, giving Theo a playful nudge.

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I knew you’d appreciate the challenge. Don’t ask me what it is. I positively have no idea.”

“Mate you brought a dark artifact to a party for a friend who’s an Auror and friends with top ranked Aurors,” Blaise asked with a grin and shaking of his head. “Where did you even find this thing?”

“Oh I found it at Nott Manor. In the basement. In a locked cell that had no key. Inside a truck that was also locked and covered with a very, very dusty sheet.”

“That could be a bomb for all any of us knows,” Pansy grimmaced. “Handle it with care Granger.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and placed the thing in a shield stasis bubble before shrinking it down to fit into the bag of gifts she would need to take home.

Ron handed her a box filled with an assortment of baked goods, the unmistakable aroma of Molly’s cooking wafting up as she opened it. Her heart swelled with gratitude.

“Thank you, Ron. Please tell your mum I’m forever grateful for her baking,” she said, savoring the scent.

Astoria and Daphne gave her an outrageous line of credit at their boutique. Pansy squealed and snatched the card from Hermione’s hands stating this will be used very soon to upgrade her wardrobe.

Blaise gifted her several bottles of high quality fancy Italian elven wine. 

Luna gave her a wild ginger root, odd but Hermione accepted it nonetheless. 

Finally, Draco reached into his suit jacked and pulled a box. He used magic to unshrink it and held out medium sized red velvet box. Her heart skipped a beat as she instantly recognized it. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a depth of emotion that made her breath catch.

“Open this one when you’re alone,” he said, pressing the necklace box into her hands.

Hermione nodded, her fingers trembling slightly as she took it. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the significance of the gift not lost on her. The evening continued with laughter and warmth, but Hermione’s mind kept drifting back to the small red velvet box.

Hermione returned to her cozy cottage, the warmth of the evening with friends still lingering in her mind. As she set her things down on the kitchen table, her eyes were inevitably drawn to the small red velvet box Draco had given her. Her heart began to race, a mix of anticipation and nerves fluttering in her chest.

Taking a deep breath, she sat down and gently placed the box in front of her. She bit her lower lip, her fingers trembling as she lifted the lid. Inside, sitting on its plush pillow, was the hourglass pendant necklace, just as she remembered it. Her breath caught in her throat, memories flooding back.

Underneath the pendant, she noticed a folded paper crane. Carefully, she lifted the necklace and set it aside, revealing the note. Her fingers shook as she unfolded it, her eyes scanning the familiar script handwriting.

Hermione,

I once gave this to you once with the intention of it being a symbol of possession. Today, I return it to you, as the gift that it should have been. You were the only witch this was made for. Therefore, it is only right that it be returned to you, its rightful owner. 

Please accept this necklace as a token of my friendship, my loyalty, and my heart.

I simply ask that you wear it whenever you are ready.

Always Yours,

Draco

Hermione’s eyes filled with tears as she read the words. She clutched the note to her chest, the emotional weight of the gesture overwhelming her. The pendant glinted softly under the kitchen light, a tangible connection to her past with Draco and a symbol of the tentative bridge they could potentially build towards the future.

She picked up the hourglass pendant, feeling its familiar weight and intricate design. Her fingers traced the delicate curves, memories of their past intertwined with her current doubts. She longed to believe in Draco’s sincerity, but her rational mind warned her to be cautious.

The last time she had given him a chance he had almost ruined her. Goddess above he had just about pushed her to her emotional limit. 

But that was years ago, he could have changed. 

Not could have, he had changed. She’s seen it herself. He had made the effort and was now taking the steps to properly court her.

Hermione heaved a sigh as a heaviness filled her. She shook her head trying to decipher the meaning of this gift. 

Was he just trying to make friendly amends? 

Or was he trying to restart their courtship?

Hadn’t they already done that, restarted. Otherwise why would she have gone on that date with him last month. He had organized a birthday brunch for her tomorrow at the Manor. And then of course the flowers that showed up at her desk in the DMLE and lab every Tuesday and Thursday.

She turned the pendant and watched the shimmering sand move, unable to put it on just yet. The cool metal against her skin felt too much like a commitment she wasn’t ready to make. The uncertainty gnawed at her, the secrets she still kept. 

The fear that when she told him he would leave, break off the courtship. She wasn’t entirely sure how he would be able to go about it, but there had to be a way somehow. 

They had three months left before needing to get formally engaged and she felt so conflicted.

She was running out of time. Quickly. Already a month and a half had passed, she had several opportunities to come clean about what she was hiding and yet. . .she wavered. She paused. Unsure of how to even go about telling him. 

It would probably devastate him. Destroy their tentative trust they were slowly building. 

Hermione placed the pendant back in its box and closed the lid, her emotions a whirlwind of hope and skepticism. She knew she still had feelings for Draco, but she needed more time. She couldn’t put the necklace on until she told him everything.

For now, the pendant would remain a symbol of possibility, a step towards healing the wounds of the past.

With a sigh, she stood up, the weight of the evening heavy on her shoulders. The pendant might not be around her neck, but it was ever-present in her thoughts, a reminder that some bridges took time to rebuild. 

That night her memories plagued her in vivid detail. His breath on her neck, the way he groaned when entering her. His voice thick with lust and the way his eyes burned like pools of liquid silver. 

Chapter Text

Morning light filtered through the large windows of Draco’s bedroom as he stood before the mirror, absently adjusting the ouroboros bracelet on his wrist so he could put in the cufflinks on his sleeve. He wasn’t quite sure if giving back the courtship necklace had been the right decision. 

Despite the quiet peace that had settled between him and Hermione, there was still a distance, an uncertainty that lingered. They were navigating fragile ground, unsure of where they truly stood with one another.

Well he knew where he stood and what he wanted. He was just wholly unsure what it was Hermione was thinking. She was no longer the easily readable witch she had been in her youth. 

But then there were moments—fleeting, yes, but unmistakable—when he caught it in her eyes. The longing. And something else—something deeper. 

Could it be love? 

Was he imagining it? 

No. 

He couldn’t be. Draco knew what he saw. 

Hermione still loved him. She just didn’t know how to act on it.

A low chuckle escaped his lips, filled with an ironic amusement. What a pair they made. Brilliant in every other facet of their lives—formidable in intellect, quick with strategy, sharp with words—but utterly foolish when it came to matters of the heart.

He sighed, allowing Starrie to fix his hair, smoothing it back into the neat, gelled style he always favored. His mind drifted as the house-elf worked, and memories of Hermione surfaced, unbidden and vivid. She had always loved to mess with his hair. The way her fingers would weave through the strands, deliberately undoing the sleek, controlled look he prided himself on. She had claimed she preferred him that way—undone. 

More real.

Back at Hogwarts, he had kept slicking it back, just so she’d have the excuse to run her hands through it, to touch him. 

He’d craved it then. 

Craved her.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as a mix of yearning and fondness settled in his chest. He’d been a dog then, desperate for scraps of her affection. And, Merlin help him, nothing had changed. He was still that same dog—whining, pleading, begging for her attention.

Today was her birthday. It should be simple—a day for celebration. 

He had planned it all: brunch at the Manor, their friends gathered, the table laid out with an obscene amount of food thanks to his Mother and Starrie. 

A day where they could put aside whatever tension lingered between them and focus on something, anything, other than the secrets that he knew Hermione was holding onto.

Draco narrowed his eyes at his own reflection, as if personally offended by it. His cunning and quick mind whirling, he simply couldn’t ignore that niggling feeling. He had seen it—those fleeting moments when once again, her eyes gave her away, when guilt and hesitation flashed across her face. There were things she wasn’t telling him. Secrets she carried like invisible chains, and each time she hesitated, each time she closed herself off from him, it felt like one more link added to the weight between them.

What were those secrets?

What was so awful that she felt like she couldn’t tell him?

He clenched his jaw, his gaze sharp and intense as he studied himself. 

Every moment they spent together, the need to know—no, the need to understand—grew stronger. 

Hermione was too stubborn for her own good, always trying to shoulder everything alone. 

She would never tell him outright, not unless she felt backed into a corner.

Should he just. . .force the subject? Demand answers from the witch despite how he knew it would make her feel violated. He sighed and dismissed the idea with a shake of his head. No, that’s how the old him would handle it. 

“Master Malfoy is the most handsome wizard there is ever been,” Starrie said when she was finished. 

The little elf was beaming at him in the mirror and Draco found himself smiling. “Thank you Starrie. You always say that though.”

“Because it is truth Master Malfoy.”

“Please, call me Draco,” he sighed knowing her response. He even mouthed it as she replied back with her hands on her hips. 

“You be knowing I will never do that Master Malfoy,” and then she flicked his ear softly as way of scolding. 

Draco let out a chuckle then and turned his head to look at her. “Can you get a bouquet from the gardens for me. I’d like white tulips, the bluest morning glories and purple hyacinths please.”

“Has Master yet tried to apologize to Misses?”

“I’m trying—I keep. . .tripping over my words I think. I’m not exactly sure where I am getting it wrong,” Draco confessed with a pursed lip. 

“I told you, just kiss her. Grab hold of her and kiss her like your life depends on it. Like she’s the very air you breath,” came Theo’s voice in that annoying sing song tone of his when he felt he was right. 

Draco scowled and turned towards his bedroom door, “now I know Mother has told you not to eaves drop in the Manor.”

“The door was open, it can hardly be called eaves dropping if you don’t bother to shut the door on what is supposed to be a private conversation,” Theo shot back with a wicked grin of delight.

“You are insufferable Brother. I truly wish Ginevra the best when she marries into this family of ours,” Draco teased before rising from the his place in front of the mirror. He turned back to Starrie and bent to give the elf a small kiss on the head. “Thank you for your help Starrie.”

The elf nodded before popping out of existence and Draco sighed turning back to his brother. “You know my courtship is not as easy as yours.”

“You think mine was easy? Gin made me chase her for two years before she agreed to go out on an official date with me. When I asked her to marry me she made me wait days before she said yes,” Theo rolled his eyes. 

“But she never left you,” Draco narrowed his eyes at his brother. The bitterness clear in his tone.

“No, but she put me through the emotional ringer with all the wizards she dated before me, how she told me of sex with them. All while knowing I wanted her for myself. It killed me. At least you had silence. I think I would have preferred silen-”

“Trust me when I say this Brother,” Draco interrupted, his voice tight and cold. “You do not want a silent witch. It is excruciating.”

Silence hung between them for a long while before Theo softened. 

“I take it she hasn’t said anything about the seal on her hand then?”

Draco gave his brother a long dry look. 

“Patience Brother,” Theo said as he stepped further into the room to put a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Granger has always been a private witch, you know this. She doesn’t make a move until she is sure of the outcomes. Just. . .keep reaching your hand out to her. Keep showing her that you won’t leave her. That you’ll stay, regardless of her secrets.”

“It’s killing me,” Draco admitted. 

Because it was. 

It was slowly chipping away at him. The knowledge that he had done such damage to their relationship that his witch now kept him at a distance. Felt like she couldn’t unfold herself to him. 

Theo pulled Draco in for a side hug and jostled the him, “it took Gin a year to trust me after she found out my part in your schemes. Just have patience, it’ll take time.”

“I don’t have time, I don’t even have a year. I have a few short months before our contract is dissolved due to inaction,” Draco shrugged Theo’s arm off and scrubbed at his face. 

“Dissolve due to inaction? I thought it was iron clad. Inescapable,” Theo said slowly and tilted his head in that way that meant he was thinking. Piecing things together. “Does Granger know?”

“Do you think she would have come back if she knew that all she had to do was stay away until February 1st 2005,” Draco snappily asked. “Then Mother or Potter could act as her representative to dissolve the contract. I purposely had that appendage written on the back side of the page, where she wouldn’t see. And her copy didn’t include it so there was never a way of her finding out unless she went to our solicitor or found the original copy in the Gringotts vaults.”

”Does Potter know about this?”

”No, I gave him the same copy as Grangers, the appendage isn’t written on the back,” Draco sighed out resigned. 

“What about Mother,” Theo pressed.

”I don’t know. She’s never brought it up. Either she knows and feigns ignorance, or never even looked at the back of the contract before taking it to the Archival vault.”

“Fucking Merlin Draco!” Theo exclaimed slapping a hand to his forehead soundly. “You are truly a diabolically clever wizard.”

“Yes well, I was a traumatized little shit when I had our courtship papers drawn up. It’s really come to bite me arse now,” Draco sighed out. “I also never foresaw her running away, so,” he blew out a sigh of exasperation. 

Draco shivered when he felt the wards shudder. His witch was back in the Manor. 

“Come Brother, our guests have arrived,” Draco drawled shoving his hands into his pocekets as he stood rolling his shoulders back to the posture of the Lord of the Manor. He looked at his reflection one more time and then back to his brother. 

“Just kiss her,” Theo said with a knowing amused look. 

“Yes and have my witch hex my bullocks right off,” Draco rolled his eyes as the two made their way down the hall. “How brilliant.”

“Then do nothing and watch your witch walk away, again,” Theo quipped with a nudge to Draco’s shoulder. 

It was only light teasing but it was secretly Draco’s biggest fears. 

That she’d walk away. That she’d decide he wasn’t enough. Not good enough. Not deserving enough of her. 

He was fucked, right in the arse by Merlin himself.

Narcissa sat gracefully at the head of the table, with Draco to her right and Hermione beside him, her scent of amberedvanilla driving him to distraction. Hermione wore a cream sundress with a crimson cotton kimono robe, her hair pulled back in a half ponytail, and every glance from her made him feel as though he were on the verge of losing control. 

Her lips looked soft, plush and so fucking kissable. 

Though when he spied her naked neck, he tried not to feel disappointed. He did tell her to wear the necklace when she was ready. . .and just because he was ready didn’t mean she was quite yet ready. Gods what did he have to do? Beg?. . .The thought had some merit to it. Perhaps he’d get on his knees and beg her and then she’d let him in between those beautiful thighs of hers and show her just how much he missed her. 

Across from them, Theo and Ginny shared playful glances, while Blaise and Luna sat beside them, chiming in with dry wit and dreamy observations. At the far end, Pansy held her own, with Neville quietly laughing at the stories being passed around.

As the Gryffindors shared memories of Hermione, her laughter filled the air, and Draco couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the way her curls framed her face. The way her eyes would crinkle with laughter, how her lips spread into a grin. Her laugh was genuine, that bell like laugh that had his chest feeling warm. 

His fingers brushed hers beneath the table, and despite the lighthearted atmosphere, the tension between them simmered beneath the surface, unnoticed by the others. It had been a bold move, but then she grasped his hand in hers and threaded her fingers through his as she rested their joined hands on her thigh.

He was gong to explode. Oh fuck his cock was starting to wake up. Just from holding her hand? Gods he was pathetic. No better than a randy young wizard discovering the appeal of witches for the first time. 

Draco took in a calming breath and reached for his champagne flute hoping to distract himself from his racing thoughts. 

Today was about his witch.

Hermione sat at the center of it all, cheeks slightly flushed from all the attention. Her hand would squeeze his under the table, a subtle gesture of grounding herself as she listened to her friends speak.

Draco tried his best to ignore the sensation, but—fuck it felt good to be needed by her. Instantly he wondered if she needed him in other ways. More intimate private ways. . .fuck fuck fuck he was going to have a raging hard on all morning from this witch. 

Ginny was in the middle of one of her more outrageous stories, hands gesturing wildly. 

“So, I walked into the library, right? I’m expecting to find Hermione buried in books, doing her usual thing, being the responsible one. But no—what do I find? Her and Viktor Krum, practically eating each other’s faces!” Ginny grinned wickedly, leaning forward as if the memory was too good not to savor.

Laughter erupted around the table, and Draco raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Ah, so you’ve always had a thing for Quidditch players, huh Grangers” he teased, giving Hermione a sideways glance.

Hermione rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “Oh, hush you,” she muttered, nudging him lightly with her elbow.

“I’m just saying,” Draco continued with a playful grin, leaning a little closer. “It’s a very specific type. Got a thing for Seekers in particular?” He smirked at her when’s he scoffed.

Hermione gave him a narrowing look, and he chuckled, reveling in the rare lightness of the moment.

Next, it was Neville turn, and as soon as he cleared his throat, Draco knew this was going to be good. Neville was always a bit hesitant when he spoke, but when he did, something usually good followed.

“There was this one time in Potions class,” Neville began, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “I—I kind of messed up the measurements, I don’t remember exactly what went wrong, but the next thing I know, the cauldron explodes, and poor Hermione’s hair—” he paused for dramatic effect, “—it was bigger than six Pygmy Puffs combined.”

Laughter echoed through the room, and Hermione groaned, burying her face in her hand. “Oh, Merlin,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Draco leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear, and whispered softly, just for her, “For the record, I love your curls. Wild and all.” His voice was low, sincere, a stark contrast to the playful teasing. 

He felt her shiver and Draco’s cock twitched in his pants. When Hermione glanced up at him, her eyes softening as she smiled, a real smile, and Draco felt something warm settle deep in his chest.

Harry was the next to speak, a mischievous glint in his eyes that immediately put Hermione on edge. 

“Oh, I’ve got a good one,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Remember second year, Hermione? PolyjuicePotion?”

Hermione’s eyes went wide, and she turned to Harry with a warning glare. “Harry, don’t you dare—”

But it was too late. 

“She turned herself into a cat,” Harry said, grinning wickedly, while everyone around the table erupted in fits of laughter. “Whiskers, ears, tail—the whole package!”

Draco, laughing harder than he had in weeks, leaned back in his chair. “You’re telling me Granger—Miss Perfect—accidentally turned herself into a bloody cat?” He grinned at Hermione, his eyes gleaming. “Please, Brother, share this memory in full detail. I know we have a pensive somewhere around here.”

Hermione, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, swatted Draco’s arm, glaring at Harry. 

“You better not,” she warned, her voice serious, though her lips were twitching as if she was fighting a smile.

“I mean,” Harry chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender, “it was one of her finer moments, truly.”

Draco let out a guffaw, still grinning at Hermione’s mortified expression. “How did I not know this before? A cat, Granger, really?”

Hermione huffed letting go of his hands, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you ever bring this up again, I swear—”

He missed the warmth of her hand immediately.

Draco just chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Don’t worry, love,” he whispered, his tone full of affection. “I think it’s adorable.”

She sighed, exasperated, but relaxed against him anyway, her body fitting perfectly into the curve of his. Yes, this was right. This was perfect. His witch cuddled into his side. Draco reached down and grabbed her chair and pulled. Her chair slid across the floor to be closer to his. He dropped his arm along the back of her chair and Hermione leaned her weight into him. A hand resting on his thigh. 

Oh fuck! She was moving her hand up and down his thigh lightly and he felt all his blood rush into his cock. It was painfully hard now. He thought he might pass out from it. If she moved her hand just a little higher she’d discover just how intensely he wanted her. 

How she affected him. 

Luna leaned back in her chair, a serene smile on her face as the conversation shifted to her. Everyone seemed curious about what whimsical memory she might share of Hermione, and she didn’t disappoint.

“You know, Hermione and I shared some rather unique experiences in our final year,” Luna began in her usual dreamy voice, her large eyes blinking slowly as she recalled the memory.

Hermione shot her a wary glance, already sensing this wasn’t going to end well for her dignity. 

“Luna,” she warned, her cheeks already pinking slightly.

But Luna carried on, unperturbed. “One of my favorites was when we snuck out of the castle during a full moon to dance naked in the moonlight. It was the Autumn Equinox, after all. A time for celebrating the balance of light and dark, and for good luck. Fertility, too,” she added, her smile as placid as ever.

The table fell silent for a beat.

Blaise immediately perked up, his eyebrows rising with sudden interest. “Wait—did you say naked?”

Draco’s reaction wasn’t far off either. His eyes widened in surprise, and he turned to Hermione, his brow arched. “You danced naked? Outside?”

Hermione’s face flushed crimson, her ears must have been burning given how red they were as she buried her face in her hands, groaning in embarrassment. “Oh, Merlin!”

Luna nodded serenely, completely oblivious to the reactions around her. “It was a lovely night. The moon was full, the air crisp, and there’s something quite freeing about dancing beneath the stars with nothing but nature around you. Hermionewas hesitant at first, but she joined in. It’s good luck, after all.”

Ginny was barely holding back laughter, while Neville’s eyes were wide, clearly shocked at the revelation.

Meanwhile, Blaise leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “You know, I’ve always been a firm believer in celebrating the equinox love,” he gave Luna a wolffish grin. “Might need to try that next time,” he said with a smirk.

Draco, still staring at Hermione with a mix of amusement and disbelief, leaned in closer. “I still can’t believe it Granger?” He smirked. “And here I thought I knew you well.”

Hermione groaned louder, her face practically buried in her hands. “Luna, you weren’t supposed to tell anyone!”

Luna, still calm as ever, shrugged lightly. “It’s a beautiful memory, Hermione. I thought it should be shared.” She looked around the table. “And besides, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. The Autumn Equinox is a sacred time.”

Pansy snorted into her drink, while Theo looked positively delighted at Hermione’s embarrassment. “Hermione, you’ve been holding out on us. Who knew you were such a free spirit,” he teased which had Ginny laughing loudly with her head thrown back.

Draco, for his part, was trying to suppress his laughter, though the image of his witch dancing naked under the moonlight was now firmly implanted in his mind. He leaned down, his voice a low whisper near her ear. “Any chance that we can dance naked at the next Autum Equinox? ”

Hermione peeked out from behind her hands, her face still bright red, but a small, mortified smile tugging at her lips. “Never happening again, Malfoy.”

Draco chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “We’ll see, Kitten. We’ll see.”

Blaise leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass with a smirk on his lips. “Alright, alright, I’ve got one,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention. He glanced over at Hermione with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Do you remember that Charms project we worked on together, Granger?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes playfully, already sensing where this was going. “Oh, Merlin, yes,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “How could I forget?”

Blaise grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “We ended up arguing like mad over it. Hermione, of course, was taking it way too seriously, treating it like we were crafting some groundbreaking magical thesis. And me, well, I was just there for a good time.”

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head at the memory. “You weren’t taking anything seriously. You wanted to throw together the simplest charm and call it a day! I wasn’t about to settle for that.”

Blaise’s eyes lit up with mock indignation. “Ha! The idea for the charm was mine, Granger. All you did was write the paper.”

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, gloating with a smug smile. “And you’re welcome for the perfect score I got us for that project.”

“Oh, is that how you remember it?” Blaise shot back, laughing. “Because as I recall, my idea for a charm that could temporarily shift gravity around objects was what made Flitwick so impressed. You were too busy writing endless footnotes.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, amused by the back-and-forth. “Let me get this straight,” he interrupted, glancing between them. “You’re arguing over who saved the project? Sounds like the usual Granger disagreement.”

Pansy leaned in, smirking. “I’m surprised you didn’t hex him to make him focus, Hermione.”

Hermione snorted at that, flashing Blaise a teasing look. “Believe me, it crossed my mind.”

Blaise threw his hands up in surrender, laughing along with the rest. “Oh, come on, Granger. Admit it—deep down, you knew my charm was genius.”

Hermione’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she tilted her head. “Genius or not, you were lucky I even agreed to be your partner after the first day.”

Blaise raised his glass in her direction, a wide grin on his face. “And you, Granger, were lucky to have me for a partner. No one else could’ve kept you on your toes like I did.”

“Kept me on my toes? You nearly drove me insane!”

Draco chuckled, pulling Hermione closer to him. “I don’t know, love. Sounds like Zabini’s just taking credit where it isn’t due.” He winked at Blaise, who groaned in protest.

Blaise pointed a finger at Draco, smirking. “Don’t act like you’ve never gotten a perfect score thanks to her. That’s her trademark move.”

The table erupted in laughter as Hermione gave Blaise a playful sneer, wrinkling her nose with it.. “Alright, alright, I’ll give you this much: you came up with the charm. But I got us through the execution—and you know it.”

Blaise just leaned back in his chair, raising his glass in defeat. “Fair enough, Granger. Fair enough.”

After brunch, the group moved outside to the gardens, basking in the sunshine and warm weather. The air was filled with laughter as everyone spread out among the blooming flowers and well-manicured hedges. Draco, ever watchful of Hermione, sidled up to her with a quiet smile. 

“Come with me,” he whispered, his voice soft yet insistent. He wasn’t even sure where he was about to take her, he just had a strong urge to get away from the group. To have her all to himself for just a few moments.

She hesitated for a moment before nodding, allowing him to gently take her hand.

As they broke off from the group, the warmth of her fingers intertwined with his sent a thrill down his spine. 

He tamped down the excitement bubbling inside him, determined not to let it show. It was such a simple gesture, yet it meant the world. They walked in silence, the hum of nature surrounding them, but the charged atmosphere between them spoke louder than words ever could.

Draco led her through the hedges, the crunch of gravel beneath their feet mixing with the light breeze that was cool for late summer. 

Hermione prattled on about their ongoing investigation into Seduxion, her voice lilting softly as the scent of her ambered vanilla perfume swirled around him. 

He couldn’t take it anymore—the smell of her, the sight of her kissable lips, the way she seemed completely unaware of the tension building inside him.

Suddenly, he stopped and turned towards her, cutting her off mid-sentence. “I can’t take it anymore, Hermione. I can’t keep pretending,” he confessed, his voice thick with longing. 

His gaze dropped to her lips, then flicked back to her eyes. He shouted in his head, warning the orange beast—Hermione’s self-appointed guardian—to interrupt him like it always did. 

But when no demonic creature appeared, no interruption came, he seized the moment.

His breath caught in his throat as he grabbed Hermione’s arms, pulling her closer. His lips crashed down onto hers with an urgency that spoke of all the pent-up longing, frustration, and love he’d been holding back since he returned. 

The kiss was explosive, like a fire igniting deep in his chest, blazing through him with a searing intensity. His hands slid from her arms to her waist, clutching her as though she might disappear if he let go.

Hermione’s soft gasp melted into him, he parted her lips beneath the fierce demand of his. The taste of her, the softness of her skin beneath his fingers—it was intoxicating. 

He kissed her like a man starved, every repressed emotion spilling into the press of their lips. 

His heart pounded wildly, his body aching with desire, need, and something deeper that sent shivers down his spine. The scent of her ambered vanilla perfume filled his lungs as he deepened the kiss, their mouths moving in a heated, desperate rhythm. He couldn’t get enough.

All the pain, the confusion, and the tension of their separation vanished in that moment, replaced by the raw, electric connection between them. 

It felt the universe shifted around them, his heart, soul and mind shattering into millions of pieces before being put together with the feel of her lips.

Fuck this felt amazing. This was the best kiss he had ever had.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Draco’s forehead rested against hers, his chest heaving. 

“Hermione,” he whispered her name like a prayer, his eyes closed. His fingers tightening possessively on her hips, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss.

Draco couldn’t stop himself, the taste of her still lingering on his lips like a forbidden addiction. He dove in for a second kiss, this one even more intense, his need for her overwhelming any sense of restraint. His hand slid around her, one traveling up to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her soft curls as he held her to him. His other arm wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her body completely flush against his. She fit against him perfectly, and he groaned into the kiss, pouring everything he had into the moment.

Hermione’s hands clutched at the front of his shirt, her fingers gripping tightly as if anchoring herself to him. When her lips parted for him again, he took everything he could, deepening the kiss, feeling her melt against him. His heart raced, his mind clouded with nothing but the feel of her, the softness of her lips, the way she responded to him.

A soft moaning whimper escaped her, barely audible, and it was that sound that finally pulled him out of his reverie. 

He broke the kiss, breathless and shocked, staring down at her flushed cheeks and wide eyes. 

Wait had he asked if he could kiss her? 

Shocked brown eyes, lined with gold that was churning. Her eyes bounced between his, her mouth parted, her brows pinched together slightly in question.

Fuck! Did he ask?! 

. . .

Realization washed over him—he hadn’t. He might have gone too far, too consumed by temptation. For a moment, he simply stood there, stunned, his grip on her loosening as guilt crept in. 

Had he pushed her too hard?

Had he read her wrong this entire time?

“Granger,” Draco choked out, the name tasting like fire on his tongue.

He felt. . .everything—alive and awful and yearning, grief and anger crashing into him all at once. Too many emotions hit him like a tidal wave, drowning him, and before he could stop it, he began to occlude. Shutting down his feelings. Hiding behind the cold, impenetrable walls he knew so well. 

Right there, in front of her.

“Let us return to the party,” he demanded, his voice dropping to an icy drawl, the words clipped and final. 

He didn’t even wait for a response, just spun on his heel and stormed his way back through the hedge maze, the gravel crunching violently under his shoes. The controlled, measured steps barely contained the storm raging inside him. He heard her footsteps—soft, light, hurried—trailing behind him, but he didn’t dare look back. He couldn’t bear to see whatever was written on her face.

He’d let Theo get into his head, convince him this was the right course of action. That he should take a chance, act on the desperate pull between them. But all Draco had accomplished was showing her just how uncontrolled he was, how much of a beast he could be—ruled by desire and longing.

He hated himself for it.

For letting the moment consume him, for giving in. 

He should’ve asked to kiss her, given her the choice. 

Should’ve said something tender, a gentle declaration of the feelings he’d kept bottled up for years. 

Should’ve kissed her sweetly, gently. Not like he was trying to devour her, to brand her with his lips and claim her as his.

He couldn’t forgive himself, and he doubted she would either.

The moment they joined the rest of the group Draco took down the gravel path to a different set of gardens. Draco’s anguish must have been painted across every line of his face because the moment they returned to the group, Harry was on his heels.

“What happened?” Harry asked, his voice urgent and low. “What did she say? Are you okay, Brother?” His words were rapid-fire as he pulled Draco away from the others, leading him around the corner of the manor, out of sight.

The second they were alone, Draco crumpled. It was like every ounce of tension drained from his body at once, leaving him feeling like a husk—brittle and empty. His face twisted with every emotion he’d been holding back—sadness, guilt, relief, and the sharp, cutting edge of self-loathing. 

He felt like a fool for losing control, a beast for kissing Hermione the way he did, and a coward for running away.

Harry stood by silently, watching him, waiting for Draco to collect himself enough to speak. And then, in a voice strained and cracking at the edges, Draco told him everything. 

He confessed how he had kissed her—no, attacked her.

How he had felt the tension between them all morning. 

How it had all become too much, too overwhelming, until he had no choice but to pull away. He explained how he’d seen that look in her eyes, the longing that mirrored his own, but the shock and horror that was clear as the sun in the sky on her face. How he’d felt nothing but self-hatred afterward for losing control.

Harry’s expression softened as he listened, his hand coming to rest on Draco’s shoulder. “You’re an idiot,” he said quietly. “But an idiot who’s in love.”

Draco scoffed, wiping a hand over his face, trying to keep the tears from falling. “It doesn’t matter what I am. I’ve ruined everything, Potter. I couldn’t control myself, and now—now she’ll never look at me the same.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, gripping Draco’s shoulder tighter. “Or maybe she’ll see that you still want her. That you’re human. You make mistakes, Draco, just like the rest of us.”

But Draco shook his head, his anguish deepening. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “I don’t just want her, Harry. I need her. And I can’t—I can’t risk hurting her like that again.”

“Did she say anything?” Harry asked, his voice quieter now, filled with genuine concern.

“No,” Draco replied bitterly. “I dragged us back to the party before I could do anything more.”

“So. . .you don’t know how she felt about it?” Harry’s question was tentative, searching for some hope, but it only made Draco’s jaw tighten.

Draco gave the wizard a dry, humorless look. “How would you react to your ex-boyfriend sexually assaulting you?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face as he tried to lighten the mood. “Well, it depends on the ex-boyfriend, I suppose.”

Draco groaned, his head dropping into his hands. “This is serious, Potter.”

Harry’s grin softened. “I know. But you said it yourself. She didn’t say anything. That means you don’t know how she felt. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s as black and white as you’re making it out to be.”

Draco looked up, his expression a mix of skepticism and desperation. “And what if I’ve just made things worse? What if I’ve driven her away forever?”

Harry gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You won’t know until you talk to her properly. And maybe, you’ll be surprised by what Hermione tells you.”

Draco’s gaze drifted, lost in thought. He had already replayed that kiss a hundred times in his mind, the way her lips had moved against his, the way she’d whimpered— he wondered if, just maybe, there was a chance he hadn’t ruined everything after all. But the fear that he had was a heavy weight, one that pressed down on his chest and made it hard to breathe.

Blaise found them around the corner of the manor, Draco hunched over in turmoil and Harry leaning against the wall with an amused expression. He sauntered over, hands in his pockets, eyeing both wizards curiously. 

“What’s happened here,” he asked casually, as though he had just wandered into a normal conversation.

Harry shot Draco a glance before looking back at Blaise. “Well, our Brother here finally kissed Hermione,” he said lightly before lifting his hand to pinch his fingers together. “And now he’s having a small tantrum about it.”

Blaise’s brows shot up in confusion, and he looked to Draco, who was staring down at his shoes, fists clenched tight, cheeks burning.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Blaise started slowly. “You kissed your witch, then ran away, and now you’re over here having a meltdown about it?” He blinked a few times before shaking his head incredulously. “What is wrong with you, Brother?”

Draco’s head snapped up, and he shot Blaise a sharp glare. “I lost control, Blaise! I shouldn’t have kissed her like that—I didn’t even ask, I just—I just did it.” His voice broke with the sheer frustration and self-loathing he felt

Blaise’s face twisted in disbelief, and he threw his hands in the air. “Merlin, Draco, you’ve wanted to kiss that witch since her return.” He shook his head in exasperation. “And now that you finally have, you’re sitting here like the world’s going to end. Do you even realize how ridiculous you sound?”

Harry nodded in agreement. “He’s got a point, mate. You don’t know how she felt about it. And maybe it wasn’t a disaster like you think. Maybe it’s what she wanted.”

Draco shook his head, pacing in tight circles. “Or maybe I’ve just made things worse. Maybe she felt trapped or pressured—”

“Or maybe,” Blaise interrupted, stepping in front of Draco to stop his frantic pacing, “she wanted you to kiss her, and you’re overthinking this. Did she push you away?”

“No,” Draco muttered, brow furrowed as he recalled the feeling of her lips pressed back against his, the soft gasp that escaped her as she clutched tightly onto his shirt. Then he remembered, she wasn’t just holding onto him, she was pulling on his shirt, pulling him into her.

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Blaise said confidently. “If she didn’t want you to kiss her, I think you’d know it. That witch doesn’t suffer anything lightly.”

Draco was silent, still fighting with his own thoughts. But the doubt that gnawed at him was beginning to soften at the edges, ever so slightly. Maybe they were right. Maybe it hadn’t been the catastrophic mistake he thought it was.

Harry gave Draco a nudge. “Think about it this way: at least now you’ve got that first kiss out of the way. And, if she didn’t curse you to oblivion on the spot, that’s got to mean something, right?”

Draco exhaled, a flicker of hope pushing through the mess of fear in his chest. 

Theo came around the corner just as Blaise finished speaking, his eyes bouncing between the three wizards and immediately sensing the tension. 

“Bloody hell, what’s going on here?” he demanded, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall, looking every bit the part of someone ready for gossip.

Draco let out a groan of exasperation, raking a hand through his hair. “Just—leave it, Theo.”

But before Draco could push Theo away, Harry and Blaise had already begun filling him in on the situation in loud, rapid-fire whispers. The moment the words “kissed Hermione” left Blaise’s lips, Theo’s face lit up with an infectious grin, and he let out a whoop of delight. 

“About bloody time!” He declared, smacking Draco hard on the back. “You finally made a move, mate! This is fantastic!”

“It’s not fantastic,” Draco snapped, pulling away and glaring at Theo.

“What do you mean?” Theo demanded, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You’ve been trying to get closer to her since she came back, and you’ve been pining over her for years. And now you’ve finally gone after what you want, and you’re just going to sit here and sulk about it?”

Draco scowled, shaking his head in frustration. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “I was—I was too rough. I didn’t—”

“Brother.” Theo’s tone shifted, becoming gentler but firm. “Stop overthinking this. If she didn’t want it, well, you’ve seen her dueling and her power. I don’t think there been much left of you.” He clapped a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “The only reason you’re sitting here is because she wanted that kiss just as much as you.”

Draco closed his eyes, exhaling deeply as the words sank in. But despite the logic, the knot of anxiety was still coiled tightly in his chest. “What if—what if I’ve scared her off,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Theo grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Then do it properly next time. Come on, mate—this is just the start. The beginning of something big.”

Draco looked between his three friends, the heavy mix of emotions still coursing through him but beginning to shift. He couldn’t help the small, reluctant smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You all make it sound so bloody easy.”

“Because it is,” Blaise said with a shrug. “When you’ve got the witch you love standing right in front of you, there’s nothing easier than fighting to keep her there.”

Draco nodded slowly, feeling a resolve building within him. He’d kissed her, and the world hadn’t ended. He wasn’t dead. Now it was just a matter of seeing where this led—of taking the steps he’d been too afraid to take before. 

He might not know what the future held, but one thing was clear: he couldn’t just let her slip away.