Dramione drabble // past relationship, auror Draco, Hermioneâs forced marriage, infidelity
Flourish and Blotts is not part of his assigned patrol route, but Draco Malfoy spends the better part of an hour in front of the bookstore every evening. He waits as the sharp winter sun gives way to the bitter night sky and the other shopkeepers turn on twinkling lights.
Like clockwork, she emerges from the back office, attention still buried in the heavy leatherbound ledger sheâs cradling. Brushing rogue tendrils from her view, she sets about her nightly closing ritual. Dutifully securing the chocolate-brown nest of curls atop her head with her wand, she begins tidying up the tables displaying new releases in the shop window.
When she finally sneaks a glance at him through the window, watching her with his hands clenched in his coat pockets, she doesnât flinch. She merely straightens her stance, sighs deeply, and softens her eyes before continuing her task.
He lingers a bit longer, longer than yesterday, before heading down Diagon Alley to meet with his patrol partner.
When his shift concludes, he doubles back to the now-closed bookstore. Instead of returning to his well-worn spot in front of the frosted glass, he heads down the alleyway to the door used for inventory shipments.
He lightly raps his icy knuckles against the door, waiting patiently to hear the lock click on the other side. Once inside, he removes his coat and the leather wand harness, taking a heavy seat in her office chair. Heavy, but not comfortable. Not just yet.
But when she straddles his lap, running her long fingernails against his scalp, his muscles finally slack, and he melts into the warmth of the moment he's waited all day for.
She doesnât ask him about Astoria or his son Scorpius born last year. Like she's afraid the mere mention of them could fuel a guilt deep enough to turn him away. The idea of a wife and a small child should steel a manâs defenses against a woman like her.
She canât see Draco is already impossibly tangled up in her, willing to let her destroy him.
People always leave, sheâs casually said before. As if convincing herself that being savvy to the fact will protect her from the sting. That he can't hurt her. That she wonât be caught unaware.
Draco catches the hopeful slip in her resolve when sheâs limp in his lap, sweat sparkling on her exposed chest, when he whispers the promise in her ear.
His justifications soothe his mind as he examines his face in the cracked mirror in her office bathroom, running his hands over his damp face.
Her husband will hurt her again.
He needs to get thisâthemâright this time.
But Draco Malfoy is also a desperate man, barely treading water as their past threatens to swallow them whole.
My mental health has been in the toilet but finally dipping my toes into writing again đ
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