The first time Draco considered Hermione Granger with anything but contempt, she walked into an impressively decorated Great Hall during their fourth year. The whole school and most of their international guests were already enjoying themselves at the Yule Ball, when the three Triwizard Champions (and, well, Potter) walked in, their respective dates at their arms.
It took Draco a second to recognise the petite girl next to Viktor Krum’s broad frame and he took even longer to tear his gaze away from her – so long that Pansy started to hiss ugly insults at Granger, who seemed positively shell-shocked by the reactions to her appearance.
Hell, Draco had an inkling that she received more attention than the world-famous Quidditch player at her side and wondered if she realised it too.
Ignoring Pansy, Draco scrutinised Granger as she walked past them, her eyes conveniently passing over the group of Slytherins near the entrance. Her dress robes fit her perfectly, its light blue colour highlighted her remaining summer tan. And what had happened to her hair? It wasn’t its bushy self, usually almost its own entity on Granger’s head. Tonight, it was sleek and falling in effortless waves.
To Draco, however, her most striking feature was her tiny torso. He, Blaise and Theo had spent hours in their dormitory, discussing bouncy, large breasts as if any of them had ever seen a pair in action at age fourteen. They had agreed that tits had to be firm but large, too large for their tiny, greedy hands to grasp. They had also agreed that all women had to have, in addition to large breasts, firm bellies, small waists and tight arses. It was only fit for the offspring of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They had also agreed that Granger was – her unfit blood and ridiculous hair aside – too scrawny to even be considered by them in their very mature talks.
Pansy, her large chest having been discussed by the three boys at length, cleared her throat on his arm but Draco ignored her, mesmerised by Granger’s waist in its stark contrast to Krum’s torso next to her. He wondered if his hands could fit around her midriff almost completely and how it would feel to run his thumbs across the undersides of her breasts in the process. One quick look at Krum’s large hands told him that it was most likely possible for the Triwizard Champion and something inside him twitched. For the first time in his life, Draco suddenly became aware of just how small he was in comparison to others.
Draco snarled and looked away, focusing intently on Pansy’s low-cut décolleté as they went to the banquet.
Author’s notes:
I’m trying something new today - this is the first of five connected drabbles which I will then post on the AO3 (with maybe an additional drabble at the end, depending on my confidence in the story).
But first, you may enjoy them here! :)
This was initially written for @willhavetheirtrinkets‘s Height Difference Fest on the AO3 but I never got around to finishing it. I’ve written two of the five drabbles but will hold back the second one for a bit to avoid large gaps in posting. No update schedule involved though.
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Hermione felt her knees shake as the adrenaline of the battle slowly left her body. She was – of course – overjoyed, but a hollow feeling creeped up on her, slowly taking her in. She watched the Weasleys, all huddled together, mourning the loss of a brother and son. It felt wrong to join them; this was too intimate.
Hermione turned and looked at Parvati and Padma Patil, clutching Lavender’s unmoving body.
She watched Harry, who was bent over Tonks and Remus by himself. Harry was the hero of the day and yet, he was by himself now, a reminder of his lonely pre-Hogwarts years.
She thought of Snape, his mauled body temporarily forgotten. Alone in the Shrieking Shack.
Hermione shivered. She desperately yearned for her parents now, safely in Australia, oblivious not only to this battle and their daughter’s role in it, but to their daughter in general. Tentatively, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and attempted to provide some comfort to herself.
She felt so small, out of place. And so tired. Her role in this was fulfilled and she was floating in a space of futility – not needed for comfort or order in this awkward post-war void. She saw Neville rush past her, delegating Madam Pomfrey and a number of St. Mungo’s healers towards the wounded. Neville, who had been such a lost and insecure boy when she had first met him, looking for his toad. Neville would be remembered as one of the great fighters of the resistance.
Slowly, she stalked over the rubble, through the Great Hall, and out, out, out. She needed to breathe. She needed to feel the sun on her face, to shiver not because of her discomfort, but because the fresh morning air of early May. She needed –
‘Granger.’
On the massive stairway, Malfoy sat by himself, looking over the grounds of Hogwarts. His back leaned against a particularly large brick that appeared to have fallen from the gates. His legs were crossed on the stairs almost casually.
Hermione looked at him sceptically and he attempted a smirk, but it was obvious he was too tired to fully invest. He was dirty – full of mud, blood, and soot from the Room of Requirement. He looked battered. But then, she assumed, she likely looked similar.
‘You’re still here.’
‘I am.’
She’d assumed the Malfoys had left the ground as soon as Voldemort fell, just like many of his followers had done. ‘Why?’
He didn’t answer at first and stared over the Forbidden Forest instead. Hermione’s gaze followed his and the view was more peaceful than it had any right to be – early morning mist rose from the treetops and the lake at the forest edge was undisturbed. It was, however, not as quiet as she had expected; the birds chirped noisily. It was beautiful.
‘My parents left for the Manor. They were panicking – wanted to get rid of any … remainders.’
‘And you? You could be arrested for that thing on your arm if you casually stay here.’
‘I’ll be arrested anyway. Might as well have a nice view for it.’
He sounded just as beaten as he looked, Hermione thought. She sighed and slowly sat down next to Malfoy on the stairs. No one else seemed to enter or leave the castle and it was just them for a moment, next to each other, breathing slowly, taking in the scenery and the morning air. Everything seemed to be on hold.
Malfoy shuffled and Hermione turned her head, only to see him move a little closer to her. His right arm followed his movement awkwardly, the burn from the Fiendfyre angrily splotching the skin of his wrist. Without thinking, she pulled the dittany Madam Pomfrey had given her for her own burn from the pocket of her jumper and gently applied it to Malfoy’s skin. He watched her careful movements and Hermione could feel the tension and pain leaving him as she spread the ointment on his pale wrist.
‘Do you have dittany at home?’
He scoffed and almost sounded like his usual self. ‘Of course we do. Do you reckon they have dittany in Azkaban though?’
‘I know I said it just now, but I don’t think you will be arrested today, Draco.’
He scoffed again and did sound like his usual self this time.
She gently patted his wrist and stuffed the small box back in her pocket, her gaze trailing over the castle grounds again. They were still alone, although the sun was rising steadily. If she stared at the forest intently, and only paid attention to the warm, lean body next to her, it almost felt like a regular morning in their sixth year.
Draco moved carefully again, and she did him the favour of not looking at his next move, assuming that he was extremely self-aware of his actions in relation to the previous motnhs. His breath was shallow when his arm gently came down on her shoulders.
Hermione leaned into the awkward hug, smiling softly.
‘I’m so glad you’re here, Draco.’
She knew her voice gave away all the hurt and confusion and loneliness she felt – to him. He understood the turmoil inside her, what she needed now, better than anyone. His arm tightened across her shoulders and Hermione turned her head towards him.
When he nuzzled into her hair, Hermione could feel the tension leave them both.
She lifted her chin and pressed her lips to his. It had been almost a year, but he felt familiar.
---
AN: This drabble may be seen as a continuation of this one, but it can still be read as a standalone, just like the others. Thank you for reading and for all the support this channel gets despite its infrequent update schedule! Find my personal account under @ahoidraco. ❤
Four portraits of Astoria were placed across the manor.
Each was beautiful in its own regard – the tall, slender woman being surrounded by peach blossoms, sunflowers, chrysanthemums, and winterberries, respectively. Draco Malfoy had commissioned each portrait of his late wife symbolising a season after she had passed far too young, leaving her grieving husband and distraught son. Draco had wanted to make sure that she would be remembered in every corner of the haunting, old mansion and be a part of their family around the year without seeming eerily misplaced. He had also hoped for a symbolism of eternity – an endless circle of the four seasons, although this notion now struck him as a bit melodramatic.
Astoria had been Draco’s ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak youth. She was caring, smart, empathetic, and funny. Astoria’s heart was open for anyone and she treated all people and creatures equally respectful. Astoria would listen patiently and give thorough advice even at a young age. Astoria was missed by her family and friends alike, none of which could believe they had lost her so early in life. Her portraits seemed so much more alive, so much more present than other portraits of deceased persons.
So when Hermione Granger, née Granger but ex-Weasley (not by name but by statute), mother of two brilliant children, former minister for magic (the youngest on record even by the time she stepped down on her own accord), acclaimed author, and Draco Malfoy’s new partner in life, first passed one (the spring version) of the portraits she had heard so much about before she first visited the manor (aside from that fateful night over twenty years prior, let’s not discuss it, thank you very much), she was irritated to find that Astoria’s beautiful face (and Hermione was positive that this was not an embellished version of the late Malfoy (junior-)matriarch, this had been her actual face) in a bored but irritable expression.
Hermione passed her quickly then, thinking about mentioning the mood to Draco but quickly deciding otherwise. Astoria had been perfect on every account and Hermione, distinguished former minister of magic and all, had felt quite small every time Draco spoke of his late wife. It was difficult not to believe that Astoria’s grimace had been due to Hermione’s presence in the manor.
Such thoughts plagued Hermione ‘the original overthinker’ Granger until she and Draco had an ‘official’ meeting with Astoria (her summery version) where Draco’s late wife proved to be everything he had made her to be. She was interested in Hermione’s career, but more so her well-being, she was witty and snorted at the right names when Hermione told stories straight out of the Wizengamot. Even her snort was charming. Glancing at Draco during their conversation, Hermione spotted a wistful look in his eyes and she had to admit then that even without knowing her much, she missed Astoria herself.
Hermione was all the more surprised – and irritated, if she was being honest with herself – when she walked past chrysanthemum-Astoria sometime later only to find the other woman rather irritable and tight-lipped again. In this moment, Hermione did not know how to react (or act – situation far from clear: Astoria had barely returned her own greeting) and so she stomped on, inwardly fuming. Was she mad at Astoria for putting on an act when Draco was around? Was Draco part of this scheme and did he care how this made her feel at all?
She was able hold back during dinner and focused instead on Draco’s recital of his new publication on the side effects of pepper-up potion. However, later, she couldn’t get herself to respond to his hands or mouth, made a half-hearted excuse and so they went to bed rather irritated on both sides. Hermione had a hard time feeling bad, even when Draco’s last words before finally falling asleep were “I don’t care if we have sex once a day or once a month, I’d just wish you’d be honest with me”.
When sleep wouldn’t come, Hermione finally made a decision. She slipped out from under the heavy blanket, made sure Draco was still fully covered and tip-toed out of the room.
Astoria looked ethereal in her white dress, sitting on a stone bench, surrounded by masses of snow and framed by little red specks – winterberries. This time, she full acknowledged Hermione but did not speak once again.
I must not be jealous of a dead woman, Hermione had told herself all over all evening and yet here she was, feeling both jealous and nervous in front of a painting.
“Good evening, Astoria.”
“Hello, Hermione. What brings you here?”
Astoria’s tone was levelled and Hermione was even more jealous that the woman in front of her seemed so capable of perfect containment when necessary. During her time in office, she had frequently been criticised for being too emotional. (Too emotional – hah. Hermione usually had gotten angry, linking this label to her femininity and lecturing an overwhelmed Ron about the relationship between emotions and gender. He had trouble understanding. Draco had been with her from the first second – he was now avidly reading de Beauvoir).
“I uhm–“, Hermione began, scolding herself for thinking about jealousy when walking to the portrait instead of coming up with a sensitive question.
“Do you want to know how to please Draco best? I have a few–“
“What? No!”
Hermione had been shouting and now listened carefully for Draco down the hallway, cursing herself mentally for being so clumsy. Nothing happened. Relieved, she looked back up at Astoria who now seemed rather amused.
“I … I’m sorry, this might come across as incredibly rude, but”, Hermione took a deep breath, “are you, by any chance, really unhappy that Draco is with me?”
Astoria’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”
“It’s just…”, again, Hermione had to breathe awkwardly before continuing, “I couldn’t help but notice that you were so lovely when we spoke with Draco, but every time I’m walking past you by myself, you seem … sulking?”
Hermione rolled her eyes inwardly at her own unelaborate phrasing. But before she could correct herself, Astoria had jumped up from her bench (did it look Ancient Greek?) and took a step towards Hermione.
“Hermione, what? I’m so sorry I came across this rude!”
What?
This was surely not what Hermione had expected.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry, truly. I should not have jumped to conclusions.”
Come again?
Hermione’s face must have mirrored her confusion because Astoria now awkwardly shuffled strands of long, dark, straight hair out of her face hectically.
“It’s just that –”
Astoria now seemed lost for words as she helplessly flapped her arms and looked around.
“You see”, she began cautiously, “I was never the biggest fan of flowers.”
Hermione’s eyes widened.
“Of course, they’re beautiful et cetera, but I had a ridiculous hay fever that could barely be treated with potions and my green thumb was non-existent. My relationship to flowers is rocky at best. You’re right, I’m sulking. I know Draco loved me dearly and he wanted the best for me, Scorpius, and himself after I passed. Of course, he wanted to have me portrayed as memorable as possible. But all this”, again, she helplessly moved her arms and Hermione now realised that she meant all four versions of herself, all the flowery beauty, the references to goddesses and eternal beauty and wisdom, “that is not the essence of who I was.”
Hermione had felt foolish already, but Astoria’s final statement was too much. “I’m a family person. I would have pictured myself with them, I guess. And I love Draco. I always will and this is why I will never complain to him. When he told me you were with him now, I was unbelievably happy for him. You do him justice, Hermione. You understand him – maybe even better than I ever did. And I let my guard down because I felt this was possible around you. You seemed to be the person I could trust with my exasperation. I just never mentioned it to you, which was very stupid on my part.”
Astoria now shook her head. Hermione was stunned.
“Flower girl, can you believe it?”
Astoria’s bone-dry tone drove Hermione over the edge. She started giggling. Astoria’s initial silence turned into a hearty laugh after a few moments as well and – to Hermione’s surprise and delight – Astoria let out tiny snorts.
“In all honesty though”, Hermione said when they had calmed down, holding her ribs from laughter. “I do see it. The melodrama and all.”
They kept laughing.
“Feel free to sulk”, Hermione added after a few seconds, luring a few snorts from Astoria.
Draco rolled his eyes and closed the door to his bedroom, going back to bed before Hermione realised his feet were cold when she eventually came back. He should have known these two women were a lethal combination.
*
Authors notes:
Hi again!
This one was a lot of fun to write, despite containing very little Draco. It’s been a headcanon of mine for a while that he would glorify Astoria after her death (in a universe where their marriage took place and all, that is) and that Astoria herself would feel some kind of way about it, bonding over it with Hermione. Hope you guys enjoyed it!
Also, the initial premise of this blog was once that I would also happilypublish drabbles written by other authors and that I would take prompts. Just so you know. :)
Finally: HELLO to all my new followers! This almost vacant account (revived after six years!) grew by ca. 25% after only one post last week (and this post also became the most successful one to date). Thank you all so much and what a pleasure to have you. I also have a multifandom-blog where I usually am which you can find under @ahoidraco if you’re interested.
“It’s very kind of you to mind Teddy so often, you know.”
Hermione looked up to Andromeda in surprise as she got up from hugging Teddy after their trip to a muggle playground and some well-deserved post-playing ice cream. She had taken care of Teddy frequently since after the war – initially, she had mostly accompanied Harry on his duties as a godfather; but ever since Harry had to study for auror training, she made sure to compensate for her best friend. Every Saturday, Hermione and Teddy went on an adventure of some sorts together, sometimes with Harry, sometimes without him.
“It’s nothing, Andromeda”, she replied, unsure of why the older witch brought it up just now. “I love spending time with him, as I’m sure you know.”
“Of course. And yet you’re taking this extra mile to see him every Saturday.”
Andromeda sounded wistful as she turned her head towards the toddler who now sprawled across the sofa, exhausted. “I guess … I guess I’m being especially grateful since you’re not obligated whatsoever. If there was any family of his left apart from me…”
Hermione said nothing. She had thought about this as well – the tragedy surrounding Teddy almost as much as Harry. Andromeda was a brilliant grandmother to him, and yet the boy deserved so much more than one singular relative, one godfather and the godfather’s random best friend. This was one of the reasons Hermione had put so much effort into early childhood education ever since she entered the Ministry – children like Teddy should not be home-schooled all alone. They should get to know each other, form friendships early on and find themselves a second, non-biological family. Muggle-born children would finally be able to enter Hogwarts with prior knowledge of this parallel world.
“…thought Narcissa and I could maybe reinstate contact after everything that happened two years ago, but it seems I was wrong.”
Hermione barely caught that sentence, getting agitated about education all over again. “So your letter went unanswered?”
Andromeda shrugged, and rolled her eyes. “I thought she was past all of her grudges, honestly. But no, no reply so far.”
Hermione scoffed. Classic Malfoy arrogance – blood purity over family and all that. Narcissa’s blood prejudice had definitely not died with her other sister.
“I’m really sorry to hear it, Andromeda. Listen, I’ll head out – will see you next Saturday? If you want to, I can ask her son about the letter?”
“Draco? I didn’t know you were friends.”
“We’re not!” Hermione could feel her cheeks turning some shade of red and she did decidedly not enjoy it. “I mean, uh. It’s um, it’s really nothing. Work, you know.”
“I see.”
Hermione ignored the deepened laughter lines around Andromeda’s eyes at her stammering. Why was it that after over a year of being on the same team at the Ministry, after occasional lunches and after-work drinks, and sure, maybe after some dinners together and one or the other shared Sunday afternoon where she introduced him to the concept of ‘films’ (although she was not entirely sure if he was aware of the implications of a ‘movie night’), and after one horribly uncomfortable and yet very earnest apology on his part, it was still incredibly embarrassing for Hermione to admit that she sometimes, regularly, increasingly so, spent time with Draco Malfoy and enjoyed it?
*
“Are you sure this is fine?”
Malfoy’s anxiety was written all over his face if one knew how to read him. It actually helped calming Hermione’s nerves. Her heart rate had been unhealthily high all morning, thinking about the meeting between Andromeda and her nephew – and his almost-nephew. However, when she had met with Malfoy around the corner from Andromeda’s flat in an Edinburgh muggle neighbourhood, he had been fiddling with his ridiculously formal suit and made sure his hair was in place every few seconds. His features were as unimpressed as ever, but he was giddy. It made Hermione grin and while her heart rate barely changed, she still felt more at ease.
“It’s fine. She’s excited.”
“And the child?”
“Malfoy. Teddy is two years old. He’ll probably be unimpressed.”
He didn’t respond. Hermione rang the bell. Malfoy’s fiddling increased before he fell completely still, and Hermione saw him straightening from the corner of her eye. It took some effort on her side to not scoff at his ridiculous behaviour. He was meeting his estranged aunt – appearing all arrogant and stiff was not going to help. And yet, she had learned to recognise this as his coping mechanism when things got uncomfortable. It was just the worst coping mechanism imaginable if one had good intentions.
Andromeda took ridiculously long to open the door and once it finally happened Hermione had to laugh. Little Teddy was standing there, looking up expectantly. His face fell when he saw Hermione and he turned around. “Granny, just Auntie Mione!”
Hermione wasn’t sure how to respond when she heard Andromeda’s laughter from somewhere in the flat. “Well yes, little one. I said your visitor was coming with Aunt Hermione, didn’t I?”
Teddy looked back at Hermione who in turn now looked at Draco expectantly. She hadn’t realised he had gone into hiding behind her. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to speak anytime soon, Hermione turned back to Teddy.
“Hi Teddy! Are you going to let us in?”
The toddler didn’t respond or move. Hermione sighed and picked him up.
“Ted, we’ll have to go over your manners again. Letting guests wait at the door is not polite”, she joked, expecting Teddy to squirm in her arms as he usually did when being picked up against his will. But he didn’t. When she looked at him, she saw him drooling on her shoulder while staring at Malfoy. A look behind her told Hermione that Malfoy was equally shell-shocked – he eyed the toddler and didn’t follow as Hermione entered the hallway.
Andromeda came out of the kitchen with a tray of biscuits in her hands. “Hermione! It’s good to see you. And…”
She trailed off when she saw Malfoy who was still firmly rooted outside. Andromeda smiled faintly. “You know, Draco, everyone always says you’re the spitting image of your father and here you are, reminding me so much of Cissy when she was young. Do come in!”
Hermione turned to look at Malfoy who finally came out of his stupor. He entered but seemed to be very uncomfortable despite his aunt’s welcoming words. It took him some seconds and a very intent focus on his shoes as he took them off until he acknowledged Andromeda.
“Aunt Andromeda. It’s my pleasure to meet you.”
Andromeda seemed unsure how to react now as well. Hermione suddenly felt like an intruder, the moment being quite intimate. Now that she eyed the two, it occurred to her that not only had Andromeda been without her family for decades – Draco also barely had any close relatives and even less that were still alive.
Teddy, however, picked this very moment to start wiggling and complaining noisily. Andromeda eyed him briefly and then turned to Malfoy. “I told him you were coming and he got very excited. I guess he assumed you were a bit younger when I explained you were my nephew, though.”
Malfoy’s lips slowly curled upward. “Sorry to disappoint, then. Hello, Teddy, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Play?”
Hermione had to laugh then. Malfoy’s lips curled further upward. “Sure, I’ll play with you. You’ll have to show me all the toys you have to offer so we can pick the best one.”
His reply surprised Hermione, and, by the looks of it, Andromeda as well. The older witch raised her eyebrows as Teddy hopped out of Hermione’s arms and grabbed Draco’s hand, pulling him towards his room. Draco excused himself as he followed, leaving Hermione and Andromeda in the hallway.
*
The week after, Hermione picked Teddy up at Andromeda’s and they met Malfoy at Teddy’s favourite playground.
“Slide?”
Hermione was about to comply when Teddy let go of her hand and grabbed Malfoy’s instead, dragging him to the slide as effectively as a toddler could, his hair changing colours out of excitement. Malfoy seemed confused but followed, leaving Hermione a little lonely and lost in thoughts. It had never occurred to her that Malfoy could have been missing extended family up to the point where he went to a muggle playground of all things with his nephew. Yet, when she saw him with Teddy, she felt stupid for not considering it. Hermione watched Malfoy watching Teddy sliding and had to grin when he vehemently refused to slide himself. Teddy huffed and seemed to look for something, his eyes finally falling on her. “Mione, slide?”
“Slide, please. Or better yet, ‘Hermione, can we go on the slide together, please’”, she retorted, but walked towards them nonetheless.
“Please”, Teddy said, still struggling with the pronunciation of the word. Hermione quickly looked around to find that no muggles were close and levitated a giggling Teddy up the slide. She followed him up on the ladder and grabbed a still hovering Teddy into her lap. Another quick look around and she extended the slide before she pushed herself and the toddler down. Those small gurgles from his mouth were exactly why Hermione made sure all Saturdays were off and never hungover. She had to laugh herself as Teddy squeaked.
“Again!”
So they went again, Hermione being so immersed in playtime that she hardly noticed Malfoy’s gaze on them. After the fourth time down the slide Teddy trotted onwards and dove straight into the sandpit, where Hermione made sure he was surrounded by sandy animals and buildings that rebuilt once his chubby hands hit them.
“You’re really good with him, Granger.”
Hermione had been so focused on the sand elephants around Teddy, she had completely forgotten their new companion. As she turned around to face Malfoy, she found him a bit closer than usual.
“Harry and Teddy get along even better”, she replied. “But his auror training is quite demanding and he has to study on weekends until his exams next month, so I’m trying to fill in as much as I can.”
Malfoy chose not to comment on Harry. They fell silent again until Hermione changed Teddy’s sand friends into little ferrets to the boy’s delight. She heard Draco exhale sharply and turned to face him again, grinning. “Never gets old.”
“I’d say it does, witch.”
“I am just that, thank you very much.”
Draco’s mouth was open when Teddy squealed “Squirrels!”, his pronunciation going places this time, and Hermione had to laugh. “No, Teddy, they’re ferrets. Ferrets! See? They’re seem to look a bit weird, but they’re actually quite fun to play with.”
Teddy didn’t argue with her logic, having the ferrets running around him. Again, Hermione turned and found Malfoy’s hand on his forehead.
“Granger, you’re insufferable”, he murmured just loud enough for her to hear.
“You chose to come with me again this week.”
“Yes, for this fine young man here.”
“Of course. Any I’m glad you did.”
Falling awkwardly silent now, Hermione and Malfoy both looked at the ‘fine young man’ with his face full of sand and his hair all blue. He returned their gaze and suddenly stopped reaching for sand.
“Draco and Mione married?”
“What? Teddy, of course we’re not married! Why would you think that? We’re actually just colleagues and you’re relatives so it made sense to introduce you two and I’m glad you’re getting along so nicely! We’re further from being married that you could possibly imagine!”
Malfoy snorted.
The sound yanked Hermione out of her babbling and one look on Teddy’s blank face made her realise that she had just given a toddler the ‘just colleagues’ speech. She hid her face in her hands and groaned.
“Just colleagues, yes?”
“Of course, Malfoy! What else would we be?”
He was driving her insane. Hermione looked at Malfoy through her fingers and found he was still smirking. Some things would never change. At least Teddy was back at crushing ferrets – Hermione really, desperately wanted to join in at this point.
“What else, Malfoy?”
“Oh, I don’t know”, he replied, now joining her in her squat next to the sandpit. Hermione could feel his presence just next to her even without looking, her face still in her hands.
“In any case, I got all the ingredients for the ragout you talked about for our dinner tomorrow. Hope you picked a film.”
Hermione groaned again as Malfoy smirked even wider. So he had caught the implications of this whole situation the whole time. Her hands surely were not large enough for her to cover up every last inch of her burning hot face.
*
“In any case”, Malfoy said as they reached their apparation spot after dropping off Teddy for the week, “I can now see why you’re so invested in the Early Education Act.”
“You can? That’s brilliant! You see, I just think children need a social net that exceeds their biological families. It’s not about questioning all the traditions of early wizard education from home and I really don’t understand why Fawley keeps coming back to this argument, Malfoy. It’s just that this viewpoint remains elitist and I just find it completely unacceptable how such structural disadvantage remains embedded in wizarding law and not to mention what it is like for single parents and mothers in particular, so also from a feminist vantage point, I –”
“I get it, Granger, we’ve been over this at least twice this month”, Malfoy replied, smirking. “And I agree, as I did last time. I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner? Bring a film.”
Hermione nodded. Very obviously satisfied, Draco moved one hand to her chin. “By the way, I meant it. You’re impressive with my nephew.”
Hermione blushed again. This while situation now seemed a lot more intimate than it had before.
“And I haven’t really decided if you look ridiculous or very beautiful when you’re flushed. Will let you know tomorrow.”
Hermione had to close her eyes. She thus only heard Draco’s small laughter and jumped a little when she felt his lips on hers.
By the time she opened her eyes again, he had disapparated.
---
Author’s notes
Right, so I’ve been gone for six years. But not only has this whole Covid-19 situation given me a lot more time to read fanfictions, it also allowed me to reconnect with tumblr and finally the motivation to write something up. This far exceeds a drabble but I couldn’t seem to stop and while it’s been a short headcanon of mine for a while I still hope you all enjoy it!
They say you have flashes of your happiest moments right before you die.
As I saw that green light careen towards me, there was only one thing, no, one person, really, on my mind.
Flashback
"Man, that felt good!" shouted out Hermione as she saw Draco run away, holding his hand up to his slowly, swelling red face.
End Flashback
That slap, I knew it would leave it's mark on him.
But, not in the way I expected it to.
The truth came out a year later, at the Yule Ball
Flashback
"Hermione?"
Looking up, Hermione saw the ferret, confused and weak, she rubbed her tears away and stood up abruptly
"Go away Malfoy, I'm sure you have that slag, pug face of a friend waiting for you in the broom closet down the hall," replied Hermione stiffly, turning away and made her way up the stairs.
"Wait!" shouting out he grabbed the tips of her fingers, causing her to trip on the step, faliing into his waiting arms.
"What on EARTH are you doing, Malfoy? If you're trying to kill me, you're going the right way about it. But let me go, NOW!" shouted out a frustrated, confused and angry Hermione.
Chuckling delightedly at her, he promptly dropped her to the floor, where she landed on her feet in a huff.
End Flashback
I honestly couldn't believe what happened after that moment, it all turned into bit of a dream. The next thing I remembered was waking up on a comfy bed, a furry feeling on my tongue and a massive head ache.
That night was one of many.
Ron and Harry may have questioned my presence at times, but, the excuse of studying for the tornament and O.W.L's always eased their minds.
Ginny however, knew otherwise.
Smiling secretly, she would question me constantly in the privacy of my bedroom about our relationship.
However, when sixth year fell upon them, things went a little sour and yet surreally perfect at the same time.
Flashback
"Draco, w-what's wrong?" questioned Hermione as she once again notcied the dark circles beneath his eyes.
"Nothing, Hermione, just the stress is getting to me,"
"The hell it is, we've only been back at school for three weeks and the work load isn't at its peak yet, what's wrong?" she demanded
"This! This is what's wrong Hermione!" shouted Draco as he revealed the Dark Mark to her.
"Oh, Draco. Why didn't you tell me? I thought you were going to avoid having to get branded?"
"Yeah, well, can't exactly do that when I have my father locked away, my crazy Aunt out and a death wish on Dumbledore, now can I? Not with me being the only Hogwart's student He can get."
Gasping at the last bit, Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing, "We have to go see him, NOW!" shouted Hermione.
Now it was her turn to grab onto Draco's hand and pull him along wtih her.
However, he stopped them both, digging his heels down as she tugged fiercely on his arm.
"No, Hermione. I have to do this. He-he'll kill my parents i-if I don't."
Understanding swam before her eyes.
End Flashback
It was bittersweet really, Draco refused to go to Dumbledore to seek help, I suggested the Order, but he turned it down as well.
It hurt me that I wasn't able to help him.
There really was only one thing I could do.
The day he showed me his mark, I lost my virginity.
All his frustration, anger, sadness. It broke my heart.
So, we did it.
It was hard and fast and hurt.
But, over time, it got better.
I was his stress relief, his friend, his shoulder he could cry on.
His support.
And now, after being on the run for close to a year, having been tortured in his own home by his crazy Aunt...
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