#emilywrites

Silence rang. Jean opened his eyes. Everyone was staring. Even Eren, with his head tilted to the side as he considered Jean, pushing back the hair stuck to his forehead. Jean shivered. He knew Eren knew. Sasha knew. Ymir knew. Fuck, even Ymir’s tiny blonde girlfriend knew.

“You stopped singing, man.” Eren leaned forward on his set, chin propped in his palm. Jean scratched a hand through his overgrown undercut.

“I did?” His nerves, this weird, tightening fear, came out in his voice— he sounded like he was about to cry.

Eren’s brow furrowed.

“I think it’s time for a break. I, for one, am exhausted. And parched as a motherfucker.” Eren stretched his arms out in front of him as he spoke, arching an eyebrow, mouth spreading into a grin that bordered on cocky.

Ymir sighed. Jean didn’t blame her. They had a show tomorrow. They couldn’t really afford an extra break. But that other side of him— the pathetic, love sick one— warmed and sizzled for Eren was doing this for him.

Ymir and Sasha shrugged, but Ymir still looked frustrated.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Ymir said, her hand already gripping Sasha’s wrist. Her eyes were focused on Jean, but he knew she was speaking to Eren when she said, “Fix him.”

And then the two girls were gone, the door slamming behind them. Jean still stood before the microphone. His grip on it desperate.

Jean’s head was pounding— loving Eren came in waves, and it was drowning him.

He must not have heard Eren get up, because the next thing Jean knew, those hands— big and strong and so capable of damage, damage Jean had seen them wreck up close— closed around his fists, loosening his hold on the microphone, twining their fingers together once Jean freed it.

“C’mon, man. Don’t do this.”

Do what? Jean wanted to ask. He didn’t. He kept his eyes on the floor, vision blurring as he focused on the tip of Eren’s Docs.

“Jean, breathe.”

His chest burned as he gasped, sucking in air. When had he stopped breathing? Eren’s scent overwhelmed him; Jean took stepped forward until he could drop his head onto Eren’s shoulder. Eren’s hands let go of his, coming to rest on the small of his back for a moment, burning through Jean’s shirt, before he wrapped his arms completely around Jean’s waist.

“I thought I had this sorted out.” He choked on the words.

Eren chuckled.

“You can’t compartmentalize love, dude. Things go wrong sometimes, you can’t let it freak you out.” Eren’s fingers dug into skin between Jean’s ribs.

“If I don’t have you by me, I’ll— God— I’ll die.” Jean brushed his nose along the side of Eren’s neck, lips coming to rest beneath his jaw as he spoke.

“You’re the one who asked me for a break,” Eren reminded him.

Jean snorted, lips twisting in a pout.  “I didn’t expect you to agree.”

“Jean, I’m so fucking in love with you. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. And I may have been drunk, and on the cusp of an orgasm when I first said it— which is what led to you going all Jean-y on it. But it’s true.” Eren’s voice was barely a whisper.

Jean shivered.  “Fuck you.”

He met Eren’s eyes— too close together as they both went a bit crossed eyed. Their noses grazed, lips meeting just so.

“Tell me you love me back, you bottle blonde,” Eren said, their lips brushing with his every word. “So we can finish practice and then go fuck. I’ve missed your ass. And my pillow doesn’t smell like your cheap apple shampoo anymore. It’s fucked up.”

“Eren Jaeger, I love you— even more than I hate you.” Jean nipped at Eren’s bottom lip as the other boy laughed and reached to grasp the back of Jean’s neck, pulling him in closer, kissing him now, for the first time in weeks.

Clapping reverberated through the room— the acoustics making it more pronounced. When had the door opened? Jean let their lips linger for a second, turning his gaze behind Eren’s shoulder where Ymir and Sasha stood, hands clasped dramatically over their hearts.

“Finally, I thought my tits would sag to my hips before you two confessed to each other,” Ymir said around a mouthful of nutter butter cookies.

“Especially with you two fucking every other day. You guys have basically been dating for months already.” Sasha sounded genuinely happy for them. Jean’s eyes sharpened into a glare.

Eren nipped at the skin of Jean’s neck before stepping back, hands falling from where they had been holding onto Jean. “Let’s go, blondie, we got a song to finish.”

Jean knocked his shoulder into Eren’s as the boy walked off to his drum set, his usual sneer replaced with a wide grin that had Sasha fake swooning into Ymir’s arms. Eren simply winked as he settled down into his seat.

She tried to wiggle her arm free, “And why not then?”

He opened his mouth. He froze. She shook her head, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to say it. That’s why they had ended things last week, he couldn’t vocalize what he wanted, he couldn’t even reassure her that he gave some inkling of a crap about her. And he knew that she knew it; so this time, when she wiggled her arm, he let her go. 

“That’s what I thought, Malfoy.”

She pushed past him and he listened as her steps echoed away, each footfall slicing deeper into his heart. His hands shook, in anger and fear. His mind was racing. A split second decision was made. 

“Granger, wait!” He could barely process what he was saying before he said it. Her footsteps came to a halt, and he heard her turn around. 

“What?”

“I-, I just, please, think about this.”

“I don’t have time for this, I’ve already thought about it! And quite frankly, I don’t know where all of this is coming from. It’s not fair to me. You think I haven’t thought of the people I’m leaving behind? Do you really think this was an easy decision for me? That I’m not terrified of what will happen if we fail? I’m doing this for the people I care about and for the people who care about me, because I want them to have a good future. Because I want them to have a future.” She was about two seconds from losing it, “And I will not put their lives in jeopardy because of someone who refuses to care about anything or anyone else!”

Something inside him was set off. “But I do bloody care!” 

She froze and he stalked towards her, spitting out sentence after sentence. 

“Of course I care, I’m just a mess. You know this about me. I have cared about you since before,” he paused and shook his head, “Since before I can even remember. And I’m really sorry if you think I’m being condescending, but if I think you’re going on suicide mission without any resistance from anyone, I’m going to try to convince you otherwise because, shocker, I very well do care.” He tried to gather his thoughts, but his emotions were taking hold of him, “I just don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to care about people. I don’t know how to even manage getting close to people! And above all else, I certainly don’t know how to keep the people I love alive.”

Her eyes popped open and she gasped. The words came out before he could stop them. He silently cursed to himself, running his hands through his hair. He hadn’t meant to say it like that. 

“Draco,” she whispered and he shook his head, not meeting her gaze. His chest was rising and falling faster than she had ever seen before. She reached up and put her hand to his cheek. He pressed into her touch, still refusing to meet her eyes. Her thumb traced his cheek in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. 

“Draco, please look at me.”

He shook his head again and so she took her other hand and held his face in front of hers so that he had no choice but to look at her now. His eyes pleaded with her and she bit her lip, suddenly guilty for the anguish she could see written across his features. She swallowed. He waited, his eyes drifting down to her mouth. And then, ever so softly, she brushed her lips against his. 

He seemed to relax almost instantly. His body awoke and his hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer to him. She deepened the kiss and he gasped. It had been a long week, he had missed her. And if she was really going to go through with this god awful plan, he was about to miss her a hell of a lot more. He held onto her as if he’d never hold her again and she tangled her fingers in his hair. They moaned and gasped against each other’s lips as his hands raced over every inch of her body, as if attempting to memorize her forever. 

She pulled away from him only a second and he felt his body immediately follow her, wanting more of her, wanting nothing else than to be as close to her as possible. 

“Wait, Hermio-” She rested her forehead against his, shutting him up rather quickly. She searched his eyes waiting for a blessing that would never come. She closed her eyes and kissed him again, softly, slower.

“I love you, Draco,” she murmured against his lips, pushing their foreheads together once again. “But you have to let me go.” 

He fought off the urge to cry and squeezed his eyes closed, feeling her forehead against his. “No,” he begged, “Please. Don’t leave me. Please just don’t-” 

She kissed him again and he cupped her face. He slid his tongue on her bottom lip and she gasped quietly. She dug her nails into his shoulders, holding him tight to her body. But just as quickly as he’d been overwhelmed by her presence, he felt the absence of her mouth on his. 

He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. 

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “I love-”

He felt a shift in the air and slowly opened his eyes. 

“You, too.”

He knew he’d still have his friends after carrying out his task. After all, most of their parents were Death Eaters. One life taken by him was nothing compared to what their parents had all done. They'd be hesitant at first, but eventually would come around, especially once they took their Marks. 

A face flashed behind his eyelids and he pinched the bridge of his nose. A sinking feeling filled his stomach and he took a deep breath. That face would surely never come around, not that she thought much of him to begin with. No, he’d definitely never come back from this one with her. These last few months were all he had left with her, better make the most of it. 

She had always intrigued him and he had found it hard to ignore her. She was smart, sharp, and she challenged him in ways no one else really had the guts for. They were similar in many ways and he had come to find that he actually really enjoyed being around her. And though she had what his father had always referred to as, “dirty blood” he had found himself caring less and less about it over the past six years of knowing her. He’d even stopped using that awful word their second year after seeing how upset it had made her. He had always wondered that if things were different, if they would’ve stood a chance. And now, with this given assignment, he was sure they never would. 

His stare bored into the fire as the gears in his mind continued to turn. The reflection of the flames danced on his face and he pressed his knuckles against his lips. He took a deep breath in and a deep breath out and made a decision. “Now or never,” he breathed. And with that he stood up rather quickly, and slipped into the corridor to make his way to the Great Hall. 

- - - - - - -

Hermione had just said goodnight to Harry and Ron, who were turning in early in preparation for tomorrow’s quidditch match. Tired, but not quite ready for bed, she had decided to hang back at dinner. Ginny and Neville were carrying on a friendly, but heated debate, but even they eventually wore each other out and retired for the evening. Hermione stood to leave with them, but as they exited the Great Hall, she stopped and turned to the courtyard. It was a clear night and she enjoyed catching constellations when she got a chance. 

Draco rounded the corner, managing to keep his pace calm and his appearance normal despite the fact his nerves were eating him alive. As he made his way towards the Great Hall, assuming she’d still be at the table talking with her glued-at-the-hip companions, a slight movement caught his eye. There she was, looking up at the night sky and completely oblivious to him approaching. He swallowed hard, his nerves threatening to suffocate him.

“Granger,” he whispered. No response. She was completely mesmerized. He inched closer, as quiet as possible as to not scare her. 

“Granger!” 

She yelped, clearly startled and he instantly felt a twinge of guilt for freaking her out that badly. When she regained her composure, she raised a skeptical eyebrow to him. 

“What do you want, Malfoy?” She asked, her voice almost tired of having to ask that question. 

He licked his lips. His adrenaline had gotten him to her, but he still hadn’t quite planned out what exactly he was going to say. He opened and closed his mouth. He suddenly felt extremely foolish for thinking she would actually say yes to him.

“Right,” she sighed, “Well, when you think of whatever insult you want to throw my way, you know where to find me.”

She took a step, in an attempt to walk around him, but he moved to his right, blocking her path. He looked down into her eyes, feeling her breath hit his face. They were closer than they’d ever been and she was not having it. 

“Malfoy, seriously,” she said through gritted teeth. 

“Granger, please, just-” he stammered.

She took a step back and he immediately felt the absence of her presence. She crossed her arms across her chest, waiting for him to get to the point. 

“I know I haven’t been the nicest guy in the world-”

Hermione laughed. Out loud. In fact, it echoed off the stone surrounding them. The sound completely engulfed him. He closed his eyes and waited for her to be done. He deserved it and he knew it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but are you trying to apologize to me? Has Hell frozen over? Are you ill?”

His hands balled to fists. “If you’d let me finish, you’d know what I was trying to say,” he clipped back. 

The amusement in her eyes returned, “Right of course, carry on.” She was mocking him. 

“Granger. I know this sounds ridiculous, believe me, I'm surprised too..” he took a step towards her. “..but, the truth is, you have always interested me.”

Hermione sucked in a breath. That was not what she had been expecting to hear.

“You challenge me in skill, you actually stand up to me when I’m, well, myself and well you’re, um,” he struggled to find the words, ”actually not too hard on the eyes either.” 

Neither was he. She banished the thought almost immediately.

“Gee, thanks, Malfoy. Can I go to bed now?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Granger, please just listen to me.” 

“Let me think about it,” she said, tapping her chin three times before replying with a short, “No.” And then she went to step around him again and he went to block her again, grabbing her wrist. Her eyes met his, they held the gaze, neither one of them daring to back down. When he blinked, she use the excuse to sweep her eyes over his face, noticing how his jawbone stood out more than usual and his eyes seemed to ache for the comfort of sleep. He slowly let go of his hold on her. Maybe he was falling ill.

“Granger. Look everything is going to hell, I’m just hoping for a glimpse of heaven, before you-you,” his voice faltered, “Before you hate me forever.”

She laughed under her breathe and muttered, “Little late for that.” And then louder, “Now if you’ll excuse me, as much as I’d like to pretend you haven’t chugged a flask of fire whiskey and there’s actually a point to this conversation, I’m going to bed.” 

She saw the hurt flash in his eyes and decided to use that to her advantage.  This time when she stepped around him, he didn’t block her. He was grasping at straws. Admitting feelings? Not something his father had prepared him for. Asking a long time enemy to a ball? Not covered in Bellatrix’s teachings. 

“Look, Gra- Hermione please just hear me out,” he tried one more time. 

She heard her first name and turned swiftly around. Curiosity danced in her eyes as she took in the sight of him. Vulnerable, pleading, honest...? She almost didn’t recognize the boy in front of her, almost. Luckily, over the past few years, she had seen this version of him a handful of times. Times when his mask slipped and she saw who the real Draco Malfoy was. Not the hard outer shell reinforced by Lucius time and time again, but someone who overcame a great deal of expectations and was tired of playing the part. She would never admit it out loud, but had he been like that all the time, she believed they could’ve been, at the very least, friendly. Her curiosity had the best of her. “What?”

He closed his eyes, another deep breath. She watched him carefully, her walls coming down, but still guarded. His eyes betrayed his normally calm demeanor. She stood, anxious in anticipation.

“Will you go to the Christmas ball with me?” He hadn’t meant to say the words so fast, but his nerves had gotten the best of him. He felt his cheeks immediately heat up, his heartbeat roaring in his ears.

The words hung in the air between them. She certainly hadn’t expected him to say that. Hermione didn’t even realize her mouth had fallen open, shock written all over her face. She shook her head, as if to gather her thoughts and then took a step towards him. 

The silence was painful for Draco. His eyes remained glued to her every move as she scanned the courtyard. 

“Please?” He added with a shrug, his voice small, sounding very not like himself at all. 

Her face changed suddenly, and she spoke. “Look Malfoy, I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, but I refuse to be the punchline.” 

His face twisted into confusion, hurt littering his features, “No, that’s not what-”

“Ha ha! So funny! Go ahead run back to report to your little friends and collect your winnings.” She fought hard to keep her voice steady, but her emotions were threatening to break out. She was embarrassed not just from what he had asked her, but for what admiring him just moments before. She threw her walls back up. 

“Granger, please, I just, let me prove it to you, just listen-”

“No, you listen. If this is seriously your idea of entertainment, count me out. I’ve heard enough from you and I will not continue to put up with this garbage. I refuse to play along with this stupid little act. Now if you don’t mind, I really will be going now.”

She stalked away and he let her go, watching her disappear into the darkness of the castle. 

When he was finally alone, he let out a big sigh. Perhaps he deserved this, no scratch that, he knew he did. He felt incredibly stupid thinking she would ever even entertain the idea of agreeing to go with him. He hadn’t even stopped to think about how she would take it. And now she had seen him like this. He’d really dug quite the hole for himself. 

The bells rang out on the hour and he headed back in. As he made his way towards the edge of the courtyard, he noticed a rose bush. The flowers seemed to have a soft glow under the moon and starlight. He cut a few off of the bush with his wand and stuffed them in his robes before retiring into the castle for the night. 

- - - - - - -

She laid in bed that night, tossing and turning. Sleep would not come easily. Had that really happened? Had Draco Malfoy asked her to an event? As his date? She thought of his face, giving way to his real personality. Who he was without his gang of friends, without his father, without his tyrannical leader. She had always thought he had a nice face. And though she could go without the douche personality, she did enjoy his mind as well, how he too seemed to know all the answers and how, without fail, he always managed to be the one to finish her sentences in classes. She remembered glances they’d shared, off character things he had said, and a smile she’d managed to catch a few times over the past few years. 

She thought about it all night. 

- - - -

The light peaked through her window, slowly stirring her from her deep, dreamless sleep. No one else in the room had woken up yet and so she decided to head out early and get a jump start on some reading. She threw on her uniform and quietly made her way down into the common room. 

As she sat on the couch, a new object at one of the tables caught her attention. Timidly, she tiptoed over to the table to find a single rose laying on the warm wooden surface. A small piece of parchment was attached. She picked it up, inspecting it closely, blinking several times to ensure she was in fact, not dreaming.

Just let me prove it to you. 

-DM

But it wasn’t. And the realization flooded her face much more quickly than it did his. And she knew.  In that moment, despite the glow of the moon, and the lights of the castle, that he would not find her. 

She blinked as he fumbled, falling to the ground. 

“G-Granger, are you there?”

She panicked and thought the worst. But she was the Golden Girl, able to overcome anything. And despite her emotions flying and the chaos surrounding them, she packed all the negativity away in the depths of her mind. Shoveling those worries under anything she could think of; the years and years of lucky get aways and somehow overcoming the worst. And she hoped for a moment that Harry’s luck had rubbed off on her, and that what was in front of her wasn’t the truth. 

His cold hands reached for hers desperately, connecting in a whirlwind of sensations, his pulse racing. She tried not to give her hopes up, that it was just a situational thing, like all the moments they had spent in the towers, losing themselves from the reality of what was coming. 

“Granger, I can’t,” his voice cracked as his hand squeezed hers, “I can’t see.”

The pain in his voice hit her like a train, knocking the breath out of her, she had never known him to be so emotional. She gasped and he heard it, his face crumbling along with his body. And he held her there, arms wrapped around her middle, on his knees as his body shook. 

“Granger, I-”

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice pulling him back as his head followed the sound of her voice. He fell into her even more, and his legs gave way.

And despite her need to comfort him in that moment, to be there for him, to kiss away the tears on his pale, thin cheeks, she knew she had to act quickly. Whether it was a moment of desperation or not. 

“Malfoy, you need to stand up,” she whispered, her voice strong, surprising her. She looked down at Draco Malfoy, on his knees, holding her like she was the last thing that kept him in this world and her heart skipped a beat. But she knew what she had to do. 

His shoulders hunched and she could feel the panic in him rising. 

“Malfoy, I need you to stand up and make it to the apparition point, I can,” she stumbled over her words, “I think I can help you, but I need you to help me get you somewhere safe.”

His shoulders bobbed against her hips. He shuddered and she could imagine his eyes searching for something, anything that could confirm his sight was intact.

“Draco,” she said lifting his chin, her voice steady, “I need you to trust me.”

He raised his head to hers, but his eyes were shut. But even in his features, she could see his honesty. 

“Please, Hermione, I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

The confession blossomed a strength inside her she hadn’t known, not recently at least, and she pulled him to his feet. They hobbled off into the darkness and with a snap they disappeared. 

- - - -

ONE WEEK LATER

- - - - 

Hermione had been scouring books for days and Draco had reminded her, but as time went on he let off much to her surprise. His snarky comments had turned into words of encouragement, something she didn’t know she needed from him.

And when she wasn’t looking over potions and counter spells and he wasn’t nagging her to hurry up, she was tending to him in a safe house of the Order that had been long abandoned before the war had started. She had learned his favorite way to take tea; no milk, three sugars. She had learned that he liked when she left the window open, to allow the calming sensations of the sea drift into the cabin. She learned that he had quite the brilliant mind when it came to suggestions for reversals. Not that she hadn’t noticed his mind before, but now, it seemed to awaken something she had never quite seen before. And he had noticed that she liked listening to classic piano melodies at night even though she never spoke to him after ‘work’ was over, that he knew she was always coming into the room based on the way the energy shifted around him, that she liked the morning stillness of being up before the world until he had to stir and disturb her, only to sit peacefully beside her and enjoy it too.

And when things became too much for her, that was when she returned to her books. 

Scanning each page three times over, four if she thought she had an inkling of a solution. But nothing had been sufficient. Yet.

But then she began spending evenings with him. A cup of tea in both of their hands, sharing stories about their childhoods, something she never imagined would have come from forbidden kisses in high towers and glances across the classrooms. He was a person who had gone through hell much like she had. And she could see it.. Not in his eyes, but the way his hands shook and the way his brow furrowed as he retold certain events. He also apologized for much of the pain he had inflicted on her and she returned that by not apologizing for nearly knocking his teeth out third year. They had laughed about that.

And sometimes he would ask about her. What her parents did for a living, how she felt her first year at Hogwarts, even how she had felt in the months prior to their secretive meetings.

They were facing one another on the couch, legs crossed, their tea growing cold when he asked.

“Do you ever see me in your future,” he asked one night, as they nibbled on cookies she had whisked up as a companion to their cups. 

“Malfoy, I-” she didn’t know how to finish the statement. 

“In any capacity,” he added.

“Malfoy...” She started hesitantly, not wanting to crush his spirits nor wanting to give into him. She knew who he was, what he believed in, more so what he had believed in. And for the month or so they had been together, she had known it was always an act of rebellion, a way to feel something. And yet, she had always hoped it was something more. And now, sitting here across from him, spilling their darkest secrets and stories, she thought that maybe, he had felt the same. But she couldn’t risk it. Not now. She had to stay focused.

At her silence, he moved away from her, cowering on the edge of the sofa in a way she might’ve imagined him as a child, but never at the current moment. 

“It’s fine.” He snarled.

But despite her will, something in her pushed her forward while also tickling the back of her brain. 

“Malfoy, no,” she paused, mustering up the courage, “Draco,” he perked up, “I have alw-”

That’s it.

Her mind lit up, the idea flying to the front of her thoughts, sparks flying from every direction, slamming into her imagination. She darted from the couch, despite the disappointed sigh he released. She threw a book open, searching the index, finding the page, and there it was. A healing potion and a sprinkle of muggle belief. 

She grabbed her cauldron and began adding the ingredients. 

“Granger,” he moaned, “I swear to literally anyone if you make me drink another nauseating concoction I will hex you into next year.”

“Shut up,” she snapped back. She reached into her bag and pulled out a series of vials. A healing potion, she thought, a healing potion with-

She rushed into the kitchen and Draco sat up, feeling the air shift as she left the cozy living room. 

She raced back to the table and began cutting, carving, and finally waving her wand over the thick brew in front of her. 

“I’m not positive, but it’s an old Muggle belief,” she whispered, praying to everything that it would work. 

She scooped the pale orange potion into a vial and hesitantly brought it to him. She bit her lip and she raised his hand to hers, passing it off before her fingers could linger too much. 

“Drink it,” she pleaded.

He slowly brought the vial to his lips, fumbling slightly as he searched for his own mouth. She watched, nervously, as he took it down. He licked his lips and his head turned expectantly to her. 

“How do you feel?” She asked, her heart in her throat. 

“Like I did two minutes ago, he answered, and her stomach dropped as she waved her hand in front of his face, “Though, this didn’t taste nearly as bad as I thought it would.” 

“I’m rolling my eyes,” she said with a scoff and stormed off back to her book, back to the drawing board it was. 

“Happy I don’t have to see it!” He called after her.

She continued reading on and on and on and on. Her eyes straining as she struggled to stay awake. She had been so sure that she had found a solution. So positive it would make a difference and yet again she had failed him. She felt her heart sink. She was feeling less and less confident in her skills the more she failed. Her heart began to race and she struggled to control her breathing. When suddenly...

A hand on her shoulder. It made her jump. Draco had been relatively quite making his way over to her, in a way he hadn’t moved since before this. She whipped her head around to see his eyes boring into hers. She was speechless.

“Hermione,” he said, using her first name for the first time since that moment in the forest. “I see you in mine.”

“Draco-” she whispered, her voice cracking and getting the best of her. She quickly stood up, brushing her hair from her face and then grabbing his. His eyes followed her every movement. She gasped. 

“Can you-”

“Yes,” he said, brushing a straying hair from her face. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Her body shuddered. 

“I can see you now,” he nearly cried, his face painted with an emotion she had never seen him wear. Perhaps he even smiled. It must’ve been minutes before she finally gathered the strength to pull away, her doubt getting the best of her that he would leave, now that she had fixed him. That he would run away. Never to be heard from again.

“Draco-”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

A first for Draco Malfoy. He buried his face into her neck and held her. 

“Now that I can,” he started, “I can see you in my future, in any capacity.”

She pulled his face to hers.