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Chapter Text

She was overthinking everything. (As was her nature, if she was being perfectly honest.) But this was even worse than usual. This wasn’t her normal anxiety. It wasn’t the “oh, am I forgetting something at home?” worries or the casual “they’re definitely mad at you over the last memo you sent” feeling. This was bigger. Worse. Much worse. What made it so much worse was that she was so bloody desperate. 

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. She just needed to center herself. She had nothing to lose by approaching him. There was no way her situation could get worse. Well, she supposed he could laugh at her, which would feel rather worse in the moment. But long term, she’d be the same. She chewed on her lip. 

“Hiya Granger,” Theodore Nott said as he walked into the lift. 

“Oh, hi,” she smiled. 

She fretted. She wasn’t supposed to run into anyone. She was supposed to make it straight to his office without any distractions or disruptions. Hermione had picked this time specifically because of the limited amount of people she would see. She knew he didn’t leave for lunch. He brought his lunch in. Everyone should be out of the office right now. 

“Are we meeting already?” he asked, looking at his watch. 

“Oh, no,” she fumbled. “Erm. No, I have some business to see to before one.” 

He really did have the nicest smile. He was entirely disarming, like a golden retriever. He just grinned back at her. Slowly, he chipped away at her resolve until she was manic. It was like the screams of his curiosity were filling the lift. Accusations galore. 

“It’s with Draco,” she panicked. “Of course, he doesn’t know about it. We don’t have some formal appointment, I just, erm. Yeah.” 

His features shifted in surprise. 

“That’s-”

“It’s not for work,” she blurted. “It’s personal. Well, not like that. I mean, it is. But it isn’t like that .”

“Granger,” he said, holding up his hands. “Far be it from me to interrupt your mid-afternoon shags. I’m just going to grab a gift for my mum that he has, and I’ll be out of your hair.” 

Her body shook with anxiety. 

“No, no! Not shagging. Just speaking. I’m not shagging anyone. Especially during lunch.” 

“Well, then you’re missing out,” he winked. 

Hermione grew exceptionally flustered at Theodore’s comfortable, flirtatious nature. She couldn’t imagine just popping down to Malfoy’s office to see him for a quick luncheon shag. Or anyone’s office, for that matter. Shagging at the workplace? Her face reddened at the thought. 

Theodore’s booming laughter filled the small lift. He wrapped her in a tight hug. 

“Loosen up, Granger,” he laughed. “I’m only teasing you.”

This was very much how their relationship tended to go. Theodore would make heinous and suggestive comments to get a rise out of her. Hermione’s traitorous skin would erupt in crimson betrayal, eliciting a riotous response from her coworker. 

Working with Theodore was charming most days. They’d been paired together in the Department of Mysteries after graduating from Hogwarts. His potion work was unmatched. He had a deft hand and a keen sense of ingredients and ratios. He wasn’t afraid to try new and innovative combinations. He was creatively chaotic, whereas Hermione was controlled consistency. 

“This way, Granger,” he said, steering her out of the lift and down the hallway toward Malfoy’s office. 

She knew the way. She’d looked it up multiple times and walked past it twice earlier this week, just to make sure. But she wasn’t about to let him know that. He already thought she was acting strange. This would just solidify those claims. He kept his arm around Hermione’s shoulders. She was practically humming with her nervous energy. None of this was going the way she thought it would. She had a plan she’d been mapping out for weeks. Within thirty seconds, Theodore Nott had derailed her entire system. 

“Drake,” Theo called as he barged in through his closed office door. 

Hermione cringed. She would have never started a conversation with Draco Malfoy this way. She wanted to bury her face in her hands. His arm casually hung around her shoulders as Draco took in the scene before him. 

He quirked his brow at the pair of them from his desk. He had a stack of parchment before him and wore a disgruntled expression rooted in stress across his face. 

“Nott,” he said warily. “Miss Granger.” 

Hermione offered a sheepish smile. 

“Your mum said she had something for mine,” he smiled. “And Granger here’s come for an afternoon shag.”

Draco’s head snapped back, and his eyebrows rocketed upward. Hermione shrieked and shoved Theo away as he cackled with laughter. 

“I did no such thing,” she mumbled as she tried to will her flushing skin away.

Draco reached below his desk, pulled out a small gift, and slid it across the rich mahogany. Theo offered a wink as he made his way back toward the door. 

“Thanks all,” he called with the gift in his hand. “Enjoy the activities. Granger, I’ll understand if you’re a bit late back from lunch.” 

Hermione wrapped her arms around her waist as she considered running from the room. She could just scrap the whole plan and start again from square one. She could find someone else. Someone less intimidating than Draco Malfoy. 

“Miss Granger?”

She tore her eyes away from the door and slowly dragged them up to Draco’s face. He’d stood, walked around his desk, and rested against it with one leg crossed over the other. He looked like he should be on the cover of Witch Weekly. He didn’t have to be so dauntingly handsome. His lean and muscular physique matched his impeccable style. Even at school, he’d made their house robes look like luxury brands. He was polished and precise in every manner. 

“Hi,” she managed to whisper. 

Interacting with Draco Malfoy wasn’t usually so awkward and uncomfortable for her. But she’d never needed a favor before. In school, he’d been unapproachable. The god of the Slytherin den. He was wealthy, popular, entitled, and nowhere near the same social circle that Hermione had been. 

An amused look played on his face as he looked down at her. His arms crossed over his chest, and she marveled at how his biceps bulged beneath his rolled-up sleeves. 

“I was hoping you had a spare moment to chat,” she said. “I can come back later. Or not. I didn’t want to disturb you. You’ve obviously got a fair stack of work to get to-”

“I’ve got time,” he interrupted. 

“Right,” she breathed. “I was sort of wondering if I could ask for your help. I know this must seem very unusual given that we don’t even work in the same department… but I rather think that’s a good thing actually. Truthfully, there is just such a limited number of people I could ask about this. And an even smaller number that would actually understand it and be capable of it-”

“Out with it, Miss Granger.” 

“Right. May I shut this?”

She motioned to the door behind her. He took out his wand and flicked the door closed. His face was unreadable as she shifted unsteadily on her feet. 

“I work a great deal with sensitive subject matter,” she said. “And part of that requires a certain level of highly classified research.”

His expression turned serious as his hand rubbed along his chiseled jaw. 

“I… erm,” she cleared her throat. “I was hoping that I could depend on your assistance and discretion during the next phase of my research.”

He narrowed his eyes. She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“What’s the research?”

She glanced behind her. 

“I was hoping we could discuss the specifics somewhere…”

He nodded his head, understanding. He worked as one of the top Aurors of the Department. The majority of his cases were classified. He knew the intricacies of sensitive subject matter. 

He continued to scratch his chin while he stared at the carpet, lost in thought. She rose up on her toes and rocked back on her heels, a nervous habit she’d had since childhood. 

“And in exchange for this assistance in your research would be… what exactly?”

Hermione felt herself deflate. She could offer this man nothing. He had more wealth than he and the whole of England knew what to do with. She shrugged lamely. 

“I don’t… I don’t know,” she said. “A debt of gratitude? I don’t know what else I could offer that you don’t have.” 

His eyes continued to have a faraway look to them as he considered the same spot on the floor. Hermione braced herself. Rejection was a form of life. It was common, and everyone went through it. It didn’t mean she was a failure. It didn’t invalidate her research. It merely paused it while she searched for another viable solution. She was resourceful. She could bounce back from this minor divergence. 

Draco moved with a graceful fluidity. He turned to his desk and scribbled something down before holding a piece of parchment out to Hermione. Her eyes widened as she stepped forward. 

“You can Floo to my flat after work today or tomorrow,” he said. “We can discuss things with more openness there.” 

Her eyes darted to the parchment in her fingers. It had his address scrolled with perfectly formed letters. 

“Say seven? I’ll have dinner. No sense negotiating on an empty stomach.”

“I’m free tonight,” she nodded. 

“I’ll see you this evening,” he nodded and walked back toward his chair. “And Miss Granger?”

She looked into his eyes as his familiar Auror mask slid into place. 

“Discretion is expected on both sides.” 

He nodded to the scrap of parchment in her hand. 

“You are one of three people who now have that address. I expect that number to remain.” 

She looked back at the address below. This wasn’t Malfoy Manor. She looked back at him and nodded. 

She didn’t exhale until she was back behind her own desk. Her hands trembled as they clutched the small parchment. He was going to hear her proposal. She’d never expected him to actually consider it. Granted, he didn’t actually know what the research was yet. But she had the afternoon to prepare her pitch. 

She spent the rest of the afternoon mentally categorizing her speech for Draco Malfoy. She went over her talking points again and again. She had to be clear and concise. She needed to have all the details ironed out. Mr. Malfoy was a no-nonsense businessman. He liked the facts. 

“Must have been a fine shag to have distracted you this much,” Theo commented later that afternoon. 

Hermione gave him an exhausted eye-roll to which he just laughed. 

“Granger,” he said, taking the quill from her hands. “Focus. Let’s chat.” 

“I’m working, Theodore.”

“No, now we’re taking a break. Tell me, when was the last time you actually dated someone.” 

She scowled at him.

“I saw Cormac most of last year.”

Theo made a face and made a fake gagging noise. 

“Gods help me,” he whined. “I forgot about McLaggin. Urg!”

Hermione couldn’t disagree. The entire relationship had been one cosmic disaster right from the start. She’d let it go on too long. Part of her had hoped that she would have been able to use him for her research, but after a week of speaking to him that idea quickly vanished. 

“I think it’s time you sow your wild oats, Granger. Slytherin would be good for you. You’ve never dated someone outside your old house, have you?”

“Yes,” she huffed. 

Theo raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Fourth year. Viktor and I spent the year together during the Tri-Wizard Tournament.”

“Damn, Granger. I’d forgotten about that one. Well done. Shouldn’t have let that one go.”

She admitted he was deliriously handsome, but it was impossible to talk to him about anything. Quidditch was not something Hermione ever found remotely interesting. She enjoyed rooting for Harry, Ron, and Ginny in school. But all Krum could ever talk about was quidditch. 

“We still write every so often,” she said. “He offers to send me tickets.”

Theo’s mouth dropped open.

“And do you take him up on it?”

“No,” she laughed. “Of course not. Ginny is the only quidditch player I still suffer through. And it’s only because she can hold a conversation with me off the broom.”

“Krum’s taken a few too many bludgers to the head, then?”

“Something like that.” 

Theo spent the rest of the afternoon quizzing her on her single status until she turned the same questions on him. He brushed them off as nonsense, but Hermione knew there were things left unsaid. She suspected it was largely due to the fact he was absolutely mad for Luna Lovegood. He read every issue of the Quibbler and spoke non-stop about her articles. He quoted her as if they’d had conversation over Sunday roast. “Luna says…” or “Luna has a theory…” The poor bloke was heartsick. She offered many times to introduce the pair, but he got nervous and twitchy about it and dodged giving her an answer. 

The end of work snuck up on her quicker than she expected. She Floo’d home first, fed Crooks, but didn’t have quite enough time to change out of her work robes. She compiled her books and notebooks of research in case he had questions. She held the address in her hand and clearly stated it within her own Floo. This was the closest she’d been to furthering her research, and she’d do anything to see it through. She had to make Draco Malfoy see the importance of her work. 

Chapter Text

Hermione Granger might have been one of the most disorganized women he’d ever met. In fact, seeing her now, fumbling over her books, notebooks, and parchment, was almost laughable. Did she forget she had magic? 

“Good evening, Miss Granger,” he said as she popped into his sitting room. 

“Hullo,” she said breathlessly from behind her mountain of texts. 

He suppressed the urge to sigh at her in exasperation like his mother would have done. He slashed his wand through the air, and her staggering tower of materials organized itself on the dining room table. Chinese takeout boxes littered the table as well. A guilty pleasure of his that he knew her Muggle upbringing would most likely approve of. 

“Thanks,” she said. 

She was curiously sheepish today, which humored him. Normally, their interactions at work were fairly neutral. She was always succinct and well-spoken in meetings. She was a little scatterbrained at times, but for the most part, she spoke quite eloquently. However, today, her nerves had her as wired as her hair. He appraised the disheveled twirl of curls before him. Her nose and cheeks were dusted with faint freckles and her light hazel eyes seemed almost golden against the brunette shade of her curly hair. She was a petite woman but the oversized robes and jumpers swam on her. He had no idea what her figure actually looked like beneath all the unnecessary bulk. 

She rocked on her toes and heels as she took in the space around her. She craned her neck back toward the door on the opposite wall to get a glimpse of the library doors he knew were in view. He nearly snorted to himself, of course, she would notice a library. She probably had a sixth sense and could detect them anywhere. 

“I wasn’t sure what your preference was with takeout, so I got a variety.” 

She turned back to the table and smiled. 

“Smells great,” she said. “Where did you go?”

“Orient,” he said. 

Her eyes lit up. Draco stood behind her and offered to take her robes. He had changed from his Ministry robes and settled on black slacks and a sweater. She was still in hers. She shrugged out of them and kicked off her shoes as well, leaving them by his. He hung her robes, lined up her shoes, and watched as she took his place at the table. He relented and walked around to the other side. She sat cross-legged in the dining chair and scooted up to the table. He smirked at her casual nature. 

She began poking around in the boxes, opening them with oohs and ahhs. She let out an excited squeak as she opened the box of crispy beef. She deftly used chopsticks to scoop some out on her plate. 

“My favorite,” she smiled. 

He masked his amusement. It was his favorite as well. She added a spring roll to her plate and happily munched the food before her. Draco relaxed slightly at her easy-going nature. She was so terribly casual about everything. He found it so foreign. 

“I didn’t know you’d eat Muggle food,” she commented. 

“Good food is good food, Miss Granger.” 

“You can call me Hermione,” she said. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. And we’re not at work.”

“You may call me Draco,” he said. 

She gave a nervous laugh before adding more rice to her plate. He offered her a glass of white wine, and she accepted it. His curiosity finally got the best of him, though. He couldn’t wait any longer to hear what had gotten her so worked up. 

“My flat is heavily warded,” he said. “I’ve reinforced it with silencing charms, and my elves have the evening off.”

She took a deep breath and moved some vegetables around her plate. 

“I assure you,” he added. “The anticipation is killing me, Miss Granger.” 

She gave him a look for using her title over her first name, but it was a habit. 

“I’m researching the lasting effects of the Cruciatus curse,” she said. “It’s not usually a topic most wizards care to fund, nor do they have an interest in unearthing secrets about the dark arts. It’s a bit taboo.”

He understood now her reluctance to mention it at work. Even in an Auror’s office, it could be misinterpreted if someone overheard.

“And you would like to curse me and document the effects?”

She snorted out a laugh.

“No,” she said. “No, of course not. I’d never… I mean… no. That’s hideously illegal.”

She was doing her nervous rambling again.

“The world has a wealth of knowledge within it,” she said. “And although England has made great leaps with inclusivity, many other cultures still have stringent policies.”

The connection finally snapped into place.

“You need my blood.”

She chewed on her lip and fumbled around with the chopsticks in her hands.

“Many libraries hold restricted sections that only pureblood wizards have access to. My research is essentially stunted unless I can access those texts.”

He nodded. 

“You need one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.” 

“Yes,” she said. 

“So I don’t understand, do I just fill out a waiver or…”

“I wish it were that easy,” she said. “But no. I would never be allowed access because they consider me a mudblood-”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

“It’s the unsavory truth.” 

“Your blood is no more filled with mud than my own.” 

“Well, despite your progressivism, many in the world don’t hold your sentiments.”

He clenched his jaw. His parents insufferable quest to find him a pureblooded wife had become increasingly more persistent over the last two years. 

“So you’d need me to conduct the research?”

She nodded. 

“Why not ask Nott? He’s part of the Sacreds.”

“Theodore Nott is brilliant at potions,” she smiled. “But these texts would be ancient runes, charms, transfiguration. If it were just alchemy, I could ask him.”

He’d been suspicious of Nott’s relationship with Granger for some time now. He prattled on about her genius regularly. They’d worked together for a few years, and Nott seemed quite taken with her. When they came into his office together today, he thought they’d come to announce their relationship. 

“You were my biggest academic rival in school,” she said. “You excelled in those subjects. Just look at you now; you’re on track to being the youngest Head Auror in Ministry history. You’ve practically guaranteed your seat with Wizengamont.” 

He had to admit that receiving flattery like this from Granger was unusual. But he found it felt rather nice. It was true. They were always competing in school for the highest marks. Both of them went on to receive seven N.E.W.T.s. She constantly challenged him to be better. He never suspected that someone raised outside of the wizarding world would have made such an impressive opponent. But he knew that was his own ignorant bias on blood purity. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the bigoted upbringing he’d had. 

“So you’d tell me what to look for in the library, I’d read and take notes on it, and then give the information back to you?”

“Yes,” she nodded. 

“How would I maintain my job while doing this for you? It doesn’t exactly sound like light work.”

“I’ve thought of that already,” she nodded excitedly. 

She stood up from her seat and sifted through the stacks at the other end of the table. She pulled out a crumpled and stained piece of parchment and slid it toward him. 

“I’ve spoken with Head Auror Black,” she said. “Sirius has permitted me to implement the help of his Department for the next year. He knew a vague amount of my research and knew the cause was important enough to pursue.”

“It says here that it’s a protection detail,” Draco said, reading the print.

“Erm, well, yes. But it wouldn’t really be. And no one would really need to know that’s what you weren’t doing.” 

“I want to keep working on my werewolf case,” he said. “Thomas, Smith, Lupin, and I have made real headway with this last rogue group. I don’t want to lose steam on that. It’s  important to me.”

“Of course! Think of mine as a small pet project on the side. We’d work around your work schedule.” 

“This would let me off the other three cases I’ve been assigned, though,” Draco mused aloud. 

She sat back in his chair and grabbed another spring roll. He read over the page again, dissecting any possible loophole that Black could use to kick him off the werewolf case, but found none. It said the Auror in question could limit their workload to accommodate Miss Granger’s needs as they saw fit. He saw fit to stay hunting Greyback. 

“I suppose the only thing we have left to discuss is the terms of our little contract.”

Her jaw dropped open, and the spring roll tumbled from her fingers. 

“You’re agreeing?”

“If you can agree to my terms, I see no reason not to move forward,” he shrugged. “I find I am in a rather unsavory situation myself. You seem to have shown up at the most opportune time.” 

He filled her wine glass before continuing. He wasn’t sure she would hear out his terms, but he was bloody desperate at this point. 

“My parents have negotiated a marriage contract,” he said. “And I will do anything to see myself out of it.” 

Her eyes widened. 

“It expires in a year,” he said. “And I need someone to pose as my significant other for the remainder of this contract. Neither Miss Greengrass nor myself are keen on the arrangement. You’d be helping more than one person earn their freedom.” 

“You want me to be your fake girlfriend for a year?”

“I want you to pose as my significant other for one calendar year. Spending time together would allow a natural cover for your research. No one would suspect a thing. I trust the both of us to honor a code of discretion. From the outside, we’d look like a happy couple in love.” 

She chewed on her lip as her eyes seemed to sift through a pro and con list in her head. 

“Public appearances, dinners, things of that nature,” he said. “We could disguise research trips as holidays together.”

“And no one would know it wasn’t real?”

“I wouldn’t tell a soul,” he said. 

“Even Nott?”

“Especially Nott,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

She laughed and immediately covered her mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” she laughed. “This is all so ridiculous. No one would believe it.” 

His brows furrowed. 

“Why not?”

Her mouth hung open, and she motioned toward him with both hands. 

“You’re Draco Bloody Malfoy,” she gaped. “You’re the wealthy heir to the Malfoy estate. You’re pureblood royalty! I’m a mu-”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Refusing to say childish names only gives them more power.”

“I don’t care about your birth status,” he said. “And I think you’re cutting yourself quite short. You’re one of the singular most high-achieving witches this century. Your last research on the effects of Dittany brews for mental health was astounding.”  

“You read that?”

“Of course.” 

Her mouth pinched closed in a contemplative way. 

“I happen to think we’d make a hell of a team, Miss Granger,” he said. “I find your research topic stimulating and would be honored to play an integral part in your next greatest discovery. All I’m asking for is a modicum of feigned attraction in return.” 

They sat in silence while she contemplated his proposal. The ticking of the clock had somehow become the loudest thing in the room as he waited on bated breath. Finally, she ended his misery and nodded her head. 

“You’ve got a deal,” she said, holding her hand.

Chapter Text

Hermione was practically levitating the next day at work. Draco agreed they should meet again that evening to go over the specifics of their contract. 

“We want to make sure that we’re comfortable and prepared for all the possible scenarios,” he said. 

And she couldn’t agree more. He insisted on hosting again at his flat and informed her he’d bring curry tonight. Apparently, he was a glutton for takeout. She thought it was a marvelous idea and even suggested a new place he’d not tried yet. 

She couldn’t believe how normal things had felt last night. Even her nerves drifted away after a while. He was courteous, direct, and intellectual about the whole thing. Exactly the way she’d prayed he’d be. She couldn’t believe her luck. 

“Daydreaming again, Granger?” Theo asked her after lunch. 

She found herself anxiously checking the clock, which she never did. She immediately looked down at her notes.

“Why do you look like that?” he asked. 

“Look like what?”

“Like you’re keeping a secret from me.”

“I am doing no such thing,” she scoffed. 

“Liar! Tell me, or I’ll assume the worst.”

She rolled her eyes. 

“Granger…” he warned. 

His hand hovered over the Dittany she’d just brewed. 

“You wouldn’t.”

He picked up the bottle and suspended it over the bin. The bottle began slipping from his fingers.

“Theo!”

It slipped again.

“Out with it, Granger.”

“Fine! I have plans tonight.”

Theodore put the bottle down. He pushed away from the table he was working at and wheeled his chair toward hers. His eyes were illuminated with excitement.

“Who!”

“I’m not telling,” she said. “If it goes well, I’ll tell you on Monday.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“I suppose I’ll tell you that on Monday as well.” 

He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. 

“I think it’s bloody unreasonable you’re making me wait an entire weekend.” 

Hermione glanced at the clock again. One hour left. 

“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “You owl Luna right now and ask her to meet up this weekend, and I’ll tell you who it is.” 

Theo’s jaw hung open. 

“Hermione Granger,” he said, shaking his head. “Quid pro quo? In the workplace?”

Hermione blinked innocently at him and returned to her list of contract points.

“I can’t just ask Luna Lovegood on a date.”

“Then I just can’t tell you until Monday.” 

He glared at her as he wheeled his chair back to his table. She smiled down at her list. Theo spent the rest of their hour together making dramatic sighs which she happily ignored. He continued to ask her who it was repeatedly as they made their way to the lift. 

“Hermione!” 

Harry smiled as the door opened.

“Hi, Harry,” she said and hugged him. 

“I came to meet you,” he said. “Thought we could grab food before we pop over to Ginny’s game.” 

She’d completely forgotten about Gin’s home game. 

“Oh, Harry,” her expression fell. 

“She has a date!”

Hermione scowled at Theo as they stood outside the lift together. 

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Tell him who with.”

“Who is it with?”

“Shut up, Theo.”

Harry looked from Theo to Hermione. 

“I don’t understand,” Harry said. 

“She won’t say who it’s with.” 

“Because it’s nothing yet,” she said. “It might be nothing.”

“She doesn’t want to get her hopes up.” 

“Or ours, most likely,” Harry said. “It’s not McLaggin again, is it?”

“No!”

Theo and Harry both exhaled gratefully. 

“I’m sorry, Harry. I completely lost track of my days.” 

“Couldn’t you just bring him round?” 

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. 

“Oh, I dunno…”

“I’ve got the whole box for tonight. The twins bailed; they’re at a conference. Ron and Lavender are still on holiday, and now you. I’m going to have to invite my parents, Hermione. I can’t show up for my girlfriend’s quidditch game with my parents.”

“Your parents are lovely,” she said.

“I’ll go, Potter.” 

They both looked at Theo. He shrugged. 

“I like quidditch.” 

“Oh, alright, yeah,” he nodded. “Hermione and the mystery man can join us. The game’s not till eight.”

“Harry, you should invite Luna,” Hermione said. “It’s been ages since we’ve seen her.”

She grinned at Theo and ushered the two of them into the lift. 

“I’ll ring Draco,” he added. “I’m sure he’d be up for a game.” 

“He left early,” Harry said. “Said he had plans.” 

Hermione begged her face to remain impassive. She could feel Theo burning a hole through her face with his stare. The lift stopped at the Floo, and she rushed from the small enclosure. She pecked Harry on the cheek. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “But no promises!”

“Granger,” Theo called. 

She turned back around. 

“Wear the green jumper you wore last week. Makes your tits look nice. He likes green.” 

She scowled and turned back to the Floo and went home. She stumbled ungracefully through her Floo network and mumbled under her breath about how ridiculous Theodore Nott was. He was insufferable. She fed Crooks and gave him a few good scratches before heading upstairs to change. Should she change? Realistically she didn’t need to. It was just a contract. Perhaps their meeting wouldn’t even take that long. Last night she was home before nine. She thumbed through her wardrobe. Her fingers dragged over the green jumper Theo mentioned, and her cheeks reddened. It’d been a gift from Ginny last Christmas. She rarely wore it. But she had needed to do laundry desperately last week, and it was one of the only clean ones left. 

She settled on denim trousers and a Harpies shirt. She put on some boots and left her hair curly and untamed. It was too lost to battle it today. She’d head to the game once she finished things with Draco. 

She headed back to the Floo and announced Draco’s flat. She toed off her boots and left them near his mat for shoes. 

“Smells great,” she called from the other room as she rounded the corner. 

He was setting out the food already with a small house elf bobbing along beside him. 

“Hello, miss!” 

The small elf popped out from behind Draco’s large leg. Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling. The small elf was wearing nearly a dozen skirts stacked on top of one another in varying degrees of neon. 

“Hello,” Hermione said. “You’re quite colorful.”

The elf beamed at the compliment and offered a twirl. 

“Master Draco pays so well, he does,” she said. “Kippy is so lucky to be dressed so well.” 

“A free elf!”

“Of course!”

“Thank you, Kippy,” Draco said. “We’ll just need the wine, and you can be off for the night.” 

Kippy curtseyed before popping away. Draco smiled as he looked over Hermione in a similar fashion. Tonight he was still in his ministry robes.

“Ginny has a game tonight,” she said. “I’d forgotten until Harry reminded me. I thought I could go after we’ve finished.” 

Kippy popped back in with two bottles of wine. Draco nodded to the left one, and Kippy disappeared with the one on the right. 

“Erm, Harry invited you. If you want. If that’s something you’re interested in. He’s got a whole box. Theo’s going. Maybe Luna.”

She fidgeted while he opened the bottle of wine. She sat down in the same seat she had last night and placed a napkin on her lap. 

“That sounds fun,” he said and checked his watch. “Eight start time?”

“Erm, yes. But there might be a little problem. I sort of said I had plans tonight, and Theodore interpreted that as a date, and I didn’t really deny it. But I also didn’t tell him who. But I think he guessed it. He’s clever like that. And well, it’s not really a date. It’s a contract negotiation.”

“Granger,” he interrupted. “We’re negotiating our dating policies. It would make sense to be seen together around our friends. It would make a great starting point.” 

He took the seat across from her and began handing her different curries. He took a bite and groaned into his fork. 

“How have I never had this place before?”

“They’re new,” she said. “Isn’t it brilliant?”

He closed his eyes and groaned again. She ignored the way his sounds sent flutters through her stomach. Hermione tore some of the naan and offered him the other half, which he happily took and began sopping up the gravy with it. 

“Did you bring your contract notes?” he asked. 

She nodded and pulled out her wand. She flicked, and the notepad settled to the right of her curry bowl. 

“I don’t have much,” she said. 

She pushed the paper over to him, and his eyes scanned the page. He took out his own wand and had a quill and parchment appear as well. The quill took notes for him while it drafted her stipulations into the contract. 

He handed her back her page. 

“I’ve got a few more just because of the uniqueness of the agreement.” 

“Right,” she nodded. “I figured.” 

She crossed her legs on the chair and pretended to be completely comfortable with the idea of planning out a relationship on paper with Draco Malfoy. 

“Shall we start with appearances?”

Her next bite nearly missed her mouth. Did he want to change her appearance?

“I have several mandatory functions over the next year that a significant other should be attending with me. We can start with my mother’s spring garden party. The Quidditch World Cup, we’re sponsors. Fashion week, several holiday parties, New Year’s parties.”

Hermione felt herself redden. He didn’t mean her looks. 

“Will any of those be a problem? They’re usually just a few hours at most. Well, except Fashion Week.”

Her eyes widened as she pushed the curry around her bowl. She laughed to herself. Hermione Granger. At Fashion Week. 

“That feeds into my next bullet, allowances.” 

She gave him a questioning glance. 

“Of course, you’ll have full access to anything you need. My vaults are at your disposal. Wardrobe, accessories, jewelry. Anything you need during our time together, you’ll have.”

“Sorry, did you say vaults? Plural?”

He gave her a puzzled look. 

“Yes?”

She swallowed a hysterical laugh. She was mad. Absolutely mad. There was no way she was the right person for this. Who was she kidding? Garden parties? Fashion week? Jewels and unlimited galleons?

“I can’t take your money.”

“You’re not,” he said. “It’s a gift. You’re helping me.” 

She wanted to argue, but he moved on. She took a large gulp from her wine glass. 

“Physical aspects next,” he said. 

She choked on her wine. He gave her a pursed look that resembled McGonagall.

“You have full permission to veto any of these or add more.” 

Her eyes bulged as she read through the list: holding hands, hugging, kissing, kissing with tongue, kissing for longer than three minutes, kissing on head, kissing on neck, kissing on ears, touching on arms, touching on legs, touching on ass, touching on breasts, touching on stomach, touching on back, cuddling, foot rubbing, hair touching. 

“Obviously sex, oral sex, digital penetration, things of that nature, are all off the table. I tend not to practice voyeurism, so I doubt we’ll need those things to prove our relationship to anyone else.” 

She tried to control her blush at how Draco casually mentioned oral sex over curry. 

“Anything you’d like to add or remove?”

She didn’t trust her voice, so she just shook her head. 

“Wonderful,” he said, adding more curry to his dish. “Sleeping arrangements.”

Her head snapped up.

“You said no sex.” 

“Yes, but others will expect us to spend time at one another’s places. Sleeping does not entail sex. But if it’s a hard limit for you…” 

“No, it’s fine,” she stammered. 

“Weekends at my place?”

“Erm, well… would we have to schedule these out? Or could they just sort of… I dunno. Happen organically?” 

He considered it. 

“I suppose that could work. We could just institute an open door policy for one another.” 

“Right,” she said. 

“Would you like that same policy for the dates, dinners, drinks, and socialization section?” 

“I think it would seem the most… erm…natural?”

“Couldn’t agree more,” he said, and the quill scrawled across the hovering parchment. 

“We agree to tell no one,” he said. “And we’ve also agreed that we’ll accomplish your research within the year timeframe as well.” 

“If we finish early, I’ll still help you,” she offered. 

“Noted,” he nodded. “Thank you, Miss Granger. I’ll add a clause in here that just states amendments may be made as the couple sees necessary or as issues arise.”

The quill scratched along. 

“Final thing,” he said. “Exclusivity.”

“Of course,” she nodded. 

She didn’t mention he should have no worries in that regard. Men were not exactly breaking down her door for a chance to snog Hermione on the daily. 

“I don’t share, Miss Granger. You’ll be only mine once you sign this contract.” 

She swallowed the quaffle-sized lump in her throat. She nodded. 

“And I’ll belong to you, of course. I also added some security measures to the contract. I’d like to be able to ward your home and office. I can’t be too careful with my job. Going public with me could have a few challenges. Some may say heinous things about blood purity as well. I will do my best to handle things before they reach you, of course.”

Hermione figured there would be plenty of backlash with their relationship. He was one of the Sacreds. There was no way that it was going to go over well with the Purists. She figured she could ignore nearly anything, though, for a year. And it meant her research would be finished. 

“The last thing is to sync our schedules,” he said. “That way, we’ll know what events are coming up, social engagements, birthdays, all of that.” 

“June fifth,” she said. 

She immediately wanted to slap her hand over her mouth. How would she explain remembering his birthday? She looked down at her naan and tore some apart. 

“September nineteenth.” 

Her eyes shot up as her birthday rolled easily past his lips. He offered her a smile and signed his name along the edge of the parchment. He handed it to her next, and she did the same. 

“Brilliant,” he said and stood up. “I’ll just get changed, and we’ll be on our way.” 

Hermione’s brain exploded at the overwhelming hour they’d just experienced. She just signed a contract to be Draco Malfoy’s fake girlfriend. He agreed to do her secret research. She signed a contract that specified where and how she could snog him. She felt hysterical. She took out her wand and magicked the dishes away to keep herself preoccupied from the roaring in her ears. What on earth had she been thinking? Was this a huge mistake? Would anyone actually believe the two of them were together?

“Ready,” he said. 

She turned to see him, and her mouth dropped open slightly. He wore a black zip-up jumper, pushed up to his elbows, a Harpies shirt, and black trousers. 

“You like the Harpies?”

“Well, Chudley is my team, but I can play nice for one night, can’t I?”

She was putting on her boots when she noticed that he had put on high-top trainers. She’d never seen him in shoes like that before. He always wore his dragon hide boots for work. 

“Ready?” 

He held out his hand. She tried to swallow down the thunderous cacophony in her mind. Was she really ready for this? Could she really try to trick her friends? She slipped her hand in his. It was warm and strong as it wrapped around hers. 

“Here’s to the next year,” he said, and they stepped through the Floo.

Chapter Text

Draco watched Hermione with a fascinated curiosity. In the realm of academia, she was confident, articulate, and assertive. He’d seen her countless times before a huge Ministry crowd relaying pertinent information to her peers. Now, he watched as she nervously rocked on her feet while she spoke with Harry and Luna near the railing. His greatest challenge during the next year would be offering her a sense of comfort within their unique situation. She didn’t trust him yet, but he hoped she would eventually. He stood with Nott near the drinks, watching the others interact from a distance. 

“No owl, no note,” Nott prattled on. “I was blindsided this afternoon! Imagine my surprise when she shows up on the arm of my best mate!”

Draco’s bored face only propelled Nott further.

“My closest friend and work confidant,” he said. 

“I’ll be honest,” Draco said, taking a drink from the ale he’d poured. “I thought you fancied her. You never shut up about Granger-this, or Granger-that.”

Theo coughed a laugh out. 

“I can think someone is bloody brilliant without wanting to fuck her,” he said. 

Draco gave him a hard stare, but Nott persisted. 

“You haven’t dated anyone since sixth year,” he said. 

It was true. As a rule, Draco didn’t formally date. There were dalliances occasionally, but Draco kept them at a distance. He had a very tight inner circle. Letting Hermione Granger close to it was no spontaneous decision. He was placing both of them in a very vulnerable position. Something told him he could trust her, though. They had secrets they were keeping from both of their closest friends. Perhaps the intimate knowledge they cradled between them would allow this unexpected venture to pay off. He didn’t think she truly understood how much he had to lose. 

“She’s different,” he told Theo as he grabbed Hermione a drink. 

Theo placed a hand on his arm when he tried to walk away.

“They won’t be kind to her,” he said. 

The honesty between them never wavered. The hardest part of this year would be keeping Nott in the dark. His statement stung, but Draco knew how the Purists would respond to his relationship with Hermione. He dreaded it. 

“I’ll protect her,” Draco promised. 

“You fucking better,” he said and grabbed a drink for Luna. 

The match had started already, and Weasley was already speeding across the pitch. She’d sent a wink Potter’s way before dodging oncoming bludgers. Draco offered Hermione a drink and stood beside her. 

“It’s so nice to see you’re finally dating again, Granger,” Nott said with a cloying sweetness. “I wish I would have known you were so smitten with my friend. I could have had you snogging him senseless years ago.” 

Hermione glared at him and leaned forward. She spoke to Luna, who stood on the other side of Draco. 

“Luna,” she said. “Theo was just talking about your article on the lost alchemy subscripts found in Kenya. He hasn’t been able to shut up about you.”

Luna’s eyes lit up as she launched into an animated discussion of alchemy with Nott. A coy smile played on Hermione’s lips as she turned back to the game. Potter was shouting about some unfair call, but Draco missed it. 

“What’s that smirk for?” he asked quietly.

Hermione’s lips tugged more as she masked the smile with a drink.

“Just getting even,” she shrugged.

Draco shifted closer to her. He looked at the spiraling mass of hair that fell in waves down her back. He reached out two fingers and felt the softness curl around them. He let the curl continue to wrap around his finger as if it had a mind of its own. 

Hermione glanced back over at Nott and mouthed something. He was focused on Luna but watched as his middle finger subtly stuck toward Hermione. She laughed and turned forward again. 

Draco spent the majority of the night watching Hermione. He was a naturally observant wizard. Some would say it was because of his five-year career as an Auror, but Draco had been this way long before working for the DMLE. He’d been at school with Hermione for years. But he didn’t notice her nervousness like he did now. Typically, when he saw her around Potter or Nott, she was very easygoing. He had to admit, he found her jittering energy amusing. 

Weasley won her game, and Draco was more than disappointed to find that her brother hadn’t inherited more of her natural quidditch abilities. It would certainly help his club team win more games if their keeper played with as much natural skill as she did. 

“We usually go out after this,” Hermione said. “Gin’s team usually goes to the Giddy Witch.”

Nott threw his arms over Hermione and Draco’s shoulders. 

“We’d love to,” he said. 

“Good,” Hermione said. “Now go invite Luna.” 

He glared at her before turning back toward Harry and Luna. He threw his arms over both of their shoulders and did the same thing. The walk to Giddy wasn’t long. The youngest Weasley had joined them and hung on Potter’s arm while animatedly replaying various plays from earlier. Hermione seemed to zone out as she walked beside them. She’d occasionally nod in their direction or agree, but her mind was elsewhere. The itching temptation of Legilimency danced on his tongue. He’d love to look around inside the brilliant witch’s mind. He wondered what distracted her from the present moment. He threaded his fingers through hers and pulsed her hand a few times. That seemed to pull her out of her thoughts and back to the present. She smiled at him and let her body lean into his while they walked. 

Tonight was about reconnaissance for Draco. He was watching, studying, and absorbing as much information about Hermione and her inner circle as he could. He felt like he had a fairly good grasp on Potter. He was easy. Carefree, wealthy, charismatic. There wasn’t a lot of complexity. He and the youngest Weasley had been together since school and seemed to want to remain together. The young Weasley was straightforward as well. She was protective. A natural leader and outspoken. He also noticed her passionate camaraderie with Luna and Hermione. They shared many intimate jokes and banter that outsiders weren’t privy to. Sometimes it was even just a glance. There was trust among them. Closeness. 

Hermione was complex. Her interests weren’t in relationships or children. She was greedy in her quest for knowledge. Unsatisfied. Her confidence didn’t come from social interactions but rather from her intellect. She glowed with an unmatched radiance when she could show her intelligence. He wanted to help bring out that side in her, to see it more often in other areas. 

The place was severely crowded as they made their way inside. Draco spotted a high top with limited seats and ushered Hermione toward it. Ginny sat beside Hermione, and Luna took the open seat across from them. Draco turned to walk to the bar to get Hermione a drink, but she caught his hand. He leaned down toward her to hear what she had to say.

“Dirty martini,” she said. “Extra olive.” 

That surprised him. He was going to get her another glass of wine. She’d nursed one the entire time the youngest Weasley played. He nodded and walked with Potter and Nott to the bar. He ignored the way his neck burned at the close proximity of her mouth. 

If he was being honest with himself, he thought about kissing Hermione Granger several times this evening. He thought about it on the way to the match, at the match, on the walk, and now here. They’d outlined the physical limitations of their relationship. He memorized the permissible acts listed. But that didn’t make the execution of them any easier. He didn’t want to come off too forward. He was attempting to respect her boundaries because she was nervous. 

It was exceedingly irritating for Draco. He was one who prided himself on his composure and confidence. But around Hermione Granger? Suddenly, he was second-guessing himself. The thought of all this back and forth over a bloody kiss made him want to laugh hysterically. It was maddening. If he wanted to kiss her, he should kiss her. It was all for the sake of appearances, right? It’s not as if he actually had to woo and impress her. He had her. She was contractually his. That gave him an odd feeling. 

Nott and Potter talked animatedly about some play during the match that Draco must have missed. He was highly observant tonight but not at all on the quidditch match. He snuck a look back at the table and saw the red-headed witch engrossed in whatever Hermione was telling her. Lovegood looked on dreamily as well until she caught Draco looking and sent him a wink. Flustered, he turned back toward the long line at the bar. 

Nott patted Draco on the chest. 

“As I was saying,” he said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about with this bloke.”

Draco scrutinized his friend as he spoke to Potter. 

“I’ve adequately threatened him.”

Potter laughed. 

“And how’d that go?”

Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Think of Draco Malfoy as a sweet and harmless kitten. He’s in love with the bloody witch. He will be all cuddles with our dear Granger.” 

Potter really laughed at that, and Draco glared at Nott. 

“He’s named after a bloody dragon,” Potter laughed. “He has taken down more dark wizards in the last quarter than three of the top Aurors combined. Draco Malfoy is fucking terrifying.” 

“And you better remember that,” Draco said. 

Draco grinned at Potter’s confession. At least outsiders saw confidence. No one was privy to the ridiculous, internal back-and-forth he was having over snogging Hermione Granger. 

He ordered drinks and let Nott continue to reassure Potter. Part of Draco wondered if it was actually Nott reassuring himself. He knew how close he and Granger had become after working so closely together these last few years. Truthfully, Draco was a bit envious of their closeness. Being invited into Hermione Granger’s inner circle was an exclusive and coveted position. One he’d had his eye on for years but didn’t know how to go about doing so. Of course, his motives were entirely based on the benefits of having someone with such superior intellect at his disposal. It would never be a bad thing to have more advantages in his arsenal. 

He paid for the drinks and turned back to Hermione. Anthony Goldstein had his arm draped around the back of her chair. He was chatting with the three of them and looked flushed. He’d clearly been drinking plenty tonight.

“Goldstein’s been after Granger for weeks,” Nott said. “Smarmy bastard.” 

 Draco quirked his brow at the strange feeling rising inside of him. Was this jealousy? It was a strange sensation. He approached the table and slid Hermione her drink. Goldstein’s eyes widened.

“Evening, Goldstein,” he said and gave Goldstein’s arm a direct stare as it lingered over Hermione’s seat. 

He immediately withdrew his arm and took a step back. 

“Evening Malfoy.”

His smile was disingenuous. The one Draco returned matched. He let his own hand linger on the back of Hermione’s chair. Goldstein’s eyes shifted to Draco’s hand, now placed against Hermione’s back. His fingers drew light circles and twirled around one of her untamed curls. 

“Malfoy,” the youngest Weasley said. “Your only child syndrome is showing.”  

He ignored her, and she happily took the drink Potter passed her. The rest of the table dove into a conversation as Hermione swiveled in her seat toward him. She took a sip and looked at him over the rim of the martini glass. 

“He’s harmless,” she reassured. 

Draco looked down at Hermione’s bright eyes gazing up at him. He could kiss her now. But that would look too barbaric and possessive. He weighed his options. Dominant assertion of testosterone in a crowded pub or dismissive apathy. And what level did Granger’s reassurance play in this scenario? Would kissing reinforce that they were together, or make it look like a desperate attempt to hang on to something he didn’t actually have?

“No, Draco and I already have plans tomorrow, sorry.” 

His name brought him back to the present. He looked back to Hermione. She gave him an emploring look. They hadn’t discussed plans, but he nodded anyway. 

Theo laughed before him. 

“You’re subjecting the poor bloke to your Saturday routine already, Granger? This early in the relationship?” 

Hermione glared at him.

“There is nothing wrong with my weekend routine, thank you very much.” 

Theo turned to Draco, and the small Weasley and Potter hid their laughter. Hermione rolled her eyes and mumbled something unintelligible. 

“She runs at least five kilometers,” Theo said. “For fun.” 

The rest of them shook their heads. 

“Then she spends the rest of the day reading and researching Godrick-knows-what,” the young Weasley said. 

“Running and reading,” Draco mused. “Doesn’t sound so intimidating.” 

Granger gave the group a smug smile and sipped her martini. The rest of the evening went well. But the question kept lingering in the back of Draco’s mind. When should he kiss Granger? Should he do it in front of everyone? Or while they are alone? He wondered if she was thinking about this. Kissing in private wouldn’t make a lot of sense. He had nothing to prove there. There were no witnesses. Kissing in private would just be for their comfort. Or would she think it was too forward of him to kiss her privately? They weren’t a real couple. But they needed to just break through the initial awkwardness of the intimacy piece to their agreement.

He walked her back to her flat that night, still not having kissed her. But he did give her his zip-up. It hung on her small figure, but he liked the look of it. 

“I want to thank you for tonight,” she said as they walked. “I was really nervous at first. But you were so marvelous.” 

“Really? You had a nice time, then?”

“Very,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “You offered a very stoic and calming presence.” 

He smiled at the way the compliment felt inside him. He liked the image of him being stoic and reliable. It felt…natural. 

“No regrets, then?”

She playfully nudged him. 

“No,” she laughed. “But you really don’t have to run with me tomorrow. I’ll let you off that calendar obligation.” 

“Do you run every Saturday?”

“I try to, weather permitting. I run quite a lot. It helps me think. But I take my long route on Saturdays.” 

“I’d like to go if you’ll have the company,” he said. 

He wasn’t averse to training. He played in the club quidditch team, and it would help him stay in shape for that. 

“I’ll need a full English before we dive into research prep, though.” 

She stopped walking and spun toward him. Her face was glowing in anticipation and excitement. She looked rather lovely, all shrunken in his oversized jumper, hair a wild mane, and cheeks rosy. 

“You’re ready to start tomorrow?” 

“Sure,” he said. “I’ve got a free weekend. You can fill me in on all the background.” 

“Brilliant!” 

She turned and jogged up the steps to her flat. He followed her inside so he could Floo home. Her flat was as chaotic as he expected it to be. Books piled in nearly every empty space. Her small living room was littered with mismatched furniture and overstuffed pillows. He admired the wall of photographs above her couch. There were magical and muggle snapshots in a varied array of frames. All of them were mismatched and crooked. 

“You look just like your mother,” he mused. 

She smiled as she looked at the more recent photo of her parents grinning in front of Oxford. 

“That was their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary,” she beamed. “They fell in love at Oxford.” 

Draco imagined what it would be like to have a wall like this of his own. Snapshots of Theo being ridiculous, or Blaise, or Pansy. He imagined how different the photograph of his parents would look. How professional and severe they would seem in comparison to hers. The lighthearted theme overwhelmed the small space. It wasn’t sterile, like his. It was comfortable. Well-loved and well-lived in. 

A burst of orange fur headbutted his kneecap. He looked down and saw the most disheveled beast. 

“Crooks, behave,” Hermione chided as she swooped him into her arms. “This is Crookshanks. He has limited manners.”

Draco studied the smushed-faced creature closer as he let his fingers near it. The cat-like being put its head down, and Draco scratched his ears a few times. 

“Is he…”

“Part Kneazle,” Hermione beamed down at him. “I rescued him.” 

The large cat heaved itself out of Hermione’s arms and back onto the couch, where it made a large bed in the center of one of her blankets. He studied the cat, who lazily watched him with one eye open. Even he fit affectionately into Hermione Granger’s world of eclecticism. Everything was exactly out of place, right where it was supposed to be. 

“I run at six,” she said. “But we could always start later-”

“Six is perfect,” he said. “Hazard of the job, I don’t sleep much.” 

“Maybe it’s a Ministry thing,” she shrugged. 

He found himself wondering what kept Hermione’s mind busy at night. Everything here seemed so perfect. 

That’s it, he thought. This was perfect. That’s what he’d been looking for all night. 

“I didn’t kiss you tonight,” he blurted out. “I wanted to. I just felt like it shouldn’t be-”

“Rehearsed,” she smiled. 

“Yes, thank you. It shouldn’t feel rehearsed. And I thought that maybe, the first one should be just for us. Not anyone else.”

“Just us,” she nodded in agreement. 

And before he lost his nerve completely, he took her chilled cheeks in his hands and stepped closer. She did a nervous intake of breath, and he fought against his own anxious shudder as he brought his lips down over hers. Her lips were perfectly soft and a little salty from the martini earlier. He loved it. He turned her head gently, and she leaned into him. He kept it tame, no tongue, no roaming hands. It felt like the perfect first kiss. He was surrounded by her chaotic light, and he wanted to bottle it up and remember it. He just prayed that exposing her to his world wouldn’t dampen it. 

Chapter Text

It was rather unfair the more Hermione thought of it. In fact, it was desperately unfair that Draco Malfoy had to be so good at snogging. Their contractual relationship should have meant that he was average at snogging. Forgettable even. Did something exist that he was bad at? Smart, successful, handsome, wealthy, and kissing? Really? 

She had no idea how she was going to spend the rest of the day with him knowing that he kissed like that. Dawn hadn’t yet broken, and she was fumbling around her wardrobe, pulling on her leggings and sports bra. She heard him flash into her Floo downstairs. 

“Be right there,” she called as her toothbrush hung half out of her mouth. 

She glanced at her watch. He was ten minutes early. Punctual bastard. She moved in a frenzy around her tight space, tripping twice over her own shoes that lay scattered about. She made a mental note to tidy up eventually. She pulled her long, curly hair out of her face in a simple elastic. She went down the stairs and nearly lost her breath and balance in the same tumble. Draco Malfoy was the singular most handsome man she’d ever seen. He casually lounged against her kitchen table in a pair of gray joggers and a long-sleeved shirt. The shirt was looser, and when he reached his arms over his head to stretch, she watched the shirt raise and reveal the marble stone abdominals beneath. 

“You look nice,” he said. 

She offered a disbelieving chuckle. Nothing about her looked even remotely close to the raw sex appeal that was radiating off of him right now. How had he not been on Witch Weekly yet? Was it a personal choice? Had he refused them? Surely she didn’t miss it…

She nervously managed to get out the door in one piece and en route to her favorite jogging path. There was a fairly significant height difference between the two of them, but he kept her pace the whole time. She tried not to look at him while they ran. She didn’t need any help being distracted. The last thing she wanted to do was trip and fall. 

Normally, her runs were filled with a succinct list of thought-provoking matters that would stimulate her research agenda for the day. But today, she couldn’t stay focused on the research. She found her mind drifting every time she tried. 

“It’s a beautiful pathway,” Draco commented as they entered the park. “I’ve never been down here before.” 

She detoured a bit from her usual route to show him all of Hyde Park. 

“It’s a bit touristy,” she said. “But I like it.”

“Hold on,” Draco said as he stopped near a bench.

He discretely looked around and pulled out his wand. In a swift flash, he vanished his joggers and a pair of running shorts took their place. Hermione was met with an absolutely fantastic view of his thighs and calves. She would have tripped had they been running while he did this. She averted her eyes from his long, muscular legs. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I was too hot.” 

She stifled her snort again. 

“We’re nearly finished,” she said. “Then I suppose I owe you a full English?”

He grinned widely. 

“I know a place not too far from here,” she said. “Can’t have you going hungry, can we?”

She was exceedingly surprised at her ability to find normalcy with Draco Malfoy. They were so “un-normal” that the idea they could find any common ground was laughable. But they did. And it was natural, calm, and easy. It didn’t make sense. He jogged alongside her as if he’d always done it. Their pace, their breaths, everything matched. It was unnerving how easy it was. 

She took him to a dive of a pub close to her place and smiled. With his pension for takeout, he was going to love this greasy place. 

“Oh, Miss Granger,” he smiled as he took in the sights. “I believe you know me too well.” 

She nearly hugged herself as she ushered them both inside. 

“You’re a glutton for good food.” 

They took a seat at the bar. He ordered nearly everything on the menu, and she opted for toast, coffee, and sausage. 

The plate of meats alone that came out for his breakfast made Hermione laugh. 

“We’ve just run nearly six kilometers, and you’re going to eat all that?”

“Every. Last. Bite,” he emphasized each word as he brought the first sausage to his mouth. 

He groaned and began to devour the food before him. 

“You’ll be waddling home after this,” she said. 

But the man finished everything on his plate. Each and every scrap of food was gone by the end, and she couldn’t help but admire his tenacity. He really did achieve what he put his mind to. 

Her pocket began to buzz, and she took out her muggle mobile. It was her mother. 

“Hi, mum,” she answered. 

“Hello dear,” Jean said. “I was calling to remind you we had to move our Sunday dinner to next week because of our conference.”

“Right! How is it going?”

Her mother began regaling her with tales of dentistry fascinations while Draco reached for the tab. Hermione struggled for her card she’d slipped into her mobile case. Draco couldn’t pay for this using galleons.

“I’ve got it,” Draco said.

“Oh, who was that?”

Shit. Hermione’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought about what this would mean for her parents. 

“No, it’s fine, use my card,” she said. “Nothing, mum.” 

“Granger, I have my own credit card,” he huffed. “We’ve talked about this. I pay.”

“Are you at breakfast with someone?”

“Yes, mum,” she said but glared at Draco. “I can pay for some things.”

“No, you can’t,” her mother and Draco answered at the same time. 

“Who is it?” her mother asked. “You must bring him round next weekend!”

Hermione sighed.

“Mum, he’s very busy with many things on his schedule.” 

“Are you talking about me?”

She glared at him. 

“Ask him!”

“What’s she saying?” he asked. 

“My mother would like to formally invite you to Sunday supper next weekend,” she told him, giving up. 

“Perfect, I love Sunday suppers. I’ll bring wine.” 

“We’d love that,” Jean gushed. “Greg! Lovely news! Hermione’s bringing a date!”

Hermione felt like burying herself under the bar. 

“Mum, I have to go now,” she said. “We’ll chat this week. Love you.” 

She clicked the mobile off and shoved it back in her pocket. 

“You really don’t have to come to my parents’,” she said.

“I’m your boyfriend,” he shrugged. “I should be there.”

She ignored the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. He stood up and reached out his hand. She took it and let him lead her outside. 

“Thank you for a splendid breakfast,” he said. “You have singular choices in food.”

She smiled and looked up at him, but his face was already nearing hers. He was going to kiss her again. His lips brushed hers. She let him set the initial pressure, but she couldn’t help but lean forward, deepening it. He was still holding both of her hands, and she desperately wanted to wrap them around his neck.

"And I very much enjoyed our run," he said and kissed her again slowly. 

Her mind was blurring into nothingness. She tried to pry one of her hands loose. She just wanted to touch him a bit...

“Granger?”

Hermione spun and found Dean Thomas standing beside them. 

“Malfoy!” He laughed to himself as he realized the two he’d just seen kissing. 

“Thomas,” Malfoy said, sounding professional. 

“Hello, Dean,” Hermione nervously greeted. “How are you?”

“Well, thanks! Off to our quidditch match. You play tomorrow, right?”

“No,” Draco said. “Our match got moved to next week when Weasley’s back.” 

Draco hadn’t taken his hand from hers. Dean’s eyes drifted down and then back up with a smile. 

“That’s right,” he said. “Forgot he’s been off. Well, we’ll catch up Monday.”

“I thought you were on patrol this weekend,” Draco said. 

“They cleared out,” Dean said, his easy-going demeanor turning more serious. “Smith and I spent all day over there yesterday. They didn’t leave anything.” 

Draco silently considered Dean’s words. Both of their moods had turned into the stoic Auror figures Hermione dealt with at work. 

“I’ll give it some thought and drop you an owl,” Draco said. “Good luck today.” 

Dean clasped Draco’s shoulder and offered Hermione a kiss on the cheek. 

“Good to see you, Granger,” he smiled. 

He winked and nodded toward Draco before jogging across the street. Hermione looked back to Draco. He was deep in thought as he skimmed his thumb across the top of her hand. 

“If you need to get some work done, I understand,” she said. “I promised you this wouldn’t interfere with your work.”

“No,” he said as if her comment brought him out of his reverie. “Let’s go. Your place or mine?”

***

The weekend went too quickly. She’d never experienced anything quite like it. Normally, she couldn’t wait to get back to get back to work. But today was different. She wanted desperately to return to Draco’s library. 

Hermione found herself expectorating all of her research at Draco over his gorgeously plush library chairs. She’d been holding her thoughts in for so long about her research that the chance to finally share it all was so cathartic. She spoke so quickly and passionately that she was sure Draco’s head was absolutely swimming. But he interjected with thought-provoking questions and comments. Hermione was on cloud nine. 

When she presented her last research in front of the Wizengamot, she experienced such a rush speaking about her findings. This gave her a slightly different euphoria. She’d never been able to be this much herself. Her friends hated when she’d talk about her research or academics. Harry, Ron, and Ginny all blew her off a swot and never really listened to the information she was so passionate about. But sitting there with Draco Malfoy was one of the first times she’d ever just been able to speak without the fear of being ignored, laughed at, or considered annoying. It was so freeing. She lost track of time. They poured over the contents of her notes. At one point, he even took some parchment and began scribing additional thoughts. 

“So this is the face of Granger-had-great-sex all weekend?” Theo teased as she struggled to fill out the paperwork he’d given her. 

“I did not have a sex weekend,” she glared at him. 

“Right,” he winked. “I hear Malfoy’s rather good with his hands. And mouth.” 

Hermione’s eyes widened while Theo threw back his head and laughed. 

“What was your favorite part?”

He folded his hands under his chin and batted his eyelashes at her. She laughed and threw her quill at him.

“Leave me alone, Theodore.” 

“It was his trouser basilisk, wasn’t it?”

She hid her face and groaned. 

“Brilliant, lucky girl.” 

“If you must know,” she huffed. “We talked. That was my favorite part.”

“You talked for two straight days?”

“Yes,” she said. “And he didn’t once seem irritated or put out by it.”

Theo was always willing to talk about work things. He was a terribly good listener, but even he got distracted during Hermione’s long rants. This weekend made her feel special. She felt heard for the first time since her parents. And they never understood any of the stuff she was going on about. 

She thought back to their discussion on his work as well. The missing werewolves posed a huge problem for them. Apparently, Draco’s group had been tracking this clan of werewolves for over a year. They study their migration patterns, campsites, and monitor their population. So far, this group has been seemingly peaceful. They haven’t added new members in over eight months. But not showing up to their next camp left the Aurors bewildered. They kept a regimented schedule over the last few years, making sure to align each of their movements with the phasing of the moon. 

“This should tide us over for the next week,” Theo said, pushing away from his cauldron. 

Hermione gasped. She grabbed the Prophet from her desk and rushed to the door. 

“You’re brilliant!” she called back to him. 

Her fingers jammed into the lift buttons as they raised her to Draco’s floor. She impatiently tapped her fingers against her thigh while she waited for the ancient machinery to move. Finally, it arrived, and she rushed toward his office. His door was closed, but she knocked twice and entered before waiting for an answer. Everyone in the office turned and stared at her. And by everyone, there was quite a lot. She was sure her hair was maddeningly large as well. She must look quite ill with her hair and jumper askew, clutching the Prophet, and out of breath. 

“The tides,” she blurted. 

No one moved. 

“Granger?” Remus Lupin leaned near Draco’s filing cabinet. 

“Erm, hello,” she said as she looked around and saw Lupin, Dean Thomas, Zacharias Smith, Sirius Black, and Draco all looking at her expectantly. “I’ve just come to say that a massive cold front moved in last week.” 

Dean Thomas’ face split into the largest smile. 

“End of day is in twenty, Granger,” he said. “We’ll be out of your hair by then. Then, you can warm him up.” 

Her embarrassment capsized. 

“No,” she fumbled. “What I mean to say is that a cold front brings in higher tides. With the tides as high as they’ve been the last week, the group probably wasn’t able to cross the channel naturally to their coastal location. And they likely didn’t want to use magic-”

“Because it would alert us that a large group was moving several hundred kilometers by unauthorized magic,” Draco finished. 

Her face lit up as she held the Prophet out before her. She assumed he was walking so purposefully toward her to retrieve the post. However, she found herself breathlessly locked in the strong embrace of his hands as he dragged her face toward his and kissed her soundly on the mouth. Her eyes bulged. He was kissing her in front of everyone, Even his boss. 

“Brilliant bloody witch,” he said as he pulled away. 

“Oh, right… well.” 

She was as red as a tomato at this point, and her legs had turned to jello. Why did his kissing have to be so intoxicating?  

“I’m going to ignore the fact that she had answers to pertinent questions and be grateful for them,” Sirius said as he retrieved the paper from Hermione’s hand. 

“Thank you,” Draco whispered and brushed his thumb delicately across her cheek as she turned to go. 

“And Miss Granger?” Sirius called. “This is classified, yes?” 

“Of course, sir,” she said, dragging a fake key through her lips to lock them before slipping out the door and back into the hallway.  

Chapter Text

There was nothing natural or calming about hunting werewolves, yet Draco found himself serene. The stealth, the quiet, the danger. It all brewed together in a magical concoction of euphoria. A euphoria he’d similarly felt when kissing the witch he was having a fake liaison with. His mind drifted to her endlessly. She was sharp. The brilliance at which she deduced the alternative traveling because of tides still made his heart quicken. Hermione Granger loved a puzzle; nothing would stop her from figuring out what would change the clan’s migration patterns. 

He thought back to the quidditch match she’d witnessed three days ago. 

Weasley was finally back from his holiday with whatever witch he was with these days. Violet something? Nott dragged Granger to the match with him. These small matches among ministry employees were created to encourage teamwork and camaraderie. But it served more as an opportunity for their inner competitive aggressions to be released among their colleagues with little to no ramifications.

The match was an easy win. They were playing Goldstein’s team. Draco delighted in seeing Goldstein fall on his ass after a rogue bludger came barreling after him. His eyes kept searching for Granger, though. He couldn’t look away. The flittering wings of the snitch caught his peripheral vision. Hovering near the side of her head was the snitch. His infatuation with the witch seemed to be a good luck charm. He raced toward her at a dizzying speed. She gasped as he approached, but he didn’t slow down. At the last second, he pulled up, and his broom missed her head by the smallest margin. His fist closed around the golden ball. He rounded back around and saw her shaking her head at him with a relieved laugh playing on her lips. Nott was cackling, too. He offered a wink before flying back to the center of the pitch. The snitch dropped into the referee’s hand. Their whistle blew, and the match ended.

“Little close, don’t you think?” Goldstein asked as he looked back to Granger with concern.

Draco’s jaw ticked in annoyance.

“Oh, I’d say I’m not nearly close enough,” Draco said.

He raced back toward Granger and wasted no time pulling her against his chest. He handed Nott his broom. Before Draco could pull her in for a kiss, she wrapped her hands around his neck and yanked him toward her. She devoured him in a spell-binding kiss. Her tongue glided against his lips, and he gladly gave her entrance to his mouth. Fuck, this witch could kiss. It made him dizzy.

Draco thought about that kiss for days. She was so bold, so demanding with her tongue. He smiled just thinking about it. Their kisses before had been relatively tame. There was always something lingering in the background. But at the quidditch match, Granger finally let go. It was impulsive, raw, and the sexiest thing she’d ever done. All he’s been thinking about is his stupidity for not making sex part of their agreement. He wanted to fuck Granger until she couldn’t walk. Perhaps she’d agree to an addendum? He couldn’t suggest something like that, though. He’d look like a pig. He was supposed to respect her boundaries like the gentleman he was raised to be. Not panting after her like some hormone-spun teenager.

He rolled his eyes as he tracked through the forest. Even now, hunting rogue werewolves, he thought about Granger’s mouth and made himself hard. He’d masturbated more in the shower this week than he ever remembered doing. He was going mad with desire. Thomas was partnered with him tonight, and Draco was eternally grateful he was not a Legilimens. The last thing Draco wanted or needed was someone sifting through his lustful thoughts of Hermione Granger.

Or her arse.

Especially her arse.

It was perfect.

He tried to focus, but his thoughts were glued to her. He had no idea how to survive the long weekend they had planned. He’d taken leave Friday and Monday, and so did she so they could go to one of the first libraries on her list. Her research was intriguing. They were headed to France. He had connections in Paris and booked a room at a hotel he usually stayed in with his family.

In their agreement, he’d suggested they spend the night with one another. He needed to keep up appearances. They hadn’t yet. However, that didn’t stop him from thinking about it. But the temptation was too great. He’d gone to school with Granger for years and never looked at her as a sexual being. But something about their most recent kiss had done something to alter his brain chemistry. Or maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t actually have her. She was with him for an agreement. What they had was an illusion—a farce.

He shook the thoughts from his head. He was being ridiculous. It’d just been too long since he’d been properly shagged. It was physical lust talking, nothing more. He was being ludicrous. He didn’t want Hermione Granger. He just needed sex. And why should they both suffer for the next year? That didn’t make much sense at all. Surely, sex could be negotiated into the contract. He was a generous lover and would happily service her needs during their year together. It didn’t mean that they’d fall in love and have babies. That would be ridiculous. He just needed to fuck the tension out of himself. The work stress was too much. Sex should help.

He nodded, fitfully convincing himself to talk to Granger about it as soon as he was with her again. Now, all he needed to do was focus on looking for more tracks from these bloody werewolves, and he could go home.

It was a cool night, spring just barely upon them. Thomas had tracked them to the nearest sightings of this rogue clan, but they hadn’t seen any evidence of them yet. The nearest village had been reporting some strange occurrences, and we needed to check it out. Too many farm animals had disappeared for a normal animal to be the cause. The mutilated carcasses pointed us back to werewolves, too. The rest of the unit was following another lead near London. A warehouse had been broken into earlier today, and Lupin scented some werewolves. 

Draco didn’t like the thought of werewolves being so close to the Ministry. Nor did he relish the thought of them being near Granger’s running path. The last thing he wanted was for something to happen to her. Perhaps he’d tell her not to jog without him. He couldn’t risk something happening to her.

It was quiet tonight. The size of these woods should mean a large animal population, especially this late in the evening. Draco stopped. Thomas mimicked his movements. Draco’s ears strained for any sound of life around them, but not even an insect moved. His eyes flashed to Thomas’.

Fuck.

A snarl ripped through the night as a dozen or more hulking figures dove through the trees toward them.

“Ambush!” Draco shouted.

Thomas reached in his cloak and triggered the alarm to the other Aurors. Draco pulled his wand out and immediately began firing hexes and curses at the onslaught of attackers.

“Fuck!” Thomas cursed as a spell knocked him off-balance.

Draco covered him while he regained his balance.

“We have to get out of here,” Draco shouted. “There’s too many!”

A hard body connected with his side, sending him tumbling into the dirt. His wand fell out of his hand, and he cursed as he fumbled through the brush to find it.

“Accio-”

His command was cut off when a huge werewolf pounced on his chest. His jowls snapped angrily, drool pooling along Draco’s robes as he held off the beast. They were phased into their werewolf form, but it wasn’t a full moon. Draco’s mind reeled as he tried to comprehend what was happening around them. How was this possible? With his heels dug into the ground below him, he used all his strength to thrust the werewolf off and over his head. His wand flew back into his hand, and he charged after Thomas, who was fighting off six at once.

Jets of green curses flew from the tip of Draco’s wand to help Thomas. It knocked three back, but more kept coming from the woods. There were at least two dozen now, snarling and roaring at them. The familiar crack of apparating wizards reassured Draco.

“Malfoy!”

Draco reacted a second too late. Thick claws ripped through his back as he was thrust forward. He cried out as his flesh separated under his cloak, and he crashed to the ground. His head connected with a rock, and darkness overwhelmed him.

***

“Almost there, mate,” Thomas’ voice brought Draco blinking into consciousness.

“We’re not separating again,” Lupin growled. “It was a stupid fucking move, and we walked right into their trap.”

“Malfoy and I shouldn’t have gone so far from the portkey,” Thomas said.

Draco groaned in agreement.

“We’ll have you home soon,” Thomas reassured.

Draco blacked out again, but he felt the familiar rush of a portkey travel. He knew he was back in London. He blinked against the searing pain in his back and head and recognized the area. Lupin’s fist pounded on the door. It was well after midnight, and the neighborhood was quiet. Lupin pounded again. Draco’s head mimicked the pounding.

“Lupin?”

Draco’s head flopped up. He knew that voice.

“Draco!”

Granger’s warm fingers were instantly on his face.

“We were ambushed,” Thomas said. “His mansion was too far. I couldn’t risk apparating.”

“Come in,” she hurried.

The kitchen lights nearly blinded him, and he hissed in pain. He heard her cast an extendable charm on her kitchen table, and Lupin and Thomas lowered him, face down, on the wood.

“Kippy,” Granger called. “Kippy, I need you.”

Several weeping gasps followed the pop of his house elf appearing.

“Master Draco!”

Granger began barking orders around the kitchen at the elf and Aurors. One of them cracked away, and he felt his clothes cut from his body. Granger arranged a pillow under his head, and he sighed against the feeling of his throbbing skull no longer on the wood.

Granger’s soothing voice began casting healing charms over Draco’s mutilated back. A few more cracks alerted him of more people, but he couldn’t open his eyes. His throbbing skull and the light were too much for him.

“Bloody hell,” Nott barked.

Draco winced at the loudness.

“We need to look for bites,” Granger said.

Suddenly, Draco’s clothes vanished, except for his black boxer briefs. The chill of the kitchen made him shiver. Granger must have noticed because her next spell flooded his body with warmth. Her fingers delicately brushed his hair away from his face. Her voice was so soothing, so comforting. He didn’t know what she was saying. Everything felt so foggy. He mustered the last of his strength and blinked up at her. He wanted to see her one last time before he lost consciousness.

Her eyes were panicked as they scanned his face. Her hair was in a high bun on the top of her head, and she wore a tank top and flannel shorts. She should cover herself more with all these men in her kitchen. He opened his mouth to tell her that, but the words wouldn’t formulate. She stroked his cheek again before placing the softest kiss on his lips. The move softened him, and he forgave her for her tiny top and shorts, at least for now. Darkness settled over him again, dragging him under.

***

The light streaming through the windows was so abrasive. Draco threw his arm over his eyes and turned in the soft bed. The room was too light and smelled different. He peeked open one lid and saw Granger curled up next to him. Her lips bowed open as she slept, one hand locked around his bicep. Taking inventory of his body, the memories began to flood in from the night before. Fucking werewolves. His head pulsed lightly, not as bad as the previous night, and his back was stiff. He didn’t want to risk rolling onto his back, so he scooted closer to Granger. Much to his delight, she turned in her sleep and pressed her ass right against his center—those damned small pajamas. The irritation of the previous evening returned.

He wrapped his hand around her middle and pulled her even closer. Her hair was still up in a messy bun, though a few tendrils had come loose and curled around her face. Draco couldn’t resist the temptation and sank his nose into the crook of her neck. He inhaled her heavenly fresh scent and let it surround him. Waking up like this was bliss. Even if every ounce of him was sore.

A distinctive pop sounded from downstairs. He listened as the light footsteps climbed up the steps toward Granger’s room. The knob of the door slowly turned, and he watched Kippy’s large eyes land on him. She looked so relieved to see him alive, but he immediately drew his finger to his lips. Her mouth shut immediately. She hesitated by the door and looked like she wanted to say something, but Draco shook his head and pointed to Granger’s sleeping form.

“I’ll call for you later,” he told her using his Legilimency. “Thank you for last night.”

The tiny elf’s features softened even more. It looked like tears were forming in her eyes. He returned his finger to his lips, and she nodded furiously before tiptoeing back out of the room and down the stairs. He heard the pop again and settled against Granger’s warm form.

He allowed the warmth and comfort of the witch next to him to lull him back to sleep, even with the light accosting them through her sheer drapes.

Draco groaned as the weight shifted beside him. His arm tightened around Granger, dragging her back against him as she tried to scoot away.

“Stop that,” he grumbled.

She let out a small squeak.

“You should rest,” she whispered back.

“I am. Now lay still.”

She grumbled slightly but settled back down against him. Some of her curls tickled his nose, so he buried his face in the crook of her neck. She tensed at first but eventually relaxed into his hold.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Just after seven.”

He cursed. It was too early still. His grip along her waist tightened.

“I forgive you.”

She stilled.

“Forgive me? For what?”

“Wearing nearly nothing to answer your door last evening.”

Granger snorted.

“Sorry, my ball gown was being hemmed.”

He squeezed her.

“It’s just a shame I’ll have to blind Thomas, Lupin, Smith, and Nott.”

“Blind them?”

“I don’t share, Granger. And they’ve seen too much.”

He could practically feel her rolling her eyes as she laughed.

“That’s ridiculous,” she huffed. “Besides, we were all very busy trying to keep you from bleeding out on my kitchen table.”

“You did a bang-up job, Granger.”

She didn’t say anything. He opened one eye and looked down at her. She was biting her thumbnail and staring into space.

“Talk to me,” he said.

His thumb traced circles around her hip. He twisted her, making her turn to face him on the bed that was too small for both of them. She looked up at him with her rich amber-flecked eyes.

“There was so much blood,” she whispered.

The sadness in her tone made his chest tighten. His hands cradled her face.

“You fixed me,” he reassured her. “I’m fine. Your quick healing work made all the difference. I’m sorry we came here. I never meant to scare you.”

“I’m glad you came here,” she said.

“Me too,” he said with confidence.

He brought his lips down against hers. She relaxed slightly as he kissed her.

“Black out those drapes, Granger,” he said as he nestled her into the crook of his arm. “We’re sleeping in today.”

Chapter Text

Hermione stared at her dining room table as visions of Friday night flashed through her memory. Draco’s bleeding body was prone across the polished wood. His shirt was tattered and barely hung across the severed skin along his spine. There was so much blood. Hermione’s eyes pinched shut. Her hand trembled around the cup of tea. 

She’d never been faced with death before. Looking at Draco’s bleeding body had forced her to confront the danger of his career. While both of them were at the Ministry, it was easy to imagine him doing a desk job. But having him that close to death was frightening. 

They’d spent Saturday lounging around her place after they had finally emerged from bed. (Which was nearly two in the afternoon, if she was being honest.) Hermione was decidedly not thinking about sharing a bed with him. If she allowed her thoughts to linger on Draco’s half-naked form in her sheets, clinging to her, her temperature rose considerably. Technically, it was in their contract that they would spend the night with one another. She mused over the idea of Draco spending more time in her bed but quickly dismissed the errant thoughts. Last night was different. Draco was injured. Her thoughts weren’t on the precise sculpting of his abdominals or the flex of his biceps. But now that he was healing, she didn’t trust herself to keep her thoughts about him platonic. 

In order to put her lust-forward thoughts out of her mind, she chose to distract herself from the bedroom. The day ended up being entirely easy together. They read, watched rugby, (another surprising fact about Draco she filed away), and ordered takeout. Crooks had found a cozy space on Draco’s lap on the couch, and he absently scratched him for hours. The two of them, thick as thieves. 

Try as she might, her mind drifted back to Friday, though. She was scarred by the image of Draco pale and gasping, barely conscious. The worst part was knowing he was going to go right back to the same task on Monday. His dangerous profession seemed ridiculous now. She couldn’t understand how he could be torn apart like he was and be so eager to return to it. He could have been bitten. Her mind reeled at the possibility of him being turned into a werewolf. It was madness. And he seemed unaffected. 

“Mind if I shower?” 

He pulled her from her dark thoughts as he stood up and stretched. She tried to ignore the way his shirt rose and revealed a glimpse of his alabaster skin. 

“Of course,” she stuttered, adverting her eyes back to his face. “I’ll get you a towel.”

Draco disappeared up the stairs. Hermione’s brain was swimming with questions. Was he staying again? Did she want him to? He was going to use her shower and all her feminine products; she didn’t have anything for him. Kippy did pack him a bag of extra clothes, but did they have enough for the whole weekend? She grabbed a clean towel and walked toward the bathroom connected to her bedroom. Draco had placed his bag on her bed and was sorting through it. He was completely naked except for a tight pair of black boxer briefs. The muscles along his back moved as he searched through the bag. The evidence of the attack was still there, marring his perfect skin. He needed more dittany. 

“We’ve got dinner with your parents tomorrow, right?” he asked as he turned around casually as if he weren’t standing nearly naked in her bedroom. 

Her eyes glued themselves to his face. 

“Erm,” she stumbled. “I thought it might be best to cancel. Seeing as yesterday was a bit strenuous on you…”

“Nonsense. I still have to eat, and I’m looking forward to it. I’ll have Kippy bring over the wine before we leave.” 

All the moisture had left her mouth. It was as if she’d swallowed a portion of the Sahara. She wanted to look down. She wanted to take in all his muscular physique and appreciate that he seemed to have been crafted after Adonis himself. 

“Is that towel for me?” 

“Yes,” she said, quickly shoving it between them into his hands. “Sorry, I don’t have a stash of any manly scented products for you to use. I don’t exactly entertain other men in my shower.” 

She snapped her mouth shut. She was nervously rambling to keep from looking at the way his hips dipped in a V formation. He took a few steps toward her and tucked one of her loose curls back into the messy bun on the top of her head. 

“I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.” 

Her pulse hammered wildly. 

“I happen to like the way you smell,” he added. 

His voice had dropped several octaves, and the hair on her neck stood up. He liked the way she smelled? Clearly, he’d never smelled himself because the musky scent that enveloped him was heavenly. She dreamed about it. She could smell him now. Smoky vanilla notes with tobacco and something else. Sweet, spicy, and another scent she couldn’t place. But one that she recognized as his. Her brain was foggy with lust. 

“I’ll get more dittany,” she said, stepping back. “For your back. It’s downstairs.” 

He stood, unmoving, as his darkened eyes looked over at her from her new spot near the door. 

“Enjoy your shower. I’ll just help you once you’re finished.”

She backpedaled into the wall. 

“Oof. Erm. I meant with the dittany. Not the shower. You’ll manage that on your own. I’m sure. I’ll just…”

She turned and left before another stupid and nonsensical thing could come out of her mouth. She swore she heard him laugh, too. This was an absurd idea. She had no business sleeping in the same bed as her fake boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. How was she supposed to keep this up for an entire year? It’d barely been two weeks, and she was already lusting over him. 

She grumbled to herself the entire way down the stairs. If he wasn’t so bloody attractive, she wouldn’t be falling all over herself at his half-naked figure. But damn him, his arse was as sublime as the rest of him. Hermione was always in control. Or, she at least attempted to be. But this was completely out of her wheelhouse. She had no idea the level of sexual frustration that could build up in a person. They’d clearly outlined a “no sex” clause in their agreement. She couldn’t break that after two weeks! She was a professional. This was a job. She needed to keep her outrageous hormones in check. Perhaps there was a potion for sexual repression? She made a mental note to search for one when she got back to work. 

Eventually, she heard the water shut off and knew she needed to go back upstairs. She batted away all the rogue thoughts of water dripping down Draco’s perfectly sculpted torso and his strong hands raking through his soft hair. She needed composure before she went back in there. The universe was playing a cool trick on her, though. Draco Malfoy was lying on his stomach in the center of her bed, thumbing through the book of medieval curses she had on her nightstand. 

He peeked over his shoulder, his hair still damp. She shut her mouth and tried to look less like a gawking stalker. 

“Found it,” she said. 

“Do you always read such dark academia before bed?”

She snorted to herself. It was hardly what she would consider dark… she’d read far worse.

She climbed beside him and added a few drops to the first mark on his back. He hissed and flinched. She forgot to warm it and gave the vial a quick tap with her wand so it wouldn’t be so jarring for him. 

This time, he didn’t react when she dropped the dittany. She gently began to knead her fingers across the marks, working the potion into the skin. He groaned under her touch, making her freeze. 

“Don’t stop,” he said. 

She ignored the way her cheeks flushed at his command. As she continued, heat began to build in other places. She was never like this with any of the other males she worked with. Even Cormac, whom she’d actually had sex with, hadn’t produced this kind of neediness and physical desire in her. What was wrong with her? This was Draco Malfoy. They had an agreement to remain platonic and respectful. And she was consumed with thoughts of clawing her own nails down his back as he drove into her. 

She capped the dittany and practically leaped off the bed. Maybe she should have just asked Nott to help her with her research. This was too complicated already. Fake dating, kissing, meeting her parents, sleeping over. How was she supposed to compartmentalize all of this? Her mind was chaotic enough without Draco’s overwhelming presence.  

Like a coward, she fled to the bathroom with her pajamas. She forced herself to calm down and washed her face with icy water. She brushed each tooth with a terrifying meticulousness that would have even seemed excessive to her parents. She prayed by the time she finished, Draco would be softly snoring in the bed. Please, be asleep, she prayed as she cracked the door open. He hadn’t moved, though. He was still turning the pages of her book and very much half-naked. Did he always sleep in such tiny boxer briefs? Didn’t he get cold? 

She smirked as she thought back to her own pajamas. Draco’s reaction this morning had amused her. The idea of his feigned jealousy was attractive, even if it was just for show. She could almost convince herself that it was real. 

“I’ve almost caught up to where you are,” he said, turning another page. 

She couldn’t climb under the blankets because Draco was sprawled out over the top of them in the center of the bed. She could barely scoot onto her corner of space without touching him. But he made no motion to move. He flipped another page. 

How was he even more attractive reading? It wasn’t fair. Was she going to spend the next year of her life just gobsmacked by his sex appeal at every mundane thing he did? The answer was a resounding ‘yes’. 

“Is my back dry? I didn’t want to roll over on your sheets if the dittany hadn’t dried.”

She allowed herself a long look at his back and down to his perfect arse. She imagined what gripping the toned muscle mass would feel like. She let her fingers drag over his back. The dittany had dried, but she enjoyed the shiver Draco let escape. 

“Dry,” she said. 

She coughed, embarrassed by how low her own voice sounded. She busied herself by readjusting her hair in a bun on the top of her head while he sat up. He rolled onto his side and watched her twist her hair with silent fascination. 

The two of them silently maneuvered in the bed and pulled the blankets over them. Things were different tonight. Last night, he’d already been unconscious by the time his head hit the pillow. And this morning, he was delirious with sleep. There wasn’t an awkward standoff like this.

Thankfully, Draco made the first move. He threw his arm around her shoulders and dragged her against his clean torso. She inhaled the smell of her own body wash, which was oddly satisfying against his usual scent. He cracked open the book again and started reading out loud. He let his left hand draw lines and circles down her arm and back while he read about the dangerous charms. After a few lines, she began to relax, too. She let her palm rest flat against the taut outline of his abdominal wall and watched as it rose and fell steadily in line with his breaths. 

His voice might have been the most comforting sound she’d experienced in her lifetime. Her parents took turns reading to her each night as she was growing up. This was strangely nostalgic but in a very different way. Draco Malfoy had a debilitating ability to break down her rigid walls. She was so nervous and uncomfortable with him one moment and then relaxed and natural the next. He disarmed her so entirely, and it was the most curious feeling. 

She didn’t remember when she nodded off, but Draco’s voice eventually stopped, and the lights went out. She felt him adjust next to her and pull her over his chest as he settled against the pillows. She even felt him kiss her forehead. If she wasn’t dreaming, she could almost convince herself that it felt real. 

***

“You’re certain you’ve driven before?” Hermione asked nervously from the passenger seat of Draco’s heinously expensive and nice car.

“I told you already,” he grinned as he coasted onto the highway. “I’ve been driving cars for years. I am very well-acclimated to the Muggle conveniences of this world.” 

She’d put in her parents’ address to the GPS system, and the easy voice of the directions filled the space of the car. She’d never brought a boy home to meet her parents. Ron didn’t count. They met him before they briefly dated. This was different. This was someone she was bringing home to meet them. And it was all a lie. She tried to rationalize with her brain that she needed to keep up appearances. She couldn’t be seen all over the media with Draco and keep it from her parents. She had to keep up the ruse with them, too. 

Draco was quiet on the drive over. She wondered if he was as nervous as she was. Her mind was a fluttering mess of nerves. They pulled into her neighborhood. The familiar cars, neighbors, and greenery came into view and offered her a peacefulness. She’d grown up here. But sometimes, it felt like it was a different life. Her old Muggle life had been so drastically different than her wizarding one. Even now, she had trouble reconciling between the two parts of who she was. The person she was raised as and the person she is today. 

“It’s beautiful,” Draco said as the car stopped. 

“My mother loves to garden,” she smiled. 

The huge blossoms overwhelmed the front of the house with their potent and rich colors. 

“So does mine,” he said. “She’d love this house.”

Hermione tried not to scoff at the idea of posh Narcissa Malfoy fawning over her simple Muggle home when she had an entire estate of her own. She grabbed her bag, and Draco grabbed the two bottles of wine and a large arrangement of flowers he insisted on bringing her mother. 

“My mother would kill me if I showed up empty-handed,” he argued with her earlier when Hermione told him it really wasn’t necessary. 

“Hermione!” 

Jean’s face was so similar to her own but beautifully aged. Her mother enveloped her in a tight hug and kissed her cheek. 

“Hi, Mum,” she smiled. “This is-”

“Draco Malfoy,” her mother smiled and wrapped him in a tight embrace. “What a lovely surprise to see you, dear.” 

Both he and Hermione seemed equally shocked to hear her mother refer to him by name. 

“Hi, Mouse,” her father’s rich tone filled the doorway. 

“Dad,” Hermione smiled and hugged him. “This is-”

“Draco Malfoy, dear,” her mother interrupted again. “Remember? From the papers?”

“Of course,” her father said, reaching out his hand to shake Draco’s. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet the both of you,” he smiled. 

Her mother had taken the large arrangement and fussed over it as her father ushered them into the house. Amusement played on his lips as he looked around the living room. It was like his eyes couldn’t figure out where to focus first. Hermione remembered the first time she’d been in a wizarding home. There’s such a vast difference between the two. 

“I brought you some papers,” Hermione said as she dug around her large bag. 

Twice a month, she brought her parents wizarding reading materials. She charmed them so they looked Muggle to anyone else, but they were able to stay up to date on all the things happening in Hermione’s world. 

“Hermione has told us so much about you,” Jean gushed as she made her way into the kitchen right through the living room. 

Hermione’s eyes widened. 

“We are just so pleased to finally meet you,” she continued. “Hermione’s been talking about you for decades.” 

Hermione’s face erupted in fuschia. Draco’s eyebrows hit the top of his head as he gave her a huge smile. 

“Is that right?” he mused. 

“It’s no wonder she went on and on about your accomplishments last quarter as an Auror,” her father mentioned. “Impressive numbers, son.”

“Thank you, Mr. Granger,” Draco said. “That means a lot. I wish Hermione would have approached me earlier. I assumed she was quite out of my league.” 

Hermione’s jaw hung open. 

“Call me Greg,” her father insisted. 

“Well done, Hermione!” Jean called from the sink. “I’ve been telling her for years to be more assertive with what she wants, Draco. I am so pleased she’s finally taken my advice!”

“Mum,” Hermione gasped. 

“She was quite assertive,” Draco said. “Charged right into my office and gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse.” 

Hermione glared at him in disbelief, Draco’s eyes alight with amusement. Jean squealed with laughter. 

“I am just so pleased,” Jean gushed as she set the flowers on the counter. “She really has been in love with you for so long. It’s so nice to see you two together.” 

Hermione gaped at her mother, who just winked in return. Her father was busy sorting through the articles Hermione brought him. Hermione could feel how flushed her face was. This was a terrible idea to bring Draco over. She had not been in love with him for years. Her mother was being ridiculous. 

Hermione took the bottles of wine from Draco and went in search of a wine opener. She was going to need more than these two bottles to survive a night like this. 

“Hermione tells us you’re quite the quidditch player,” her father said, and she groaned. 

Did they have photographic memories of every errant thought she’d had over the years? 

“She exaggerated, I am sure,” Draco smiled modestly as he sat in the chair near her father. 

“These are for dinner,” Jean tutted as Hermione tried to take the wine opener away from her. 

“You beat Potter in your last year for the House Cup, right?”

Draco beamed as he looked over at Hermione. 

“Yes,” he said. “It was a hell of a match.” 

“Oh, is that the one where you nearly broke your arm?” Jean asked.

“No,” Greg argued. “That was just a year or so ago.”

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose as she hid against the fridge. She was going to obliviate her parents. She was going to absolutely erase all traces of wizardry and magic and Draco-sodding-Malfoy from their minds.

“The arm injury was two years ago,” he said. “That was on the Ministry’s club team, but it was against Potter.” 

“Nice boy,” Greg mentioned. “Shy bloke.”

“Very,” Jean agreed. “Though, I suppose that’s why Ginny is so good for him.” 

Jean shuffled Hermione out of the way as she reached into the fridge for more items for their supper. 

“Go sit, dear.”

“I’m fine,” Hermione mumbled. 

The last thing she needed was to be in Draco’s physical space. She was red enough as it was. She wanted to lock herself into the freezer. 

Draco and her father launched into a rugby discussion. Hermione fumbled through the kitchen, collecting forks and knives. 

“He is so handsome,” Jean mock-whispered. 

“Mum,” Hermione hushed. 

“He looks like he should be a model,” she continued. “His jawline! Those teeth! Was that magic? Or was he born with them that straight?”

Hermione contemplated leaving. She could just stun both of her parents, leave with Draco, and pretend this entire fiasco had never happened. She could obliviate him. 

“Draco,” Jean called, but Hermione swatted at her arm. 

“Yes?”

Hermione jumped, and Draco was right behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, trapped her arms at her side, and dragged her against his chest. Her mother practically swooned watching them. Hermione was as rigid as a board against Draco’s hulking form. Her mother was prattling on about what excellent medical intervention magic offered the wizarding world while Draco held on to Hermione. He dug his nose into her hair and inhaled deeply. 

“I wonder if your parents noticed that I smell like you,” he whispered in her ear as Jean busied herself, setting the table, chatting continuously. 

Hermione’s knees felt weak. He was so bloody attractive, and using that low whispering voice triggered jolts of electricity all over her body. 

“Behave yourself,” Hermione whispered. 

“Is that a challenge?” 

She struggled against his hold, but he just tightened his grip. All of them had teamed up to kill her today. 

“Come eat,” Jean called from the dining room. “I hope you’re all hungry.” 

“Ravenous,” Draco said just loud enough for Hermione to hear as he pressed his lips against her head. 

Chapter Text

Draco Malfoy had never eaten in a Muggle house before. And he’d never tried so hard to impress anyone’s parents the way he was Hermione’s. He found himself genuinely concerned with their perception of him. He wanted them to like him. He wanted them to think he was good for their daughter. A nagging voice of contradiction tried to remind him that this was all fake and that Hermione had no interest in actually dating him. This was purely contractual to complete her research. He pushed the thoughts away, though.

He swore Hermione’s face grew redder with each passing moment. Her mother was effervescent as she prodded them with questions. But Draco’s favorite part of the night was after dinner when he and Hermione helped Jean with the dinner dishes. The banal task captivated his attention. Millions of people accomplished so much in life without magic every day. It was fascinating.

“I need a photo to show Trish from work,” Jean said excitedly. “She’s been asking about you, Hermione.”

“No, Mum, really,” Hermione pleaded.

“Just a quick one, come on, Greg,” she urged.

Draco took out his phone to snap the three of them together, but Jean also tugged him in the photo.

“Well, of course we want to show you off, Draco, dear,” she laughed.

Hermione groaned beside him as he threw his free arm around her waist. Jean and Greg crowded around and smiled as Draco took the photo.

“Good, good,” she held out her hand for Draco’s phone. “Now, the two of you together.”

“Mum, honestly,” Hermione sighed.

Draco couldn’t suppress his grin as he handed over his phone. Jean took it and backed up a few steps to get Draco’s tall form in the frame. He stood behind her and wrapped one arm around her shoulders and one around her waist as he trapped her against his chest.

“How many times have you considered obliviating her tonight?” he whispered in her ear as they smiled at Jean.

Hermione laughed, her slender hands draping across his larger ones.

“Too many to count,” she admitted.

“Okay, now, one where you’re standing up straight so they can see how tall you are,” Jean urged.

This time, Greg and Hermione chastised Jean, but she happily ignored them.

Hermione was more than a head shorter than Draco, but she seemed to casually relax against him as her mother snapped photos of them.

“Wonderful! I’ll just send these to myself.”

Jean busied herself on the phone, but Hermione didn’t move to pull away, and Draco didn’t move to release her. He had grown rather accustomed to the feel and smell of her over this weekend. He had half a mind to pack his things and move in with her. He shook the dramatic thoughts away. This night had been unlike any dinner he’d had before. There was no pomp or circumstance with the Grangers. It was wholesome. Like a family should be. He found the casual comfort of the place intoxicating and addictive. He couldn’t wait for the next time they could come back.

“So we’ll see you in a few weeks, then?” Jean asked as she handed his phone back to him.

“Of course,” he grinned. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Jean shuffled Hermione into her arms and hugged her goodbye. Then, in a surprising move, Jean wrapped Draco in a tight embrace.

“We are so pleased to finally meet you,” she whispered. “You’re just lovely.”

Draco felt a strange surge of emotion well up inside of him. He thought about it the entire drive back to Hermione’s flat. He thought about it as she busied herself in the kitchen feeding Crooks. He turned his attention to her living room wall. The smiling faces of his former classmates and her parents grinned down at him. Hermione Granger’s inner circle was such a revered sanctuary. The addictive force of being next to her, within her bubble, was maddening. He considered dropping her off tonight and going to his flat. But the thought of sleeping alone, even without the bloody feline monstrosity, was nearly unbearable. So he didn’t even suggest it.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled so much in a day. The light and jovial atmosphere that her parents created in their home was something he’d crave for years to come. He’d never be able to gift her that within the walls of his own family’s estate. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to shield her from them. The harsh and judgmental temperaments of the Malfoy and Black families were not for the faint of heart. He’d never considered protecting anyone from his family before. He had been proud to be born into such a ruthless and esteemed lineage. Both families fought hard for what they wanted and ignored anyone they’d have to step on to get there. Draco just needed to make sure that Hermione wouldn’t be a stepping stone for anyone. Himself included.

***

Draco was lulled awake by the incessant purring of Granger’s beast. He gave a tug at the covers to try and drown out the noise, but Crook’s fat arse was immobile. He groaned and rolled over, ready to give the mangy creature a piece of his mind, when he noticed the sun peaking through the curtains and the bed empty. That’s when he heard the shower. He peeked down at his wristwatch.

Bugger.

He flew out of bed. He had a meeting at seven sharp. He had ten minutes. He cursed as he thrust his way into the steaming bathroom. Hermione squeaked out in surprise, but the glass surrounding the shower did little to hide her naked form. He didn’t have time, though. He thumbed off his boxer briefs and joined her in the spray.

“Draco!”

He gently hurried her out of the water’s spray and placed his head under it. He let out another curse. The water was scalding! How was she standing there enduring that temperature? And looking relaxed doing so!

She stood back, looking stunned, as he reached around her for body wash.

“I have a meeting in ten minutes,” he explained.

He took her sponge from her hand. She’d attempted to cover her breasts, but her thin arms did little to cover her ample chest. His arm swiped the sponge across his chest.

Her eyes widened.

“I always set an alarm,” he cursed.

His hand and sponge scrubbed lower. Hermione’s eyes had gone dark as she followed the trail of his hand. The weight of their circumstance settled on him. He was in her shower. With her. Naked. His eyes raked down her body. The swell of her breasts under her small forearm, the soft curve of her hips, her taut stomach. He felt himself grow and stretch at the scene before them. Salazar be damned. The carnal urge in him didn’t give a fuck about the Wizengamot meeting. Water poured over his back as he faced her. Her own body was still partially covered with the soap on the sponge he’d taken from her.

He looked back at her face again. Her soft lips parted, and a ragged breath left her. The way she was looking at him. His cock pulsed beneath him. He considered feigning ill. Calling out. He’d just been attacked by a werewolf days ago. He could easily convince Granger to stay in bed so he could be lost in her delicious folds all day.

The rational side of his brain warred with the hunger he felt. Today’s meeting was about securing more Aurors for their division. They needed to broaden their research capabilities to keep up with the growing numbers. He needed their support. They didn’t fully trust Lupin, and Black wasn’t diplomatic enough for them. He was the only shot they had and expanding.

He pinched his eyes shut and tried hard not to slam his fist through the tile shower.

He thrust the sponge back into Granger’s hand.

“Please understand that I have to be at this meeting,” he implored. “But I will hate myself all day for leaving this shower.”

Her eyes widened as she met his. She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth, and it made him even more rigidly hard, if that were even possible.

He couldn’t look at her naked figure any longer. He turned and began raking shampoo wildly through his platinum hair. He cursed himself the entire time. This sodding job and these bloody werewolves were costing him time alone with Granger’s delectable tits. He felt a tentative touch on his back. Peering over his shoulder, he saw her small hand dragging the sponge over his back.

He pinched his eyes shut and let his nails scrape his scalp.

Don’t fuck her. Don’t touch her. She hasn’t agreed to sex yet. Wait until you’ve had a moment to talk. You need this meeting. You need their support. You can’t let all your hard work just fall to the side over Granger’s perfect cunt. Fuck. Stop thinking about it. But her hands feel so good.

She reached up, and the close proximity caused her nipples to brush against his back.

He hissed at the hot contact of her body.

Don’t fuck her. Do NOT fuck her. Think of anything else.

He drowned his face in the spray of the shower.

Think of werewolves. Think of bleeding, terrifying werewolves. Think of them tearing at your back. And how Granger healed you. In those tiny pajamas.

“Fuck!”

Hermione jumped behind him. He turned and pushed her at arm’s length while the steaming water cascaded over his spine. He was panting now and kept his eyes pinched shut. The last of his self-control was hanging on by a thread no bigger than a spider’s silk. He needed to get a thousand kilometers away from this beautiful witch before he buried himself inside of her. It can’t be like that with her. Granger was… she was just different. He’d probably come in her on impact, and that would be a mortifying ordeal in and of itself. No. He was going to the meeting.

He practically threw himself from the shower and transfigured clothes around him while he sprinted to her Floo.

That would be the last time he left that witch wet and naked.

By some miracle, Draco made the meeting without a second to spare. He chewed bitterly on the inside of his cheek as he thought about Hermione left naked in the shower. His cock still hadn’t seemed to get the message that nothing would be happening this morning because it stood at attention for her. He tucked it savagely against himself, willing it to cooperate. He scrawled out a message to his receptionist, Gilda, a lovely older witch, instructing her to bring Granger’s favorite biscuits, tea, and flowers to her office. He’d have to make it up to her somehow. What an embarrassment. She must think he’s the most daft wizard in the continent.

Draco convinced the committee and garnered more support for their werewolf cause despite his clouded frame of mind.

“Let’s go to lunch,” Lupin suggested.

“I have lunch plans this afternoon,” Draco smoothed over. “I’ll meet you later.”

They left without him while he headed to Hermione’s office. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her. How could he explain his behavior this morning? The meeting was important, but he did want to fuck her. Should he admit that? Would that be strange for her to hear? Perhaps she didn’t want to fuck him… maybe she preferred to keep things according to their platonic agreement.

He entered her office to find Nott sorting through a large gift basket. He winced. Gilda held back no expense.

“Somebody fucked up,” Nott’s voice lilted in a sing-song tune upon seeing him. His mouth was packed with one of the items within the basket, and he looked gleefully pleased to see Draco.

“Where is she?” Draco looked around.

“Went to lunch with Luna,” he said. “They were meeting Weasley. It’s her off-week.”

Draco sank into the chair.

“What did you do?”

Draco skimmed his fingers through his hair.

“Nothing. That’s the problem.”

“She didn’t look angry this morning. She looked…I dunno. Flustered?”

Draco groaned. That was even worse.

“I was late. I joined her in the shower. But I couldn’t… well… I couldn’t join her in the shower.”

Theo froze. His jaw opened wider as he stared at Draco in disbelief.

“You still haven’t fucked her?”

“What the hell do you know about it?” Draco’s defensiveness skyrocketed.

“She said all you do is talk.”

Draco reeled. They did not just talk. They did plenty of other things. And even so, he liked talking to her.

“You two talk about our sex life?”

Nott rolled his eyes.

“Obviously! I am her best mate, you know.”

“No, you’re bloody not.”

“Well, I’m enough of a bloody mate to know you’re not burying your cock in Granger. It’s been weeks!”

Draco stood up and paced the small expanse between their desks. His hands dragged over his face.

“I want to!”

His hands raked through his hair again.

“Then what’s stopping you? I can’t keep Luna off mine. I had to send her to lunch today to give my poor bloke a rest.”

Draco shook his head.

“I’m trying to respect her boundaries.”

“I don’t think she wants you to, mate,” Nott joked.

“Did she say something?” Draco asked. “Did she tell you that she wants to have sex?”

“You both are obviously riddled with sexual frustration,” Nott scoffed. “So put each other out of your misery already!”

He had no bloody idea how much pent-up sexual frustration Draco was battling. But the idea that she was experiencing the same thing gave him a glimmer of hope. He could confront her about the contract change. He could do this respectfully and would let her take control. She would get the final say. He wouldn’t pressure her.

“You’ve got a long weekend together, right?” Theo asked. “Make something of it. Lock her arse inside with you all weekend and forge your face to her clitoris.”

Nott was a genius. This weekend would be perfect. He could draft up a few suggestions this week for contract amendments. He would make it up to her.

Chapter Text

The intoxicating image of Draco Malfoy’s naked and wet form will forever make her mind a perverse wasteland of lust. Hermione blushed, even thinking about it now. The man was built like Adonis. And his erection? Salazar, help her.

Hermione’s mind tended to be gleefully chaotic at the best of times. Hundreds of thoughts were constantly buzzing around inside. Typically, these thoughts were based on theory, deduction, or reasoning. They were scientific or magical in nature. But after today? Her mind sent scorching thoughts of Draco Malfoy into any unoccupied space of her consciousness. Water rolling over his abs…

She snapped herself out of it. She was brewing an incredibly dangerous potion with Theo, and one wrong move would blow up her and their lab. She needed to stay vigilant. Focused. Determined to put her sausage thoughts to rest, she re-read the instructions to her left.

“You’ve read those four times,” Theo said with a snicker. “It’s two wings, and I already added them.”

Hermione glared at him.

“I can finish this one,” he said. “I’m sure you have meatier things on your mind.”

She gaped.

He howled.

She rolled her eyes and pushed away from the bench. He was insufferable. But he was right. She couldn’t get the thoughts out of her mind. It had been two days since she’d seen Draco. He got dragged off into some work trip about the werewolves and left a sincerely apologetic note and more flowers at her flat. He also had Kippy do all her laundry, bring fresh flowers daily, and supply her with breakfast and dinner.

“I do have things on my mind,” she defended lamely. “But not what you think.”

Based on Theo’s look, he clearly didn’t believe her.

“I’m thinking about werewolves.”

“Is that right?”

She nodded defiantly.

“Go on,” he urged.

“The last time Draco left, he ended up on my doorstep-”

“Sliced like a ham.”

Hermione nodded. Each night she went to bed, she worried she’d be awoken by the similar frenzied banging on her front door as his colleagues held Draco’s bleeding and unconscious form out to her. Theo saw all the blood. He knew how grave things had seemed.

“They’re traveling in bigger numbers now,” Theo reassured.

“It doesn’t matter. One bite, Theo. That’s all it takes.”

He nodded gravely.

“And there’s no cure!”

That’s what panicked Hermione the most. Even if he did survive another attack, he could be forever changed because of his dangerous involvement.

“So make one,” Theo shrugged.

She scoffed at him.

“What?” he said.

“Be serious.”

“I am. You’re the smartest bloody witch in this building. Make a cure.”

She’d never considered it before. She’d never had any particular reason to consider werewolves. Not until Draco Malfoy showed up in her life. How were they supposed to have a casual alliance if she was constantly worried about him dying or worse?

Surely, if she created this cure, then she could actually get a good night’s rest once more. It would make this entire year much more manageable.

“Think we could?”

“Fuck yes,” he shrugged.

Later that night, while buried under a stack of books on werewolves, Hermione’s mobile rang.

“Hullo, mum.”

“Hello, dear!”

She could see her mother’s perfect smile in her head. She glanced at her watch; it was well after ten that night. She was surprised to be hearing from her mother at all.

“What are you doing up?”

Hermione’s gaze still scanned the page on the full moon’s effects.

“Well, I’ve just gotten off the phone with Draco,” she explained.

Hermione stopped.

“What did you say?”

“Yes, well, he wanted me to tell you that he’s still on track to be back tomorrow in time for your holiday in France. How terribly romantic.”

“Wait, what? Why did he call you?”

“He doesn’t have your number, does he? You magic folk probably send owls back and forth, and he had my number because he sent me the photos of all of us at dinner the other night from his phone. Honestly, Hermione. How could you not have exchanged numbers yet?”

Hermione snorted out a disbelieving laugh.

“But all is well, and he told me to tell you not to worry your beautiful little head about anything.”

“Mum, why didn’t you just give him my number?”

There was a moment of silence on the other line.

“I hadn’t even considered it, darling,” she laughed. “Well, you’ll see him tomorrow and then be whisked away to France. Oh la! Where are you staying? What sites will you see?”

She groaned and fell back against the couch. She loved her mother, but how infuriating.

“Mum, please give me Draco’s number so I have it for the future.”

“Oh, all right,” she said. “But I want dozens of photographs from your trip. I mean it.”

“Love you, mouse,” she heard her father call.

“Love you both.”

She hung up, and seconds later, her screen illuminated with a new contact labeled Hermione’s Beau, Draco. She saved it and grinned at the ridiculous contact name he’d been given.

Crookshanks bossed his way past the books and into Hermione’s lap with an indignant humph.

“I think you miss him too,” she said, scratching his ears.

***

She’d fallen asleep on the couch last night. She ambled off to the shower with a crick in her neck and a mouthful of Crooks’ fluff.  She entered her shower with a melancholy air. It seemed like a century ago that Draco Malfoy was in here with her. His slick abs. His wide back. She groaned as she stuck her face under the spray. It wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t be this bloody attractive. When she enlisted his help weeks ago, she thought the agreement would be concise and straightforward—no funny business. Now, all she could think about was how unfunny his business was. In fact, it was large and imposing.

She chastised herself again. Their agreement was an iron-clad contract. They were professionals! Lusting after him like a madwoman was going to make this year impossible. She needed his assistance in her research.

She turned off the shower, dried, dressed, and headed downstairs. When she reached the second to last step, her breath faltered.

Standing in the kitchen in a bespoke suit, scratching Crooks under the chin, was Draco Malfoy.

And Hermione Granger was utterly speechless.

“I think the beast missed me,” he noted as Crooks nuzzled his head under Draco’s chin with a soft purr.

“He may have mentioned it a time or two,” she smiled.

He smiled and put the cat down. However, his own irritation showed through his aggressive head-butting and mewing. Draco took out his wand and vanished the stray hair before looking up at her. He walked toward her, and she couldn’t ignore how her heart hammered in her chest.

“And did you contribute anything to the conversation?”

“I might have,” she said.

Why did she sound so breathless? Did he always look this nice? Or was she just delirious and sex-depraved? She willed her brain to shut up.

His arm casually rested on the wall beside her head, which made him seem even taller, even though she was standing on the second step. She bit down on her lip to prevent her from saying any of the ridiculous, lusty comments in her mind.

“I brought you a coffee.”

“No blood?”

So much for not saying stupid things.

He laughed, though.

“I am entirely unscathed this time.”

“Pity,” she sighed, leaning against the same wall. “My dining table looks so much better as a crime scene.”

He floated a bag into his hand and held it out for her.

“What if I bribe you with pastries?”

She took the bag, biting back a smile as she looked inside.

“Forgiven.”

“I didn’t sleep worth a shit this week.”

“I fell asleep on the couch last night.”

“France will be better,” he promised, tucking a rogue curl away from my eye.

He held out his hand. She took it, and he led her into the kitchen. He grabbed the coffee off her table and followed her to the Floo.

“Kippy wants to bring him to the flat while we’re gone this weekend,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“You want him in your flat? His hair will be everywhere.”

“We can magic away a bit of the beast’s fur,” he said. “And Kippy is quite taken with him. This way, they wouldn’t be alone.”

“Of course,” she nodded. “I’m grateful she’s willing to watch him. Usually, Theo pops in when I am away.”

She entered the Floo, and he followed. After a quick pop, they arrived at the Ministry, and Draco followed her into the lift. Rather than push his floor, he just entered Hermione’s. She gave him a questioning glance, but he just handed her the coffee he brought. She drank it, grateful for the something to mute her nonsensical musings.

A few others filed into the elevator, and both of them uttered their polite greetings.

“I thought we could leave tonight,” Draco said. “Have a nice dinner and talk about your plan of attack. I figured you spent most of this week organizing everything.”

Heat flooded Hermione’s cheeks. She hadn’t touched her research this week. She’d become so consumed with the idea of a cure that all her free time went into studying lycanthropy.

“Sounds great,” she said.

She made a mental note to prepare today with unprecedented focus. The lift stopped on her floor, and he exited with her. His hand hovered on the small of her back as he led her toward her office.

 “I’ll bring you lunch today,” he said.

“You sure?” Hermione asked. “You won’t be busy with lunch meetings after being gone for a few days?”

“No,” he smiled. “I’ve cleared my schedule.”

Hermione felt like a bat was flapping around her chest. Her body was so unhinged lately. Before she could tell him that all of that sounded bloody wonderful, he wrapped one arm around her back and the other around her neck. He descended one of the most realm-moving kisses on her that she’d ever experienced. The kind that leaves you in a haze for hours to come. This was the kind of kiss that women and men dream of. At least a dozen other witches and wizards were walking past them to get to their offices, and he was kissing her as if her very life depended on it. She was breathless and completely immobile with the pastries and coffee in her hands. Salazar, help her. It was a good thing he didn’t do this at her place. She would have made an indecent showing of her desires for him.

“Yummy!”

A familiar voice sounded somewhere behind her, but she wasn’t opening her eyes and breaking this kiss for anything. The bag of pastries was ripped out of her hand, and she knew Theodore had arrived.

Draco pulled away. Damn, Nott. Draco swiped the bag from Theo’s hands and into Hermione’s.

“Granger gets the first pick.”

She gave Theo a smug expression.

“She’s going to choose the chocolate croissant, and we both know I’m going to eat everything else in there.”

Hermione snorted. He was right. She handed the bag back to Theo.

“Couldn’t help but overhear you’re bringing lunch, too, Drake,” he added. “Would love some chips or curry. Or both.”

They both gave him a look.

“But you know I’ll be happy with whatever you have brought in,” he smiled and entered the office.

“I’ll see you later,” he promised.

His lips brushed against hers once again.

“Missed you, Granger.”

She felt dizzy as she watched him walk away. Once in the office with Theo, she found her croissant placed delicately on a napkin at her desk.

“Looks like someone had a happy reunion,” Theo smirked as he dug out another pastry from the bag. “Get a nice view of the werewolf hunter's fine arse this morning?”

Theo guffawed as Hermione balked.

“You are the absolute worst!”

“So, is that a yes?”

“No!” she sputtered. “Well… no. He showed up just as I was leaving and brought me breakfast.”

His face fell.

“Still nothing?”

Hermione’s face reddened.

“He’s been gone!”

“Granger,” he said, putting the pastry bag down and wheeling his chair closer to his desk. “You’ve got to lock this down. This weekend, jump him.”

She covered her face with her hands.

“I can’t!”

“Rubbish! He’s as interested in it as you are! Both of you are just playing mind games.”

Her head snapped up.

“You’ve spoken to him about this?”

“Of course, I have spoken with him. He’s my best mate.”

Hermione blanched.

“You are discussing my sex life with Draco bloody Malfoy?”

“Obviously, Granger. Who else would he want to discuss it with?”

She glared at him, but her panic rose. What could Draco have said to him? Did he want to have sex with her? In their agreement, they hadn’t outlined sex.

“What did he say?” she asked tentatively.

“That he wants to spend the entire bloody weekend with his face glued to your clitoris.”

Hermione choked on her coffee.

“You lie!”

“I would never!”

Hermione’s world swam. He wanted to change the contract? Or was he just saying that for small talk with Theo? She didn’t know what to think. But she knew what she was feeling. And the anticipation of any amount of physical contact with that man was… well, it made her delirious.

“He really said that?”

Theo gave her an exasperated look.

“We just talked about it Monday, Granger. After the shower fiasco.”

She wanted to bury her head under a rock pile.

"He told you about the shower?"

Theo laughed ruefully. 

"Oh yes," he said, mouth full of another pastry. "He is plagued with regret. Wanted to call out and spend all day eating out..." 

He offered a salacious wink while Hermione groaned into her hands. 

What was she going to do? She was going to be trapped in a hotel room with him for the next seventy-two hours. If she was going to have sex with Draco Malfoy this weekend, she needed a hair removal spell, a pedicure, and a very different selection of knickers. 

“Also, are we telling Draco about our little adventure against lycanthropy?”

Hermione chewed on her thumbnail. He might get frustrated at the pair of them for interfering. She would also hate for him to get his hopes up, only for this to blow up in their faces.

“Maybe not yet…”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Granger,” he winked. “Now, let’s plan your sex-filled weekend.”

Chapter Text

Draco Malfoy was in control at all times. He had a strict sense of composure. He was calculated and deliberate in all areas of his life. Except for one. Hermione Granger had swung into his life and nearly demolished all his practiced control in a second. She was doing it now, looking around the grand lobby of their hotel in Paris as if it were made of solid gold. Her wide eyes and innocent wonder captivated him. It made him want to give her the world.

They went to the room, and Draco placed his lips gently against her head. It was all he would allow himself to do right now. He didn’t trust things not to go further. And he needed to talk to her before anything else happened. He couldn’t move forward until he was absolutely sure this was what she wanted, too. He wasn’t going to let his lack of control ruin everything.

He’d booked the best suite for their weekend away. He wanted to impress her, dazzle her with what he had to offer. He’d been looking forward to this all week.

“Draco,” she breathed as she entered the suite.

He found it somewhat unsurprising that he wanted to hear her whisper that exact thing in that exact tone in a very different setting.

She whirled on him, her eyes alight with a satisfying happiness.

“It’s lovely,” she said.

She walked around the room, taking it all in as her delicate fingers ran over the length of nearly everything she was near. She felt the need to touch everything in her wake. The childlike enthusiasm made him smile. He stood, rooted in his space. The nagging worries of his conversation with Nott loomed over him. He knew what he wanted. But convincing Granger to expand the contract to a “friends-with-benefits” clause seemed tacky. They were, after all, two consenting adults. Draco hadn’t thought about how long a year would be. This was for her needs as much as it was his. He was a generous lover. He’d see to anything she could possibly want.

“What’s this?”

He turned to see her leaning over a box with a large black bow on the bed. She picked up the card and slid it from the envelope. She shook her head, cursing as she read.

“What is it?” he asked.

She cast him an amused look and handed over the card.

Put your bloody cardigan away, Granger. Xo Naughty Nott

She opened the box, peeled back the tissue paper, and revealed a beautiful silver dress. Hermione tried to hide her smile but couldn’t.

“Isn’t it my job to purchase gifts?” Draco mused.

“I don’t need gifts,” she said, patting his chest.

He made a mental note to stuff Granger’s whole bloody wardrobe with new clothes. He’d message Kippy. New heels, knickers, and even a coat for the cool spring air were delicately packed into the box. He didn’t know if he wanted to thank or throttle Nott.

“I’ll just get changed,” she smiled.

Part of him wanted to offer for her to do it right here for him to watch.

His mobile buzzed in his pocket. A simple ‘you’re welcome’ from Nott appeared across the screen. He glared at it.

Nott thought this was a holiday weekend where they would be leisurely tourists. They could lounge in bed all day and devour one another like a normal couple. But, he immediately chastised himself for letting thoughts about them get in the way of the actual purpose of this weekend. He was here to help her with her research. Not fuck her. She had been so patient. His schedule had been a nightmare these last few weeks, and he felt guilty that they hadn’t dedicated more time to her research. This was important. He needed to get his head straight and give Hermione full attention and focus. This weekend was about her needs. Not his. And especially not his cock’s. He would be a complete professional.

But when Hermione stepped out from the loo, all thoughts of professionalism vanished. His mouth went slack. The silver dress hung by two thin straps on her shoulders, revealing a plunging neckline, and a sleek fit down her entire body. The heels added a few inches to her height, and she’d pulled up her curls, leaving a few loose around her face. She was captivating.

“You look like a goddess,” he whispered in awe.

She laughed nervously, batting away the compliment.

His eyes were on her lips, though. They were painted a deep plum that made her mahogany eyes even richer. He was both relieved and devastated to see them. It would mean he couldn’t kiss her. He moved forward and helped her into her coat. He wished he would have thought to bring her a necklace for her slender neck. It would be a stunning display for diamonds. He added that to his list of things Kippy needed to collect for her.

They stayed in the magic district of Paris. He got a reservation at a new place with glowing reviews from the rest of the wizarding community. Hermione looked like a queen tonight, so she should eat like one, too. They’d resume their Muggle junk food eating when she was back in denim. But tonight, he wanted to spoil her. Walking with her tucked against his side, her hand in his felt right. It felt natural. He pressed his lips to the side of her head as they walked. Brief touches in public would allow him to reign in his maddening desire for her. He couldn’t unleash them alone in their hotel room. He wouldn’t be able to restrain himself.

He hadn’t thought to Floo directly inside and found paparazzi lining the streets between this restaurant and the ones next door. Several of them began shouting for his attention in French and English.

“Monsieur Malfoy!”

Draco wrapped his arm protectively around Hermione’s waist while he steered her away from the growing crowd and into the restaurant.

“We should have just taken the Floo,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Hermione shrugged, looking unaffected.

“It’s all part of the deal,” she said.

Her words weren’t meant to sting, but they did. He hadn’t even thought of his disastrous marriage contract. Of course, he had motivations in this contract between them as well, and being seen publicly was one of the things he’d negotiated. To Hermione, it would look like he was planning this. But realistically, he just wanted to spend more time together. He wanted to walk the streets of Paris with a beautiful woman tucked against his side. Not calculate a publicity stunt.

They were seated at a private table, and Draco promised himself to focus on her research. He would give her his full attention like he would an Auror briefing.

“Have you been here before?” Hermione asked, looking over the menu.

“First time,” he said.

He absently considered that many of their experiences this weekend would be firsts for him. He’d never been in the Parisian Magical Archives before. He’d never taken a holiday with a witch before. He’d never wanted someone he couldn’t have before.

Draco watched as Hermione ordered in perfect French. He was spellbound by her.

“I thought tomorrow could be just a brief overview of the content,” she said, talking business. “I can’t find any list of what books are down there and what is available. So tomorrow, you can scout out the materials, and we can come back together and see what we have to work with.”

“I’ve never been there, so that sounds like a good plan,” he agreed. “Any content you want to be the particular driving force?”

She nodded.

“I wrote some notes on brief outlines and enchanted them so only you can open them. In case they fall into the wrong hands.”

“Clever witch,” he grinned as their first course and drinks arrived.

She blushed at the compliment, making the dark wine lipstick even more captivating against her radiant skin. She crossed her legs under the table, and he felt her heeled foot graze along his calf muscle. The contact sent shocks through his core. She left her leg dangling against his while they ate and drank.

Her casual nervous energy was still present but just subdued. She kept looking at him from under her lashes. Whenever the white wine touched her lips, he wanted to press his against hers and capture the citrusy flavor. Even watching her eat soup had become one of the most erotic things he’d done.

What was he doing? This was torture. He didn’t date. He didn’t know how to be physical, social, and emotional with someone. He kept a solid wall against interactions like this and had no idea what to do now that he was considering letting this woman close to them. He casually fucked women, sure. But those women were not seen in public with him. He didn’t allow women in emotionally. He didn’t want to get their hopes up. The only woman who knew anything about him was probably Daphne. And that’s only because the two of them had a pact to see themselves out of this horrific marriage deal. But now, just as he was entering into another contract with a woman, he wanted to go and change it all. He wanted to spend time with her and her family. He wanted to impress her with conversations, gifts, and trips. And more than anything, he wanted to rip off the tiny plaid shorts she insisted on wearing to bed and get lost in her.

If Draco had to watch Hermione Granger lick her lips one more time this evening, he was going to haul her out of this restaurant and fuck her senselessly in the Floo. He was grateful for the distraction of conversation, though. It was something that came naturally to the pair of them. They could find endless things to talk about. Tonight, Hermione asked questions about how his week had been, seeming to take a genuine interest in his work with the werewolves.

Their meal had also been fantastic. They finished the last of their wine, and he watched in excruciating agony as her tongue dragged across her lower lip again. He snapped. The cool composure he usually wore was shredded. He reached forward, grabbed the back of her neck, and thrust her forward. Her lips connected with his in a famished frenzy. He wasn’t gentle or coaxing. He was primal, claiming what he wanted. And he wanted her.

But she met him with equal force. And it felt good.

He remembered he was still in public and reluctantly drew away after nipping her bottom lip one last time. He took the napkin from his lap and brought it to his lips, knowing that they would have the deep plum color completely shadowed over them. But when he looked up at Hermione’s flushed face, her lipstick remained perfectly intact. He withdrew the napkin and saw no pigment transferred.

“Perma-stick,” she shrugged.

He closed his eyes and ran his hands through his air. The lipstick wouldn’t move? He groaned. He could have been kissing her like that the whole night. Now he couldn’t help but wonder what those perfect lips would look like wrapped around something else…

“Good to know,” he nodded.

She uncrossed her legs, and he felt her foot trail down his leg. He stood in a hurry, needing to get her out of this small restaurant.

He took her hand and led her to the Floo. While they waited for their turn, he rounded on her and kissed her again. She wrapped her hands around his waist and held on while he pressed himself against her mouth.

The kissing barely stopped there. He broke away to direct the Floo but was right back on her in an instant. And then again in the hotel elevator. Self-control? He laughed at the foreign concept. He was a man possessed.

They somehow returned to their room, though he didn’t know how. He hadn’t broken away from her lips since entering the elevator. Once inside, the carnage was unrestricted. He tore at her coat while she pulled his shirt from his trousers. Her fingers deftly pulled at the tiny buttons, and his mouth traveled from her mouth to her neck. He left small nips along her jawline as he worked his way down.

She panted against him, pulling his shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. His cufflinks clattered to the floor as she rendered him shirtless. The trousers he wore did little to hide his stiffened erection that now dug into Hermione’s stomach. His hands circled her breasts and squeezed them outside the fabric of her dress. The gleaming silver looked even lovelier against the flush of her reddening skin.

Her fingers laced around to her back and fumbled with her zipper. She gasped when Draco bit down harder on the sensitive skin behind her ear.

“Stuck,” she panted.

His hands wrapped around her waist and clambered to find her zipper. Hers tugged at the belt he was wearing. Her palm brushed his erection, causing him to hiss in pleasure. He was so sensitive. He tugged at the zipper, but it wouldn’t budge. His lips found hers again, and he pulled harder at the zipper. Their tongues clashed against each other. He’d had enough. His fingers gripped the sides of the zipper and ripped it apart. Hermione gasped as she pulled away, but he was right back on her.

“Buy you another one,” he grunted.

She laughed against his kiss as he forced the glittering fabric to the floor. He moved back to fully appreciate the present he’d unwrapped for himself. A string of curses unwound themselves.

Merlin’s sodding beard.

She had forgone the bra and was standing in the tiniest scrap of knickers, a pair of heels, and that was all. The silver heap on the floor beneath her illuminated her legs, giving her an iridescent look. He nearly collapsed to his knees, wanting to do nothing but worship this goddess before him. She was panting and flushed, but her lipstick remained unmoved. He offered her a devilish smirk. He was going to devour this witch.

He lunged forward, pulling her into his arms. Her fingers threaded into his hair, and her legs wrapped around his waist while he walked with her. His throbbing erection was right outside of her entrance. Fuck. He was almost shaking with need.

She steered his head with her hands fisted through his hair, making him growl with desire. His hands kneaded into her generous arse. She had a phenomenal arse. Perfect, even. He’d tell her how much he admired it after this. She deserved to know how unquestionably stunning she was.

Her hips moved, grinding into his length, making them both moan. He backed her up until she was right where he wanted her. Before he set her down on the small tea table near the window, he ripped her thong the same way he had her dress.

Hermione moaned.

“Buy you more,” was all he managed to bite out before his tongue was swirling back with hers once more.

He gently placed her on the table and sank to his knees before her. This was where he belonged—worshipping the goddess in front of him. She deserved reverence. He spread her knees apart with a forceful thrust and plunged his tongue into her core. He licked, sucked, teased his way into her with his tongue, and added two fingers as well.

She cried out above him, and her head fell back in a wave of ecstasy.

“Don’t stop,” she begged, and that was all the reassurance he needed to carry on.

His own need was painfully hard against him. He lapped her again, and she whimpered. Her fingers dove through his hair again, directing his head where to hold. Fuck, she might have been the sexiest woman he’d ever known. Leave it to the intellectual and jittery scholar to have the most ravenous and head-turning sexual appetite.

“That’s it,” she encouraged. “Fuck. Right there. Draco!”

He felt her orgasm building. With his free hand, he moved it from its place on her inner thigh to her breast. He tweaked her nipple, and she cried out against him. Her legs twitched as her orgasm neared. Draco greedily sucked at her clitoris, and she combusted around him.

“Draco!” she cried as her orgasm tore through her.

He dragged every ounce of pleasure out of that orgasm, which left her twitching and panting above him. He didn’t give her a second even to speak before he was standing with her back in his arms again. His lips and tongue searched hers mercifully. The taste of her arousal was now on both of their tongues.

She moaned against him. The sound drove him mad with want. He carried her to the bed, sweeping Nott’s box onto the floor with a loud clatter. He kicked off both his shoes as he lowered her to the bed. He pulled away, loving the way her eyes had gone heavy with lust and satisfaction. Her lips were plump and still shockingly dark from the perma-stick she used. It was blissfully erotic and perfect. Her hands reached forward for the waist of his trousers, tugging the button and zipper. He made a mental note to magic all their clothes away next time, but he had no clue where his bloody wand was now.

He ripped off the rest of his clothing, standing perfectly erect and naked in front of Hermione Granger. She sat up on her elbows, admiring him with a starved look. He could have come from that sight alone. She wasn’t some meek and timid woman, though. She reached forward, gripping his wrist, pulling him on top of her. Her ankles crossed around his back, her arms circled his neck, and she pulled him over her with all her strength. He was overcome by the demanding little witch, impressed by her muscle and craving.

“Hermione,” he gritted, attempting to ask permission before coming absolutely unhinged inside of her.

“Please, Draco,” she begged.

“I’m clean,” he promised.

Was he really about to fuck her without any protection? Who the hell was this imposter in control of his body? Methodical and controlled Draco would never even dream of…

“I’m on the potion.”

He was as good as dead.

Her slender fingers wrapped around him and led him to her hot and slick center. He shook as he fought for control over himself.

“Fuck, Hermione.”

A strangled cry tore from his throat as she engulfed him. She cried with him as she stretched around him, accommodating his length. His arms trembled as he resisted the urge to thrust painfully inside of her. He wanted to take this slow, get her used to him. He knew he was large, and it usually took some time to acclimate to him. But the wicked witch had other ideas. Her heels pressed into his ass and pushed him deeper.

“Yes,” she sighed repeatedly.

“Hermione Granger,” he rasped, surprised and incredibly turned on by her forwardness.

“More,” she begged. “Please, Draco.”

He shattered. She’d triggered a switch in him that allowed his carnivorous desires to reign. He pushed into her, forcing her to take him as deep as she could. Her back arched as he took one of her nipples in his mouth. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, and she bucked against him, still sensitive from her orgasm. He was unrelenting as he moved like a piston inside of her. Hard, fast, and mercilessly, he claimed Hermione Granger. She met his force with a fervent ache. She wanted this just as desperately as he did.

“Hermione,” he growled.

It was heaven inside of her. The pleasurable elation was unlike any he’d ever experienced before. This was mesmerizing. She completely captivated him. She dragged his head off her nipples again and back to her mouth. She bit his bottom lip, and he felt the pulse in his cock. He was close. He wouldn’t last much longer with her like this.

“So close,” she whispered.

He didn’t change a thing. His tongue, his lips, and his cock all continued in a dazzling rhythm that dragged them closer to the edge. His hands were lost in her silky curls, and hers tugged at his near the base of his skull.

He’d never come inside anyone like this. He’d never wanted to risk it. But he trusted Hermione. He trusted her in a way he’d never dreamed he’d trust another woman. And he came with a bellowing cry. Her core squeezed around him as she let herself fall once more. They cried out together, riding the waves of this paradise as blinding white lights flashed through their vision. After Draco’s pleasure had been completely expelled from him, he collapsed onto his forearms, careful not to crush Hermione completely.

He brushed a few curls away from her forehead and noticed a tear streaming down her cheek.

“Hermione,” he immediately rolled off her. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you? I lost control.”

“No!” she said, her eyes flying open. “No! It was so good. Please. I’ve just never…”

She trailed off. Panic gripped him.

“You were a virgin?!”

“No!! No! Merlin, no! I just have never come that hard before. It was so powerful.”

She’d nearly given him a heart attack. Hell, taking a Cruciatus curse might have been less panic-inducing than that exchange. He leaned back down, kissing the tear away. He pulled her against his torso. Their sweaty skin stuck to one another. He closed his eyes. He had never felt so fully sated and yet hungry for more.

His mind regretfully drifted back to the contract. He didn’t want to bring it up. Not now. Not after what a mind-blowing experience they’d just shared. It’d come up later. More organically. He was sure. For now, he was going to bask in the afterglow of the most captivating witch he’d ever known.  

Chapter Text

Hermione stood in front of a twelfth-century sculpture at the Louvre. Draco was immersed in the Magical Artifacts and Anthologies Library just down the road. A nagging jealousy built at the idea of him combing through all the forbidden texts that she would never see. People could be so intolerant.

She moved to the next display case. Usually, she would have been soaking up any knowledge about her surroundings. But today, the ache between her legs kept her mind constantly drifting back to last night. She felt her cheeks redden. Draco Malfoy. She expelled a breath. She had not planned on things going as far as they had… but Salazar…she was so glad they did.

Hermione was by no means virginal. She’d had plenty of dalliances and relationships where one thing led to another. But last night? She trapped her lip between her teeth. Draco Malfoy had absolutely ruined her for sex. She would never have another experience like it. Not in this lifetime or the next. In fact, in her next life, she would probably be a nun. Because there is no way she will ever be able to duplicate or recreate a sexual experience like she’d had last night.

Hermione absently fanned herself with the museum’s program. She needed to get her mind off Draco Malfoy’s delectable body and onto something else. She considered her research on the Cruciatus. Draco had been in the library for several hours now. She could imagine him thumbing through the delicate texts of ancient manuscripts. His strong and lithe fingers deftly combing through the pages. She shook her head. No. Absolutely not. This was NOT helping.

Werewolves. Yes. That’s what she would focus on. She continued walking through the galleries. A sculpture of a snake was next. She studied the sharp fangs as it reared back, readying to strike. Her brow furrowed, and she took out her mobile.

Hermione: Do you think it’s like a snake, with venom stored in pockets with the fangs? Or in the saliva? Or in the bloodstream?

Theodore: Are you really texting me this while you’re on your sex weekend?

Hermione: Be serious.

Theodore: I am! Go have sex!

Hermione: I already did! Now answer.

Theo responded with fireworks, hearts, the tongue, and explicit uses of various finger emojis. Hermione rolled her eyes. It was only Friday, so Theo was still at the office.

Theodore: I suppose I’ve always thought blood, but what if we’re wrong?

Hermione: They keep saliva and blood samples in the evidence room.

Theodore: I’m on it. Get back to fucking. My boss is gone. I’m not supposed to be working this hard.

Hermione ignored the last message and tucked her mobile back into her coat. Understanding where the mutation originated from would get them closer to countering it. If Theo could start running tests today and Monday, there would likely be something to work off when she was back Tuesday. Her mind was now whirling with possibilities, making her ache for the familiar chair of her desk. But she was supposed to be focused on her other research. The research she had recruited Draco for. The research that is supposed to be taking precedence.

Hermione stared at the sculpture while her mind wandered. She categorically sifted through the information she had on poisonous snakes and other creatures with fangs. She could see diagrams and drawings as she recalled the knowledge with her photographic memory. The physical proximity of another finally jolted her back to the present. A strong pair of arms wrapped around her, and a soft kiss was placed on her forehead.

“Found you,” Draco whispered.

She exhaled a contented sigh as she sank against him. His scent enveloped her. His lips connected with her neck next, sending vibrations through her entire body.

“Come back to the room with me,” he said. “I want to show you our research.”

Words that absolutely unraveled her.

He steered her back toward the exit. They walked, hand-in-hand, through the streets of Paris as they returned to the hotel. He animatedly described the library with excruciating detail. She could picture all of it. His photographic memory was just as impressive as her own. Once in the elevator, memories of last night stole her focus. She remembered what it was like, being pressed up against the back of the space, his hands and mouth hungrily tearing at her. She blinked away the thoughts as he continued talking. He was so excited, so focused. Guilt tugged at her for being so disinterested. This was supposed to be her passionate work project. She had no idea why she was finding it so hard to pay attention. It was usually all she could think about.

Inside the room, she saw various parchments stacked on the table. He swished his wand above them, and they unraveled, revealing scrolls of his meticulous notes.

“These are the manuals I found,” he said, pointing to one parchment. “Then I started categorizing them by history, effects, and treatment.”

She sifted through the information, marveling at how much work he’d done in such little time.

“I split the effects into two different categories,” he explained. “We have immediate and long-term effects.”

He continued explaining something he read, but Hermione couldn’t hear anything. She watched his mouth move and felt tears prick her eyes. No one had ever shown this much enthusiasm or passion for knowledge. And it was for her. He sorted through the other notes, pointing out connections and epiphanies he had while reading. All of it made her heart squeeze.

She lost track of time with Draco. They sat, hunched over the table, dissecting every word of what he found out earlier. The sun was setting, and a quiet knock pulled them out of their fog. Draco magicked the parchments away and went to answer the door. A bellhop stood with a cart overflowing with packages. Draco tipped him and wheeled it inside.

“I’d forgotten!”

“Forgotten what?” Hermione asked, standing. “What is all this?”

Packages, wardrobe bags, and boxes nearly spilled off the over-filled trolley.

“I ruined the others,” he said quietly.

“Ruined what?”

“Last night.”

Realization donned on Hermione. The dress. The knickers. Her face flushed as her mouth popped open.

“Draco,” she breathed as she understood that all of these were for her.

“I said I’d replace them,” he said.

Was his voice always that deep? Hermione’s flesh prickled at the memory of him coming last night shouting her name.

“This is too much.”

“No, Granger,” he mused. “I don’t think it is.”

He turned her around, his palm possessively gripping her hip. He glanced at his free hand, checking the time.

“We’ve got an hour before our reservation. And I am going to fuck you before dinner so that I can enjoy my meal tonight.”

Hermione could scarcely breathe.

“Does that sound all right with you?”

She’d completely forgotten how to speak. She nodded her head. He lightly pushed her hips, causing her to walk backward until her knees hit the bed. The way he stalked forward with her was terrifying and exciting. He could look like the coldest, harshest person. But she knew deep down that he wasn’t that way at all. He was so passionate. She could see the strength in his eyes. His dominance permeated the entire room, making her hands shake in anticipation.

She wanted him to kiss her. He was always kissing her in public. It was part of the act. But she wanted him to do it here, in private, just for the two of them. Like he’d done the first time he kissed her. Like he did last night. It made it easier for her to close her eyes and pretend this wasn’t just a ruse. She could pretend it was real, that he really wanted her as a girlfriend. That he could see her as an equal, a partner.

He pushed her hips once more, and she fell back against the bed. He looked down at her, his gray eyes like thunderclouds above her. He pulled his wand from his back pocket. He settled the tip of his wand under her chin and slowly began to drag it down the center of her. As his wand moved, her clothing disappeared around her. The cool feeling of hawthorn wood made her skin pebble beneath him. The wand trailed down her belly button and over the zipper of her jeans.

Her swallow was audible in the silence of the room. Draco’s eyes followed the path of his wand as he inspected every naked inch of her with an insatiable desire. She’d never had someone look at her like this before. It was thrilling. But he made no move to touch her despite the fact that her entire body was humming with need. His wand dragged over her inner thigh, all the way down her calf, and finally stopped at the bottom of her foot. She was completely naked, and he delicately held her foot in one hand and his wand in the other.

She wanted to cry with anticipation. He pressed a kiss to her ankle. She trembled, her fists gripping the blankets below her. His mouth followed the same trail his wand had just made. Her eyes fluttered. The feeling of his hot lips along her inner thigh made her dizzy with want. He placed a kiss over her center as he continued to climb, and she almost whimpered when he didn’t linger. His lips grazed her nipple next, causing her to bite down hard on her lip. She pinched her eyes shut. This was torture.

“Beautiful, Hermione,” he said between kisses along her collarbone.

He was close now, his chin dragged along hers.

“Please,” she whispered.

She wanted him to kiss her so badly. He was doing it everywhere but the place she wanted. The place she needed him most.

His hands threaded through hers right as she contemplated digging them into his hair and pulling his mouth over hers.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered against her ear. “Tell me how to make you happy.”

She was happy. So deliriously happy he couldn’t possibly understand it. He had no idea the effect he had on her. Her back arched off the bed, longing to feel his torso against hers. His nose dragged under her ear, and she felt him inhale deeply as he buried his face in her hair. A string of curses a mile long spiraled through her mind. She urged herself to find her voice.

“Kiss me,” she said.

His lips pressed against her neck. Bugger. He was going to make her be precise—the prat.

“No,” she groaned.

“Where?”

He moved his lips to her breast. She hissed as his mouth connected with the sensitive skin. She bit her bottom lip. She warred with herself. She liked the placement of this kiss, but it wasn’t what she needed.

“Kiss my lips,” she begged.

His mouth released her breast and dove between her legs. Her back arched off the bed as a startled whimper left her mouth. She couldn’t form a cohesive thought at all. His tongue, his lips, she was paralyzed in pleasure. His fingers held hers in a vice grip that she couldn’t release from.

“Draco,” she panted.

“Eyes open,” he directed.

Her eyes flew open at the command. He locked her gaze into place as he dove into her once again. She’d never done this. His stare could have killed her quicker than Medusa’s. His torso was naked as he buried his face into her core. His eyes never left hers. She blinked rapidly, resisting the urge to let them roll into the back of her head again. The pleasure was too much—the connection of their eyes, his tongue, his teeth. She was close. Already? She blushed at how easy it was for him to completely disarm her. She could barely make herself come this fast.

He moved his shoulder swiftly, and her leg was tossed over it, deepening the experience. He did all of this without the use of his hands. Her core tremored as her impending orgasm built. Her breaths came out in ragged panting. She was so close. She pinched her eyes shut, nearing the orgasm. His hands squeezed hers, urging her eyes back open. She gazed at him with awe. His own eyes were hungry and focused. And she unraveled at the sight.

She’d never orgasmed with her eyes opened before, but it was far more difficult than she believed it would be. The natural inclination was to pinch them shut and view the impressive fireworks display behind them while Draco was at the helm. But not this time. This time, she kept them wide open while she watched the triumphant starvation overwhelm Draco Malfoy’s perfect features.

Her head fell back, eyes boring into the extravagant light fixture above her head. Her heart rate steadily began to right itself. She was done for. Draco released her hands, and she used them to brush the hairs from her eyes. He was naked now, staring down at her with a gloriously erect penis. He was so large. She remembered the pain of last night. The good pain. The pain that reminded her all day today what she’d done last night. And now she’d feel it again.

He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to her cheeks but not her mouth.

“Roll over, darling,” he said.

She complied, and he moved his hand over her back in languid circles, massaging her skin as he moved in behind her. His hands traveled lower, palming her arse. He squeezed and groaned.

“Your arse is perfect.”

His voice was husky and thick with emotion. It thrilled her to know that she had this effect on him. She pressed herself up onto her forearms and looked over her shoulder. He was stroking himself with one hand while the other lingered on her. Her mind was fuzzy over how bloody attractive he was.

“Hermione.”

Her name was a soft beg on his lips. She smiled to herself.

“Come on then,” she teased him. “Do your worst.”

He expelled a rough sound of surprise. She liked to shock him. She’d done it last night, too. He lowered himself and positioned himself right outside of her entrance. She groaned at the heat radiating off him as he sank into her. The pressure of her expanding for him was dizzying. She loved it. He rested his forehead against her back as he panted.

“So tight,” he gritted.

He had no bloody idea. He pulled back and thrust into her, causing both of them to cry out. He did this slowly several more times. The pacing was killing her.  It was torturously slow. He reached beside her for his wand, and suddenly, a pillow was arranged beneath her, thrusting her bottom half upward.

His pacing completely changed. He became a man unhinged. Hard, fast pumps drove into her, causing her to cry out with the most satisfying feeling she’d ever had. The position of him now, with her hips tilted, was almost too much. Blinding spots of white blurred her vision as he continued his rigid and wanton pursuit. The familiar feeling was rising again. She couldn’t possibly be nearing another orgasm; that would be impossible. His hand fisted into the hair at the base of her scalp, sending tingling sensations down her spine. Draco completely possessed her. Her body was no longer her own but his. And she gave it up willingly.

“Draco,” she cried, nearing another blinding orgasm.

“That’s it, Hermione,” he urged. “Come for me. Come for me while I fuck you so deep.”

His hand tightened in her hair; their muscles trembled together as they drew closer. Two more solid thrusts completely disarmed her. She loosened another orgasm and cried out against the force of it.

“Hermione,” Draco cried, following her over the edge. “Fuck, yes. So good. So tight.”

He collapsed on top of her, kissing her head, her neck, her back, and her cheek. His fingers massaged the base of her skull where his hand had earlier tugged at her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Too rough.”

“No,” she panted beneath him. “I’m okay. It was so good.”

“You’re perfect,” he breathed against her. “Too perfect.”

***

The routine of the weekend was more than Hermione could comprehend at times. Each morning, she woke up to Draco Malfoy wholly buried to the hilt inside her. During the day, Draco would go to the library while she would explore Paris or dissect his notes. Sometimes, she even pulled out her other parchments and did work on the werewolf research she was working on. She’d brought a few books and magicked them into her suitcase so Draco wouldn’t notice. Then, Draco would return, share his findings, fuck her senseless, and then they’d have dinner. After dinner, he insisted on having Hermione for dessert. It was maddening, feverish, and dizzying each time they had sex. But one constant remained. He only kissed her on the mouth when they were in public.

She tried not to let the absence of that part of intimacy bother her. He was a ridiculously generous lover. She’d come more times this weekend than in the last four years combined. He was insatiable, unlike anything or anyone she’d ever met. And she relished his touch. He’d also made up for leaving her in the shower last week. Over. And. Over. Her legs shook at the memory of him burying himself inside of her while the streams of water fell over both of them.

However, Hermione had successfully lost the argument about the clothes and other items. He was unreasonably stubborn. He’d only ruined two more sets of bras and knickers, though. And during each one, he growled that he’d replace them, which did unmentionable things to her insides. Hermione didn’t want the weekend to end. Their four days away had felt like another world. He was so tender, so focused, so passionate. She worried things wouldn’t be the same once he returned home. She wanted to stay here in this bubble they’d created of research and raucous sex.

The only enticing part of being home again was knowing that Theo would be waiting for her with information about their work. They’d texted a few more times since being gone, but all while Draco was at the library. She was usually too occupied with his brain or other appendages when he was around.

“Stay with me tonight,” he said Monday as they packed their belongings.

She melted at his request, nodding. He pressed his lips against her head, and she imagined they were on her lips. It was probably nothing. She worried for no reason. But the tingling feeling of insecurity told her there was a bigger reason he wouldn’t kiss her during sex anymore, not after their first time together. Perhaps it was a way for them to anchor themselves into the contract they’d agreed on before they both got too lost.

Chapter Text

“Stay with me,” Draco whispered against Hermione’s head in the lift Tuesday night after work.

She looked up at him with her rich, hickory gaze. He let his thumb trace along her cheek, enjoying the softness of her skin. Someone entered the lift, but he didn’t turn to see who. He just pressed his lips against Hermione’s, savoring the sweet taste of her. She melted into him, leaning into the contact, pressing deeper for more. She was so responsive to him, so willing, so eager for his touch. It was addictive and maddening. He found it impossible to concentrate on anything but thoughts of her now that he was back from their long weekend.

“Please,” he begged her between kisses.

She nodded against him, lacing her fingers through his hair, tugging him closer.

And that’s how the weeks continued. Hermione hadn’t slept anywhere but his bed since Paris. The change had made him euphoric. He hadn’t realized how isolated and alone he’d been until he had a constant presence in his home. Even her beastly companion made the smooth transition, claiming multiple window seals and shelves as his dominion. Kippy was good about vanishing his tufts of hair, especially around the kitchen and dining room. And Draco had to admit to himself that he was endlessly entertained watching the feral feline stalk invisible prey around his home.

Draco sat in a meeting with the other Aurors in his division and tried to wrangle in his drifting thoughts of Hermione. This morning, she’d surprised him by taking him in her mouth before he’d even fully awoken. He grew uncomfortably hard at the memory and repositioned his robes. His entire life was becoming entangled with the witch. They ran together regularly, studied, dined, and made public appearances together.

She’d met his father this past weekend at a charity function. Hermione was the definition of poise and elegance. He remembered how her freckles stood out against the soft cream dress. She’d been marvelous. She handled the snide comments and superiority complex of his family’s circle with dignity. Hermione handled things significantly better than he did. He was offended, defensive, and curt with most guests. Whenever someone commented on blood status or magical purity, Hermione would gently place her hand on Draco’s arm or leg.

“Ignore them,” she whispered to him. “I do.”

“Take your purist bullshit somewhere else, McNair,” Draco snapped, ignoring Hermione’s whispers. “I won’t entertain them. And if you’re not careful, I’ll stop entertaining my investments.”

He dragged her away from that circle as his temper rose.

“Draco,” she sighed.

“My silence would serve as compliance, Hermione. And I’ll be damned if I let any of them think that I am acquiescent to their backward thinking any longer. I am Draco fucking Malfoy. The sole heir of the Malfoy fortune. And the last thing those antiquated fucks need is someone else nodding their heads with whatever asinine and unintelligent musings they have. I’m done.”

She didn’t argue, though. She reached up her gloved hand and placed it delicately over his chest. He wrapped his hand around it and brought it to his lips. The Malfoy signet ring glinting in the afternoon sun. The Malfoy empire would be his before long, and he would ensure it was one to be proud of. Not ashamed.

His father had cornered him later about what he’d said to McNair. He could see Hermione speaking to Nott behind his father. She laughed at something he said as his arm was laced around Luna’s back. He moved to go to her and see what they were all laughing about.

His father’s hand stopped him.

“Comments like that could cause more harm than good,” his father cautioned as his fingers pressed into Draco’s chest.

Lucius looked over his shoulder at the object of Draco’s attention.

“The Malfoy lineage has been spotless since as far back as we can trace it,” he said. “Remember that your duty to your family-”

“Is to produce an heir,” he finished for his father. “And I will do so with the witch of my choosing.”

“It is already arranged with the Greengrass family.”

“Yes,” Draco spat. “And I am rearranging it.”

“And she’s that important?” he balked. “Important enough to risk generations of connections and alliances? Very few people here would accept that kind of marriage.”

“Then I suppose I’ll rearrange the guest list for next year’s garden party as well.”

He pushed past his father and purposely wrapped his arm around Hermione as he joined them. Public displays of affection were as frowned upon as marrying down in class. So he made sure to press a kiss to her exposed neck as well.

But Draco’s gut tightened at the thought of this same event next year. Because he wouldn’t have Hermione for that long. And even if he altered the guest list for next year, there was no guarantee she would be in attendance. Her contract with him would be over. And their relationship would be dissolved.

The thought of Hermione not being around spurred a sense of clinginess and desperation over the following days. He had been the one to come up with the contract. He was the one who wanted to fake date her. And now everything had become a complication of blurred lines. The modicum of control he’d managed to maintain in this entire scenario was that he only kissed her in public. It was the only way to convince himself and her that this was still a professional and binding contract. He didn’t want her to think that he wouldn’t hold up his end of the agreement. He wanted to show her that despite the introduction of sex, he was still reliable.

But neither mentioned the contract after the change from their weekend in Paris. Draco knew he’d crossed a line, but neither was willing to discuss it or change things now. She initiated sex as many times as he did. She stayed every night with him; they had sex nearly every day, some days multiple times a day, and he was happy. He didn’t want to disrupt things by bringing up their contract. If she was concerned about something, he trusted she would bring it up. But right now, he was lost in his own bliss. A bliss like he’d never experienced before.

“Get packed,” Lupin said. “We leave at midnight.”

Draco was thrust back to the present. He tried not to curse at how his mind had drifted during their meeting.

Thomas clapped his shoulder.

“Should be easier this go-around,” he said. “At least we know they’re there, and we’ll have backup.”

“This is just supposed to be a diplomatic meeting,” Smith said.

Draco and Thomas both snorted with skepticism.

“They might be up for talking.”

“Not if they’re connected to the ones causing trouble in London,” Draco said.

“Well, if things turn violent, then we have our answers, don’t we?” Thomas said.

They left the conference room, and Draco turned left toward the lifts.

“Tell Granger we’re sorry for dragging you away,” Smith joked.

“She won’t forgive us if we bring you home bloodied again,” Thomas smiled.

“I’m significantly more afraid of Granger than werewolves,” Smith said.

“Me too, mate,” Thomas said, walking away. “Me too.”

Draco smiled as the lift doors closed and opened again on Hermione’s floor. It was a bit early, but he’d sit in her office while waiting for her to finish her day.

He walked into her office to see her and Nott huddled over a long table, speaking in hushed whispers. Their office was always a chaotic mess of parchment, scrolls, and books. It resembled her home and now (after several weeks of living with her) his home as well. Hermione loved to have little piles of her things. Several books are stacked on her bedside table. Her favorite chair in the library has a clumsy stack of notebooks, quills, and parchment near it. Kippy was exasperated at first, barely able to keep up with it. But Draco told her to leave them. He found them endearing. He also encouraged Hermione to bring things over from her place whenever needed. She frequently thought about something she needed, would Floo over, and add it to another growing pile in some other area of his home.

He said nothing as he entered the office and sat at Hermione’s desk. He grinned as he saw the news clipping of the two of them outside the Parisian restaurant on their first night in Paris. She was smiling up at him as he protectively wrapped around her. Her wine-colored lips made the memory of that night come to life again. He swelled at the way she displayed their photograph on his desk and thought about her wall of photographs at her place. He wanted an entire wall dedicated to memories with her.

“I really think I have the steadier hand, Theodore,” Hermione said. “You should let me extract it.”

“Granger, ease up,” he said. “We’ve got three others if I break this one.”

They were silent until a small pop sounded.

“Damn!” They both said together.

“Need help?”

They both jumped and turned to see Draco lounging at Hermione’s desk. Her face reddened in the same adorable, flustered fashion he loved, and he watched her flit around their workspace in a haphazard attempt to tidy it. Books and parchments flew off her desk space and stacked on Nott’s.

“You’re done early,” she said, flashing him a breathless smile.

“They’re sending us out tonight,” he said. “But I don’t leave until midnight. Take your time and finish.”

“Nah,” Nott said, swishing away the contents on the table. “We’ll try again tomorrow. We’re both sick of looking at it anyway.”

“I don’t mind helping,” Draco said, standing up.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck. Draco pressed a deep kiss to her lips, savoring the feeling of it, knowing once they were out of there, he’d miss the feeling.

“I can think of some other things I need help with,” she whispered against his lips.

He took her face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over her reddened cheeks.

“I’ve been thinking about this morning all day,” he whispered.

Her grin spread.

“I’m still here, you know,” Nott called.

“I’ve been wanting to return the favor,” Draco said, nipping at her bottom lip.

“I’m leaving now,” Nott called. “Goodbye. Be safe! Don’t get bit!”

Draco ignored him as he lifted Hermione onto her desk. She vanished the rest of the materials opened on her desk to make space for her.

“Take me home, Draco,” she said, kissing him again. “We’ve got six hours.”

***

“I get the distinct impression that they’re not interested in conversation,” Lupin said as at least a dozen werewolves snarled around the four of them.

Draco’s hand tightened around his wand. He’d been outnumbered before but remembered the last time he was dragged to Hermione’s. She wasn’t overly thrilled about his bleeding body being thrust on her doorstep. He doubted this time would be any different. So this time, he’d make sure that he wasn’t the one bleeding.

The werewolves around them were all male. Though there had been multiple reports of females within this specific pack, none were present now. The latest reports accounted for about thirty members. Judging by the surroundings of their abandoned encampment, the whole pack hadn’t been here. There weren’t enough temporary shelters to house thirty individuals, which meant that part of the pack had stayed in a previous location, or these werewolves came here for a different reason. These were the rough slums of London, housing criminals, vagrants, and all manner of darkness.

These werewolves weren’t like Lupin, though. These werewolves were all turned, and it wasn’t a full moon tonight. They’d either found a way to remain in their wolf form, or they were stuck in it involuntarily. If they’d just take a moment to talk to someone from the ministry, they could find out which one it was.

“We’re ministry officials,” Lupin said, holding up his hands. “We’d just like to talk.”

A werewolf lunged for Lupin with a roar. The four of them sprang into action, blocking several attacks as chaos ensued.

Draco gritted as he blocked several snapping jowls that went after him. Beside him, Thomas shouted as claws ripped through his bicep. Draco pulled him behind him and stood before four of the snarling werewolves. Curses flew from his wand, sending several of them careening onto their backs.

“We’re taking one alive,” Lupin shouted over the noise.

“Which one?” Draco shouted.

One of them snapped dangerously close to his ear, and he sent his elbow forcefully back into his snout. A high-pitched whine escaped him, but Draco had already rounded on the next.

Smith stunned one that immediately fell to the ground, completely immobile.

“This one!” Smith shouted.

Frenzied shouts and curses exploded around them in the dark alleyway. Draco fended off the attackers but noticed a werewolf approaching his unconscious packmate.

“Smith! The captive!”

Smith looked over too late, and the werewolf ripped the jugular out of his packmate with a fatal swipe of his deadly claws, so much for taking that one alive. Whatever knowledge they possessed, they didn’t want anyone else learning about it.

Blood sprayed as Draco severed one of their arms from swiping out at Thomas. As the battle began to turn in the Aurors’ favor, several of the werewolves began to sprint off in different directions. Smith and Lupin darted down the alley after a group of four. Draco continued fending off the werewolves that were hellbent on killing them. Thomas managed to fend off his attackers one-handed as his limp arm hung at his side.

A howl in the distance suddenly shifted the atmosphere of the alley. At once, the werewolves went from violent murderers to trembling fear. They immediately darted out of the space and tore off in different directions. Draco considered sprinting after them but didn’t want to leave Thomas and the corpse unattended.

“Send your Patronus to Holmes,” Draco told Thomas. “Tell him we have a body for the lab.”

Thomas conjured his Patronus, and it vanished into the night. His eagle darted into the brimming light of dawn. Draco pressed the button hidden in his cloak, signaling for the other two to return. There was no use chasing them down. They’d gotten their answers. These were definitely the wolves involved in the kidnappings and violence throughout London.

After another three hours back in the office on a Saturday morning, they were finally released and sent home. The cadaver didn’t give them any information yet, but Holmes felt confident about the different diagnostics he was running on the corpse. Draco was stiff, exhausted, and covered in werewolf blood. He just hoped Hermione would still be asleep when he arrived home.

He entered his flat with practiced silence. The lights were still out in the kitchen and dining room. But as he entered the bedroom, he saw Hermione, sitting up in bed, with a lamp on, furiously scrawling over one of her many notebooks.

“Draco!”

She rushed forward, flicking on the lights with a swipe of her wand, as she began to take in his appearance. Hermione’s eyes welled with tears as they searched him for the origin of his bleeding.

“It’s not my blood, Hermione,” he soothed. “It was theirs.”

Her eyes softened as relief clouded her features. Her lip still quivered as she held back the unshed tears of fear. He hated to see what the stress of his job did to her. He wished he could protect her from these worries.

“I’m okay,” he reassured her, and before he could consider what he was doing, he pressed a chaste kiss against her lips. “I just need a shower and some sleep.”

She helped him shrug out of his robes. She held them as he made his way toward the large shower. He looked back at her and saw her staring at the huge chunks of werewolf flesh and gore along his robes. He instantly regretted not discarding them before entering the flat. But he was so exhausted he wasn’t thinking clearly.

“Join me,” he said.

She nodded.

“I’ll be right in,” she said. “I’ll just give this to Kippy.”

He lost himself under the hot spray of the shower. They were so close to finding answers with this rogue group of werewolves. He could feel it. And then his job wouldn’t be so dangerous anymore. She wouldn’t have to worry about him being turned every time he left the house. He hated seeing her worry. Hated watching her cry. He had to wrap up this issue with the werewolves. He had to ease Hermione’s fears.

He washed his hair and body, and Hermione was still absent from the shower. He knew she was upset. The sight of him covered in blood was a traumatic reminder of how he’d arrived at her flat over a month ago. He should go and find her, reassure her that he’s safe.

Slender arms wrapped around him, and he leaned into her touch.

“And the others?”

“Just a scratch,” he reassured.

She sighed against him, and he turned toward her. The water pelted his back, and he reached around and turned on the other shower head to spray against her. He pushed her hair away from her face and tilted it toward him.

“I’m safe,” he said, seeing the trembling fear still overwhelm her features.

She worried her lip.

“I hate feeling helpless,” she admitted.

“You’re not helpless at all, Hermione. You’re the most brilliant witch I know. I was careful tonight. I won’t come home to you broken and bloodied again.”

“Or bitten.”

“Or bitten,” he promised.

Once again, against his better judgment, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She launched into him, and he tugged her up and into his arms as he pinned her against the shower wall. Her legs wrapped around him as she moved her hips against him.

“That’s it, Granger,” he moaned. “Welcome me home.”

Chapter Text

Hermione’s thumbs flew across her phone as she wrote several messages to Theo.

Theo: Bloody hell, woman. It’s only six!

Hermione: Draco’s falcon should be there any second with the sample.

Theo: That ruddy bird has already come and gone. Sounded like he was trying to break the damned glass!

Hermione: I’m thinking we could compare the matter I collected this morning with the other samples we have in the lab.

Theo: If you want me in the lab at six on a Saturday, then I want a long weekend next weekend.

Hermione: Deal. Take Thursday and Friday off.

Theo: I’ll text when I know more.

“Tell me you’re not harassing poor Nott already and on a Saturday.”

Hermione swung around to see Draco leaning against the door frame, wearing only low-riding pajama pants. Her mouth dropped open as she watched the v of his hips dip in seductively. She shook her head. He was a glorious creation to marvel at. How was she ever supposed to focus when he walked around looking like that?

“He’s fine,” she waved. “You need to get some sleep.”

She began collecting her things from her side of the bed. She’d get a few hours of uninterrupted research while he slept, and she was positively elated about the idea.

“You won’t go running without me, right?” he asked, taking a serious tone. “Women have been disappearing left and right. I couldn’t live with myself if-”

“I won’t leave,” she promised. “Not without you. I’ll be in the study.”

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Damn. She wondered if the few kisses on her mouth were a fluke.

Her phone buzzed, and she kissed his cheek.

“Sleep well.”

He climbed into bed and blacked out the windows as she slipped into his study.

Theo: Call me.

Hermione closed the study door and cast a silencing charm on the space, just in case Draco felt restless enough to join her.

“It’s not a match,” he said after answering on the first ring.

“What? How?”

“The enzymes are totally different. So are the red blood cells. Our original sample was from a turned werewolf, correct?”

“Yes, one in their werewolf form.”

“Maybe we need to take a sample from someone who is a werewolf, but in their human form?”

Hermione thought about it.

“There’s no way we’d be able to get Lupin’s blood without telling him,” she said. “And we can’t risk telling them. Not yet.”

“You let me handle Lupin,” he said. “Weasley’s joke shop should have just the thing.”

Hermione cringed at whatever devious method Theo had for retrieving a blood sample. She glanced at the door and sighed. The guilt of lying to Draco was taking a toll on her.

“I hate lying to him, Theo. He almost caught us yesterday.”

“Don’t think about it as a lie, then. He’ll eventually learn the truth. Just not yet.”

“Prolonging the truth is just a lie painted in pretty colors.”

“Maybe,” Theo mused. “But think of how thrilling it will be when you find the cure. No one will be upset with you then.”

His statement did little to ease her worries. The weight of her secrets was piling up. Keeping their fake relationship a secret from Theo and her other friends. Lying to her parents about a fake relationship. Hiding her new research from Draco.

But the biggest lie she was battling was the one to herself. She tried to convince herself that she was, for the first time in her life, having good sex. Well, not just good sex. Amazing sex. Brilliant sex. Sex that she could never replicate again with another, even if she tried. But the truth was, she was irrevocably happy, even in moments without sex. On the quiet Thursday evenings, when they would sit, curled up in his study, pouring over research together. Or watching him play quidditch. Or going out to dinner and drinks with him and their friends. Or seeing him on lunch breaks. Or laughing with him and Kippy over something ridiculous Crooks was doing. Watching him interact with her family. Laying in bed each night, reading together until she falls asleep. She couldn’t bring herself to admit her feelings out loud. It was heinous. Preposterous, even.

If she admitted she had real feelings for him, she’d have to open herself up to the inevitable realization that he would leave and break her heart. But if she wrapped herself tightly enough in denial, she could almost pretend it was all for show. That she was a great actress who had the world fooled by her captivating performance.

“We’re no longer talking about one cure for lycanthropy,” Hermione sighed in frustration. “We’re talking about two very different cures for two very different variations.”

“Variants happen all the time in common viruses,” Theo said. “We should be able to find the root of the lycanthropy and branch off from there based on the enzyme research we’ve been able to pull.” 

“We’ll start work on analyzing their DNA,” she said. “Understanding the differences between the variants will help us too.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he agreed.

A frown formed over Hermione’s face. She’d forgotten tomorrow was Narcissa’s Annual Spring and Garden Tea. She removed the silencing charm from the study and had Kippy bring in coffee and some scones. Once she had Kippy in her sights, she questioned her for the next two hours on perfectly and silently assimilating to the world of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

***

Hermione was nervous. She’d be a fool not to be. Hundreds of powerful, wealthy, aristocratic witches and wizards were in attendance. Draco looked perfect in his bespoke blue suit. Kippy agreed to go with a lighter blue dress that would complement them but not look like she was trying too hard to match him. Her fascinator was pinned in tight, along with her semi-tamed curls. Her mother would die to see her like this. She’d have to remember to send her a picture.

Hermione had seen Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy dozens of times before. But never like this.

“My mother is a very skilled Legilimens,” Draco said. “With everything going on at work and with our research, I’d forgotten to teach you Occlumency.”

Hermione’s nerves skyrocketed.

“And you think she’ll try to…”

“Oh, she definitely will.”

Draco reached into his pocket and withdrew a silver ring. He slipped it onto her pointer finger and admired it. It matched his signet ring exactly.

“May I try?”

The façade of her world crumbled around her. Of course, he was a skilled Legilimens himself. He had access to her every thought. He probably knew everything. Even the secrets she continued to try to lie to herself about. She felt so stupid. So ridiculous. She shouldn’t be keeping things from him.

“Hermione,” he whispered, studying her expression.

He cupped her face and tilted it upward to meet his gaze.

“I have never pried into your mind. And I never will without expressly asking your permission first.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes, not with all the secrets she was burdened with. She studied the ring. The Malfoy M stamped into the delicate metal reminded her just how powerful this family was.

“I would never betray your trust like that, Hermione.”

She nearly groaned as a wave of guilt crashed through her. Did he have to say everything so perfectly? He leaned down and pressed his lips softly against hers. Damn him, she thought. His perfect kissing would make her forget any transgression. She prayed the ring would work. Or things were about to get very messy.

“You can try,” she said.

He pulled away and felt the slight pressure against her head. It felt more like a tension headache than anything. As quickly as it came, it was gone. She looked up at him, her curious eyes studying his.

“It worked,” he smiled. “Your mind is safe.”

He wrapped his arms around her, and she gratefully leaned in. His rich and woodsy scent enveloped her.

“Someday, I’d love your permission to see it, though. I’d love to explore the most brilliant mind in this day and age and see how she works through problems. What she thinks about when she reads. Where her mind goes when I’ve buried my cock in her.”

Hermione smiled and nudged him playfully. Heat stung her cheeks slightly at the notion of letting Draco in during those intimate moments. But the thought thrilled her. She nodded in agreement.

“Come,” he said, pulling her hand into his. “My mother will kill me if we’re late. And remember, Hermione. You’re more brilliant than all of these people combined. Don’t let them intimidate you with their snobbery.”

But it was hard not to be intimidated. The gardens on the Malfoy estate were unmatched. Hermione’s mother would die. Draco led her through the maze of greenery, chatting lightly about the guests in attendance and who to expect. There were also a dozen photographers present, snapping shots of the guests posed against the greenery. Draco and Hermione stood for what felt like a hundred photographs. All of them shouted questions and demands at the pair. Hermione remained silent while Draco maneuvered his way through the barrage.

“How serious are things with Miss Granger, Malfoy?” one asked.

“How does blood status fair in this day and age?”

“Do your parents like her?”

“Bloody hell,” one called. “She’s wearing a Malfoy signet!”

Chaos erupted before them. All of them called out questions and engagement accusations, begging for details of the ring that wasn’t even on her ring finger. But Draco’s raised hand silenced the crowd.

“The ring allows her access to my heavily warded home,” he lies smoothly. “And it serves as a simple reminder to the many suitors Miss Granger has chasing after her that she is, in fact, wholly and completely mine.”

He places a kiss on her hand, but his words had already sent little shockwaves over her body. His. She was grateful he couldn’t be reading her thoughts right now because he’d see how desperately she wanted that to be true. He led her away from the photographers and into a quiet row of a blue flower Hermione had never seen before. He pulled two flutes of champagne from passing trays and handed one to her.

Theo and Luna found them shortly after, and the rest of the event was fairly uneventful. She exchanged a few formal introductions but mostly kept to Draco’s small band of friends. But her most uncomfortable interactions of the day were between Draco’s parents and herself. They were polite and affectionate toward their son but stiff and reserved when it came to Hermione. She knew they would be. They’d set up a marriage contract for him, and she was not who they picked. She didn’t come from a world like theirs. Their eyes both flashed to the ring on her finger as well. However, Lucius looked far more surprised than Narcissa. Hermione could feel the prodding of her Legilimency throughout the day. Even from great distances when she didn’t even see her. But the ring seemed to maintain Hermione’s privacy, and for that, she was exceptionally grateful.

As for Draco? She nearly groaned at the thought of how outstanding and perfect he’d been today. Attentive, affectionate, handsome. His hand would linger on the small of her back while he pressed soft kisses to her cheek, hand, or even shoulder.

When the French Minister of Magic cornered them both, Draco spoke about Hermione’s work at the Ministry and the work she’d had published. She was completely slack-jawed at how much knowledge he had over her last research. Had he read the whole thing? He’d certainly done his homework concerning her.

“Come on,” Draco said near five. “We don’t want to be late.”

“Late? For what?”

“Dinner with your parents,” he said.

“I told them we weren’t coming because we had this today. They were fine with rescheduling.”

“I texted your mother yesterday,” he said. “Come on.”

“Draco, I agreed to come to these events with you. We should stay. My parents will be fine.”

Despite no one being around them, he leaned down and kissed her passionately on the mouth.

“I want the excuse to leave,” he said. “And I want to end tonight with your mother’s brilliant cooking of a Sunday roast.”

She would not fall in love with him. She would not fall in love with him. She would cut her own heart out, put it in a jar, and keep it on a shelf for the rest of their year together. When he said things like that to her, it nearly made her crazed with desire. He had no business charming her. She was here by contractual obligation, and she needed to keep her wits about her. She couldn’t afford to fall in love with ineligible bachelors just because they bragged about her research to foreign dignitaries and wanted to spend time with her mad parents.

Bugger. He’d really done it now. His charm and charisma had completely drowned her. Draco’s car appeared out of nowhere, and they drove off toward her parents’ home from the large estate. Hermione transfigured herself into a comfortable jumper and denim, and Draco did the same.

As they drove, Hermione spun the new ring around her finger. She cycled through the interactions she had throughout the day, wondering if she did everything correctly. She worried about the pictures and articles that would be printed. She chewed on her lower lip as she looked out the window, grateful that Draco couldn’t read her mind. Her mind was a mess. Draco reached over and held her ringed hand in his without a word, as if he could sense the chaotic spinning of her overthinking. But the touch soothed her.

He continued once they were with her parents as well. He never broke the connection. He held her hand, placed a hand on her leg, or let his hand linger around her back. And it worked. It grounded her. Her mother was anything but grounded, though. She flitted around their home with a bundle of energy, especially after Hermione saw her eyes linger on Hermione’s pointer finger. Her mother’s smile seemed to take over her whole face tonight.

“To think you got my Hermione into a fascinator,” her mother beamed. “I could barely get her in a headband for our formal functions.”

Hermione gave her a bored look.

“I’ve got pictures,” Draco offered.

Hermione swung toward him in shock. How could he already have pictures? He pulled out his phone and swiped through photo after photo. Some she was talking to Theo or Luna, others she was admiring the flowers, and some she was laughing or smiling at something someone said. He had over a dozen images that he scrolled through.

“Oh, Draco!” her mother fawned over them. “You must send me this one! And this one, of course. You’re absolutely stunning, Hermione dear.”

“You look lovely, Mouse,” her father nods.

Her mother’s phone dinged with a notification, and she excitedly squealed as she scrolled through the photos again.

“I’ll remember to hide your phone next function,” Hermione blushed, giving Draco a playful elbow to the ribs. “I didn’t realize I had a paparazzi following me the entire afternoon.”

“Let the poor man be in love.”

Her father’s comment takes the oxygen from her body.

“Agreed,” Draco says without missing a beat. “Let him.”

Chapter Text

Draco sent out a note to Hermione, letting her know he’d miss lunch with her today. She replied back that she had to run to the apothecary at lunch anyway. He told her that if she waited until after work, he’d go with her, but he never got a reply back.

Black’s meeting about the disappearing muggles and witches was running longer than he anticipated. So far, seven women have been reported missing from the same three towns. One of them was London.

In his gut, he wanted to pin the disappearances on the same group of rogue werewolves causing vandalism issues in London, but he had no evidence so far. Black had given this case to Potter’s team, who handled missing persons. The entire department had been pulled to discuss the disappearances, though. The Ministry was on edge.

“I’m worried about Hermione running,” Potter said after the meeting as he and Weasley met him by the door.

“Her route goes right through several of the missing persons’ points,” Weasley said.

“I’ve talked to her about it,” he said, feeling the same unease about it. “She hasn’t gone without me and promised that she wouldn’t.”

“Her flat is right there, too,” Weasley said.

“She’s not staying there any longer,” he answered.

Weasley and Potter both froze and looked at one another with wide and suspicious eyes.

“What?” Draco asked.

Unspoken knowledge passed between the two friends before they looked back at Draco.

“She lives with you?” Potter asked.

“Yes,” Draco shrugged. “She has for several weeks.”

“She dated Krum for a year and barely let him stay over,” Weasley blanched.

“McLaggin tried getting her to move in with him for months,” Potter said, shaking his head in disbelief.

An uncomfortable silence passed between the three of them as they considered the living situation.

“What about the cat?” Weasley asked.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Yes, he’s there too.”

Potter let out a low whistle, and Weasley’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“Bloody hell,” Weasley said. “You must love her if you’ve let the deranged kneazle move in.”

Weasley’s comment stuck with him the rest of the afternoon. Draco’s desk was becoming a shrine to his relationship with Hermione. Several photographs now were hung on the tack board he had beside his desk. Their smiling faces looking at one another made his chest ache. He initially tried to convince himself it was just for appearances. But this wasn’t about a bloody contract. This witch had completely overwhelmed his life and turned it upside down and inside out. He’d fought with McNair over her and gave her a Malfoy signet. It felt like an out-of-body experience. He never had full control over himself around her.

  He looked at the latest photograph of them from his parents’ garden party. Her hand was held in his, pressed against his lips, as he stared down at her. He recognized the look easily enough. It was the same look he’d seen Lupin share with Tonks or Potter with Ginny.

What had started out as a desperate attempt to thwart his parents’ attempt at arranging his marriage had turned into something completely unexpected. He’d always admired Hermione’s brains and accomplishments. There was always an attraction there. She was beautiful, and her arse had driven him mad as a wily teen. His gut tightened with the truth, though. She was using him for her research. And he needed to ground himself back into reality. He could want her all he bloody wanted. But at the end of the day, it was his blood status that she was after. And the irony formed a bitter laugh on his tongue.

Draco stood from his desk and stretched. A walk would clear his head and help him return to the mountain of paperwork and evidence he had to sort through. Perhaps kissing Hermione would give him a reprieve from his maddening thoughts.

“A message for you, Mr. Malfoy,” his secretary said and handed him a sealed envelope.

He recognized the seal immediately. His mother. He tucked it into his robes with a tight smile.

Suddenly, burning flames erupted in the normally cool metal of his signet. Panic. White hot fear coursed through his system. Hermione.

His body shook with the need to apparate to her. No one could apparate in and out of the ministry. She wasn’t here. She must still be at the apothecary. With a roar, he took off running toward the lifts.

“Drake?” Thomas called, watching him with alarm as he barreled past witches and wizards toward the lift.

“Granger,” he managed to bite out through his panic.

Thomas sprinted after him, managing to catch up in time to make the same lift.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Signet,” he said. “Have to apparate.”

Thomas pointed his wand at the control panel of the lift, and it skyrocketed upward, not making any other stops along the way. Once out of the lift, they ran for the Floo network that would lead them onto the streets. Without a second thought, Draco reached out and clasped his hand around Thomas’ forearm, apparating them both to the source of Hermione’s fear.

They arrived in chaos. The apothecary on Cliffston Street was missing the front part of the building. Smoke billowed out of the rubble, and unnatural flames rose from the second and third-story windows. People were running and screaming everywhere. But she wasn’t in the building. The ring pulled Draco around the side of the building, down an alleyway.

She wasn’t inside, he chanted to himself as he sprinted down the alley. She wasn’t inside.

Thomas followed behind, wand out, and a phone pressed to his ear, alerting the other Aurors of the explosion.

At the end of the alley, he caught a slender body being pulled to the right. Draco apparated to the end and saw Hermione struggling against the grasp of a hulking fully-turned werewolf like the others he’d faced in the woods. He saw red. Bright, beautiful, terrifying fury overwhelmed him.

Hermione’s wand was gone, and the werewolf had one hand against her neck and another tightly fisted into her hair. He was yanking her toward a van, but she was fighting and kicking the whole way. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew it was her.

Thomas arrived at his side within a second. Draco sent a dozen curses hurtling at the werewolf. All of them expertly missed Hermione as she continued her fight. In front of them, another werewolf had slammed the van doors shut, and it shot down the street at a dizzying speed. Draco’s curse finally struck the werewolf right between the eyes, and his body crumpled to the ground, dragging Hermione with him.

Draco raced forward slicing the werewolf’s arms off with one satisfying lop of his wand, freeing Hermione. He pulled at her, bringing her into his arms and against his chest.

“Dra-Draco,” she shook as she melted against him.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

His own arms shook around her as he fought to control his own erratic breathing. His eyes glared down at the bleeding and frozen werewolf on the ground. Any healer could regrow his arms. He wasn’t dead. Yet. Draco’s wand stretched out from behind Hermione’s shuddering back. He aimed at the wolf, ready to cast the only unforgivable curse he’d ever uttered. And it would be worth it. The blood on his hands would be vindication for what this sadistic fuck had done to Hermione.

But Thomas’ hand was there, lowering Draco’s wand with a curt shake of his head. His phone was still pressed to his ear as he spoke with someone, detailing the van and license number.

“We take him in for questioning,” he said.

Draco nodded and squeezed Hermione tighter. But his better sense and practicality took over. She’d been fighting a werewolf.

He cursed as he thrust her away from his chest and looked down at her. His eyes were wide with terror.

“Did he bite you?”

The wild fear that gripped him now was unlike anything he’d experienced in his adult life. He’d never experienced dread like this. He brushed her hair away from her face and hissed at the bloodied and bruised display before him. He’d fucking kill this werewolf if it was the last thing he did. She’d taken a hell of a beating from this male. Her lips were swollen and bloodied, her nose broken, and both eyes were puffy and already blackening. Her cheek was split too, and blood easily tracked down her face.

Draco shook as he took her face in his hands.

“Did he bite you?” he whispered.

What if he did? Draco could do nothing. There was no amount of magic or healing that could undo it if he had bitten her. He would stay with her. Tonks found a way with Lupin. He would find a way with Hermione. He’d tend to her, care for her. Become a monster himself if that’s what she needed.

“No,” she whispered. “No.”

The relief of the world slipped off Draco’s shoulders. Superficial wounds. That was all. He could have sobbed as he brought her against him again.

Aurors flashed to their side. Potter and Weasley were among the two. Both of their eyes flashed from the werewolf to Hermione, shaking in Draco’s arms, but he shook his head, and the same relief fell over both of their features.

“Get her to Mungo’s,” Lupin said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll take care of him.”

“I want a turn,” Draco said with lethal coolness as he glowered at the prone werewolf with bloody stumps below his elbows.

“You’ll have it,” Black said as he entered the chaos. “Go.”

And without another thought, he apparated he and Hermione to St. Mungo’s.

He paced the white-walled room as healers bent over Hermione. He was sure he’d terrified a few of the healers with his intensity and was trying to reign it back in now. But this was too close of a call. He should have written back this afternoon that she shouldn’t have gone to the apothecary alone. Why had he let her? It was a fucking madhouse in London right now. She shouldn’t have been out of his sight at all.

Guilt ravaged him. Gods, her parents couldn’t even be here while she was looked after. Shattered cheekbone, nose, wrist, and several lacerations and bruises. When the healers removed her sweater, Draco saw the deep purple bruises that marred her ribs. It looked like she’d been squeezed. Draco demanded that they check three times for any trace of a bite on her, but gratefully they’d found none.

She explained to the healers that half of the injuries had come from the explosion. She was near the back of the shop when it happened, and the werewolves entered the shop after and began pulling witches from the shop. She’d fought against the one that grabbed her, but her wand had been lost during the explosion. Draco relayed all of this in several texts to his group of Aurors. He didn’t want to interrogate Hermione right now, but questions were speeding in through his texts and his own mind.

Smith arrived a while later. Draco glared at his presence. He knew why he was here. They’d fired off dozens of texts that Draco ignored.

“Hi, Hermione,” he said, ignoring Draco’s narrowed eyes.

“Hi, Zacharias.”

“Leave.”

Smith ignored him.

“I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about what happened.”

“No,” Draco said. “She’s being healed, and she’s been through enough.”

“It’s usually best to get recount the details while they’re still fresh,” he said, ignoring Draco further. “If you’re up for it.”

“Of course,” Hermione agreed. “I want you to catch and stop them.”

Draco stepped forward as the healers excused themselves.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said. “You can rest. You don’t need to do this right now. You’ve just been-”

But he couldn’t finish the thought. The sickening feeling of blame weighed the words down. Hermione reached out her hand for his. He nearly sighed at the contact, and she pulled him toward her. Her delicate hands were bruised and scratched, and her perfectly rounded nails were cracked and broken from the struggle. She’d fought so hard, and he was so proud of her. He brought her hand, his signet glinting in the harsh florescent lights, to his mouth.

“Sit,” she said. “And stop your fussing.”

Draco obeyed, sitting in the small space she’d made for him at her side. He kept her hand trapped between both of his while he glared at Smith, who seemed unaffected by his anger.

“Mind if I?” he held up a recording device.

Hermione nodded.

“Whenever you’re ready, Hermione,” he said.

Draco understood now why they sent Smith in to interrogate victims. His calm and kind presence created an atmosphere of ease and safety. Even he felt it. It was as if he could change the entire temperament of the room by being there. His easy smiles and encouraging nods. He was good. He’d mention to Black that Smith needed a raise.

“After the explosion, the werewolves ran in,” she recounted. “A dozen? Maybe? Each of them was instructed to grab a witch. The males were left alone. There were only about six of us in the shop. Some of the wizards tried to help, but many of them were toward the front of the shop. They took the witches even if they were unconscious. I tried to run, but one of them caught me in the alley. I tried fighting…”

“You were very brave,” Smith said. “Did you hear why they wanted the witches?”

Hermione shook her head. “No. But they left the older witch next to me. She was in her fifties, maybe? They didn’t even try for her.”

“Doreen,” Smith smiled. “Yes, I’ve just spoken with her.”

“She’s okay?”

“Yes,” Smith nodded. “No one died from the blast. And we’ll find the girls they took. I think they managed to get four.”

Hermione’s face contorted in pain. Draco felt bile rise in his throat as he thought about how close he’d come to losing her. A cool sweat gathered on the back of his neck.

The healers entered the room once more with potions for her bruising and pain management. They had to set her nose and right wrist now. Smith excused himself.

“It’s better if you sleep through the pain, dear,” one of them said.

“Sleep,” Draco nodded, as it looked like Hermione was about to argue. “I’ll be here.”

He pressed his lips against her forehead in a space that looked free of any bruising or lacerations.

“Thank you for saving me,” she whispered to him, eyes shining with unshed tears.

The look made him want to die. The fear. The terror she’d been through.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” his voice thick with emotion. “So very, very sorry I’ve dragged you into this.”

The healers took over, and Draco stepped back and resumed his pacing once again. He waited until they left to take out his phone. He called Nott, who said he was on his way.

Draco stood at the end of the room, looming over Hermione’s sleeping form while the healing potions worked through her system. He hated himself. Hated that his career had done this to her. If he’d caught the werewolves earlier, this whole thing could have been avoided.

Nott and Luna arrived a few moments later. Luna had some strange plant spiraling out of control that she placed on the small table. Nott was pale as he looked over Hermione.

“Did they…”

“No,” Draco said.

Nott exhaled and ran his hands over his face.

“Stay here with her,” he said. “Don’t let anyone else enter this room. Understand? She needs her rest.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got some things to handle. I’ll be back.”

Nott didn’t argue, though. He nodded and sat next to Luna in one of the spare chairs.

Draco was in the Ministry in minutes. He strolled into the interrogation room where they were holding the werewolf and watched Lupin work through the glass.

“Why were you taking witches?” he shouted at the werewolf.

But the werewolf didn’t budge. He just smirked arrogantly at Lupin. His bandaged stumps looked like the bleeding hadn’t stopped.

“Anything?” Draco asked Black.

He shook his head.

The werewolf closed his eyes, and he opened them and his lips at the same moment. Blood poured through his teeth and down his lips.

“He bit off his fucking tongue,” Lupin shouted.

“My turn,” Draco said, striding past them and into the room.

Draco didn’t speak as he took the seat across from the bleeding werewolf. For a dramatic flair, the wolf opened his mouth, allowing the blood to pour down his chin and over the front of his shirt. He spit the remnant of his tongue onto the table, and it landed with a sickening squish.

Draco usually had tact when utilizing his Legilimency gifts on others. But today? He thrust open the werewolf’s mind as if he were the knife and the wolf’s brain was softened butter. The werewolf gasped in pain as Draco pried apart his memories and thoughts. It was different than a Muggle or wizard’s mind. It was almost feral in some ways. The animalistic nature that took over was very different. He pushed forward, not caring about the pain it caused both of them. He welcomed the pain and accepted it as punishment for letting someone close enough to hurt Hermione.

Draco knew these wolves were different than ones like Lupin, who turned in the full moon. These werewolves maintained almost a constant state of wolf. Their bodies were hulking and hairy, and their noses were permanently morphed into snout-like features. Not a full werewolf, but nowhere near human either. They were in between.

Draco saw a warehouse. There were dozens of females there. Some Muggles, based on their lack of robes. Others were witches. They were chained, dirty, and injured. But then, Draco’s entire body tensed. A witch’s scream from beside him tore at his soul. Two werewolves held her down while the other forced himself on her. They were…

Draco’s head spun. He was going to be sick. Her screams haunted him as he backed out of the werewolf’s mind. His eyes were alight with fury. His fist slammed into his snout. Over and over, he bloodied his knuckles on the laughing wolf. It could have been Hermione. Seeing what they wanted to do to her, what their intentions were. It made him blind with rage.

Finally, a set of hands pulled him off the werewolf and backed him against the wall.

“They’re trying to mate with them,” Draco spat. “They’re taking young women to make more of them. Have offspring. You disgusting fucks!”

Draco struggled against Thomas and Smith, who held him.

Black stepped forward, wand drawn, and pulled Draco’s memories out and capped them in a vial. He’d kill every last one of these werewolves before this was done.

“I want the apparation wards lifted for Aurors,” Draco snapped to Black. “I would have gotten to her and the van sooner if I’d been able to apparate right to her. But the Ministry’s paranoia and antiquated philosophy cost us precious time.”

Black considered his words and eventually nodded.

“I’ll talk to the Minister.”

The wolf was hauled out of the room, looking like a bloodied mess, but not enough to satisfy the bloodlust Draco felt.

“You should get back to Granger,” Smith said quietly.

But Draco had another stop to make before he could face Hermione.

He’d cleaned himself up and put on a fresh button-down shirt and slacks as he made his way into the Muggle office of the Grangers’ Dentistry. A secretary gaped at him as he approached the desk.

“I’m here for Dr. Granger and… er… Dr. Granger,” he said.

“Of course,” the woman said. “And your name?”

“I don’t have an appointment,” Draco said. “But I need to speak with them. Urgently. Please, tell them Draco’s here.”

“Both of them?” she asked, questions swirling her face.

Draco nodded and gave her his best smile. She let out a nervous laugh and pushed out of her chair and into the back offices. Draco stared at the various posters that covered the walls and at the Muggles who were opening gaping at him.

“Draco!”

Jean appeared in a doorway, beaming with surprise as she led him back.

“What a lovely surprise,” she said. “We’re so happy to see you.”

Her father was already seated in the office that Jean led him to. He turned as she shut the door and marveled at the wall of photographs, just like Hermione’s flat. It was covered in snapshots of their lives together. And Draco’s heart pulsed as he noticed his own face on several of them.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”

A bitter taste rested on Draco’s tongue.

“Hermione,” he started and stumbled.

Emotion threatened to overwhelm him. He was normally so composed, so exact. But this had nearly shattered him. Especially now that he had the knowledge of what they planned to do to her.

“What’s wrong?” Jean pushed. “What’s happened?”

Draco took out his wand and cast a silencing charm on their office. The couple exchanged a nervous glance and held hands.

“There was an explosion today at an apothecary Hermione was at,” he said.

Hermione’s mother gasped.

“She was nearly kidnapped by a group of rogue werewolves,” he said quickly, needing to get all the information out before he lost his nerve completely. “She fought them, and I found her before she was dragged into their van. She’s safe. I brought her to the hospital, and the healers there are fixing her. But-”

His voice cracked. Emotion welled in his eyes and throat.

“I know you can’t be at St. Mungo’s with her,” he said. “But I wanted to assure you that I take full responsibility and that I will do everything in my power to protect your daughter and keep her safe. I-”

But Jean stopped him. She walked forward and wrapped him in a tight hug. A hug like she’d given him the first time she’d met him. The hug of a compassionate mother.

“It’s not your fault, dear,” she comforted. “You mustn’t think that.”

She pulled away, and Draco fought to get control of his emotions.

“Her injuries?” Greg asked as concern clouded his features.

“Most were from the blast,” Draco said. “Bruising, lacerations, a broken wrist and nose. Those are already mended, though. Now the cuts and bruises will take a few days.”

Her parents exchanged nervous glances.

“Thank you for coming here,” Greg said. “It has always been a challenge to hear what’s really happening in Hermione’s world.”

“You’ll keep her from running,” Jean said. “There have been so many disappearances near her flat…”

“She lives with me,” he said. “And we’ve agreed that running or going anywhere without me is out of the question.”

They both nodded in relief.

“How did you manage to get to her so fast?” Greg asked.

“I gave her a signet ring from my family vault,” he said. “They connect you to one another and send alerts if something is wrong. The metal burned me, and I was able to apparate to her.”

“Thank god,” Jean whispered.

“Can we see her?” Greg asked.

“I’ll bring her by on Saturday,” Draco said. “We’ll spend the day over there.”

“Of course,” Jean nodded. “Yes, please do. Can I call her?”

“She’s heavily sedated now. The healing is painful, especially with her broken bones. But I’ll have her call you once she’s awake. I promise.”

A moment passed as the three of them were lost in their own thoughts. Draco felt terrible for these two parents. Their only child in a different world, one they couldn’t access.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “I should have insisted she wait to go until after work when I could go with her. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“She would have gone anyway,” Greg said. “Hermione’s headstrong. Always has been.”

“She’s safe now,” Jean reassured herself and the two men. “Who’s with her now?”

“My best friend, Theo Nott,” he said.

“Of course, Theo,” Jean nodded. “And Luna too?”

Draco nodded.

“Does Ginny know?”

“Potter was on the scene,” Draco said. “I’m sure he told her, but I’ll make sure to check in.”

Jean nodded. And suddenly, the words were pouring out of Draco before he could give them a second thought.

“I love Hermione,” he confessed. “I felt like my very soul was ripped out today. I swear to you both, I’ll stop these wolves.”

Jean’s hand rested over her heart, and Greg pulled her against his chest.

“We know, Draco,” she said. “Keep our girl safe, yes?”

“With my life.”

Chapter Text

Draco had become maddeningly clingy. She could scarcely believe he allowed her to venture to the loo without an armed escort. It was ridiculous. She was fine. She wore her ring every day. It served as a perfect little tracking device for him. One he used as a homing beckon any chance he got. He’d gotten permission and special access for unlimited apparating until the werewolves were at hand. This meant he was popping up everywhere at work, making it even harder for her and Theo to keep things to themselves.

Theo had been lovely through the ordeal. He was concerned, but once he saw Hermione was well, he let things go. If anything, it motivated him toward a cure as it did her.

“Draco’s taking me away this weekend,” she said. “He’s convinced getting me out of the stuffy London air will be good for me.”

She stifled the urge to roll her eyes. But Theo let his roll.

“I’m shocked he hasn’t saddled you with a nappy and permanently affixed you to his hip.”

“You and me both.”

“Your recent discovery has helped a lot,” he said. “It held off the infection for twenty minutes before failing.”

“But it still got overpowered.”

“Right, but it delayed it. And that’s a hell of a start.”

Hermione let her nails drum on the table as she stared into her microscope. She wasn’t happy with it. Not until it overturned the infection completely. Not just keep it at bay for a time.

She’d noticed a distinct difference between the blood samples she’d collected as well. The blood she collected from the werewolves Draco fought matched the blood she’d collected from the werewolf that was trying to kidnap her. However, both of these were very different than the blood sample Theodore had mysteriously come into possession of from Remus Lupin.

“I think we need a wolf’s sample,” she told Theo. “Perhaps we could venture to a muggle zoo and see if anyone would help us there.”  

“How do you propose getting away from dear ole dad?”

Theo motioned to the ring perched on Hermione’s finger. She twisted the metal around her finger. And ever so slightly, she pulled it, sliding it down her knuckle and off her finger.

The pop ricocheted through the office as Draco swung around.

“Hermione?”

His voice came out in a growl as he looked around the office. She slid it back into place.

“Draco,” she sighed.

Theo was still clutching his chest, feigning a heart attack from Draco’s sudden appearance.

“I’m fine,” Hermione said. “I was just twisting the ring, and it slipped off my knuckle.”

She nudged the microscope slides away as Draco approached her. He knelt before her and took her hands in his. He took in her appearance as if he really needed to see that she was okay.

“Ready for lunch?” he asked, as the smooth lines of composure covered his face once again.

He seemed to be fighting back the hysteria he felt inwardly.

“Theodore and I have to work through lunch today,” she said. “We’ve got to go collect some information.”

She didn’t dare steal a glance at Theo. She kept her eyes fixed on Draco. His eyes widened, but he didn’t speak right away. His natural inclination would have been to snap that it was out of the question, she’d bet her life on it.

“I’ll just pop in and let Black-”

“Draco,” Hermione interjected. “We are fine. I will not leave Theo’s side. We will only be gone maybe an hour at most. And I have my ring.”

Draco’s eyes looked almost pleading as he focused on Hermione. It was as if he was silently begging her to be rational.

“You said yourself that you have a unit meeting with the other Aurors, and those in Scotland and Wales are coming in as well. You can’t miss that. We both have our jobs to do.”

She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. He’d been so distant over the last two weeks. Even at night, he opted for holding her close to him, breathing in her scent, rather than ravishing her to a state of unconsciousness through several orgasms. And she bloody well missed those ravishing orgasms.

She pressed further, but he drew back. She tried not to let the sting of rejection get to her, but it was difficult. It wasn’t like she could bring up the lack of intimacy in their fake relationship. She’d sound ridiculous. Technically, they’d never even discussed sex or orgasms. It wasn’t in the contract. But now she’d wished she had pushed to put them in writing so she could demand to have the contract fulfilled. As well as herself.

“Of course, darling,” he said. “I’ll just have a word with Nott before you go.”

He pressed a light kiss to the top of her head before motioning to Nott that he wanted to see him in the hallway. She bit her lip to mask her unhappiness over the unfeeling interaction. She needed to unfuck this mess. That would be her mission this weekend. She pulled out her mobile and sent off several messages.

Theo shot her an exasperated look as he followed Draco out of the office.

“You’re free!” Theo announced as he re-entered the office.

She grinned back at him, tucking her mobile into her pocket along with her wand. She had transfigured herself a new outfit, fit for a muggle scientist, and Theo donned a matching one, completely with the same made-up logo on the breast of their lab coats.

“This isn’t really going to take us an hour, is it?”

“Of course not,” she said. “But I have a few other errands to run now that I’ve sprung the protective nest.”

“I hope it involves chips,” he groaned. “I’m bloody starved.”

“Gin’s in town for the week,” she said. “I’ve messaged her and Luna about meeting us.”

“Drake said if you take that ring off again, he’ll cut my hand off, and I am tempted to believe him. Keep it on, would you?”

She patted his shoulder.

“Anything for you.”

They collected the sample in a matter of moments with the false narrative Hermione wove. Theo made mention of how terrifyingly convincing she could be, and she preened at the compliment. She supposed she owed it to days at Hogwarts of constantly bailing Harry and Ron out of a number of tight circumstances.

Theo was less appreciative when he discovered that their second meetup did not, in fact, involve chips. Rather, an obscene amount of fast shopping for her weekend. Theo longingly looked toward the direction of the fish shops but relented when Hermione tugged his arm inside, where Ginny and Luna were already waiting.

Hermione made quick work of the shopping trip, and Theo perked up considerably when Luna made some purchases as well. Ginny promised to deliver the packages to Kippy on her way home, and on the way back to the office, Hermione made a special stop at Theo’s chip stand for a heaping pile of hot fish and chips.

He munched happily all the way back to the entrance of the Ministry.

“What’re we gonna tell Draco?”

His mouth was full, and he was still trying to lick the malt vinegar from his fingers.

“The truth,” Hermione shrugged. “We collected our samples, made a quick stop at a clothing shop, and got you chips.”

He stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly.

“I suppose the truth does work here,” he said.

“It usually does,” she said. “The devil’s in the details, as they say.”

Wizard-raised Theo probably had little to no context of who the devil was and why that was an expression, but Hermione let it pass. She’d felt normal today. No fear. No looking over her shoulder. It’d been nearly two weeks since the attack, and she couldn’t stomach the indoors any longer. This was why Draco’s idea of a holiday in Greece seemed perfectly logical to him. He’d even heard that there was a well-known wizarding library near their hotel. He wanted to chalk it up to a research trip, and she hadn’t had the heart to tell him she wasn’t interested. So, she vowed she would use this trip to get things right. She would unfuck herself by getting thoroughly fucked.

“So I suppose you’re in a bit of a dry spot, then?” Theo asked them as Hermione added the sample to a new plate and slid it under the microscope. “Judging by the nature of the shop…”

Hermione gave him an exasperated look, to which Theo merely shrugged.

“Draco’s just been upset about the werewolves. He’s treating me rather…”

“Delicately?”

“Yes.”

“And you’d rather be treated…”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

“Un-delicately?”

Hermione uttered an irritated sound, and Theo snickered. He sent off a note (most likely reporting their safe return to Draco).

“It’s complicated and private.”

Theo laughed.

“So, uncomplicate it.”

She scribbled some notes down in her journal about the wolf blood they’d collected.

“Come on, Granger,” he sang.

She looked back under the scope and brought the sample next to Lupin’s.

“You can’t ignore me forever.”

She focused on the two, noting the sparse similarities.

“I’ll just think the worst unless you tell me.”

She exchanged Lupin’s sample with the one she acquired from Draco. A few more similarities.

“Perhaps it’s not just his overbearing need to mother you that has adequately tampered with your sex drive. Maybe it’s the pressure from all the guilt of your secret-keeping that’s altering the foundation of your relationship.”

She caught herself before telling him how ridiculous that was. She knew first-hand that it couldn’t be that because the relationship between her and Theodore was precisely unchanged, and she was keeping a rather weighty secret from him.

“I don’t need another mother,” she said definitively. “Or an Auror.”

“Because you need…”

She ignored him. She willed herself not to engage in this ridiculous banter because it wasn’t going to help anything. She would handle things, and their weekend would be as fiery and exciting as it had been in France. She would simply will it into existence.

“A huge…”

She pulled up the last slide comparison and slid it into place.

“Throbbing…”

Focus, Hermione, she chastised herself.

“Draco-sized...”

She ground her teeth together so hard they nearly squeaked.

“Cock.”

Her head snapped up, and Theo loosed uproarious laughter.

“Now, really,” she tutted but doubted he heard her over the laughter.

 “He’s just worried! He’s bloody mad about you,” Theo rationalized. “Things will go back to normal once he gets out of his own way.”

But that was the part that worried Hermione. Their relationship wasn’t real. So what could pull them back together? What did they have to fight for? It wasn’t real. And the realization of that stung worse than she expected. She’d tricked herself into believing, no matter how irrationally, that it could be real. Maybe. But that seemed foolish now.

“He’d be a fool not to come crawling back into your bed, begging for those tits,” Nott said softly. “And Draco Malfoy is no fool.”

She gave him a tired smile.

“I’m just sick of being handled like I’m breakable or contagious.”

A sly smile broke out across his face.

“Torture the bullocks off that bloke, Granger,” he said. “Make him beg.”

A real smile formed on her face. That was precisely what she planned on doing.

***

To no one’s surprise, Draco worried over every detail of their safety while in Greece. He’d even gone so far as to ward the entire top floor of their suite against any unwanted intrusion. According to Draco’s research, there had been no werewolf sightings or rumblings in or around the entire country in over ten months, but that still didn’t pacify Draco. He was thorough to everything in sight, but Hermione.

But she was going to play dirty. Her suitcase had been packed carefully and meticulously with all of the items she’d purchased. She spared no expense. These new teddys better kill him. Because if he still wouldn’t touch her after this, there was no hope.

She toed a delicate line. It was muddy business trying to figure out how to seduce someone you weren’t in a relationship with. You couldn’t just sit down over supper and suggest a nice shagging for dessert. No. She had to torture it out of him just like she’d accidentally done in France. She missed the hungry, virile side of Draco, and she wanted it back.

Their first day in Greece was a dream. The stunning beaches, blue surf, and golden skin of those around her. The two of them lounged in beach chairs and read most of the day, and she found herself deliriously happy about it. It was a nice escape. Even she could admit that. Draco even seemed to relax a little. (Once, of course, he protected them in a severe bubble of wards.) Which gave her further hope that she’d be able to pull them from whatever lull they’d fallen into. He looked like a god. His blonde hair practically sparkled in the sun as his long, strong hands turned page after page of his book. She watched him with a ravenous hunger.

As the sun began to set they moved from their beach spots under umbrellas to their resort balcony. They shared chilled wine and meze overlooking the Mediterranean. Hermione couldn’t fathom a more perfect location.

Hermione got ready for bed with an almost giddy excitement. The small scrap of silk that she was calling a nightie was hardly covering her. She wore matching black lace panties and left her hair down in thick curls. She moisturized and ensured every part of her felt as soft and silky as the fabric she wore.

But Draco was a fortress. An immovable, stone, permanent fixture that withstood bombs, nuclear warheads, and apocalyptic catastrophes. He pulled her against him, buried his nose in her neck, and drew in her deep scent. He placed kisses along her collarbone, but that was as far as things went. She even ground her arse into his hips, but he just adjusted, kissed her, and kept his arms tightly bound around her.

The next day went the same way. She wore a barely-there swimsuit followed by an equally scant amount of nightwear. But Draco was unmoved. Her confidence was hanging on by a thread. She didn’t understand it. What happened? What changed between them?

She was an irritable nightmare when they returned to Draco’s London flat Sunday night. Denial. Rejection. Horrible phrases swirled around in her head about the reason for his sudden disinterest in her.

            Hermione feigned a headache and went straight for the luxurious shower where she could cry and not be noticed. Angry tears threatened to spill over her eyelids, but she willed them back down. She could wait until the shower.  

Once inside the safe confines of the marble tile and the locked bathroom door, she sighed in relief and let the unshed tears flow. She felt pathetic. What was wrong with her? She was like a dog in heat. A desperate dog in heat. Perhaps one with rabies.

Her head snapped up.

Rabies.

A disease in the brain. It attacks the central nervous system. Not the blood. They’d been targeting the wrong thing. She needed a vaccine. One to stop the viral infection of lycanthropy. The viral budding from plasma membranes into the salivary glands. That’s what spreads it. Like rabies.

Holy fucking shit.

She did it.

Crying in the shower over no sex.

She cracked the fucking puzzle on Lycanthropy because of ridiculous muggle pet medicine and her wanton lady bits.

Chapter Text

“Hermione!”

Draco flew upright in bed as sweat poured from him. He reached for her, but she was already gone. He could tell from the curtains that dawn had already come, and the coolness of the sheets beside him was telling. She was long gone. He twisted his ring a few times. She was safe. He’d know if she wasn’t. But the nightmares… He rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t stop them. It was a nearly constant barrage of horrific and terrifying circumstances.

He was exhausted. It’d been over a week, and he hadn’t been sleeping at all. And the moment he closed his eyes, he was swarmed by visions of her dead or dying. The other constant of the nightmares was his continued helplessness. He could never reach her in time. Never save her.

No matter how close she was, no matter how many nights he fell asleep holding her against him, he couldn’t get those images out of his mind. He watched the tapes with the explosion from the apothecary over and over at work. He saw the way her body flew through the air and crumpled on the ground. He saw the way the werewolf grabbed her. He saw how bloodied and broken she was. And it killed him. He had almost missed her. Almost lost her. And he was sick over it. It was his fault. He hadn’t been there. He connected himself to her while working on the most dangerous case in the Ministry. She had become a literal billboard of an invitation for them to attack her. He’d be the reason she got killed.

The guilt of her near kidnapping continued its assault on his psyche. His line of work rarely affected him once he left the office. He was skilled at compartmentalizing. He rarely worried about the potential threats to his own life. But now things were different. He was connected to another. A target for his enemies. And she was so perfect and innocent that he wanted to lock her inside his flat and never let her leave. Terror gripped him so completely he was barely sleeping. How could he possibly protect her?

He Floo’d to the Ministry and made his way down to Hermione’s lab. He needed to see her, touch her, and know that she was safe. He knew from the activity on their shared rings that she was, but he needed the feeling of her to calm the raging anxiety thundering beneath his chest.

It was just after seven, and he was shocked to see Nott already in the office as well. His hair was rumpled, and they both wore lab coats as they leaned over a table together.

“Fucking hell,” Nott said.

Hermione laughed and threw her arms around Nott.

“Draco,” she gasped when she saw him.

Her smile lit the room. She was beaming.

“Early start,” he smiled, trying to shrug off the effects of limited sleep and haunting night terrors.

She approached him and thrust her arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely on the mouth.

“We did it,” she panted. “Theo and I. We did it!”

He looked over and saw Theo beaming as well. He had to admit he had little knowledge of what they had been working on over the last few months. He wondered if it was more about the mental health benefits to Dittany, as she’d originally been working on.

He brushed a loose curl from Hermione’s forehead. He didn’t see blood. Didn’t see her chained and beaten by the werewolves. She was here. She was safe. He was touching the real thing. The nightmare had been just that. False. A dream.

“Tell me all about it,” he said.

Hermione pulled him forward and placed him in front of the table they were just bent over. He looked in the microscope, unaware of what he was supposed to be noticing. Hermione sat him down after he pulled away. She and Nott exchanged excited smiles.

“We’ve found a cure for Lycanthropy,” she said.

He hadn’t heard her right. His dreams were clouding over into his waking hours now. She wasn’t working on werewolves. He was.

“Draco,” she said. “We have a vaccine against Lycanthropy. We were just testing it.”

He suddenly felt like he was underwater. A strange rush filled his ears.

“We kept trying to treat it magically,” Theo said. “Hermione thought of rabies last night.”

None of this made sense. When had she started this? Why?

“Vaccines are simple, really,” she said. “Your cells are hijacked by the virus and read the genetic information and create more of the virus. Attenuated vaccines are when you take the virus, break it, and place it back inside of you. It’s less pathogenic at that point, which means that it’s not as effective. Your immune system has time to develop a response and defeat it. Vaccines don’t kill the virus. They enhance our body’s ability to create an effective response against the pathogen.”

“That’s when magic comes in,” Nott added. “There are dozens of healing spells that boost a body’s immune response. The two combined create a perfect storm.”

Draco felt like he might be sick. If news of this broke out… if the werewolves found out that the two people closest to him had developed a cure for Lycanthropy, they’d be killed instantly. Dozens of witches and wizards had worked on it in the past, and werewolves always killed them before it was released. There was a cult-like mentality amongst many of them. A sense of pride over the curse.

Now the two people he loved had put themselves in the greatest danger. Color drained from his face.

“What have you done?” he whispered.

Hermione and Theo exchanged uneasy looks. But Draco’s anger took over.

“Do you realize what this could do?”

He stood up, raking his hands through his hair.

“It could save you,” Hermione said. “I wouldn’t have to worry every time you go out that you’d return bitten.”

“They will kill you!”

He’d never raised his voice like that at her before. But he couldn’t stop himself.

“They’ll kill both of you! Do you not remember what happened to Dorfius Guile six years ago? They crucified him when they found out he was working on a cure!”

“We can’t just keep it to ourselves,” Hermione argued. “This could change lives! Think of Lupin! Think of all the others!”

“I don’t give a fuck about them,” he roared. “I care about the two of you! I can’t protect you from every angry werewolf in the world!”

“There won’t be any werewolves left once we’ve adequately distributed this.”

“They’re proud of their Lycanthropy,” he snapped. “They would never want to fix it! And you obviously knew how fucking reckless and dangerous it was because you’ve been lying to me for months!”

And that was the part that stung the worst: the fact that his best friend and the woman he was falling in love with were lying to his face every day. They’d cover work or vanish it when he’d walk in, and they flinched when they didn’t notice him. It all made sense.

“You took samples from my robes that day, didn’t you?”

Hermione knew exactly what he was talking about. And Nott looked just as guilty.

“Draco…”

“Drake,” Nott’s quiet voice came through. “We did this for you. After you showed up at Hermione’s, we were worried sick.”

“You lied to me.”

His glare bored into Hermione.

“I was always going to tell you,” she said. “I just didn’t want to disappoint you if I couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“I’m more than just disappointed.”

She recoiled in a flinch.

“I did this for you,” she urged. “I did this so nothing would happen to you! I care-”

He loosed a sardonic laugh. She cared. Sure.

“Draco,” Nott said. “We lied to you for a good reason. We were always going to tell you. It was as much my choice as it was hers.”

“I suppose you’re just too good at it,” he said to her. “You even fooled me.”

“Draco,” she warned, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“There was no Cruciatus research, was there?” he said. “Just another way for you to get close to me to get to the werewolves. Another notch in your research belt.”

“That’s not true!”

“You lie to everyone,” he continued. “Why should I believe you now? You used me!”

She tore the signet ring off her finger and slammed it against the table, shedding frustrated tears.

“Look, then!” she snapped. “Look in my mind and tell me I’m lying. See for yourself!”

He’d been so stupid to believe this was anything more than a project for her. To believe he had a chance of actually pulling her away from research and theory and making her actually fall in love with him. He was a stepping stone for her. He felt fucking miserable at the feeling.

He cast Nott a look. Disappointment was clouded all over his friend’s face.

“We’re not dating. We signed a contract so I could help her with her research. She agreed to get me out of my engagement to Daphne.”

He looked back at Hermione. Tears poured down her cheeks as she glared at him. She had no idea what she’d done. The absolute hell and the onslaught of terror that would befall her now that she had discovered this would be life-ending. His nightmares would come true. And there was nothing he could do to save her now.

He stormed out of the lab before he said something else he’d regret.

Chapter Text

17

“Theo.”

It’d been days of awkward quiet between the two. She and Crooks were back at her place, and the emptiness was almost as deafening at home as it had been here. He was hurt. She knew he would be. She had hated lying to him as much as she hated lying to Draco. She didn’t know how she’d suddenly gotten so wrapped up in this secret-keeping business. But she hated it. It wasn’t like her. 

“Please,” she whispered. 

“I’m bloody irritated, Granger,” Theo said, spinning toward her in his chair. “Very.” 

“I know.” 

“It was complicated,” she said. 

He narrowed his eyes at her. She spun the signet ring on her desk. She hadn’t put it back on after her fight with Draco. But she hadn’t sent it back yet either.

“It still bloody is,” Nott snapped. “You’re still lying!”

“I’m not lying,” she said. “I’ll tell you anything. All of it. I’m done lying.” 

He sat, expectantly waiting. 

“I wanted his help with the research because I knew how much knowledge he had with ancient runes. We were always neck and neck in school over our grades. You have an insane amount of specialist knowledge, but Draco…” 

“He’s fucking brilliant, I get it.” 

She tried not to cringe at his directness. 

“He suggested that we could trade,” she said. “He needed a way out of his marriage contract with Daphne. But he wasn’t interested in dating anyone. We thought this would be an easy exchange. I accompany him on various social outings, and he gets into libraries that won’t give me access. It was only supposed to be a year.” 

Theo studied her as she spoke. But the information just flowed out of her.

“We worked the physical parameters into the contract. Sex was never supposed to be part of it… but I suppose we just got… carried away. It was all fake. All of it perfectly staged.”

She felt the familiar swell of tears rising back up. She couldn’t cry. Not again. She’d spent the last several days doing nothing but crying. And she was so bloody tired of it. She hadn’t so much as sensed Draco here over the last few days, and she didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse. She missed him. She missed Kippy, and his flat, and him. She missed sleeping next to him and eating with him. She missed his touch. His kiss. His presence. But it wasn’t real. It never had been. 

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop them. 

“And the last lie,” Theo said softly. 

Hermione looked at him, unsure of what he was talking about. She’d told him everything.  

“The lie you’re telling yourself.”

“It was never fake for me. I felt everything. And I feel like a fool.” 

She was really crying now. Theo held open his arms, and she rushed into them, curling herself against him while he sat in his rolling chair. He held her while she cried. 

“I’ll forgive you for lying to me. Just this once.” 

She almost managed a smile. 

“He feels the same way, you know,” Theo whispered against her. “The both of you are too stupid and stubborn to communicate your feelings, though. It was just as real for Draco as it was for you.”

“He would never believe me,” she said. “You heard him the other day. I lied to him. I betrayed him. He doesn’t want to speak to me.”

“Have you tried?”

She shook her head. He hugged her tightly. 

“I supposed I’m done being cross with you,” he said. “I think you’ve suffered enough.”

This time she did smile. He’d truly become one of her closest friends over their last several years together. And the unbearable silence that had fallen between them the last few days had been torture. 

“We’ll fix this,” he said. 

And she almost believed him. 

The next few days at the Ministry were carefully orchestrated. Hermione and Theo had agreed with Draco. After doing a bit of research, it seemed that everyone who ever attempted to cure Lycanthropy was horribly tortured and killed. However, they decided to use an alias. Both knew that the accolades that would accompany such a discovery meant nothing if their own lives were short-lived. So they entrusted one other wizard with the knowledge. Sirius Black. Nott made him swear by an unbreakable vow that he would never reveal their identities as the creators of the vaccine, and he agreed. The knowledge would remain among four individuals. And that was good enough for all of them. 

Sirius told Remus about the vaccine, and Remus agreed to be the first test subject of the vaccine. A full moon was still a few weeks away, but they were all curious about the findings. Hermione and Theo altered their appearances and ages greatly before meeting with Remus, and he seemed perfectly content to believe the pair of them as old scholars from the highlands. 

Hermione still hadn’t mustered the courage to speak with Draco, though. And he’d made no move to speak with her. She felt silly, spinning the signet ring every day at her desk while she waited for the right thing to say to come into her head. But she couldn’t think of anything that would truly describe how sorry she was. She loved him. But the idea of telling him that and opening herself up to the possible rejection was terrifying. She wanted to be with him. But the longer they went without speaking, the clearer it was to her that he didn’t want the same thing. 

As she sat on her sofa, staring at the pictures on her living room wall, she missed the routine of her old life. She looked at the faces of those she cared about looking down on her and couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at who she was missing. It was Thursday night. She and Draco ordered curry on Thursdays. 

For the last several months, she’d enjoyed living in Draco’s flat with him. She thought several times about bringing over her vast photo collection, but she never got around to it. And now, as she stared at the faces above her, she regretted terribly that she’d never printed the ones of the two of them. He and her mother had plenty on their phones, but she hadn’t sent them to herself. And now she was kicking herself for it. Because the one face she was desperate to see was the one that had no interest in seeing her. Even Crooks had turned his fluffy bum toward her on the couch, refusing to look at her. He was just as disappointed as she was. He loved Kippy and Draco’s great flat with all his large windows and spots to perch on. 

She sat up. This was ridiculous. She could still eat curry on Thursdays. She didn’t have to lay around being a sad sack of stupid. If he didn’t want her, fine. But she was done being miserable about it. He’d lied too. It wasn’t just her. And if he truly couldn’t see how she was trying to help, then he could just bugger off completely. Merlin forbid she try to help him. 

She stalked into the night to her favorite curry spot around the corner. It was summer now, and the evenings were cool but not enough for a jacket. The sun hadn’t quite set yet, and she enjoyed the shades of pinks and oranges drifting across the sky. 

The jingle of the bell had others in the Muggle curry shop turning toward her. One blonde head stood out among the rest, though. Draco. He had a bag in his hand and scanned his card across the reader. The two of them stopped and stared at one another. It’d been the first time she’d seen him in over a week, and she felt the moisture completely leave her mouth. 

He looked exhausted. Dark purple marks streaked below his eyes, giving his gray eyes a haunting look. And she panicked. She turned and ran from the shop. The fear of rejection stabbed at her. She couldn’t face him. Couldn’t face the denial he would inevitably give her. She loved him. Every part of her heart shattered into pieces as she accepted the fact that she loved a man who wanted nothing to do with her. She was a contract to him. Nothing more. 

She fought against more tears. How silly she’d been to think that she was ready to be normal. She couldn’t just pretend that her heart wasn’t breaking. She’d seen him holding a bag of curry and nearly fell apart at the seams. She was hopelessly in love with him. And it hurt. 

Her hand instinctively went to her neck. No. That was something else. A sharp prick against her skin burned. 

“Hermione!”

Draco’s voice shouted as her vision spotted. She turned to see him racing toward her. The curry bag was discarded beside him as he drew his wand and fired all around her. He looked so angry, charging toward her like that. Her eyes fluttered, and she was lost in the dark. 

***

Her head hung against her chest at an awkward angle. She was stiff, sore, and had a horrible taste in her mouth. Where was she? 

The memories came rushing back. Werewolves.

Her eyes snapped open and she looked around to find she was in a barn. She squinted against the fuzziness still lingering. It was dark now, and there were only a few spotlights in the barn some distance away from her. Her wrist was chained to a wooden half-wall that would have served as a stall if there were animals here. There was a layer of hay on the ground, but the coolness of the dirt below sent a shiver over her. She was in athletic shorts and a tank top, but nothing else. Her shoes were gone. 

The cuff around her wrist was clearly meant for something larger than her, but it was still tight on her wrist. She panicked and pulled against it. The chain rattled against the wooden frame of the stall, and the sound echoed through the barn. She could have kicked herself for making so much noise. She schooled her breathing and quietly began twisting her wrist against the metal. She reached her free hand up to push her thumb down as she attempted to squeeze her hand through the narrow opening. She winced as the sharp metal scraped at her skin. Voices of approaching werewolves sent her into a panic. She needed to hurry. 

A final yank, and she tore her arm through. She caught the swinging cuff, though, before it could clash against the side of the wall again and make more noise. 

She had to get out of here. She had to run. She held her breath as she crouched below the half wall. She needed to risk a look. She poked her head over the top of the stall and took in as much of the surroundings as she could. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the spotlights. They centered around a bloodied corpse hanging against the wall. Two large cuffs held their arms out above them. She could tell their body was beaten and bloodied.

Hermione swallowed back the scream that built in her throat. The silvery-white hair that hung in front of Draco’s face was caked with blood and dirt. He’d come for her. And he’d suffered for it. Her pulse rocketed against her ribcage as she fought back her hysterics. She had to get them out of here. 

She looked around, desperately searching for the source of the voices she’d heard a moment ago. She could see other women bound and chained in their stalls. Their clothing was removed, though, and they barely looked recognizable beyond the bruising and damage done to their faces and bodies. The blood between their legs made Hermione tremble. It was a breeding facility. She’d noticed the decline in their female numbers based on Draco’s findings. They were trying to repopulate through being born, not bitten. 

Her entire body shook with the knowledge. She looked up and noticed an entire loft above them. That’s where she’d heard the voices. They were up there. Some were playing cards by the sound of it. Others were sleeping based on the deep snoring she registered. 

She couldn’t risk opening the door of her stall. So she pulled herself up, satisfied that the coast was clear, and lifted herself over the top. Her wrist ached as she pulled herself upright. Her hand was still bleeding lightly from the scraping, and she’d deeply bruised it by forcing it from the cuff. She hissed as she swung her leg up and was caught. A protruding nail caught her shorts and stopped her from swinging her leg over the door. She worked the nail out of the wood and was pleased to find it was long. She kept the nail in her hand as she delicately landed outside of the stall. Her bare feet ached as rocks, dirt, and hay covered the barn floor. But she tiptoed quietly through the rows of closed stalls until she reached the end of them. 

The spotlights on Draco would make it impossible for her to get close enough without being seen. She looked at the great lights next to her. She couldn’t break or turn them off without alerting the others to her presence. She looked up and around, double-checking that no one else was aware of her. 

She needed to play in the shadows. She took the handle of one of the lights and turned it slightly, focusing on Draco’s torso. She did the same with the other light. Now, his wrists were just out of the direct light, and she could potentially stand close enough to dig the nail into his wrist cuffs and release him. 

She crept closer and was relieved to see Draco’s chest rising and falling with a struggling effort. The closer she got to Draco, the more horrific his injuries became. His body wasn’t just covered in slashes and bruises. Upon closer inspection, she realized they weren’t cuts at all. They were bite marks. Draco had been bitten dozens of times all over, and they’d torn at his flesh with reckless abandon. Bile rose in her throat at the sight. It was horrific. She couldn’t imagine the pain he’d endured. For her. 

His head was still hanging limp against his chest, his hair falling over his forehead and swollen face. She tiptoed against the wall, edging as closely as she could toward his dangling wrist. The only blessing to his position was he was seated so that she could reach his wrist. 

She stuck the nail into the lock and dragged it over any gear or mechanism it caught against. She caught herself several times from wanting to whisper his name. She couldn’t risk anyone else hearing her speak. She kept her eyes on the barn before her, not Draco. She searched for any kind of movement that would alert her of another’s presence. 

Her wand had to be here somewhere. But she couldn’t risk calling for it until she had Draco free. Even then, it would be a risk. If the wand wasn’t here…

A clink of the metal drew her attention back to Draco’s wrist just in time. The cuff was falling from his wrist and she caught it just before it could crash against the wall. She lowered it delicately and let his wrist fall to his side. She held her breath as she looked around. Nothing outside of the low voices had changed. 

Hermione snuck back out to where the large lamps were and made her way to the other side, careful to cling to the darkness and stay out of the direct light. Her hands shook as she reached for the second cuff. Draco’s head lulled, and a low groan escaped him. Shit. She didn’t need him waking up right now. He had to stay quiet. 

“Our pet has come to play,” a voice sounded to her right. 

Before she could react, she was thrown against the wall. 

Chapter Text

Draco’s eyes shot open at Hermione’s scream. 

Real , his mind confirmed. 

He saw her crash to the floor before him as several werewolves circled the two of them. His right hand was free, and he noticed a nail sticking out of the lock on his left manacle. 

Hermione.  

His soul shattered as one of them picked her up and threw her against several crates. 

He tried to call her, but nothing came out. Blood poured from his lips. 

He reached his free hand toward the cuff, but he was so weak. His body was on fire with pain. He knew by the feeling several ribs were broken as well as several bones in his face. Breathing was nearly impossible in his current state. 

“Accio wand,” she shouted, but nothing happened. 

The werewolves all laughed at her as they tossed the broken remnants of both of their wands at her.

Draco pulled at the cuff and tried to dig the nail into it, but several of the fingers on his right hand were broken and at odd angles. The nail fell and rolled out of reach. He loathed the feeling of helplessness. Rage shuddered from him. Hermione tried to run through the small opening of werewolves, but they were much faster. They pushed her back to the center of their ring. They were toying with her. 

He shook as he fought against the restraints. If he shattered enough bones in his hand, he could force it through. He slammed the cuffed hand against the wooden wall that held him and swallowed down the crushing pain. Again and again, he bloodied his hand, forcing his bones to shatter enough for him to escape. 

He watched in horror as several of the werewolves now held her. Their hands explored her as she screamed and fought against them. Furious sobs escaped her as he shouted, too. He had to stop this. Had to save her. They were going to rape her. Bite her. He had to stop this. Maddening frustration broke him as he mutilated himself to escape the restraints.

He shouted in frustration as he pulled and pulled at his wrist.

“Take me,” he shouted. “Kill me! Not her!”

This caused several wolves to stop and laugh at him. If Draco lived through this, he’d torture every last one of them until their brains were little more than liquid. 

Another werewolf leaned down and licked the column of Hermione’s neck. She bucked against him, smashing her head into his nose, sending blood spraying from his face. He roared as he punched her and sent her spinning toward the ground. 

“Hermione!”

His muscles shook as he fought for release. 

But a jarring blast sent both of them coughing and sputtering against the dirt cloud that had risen around them. Several of the werewolves shouted, but he couldn’t see anything past the cloud of dust. 

“Hermione!” he called. “Hermione!”

He pulled and pulled at his wrist, ignoring the sickening pops and cracks of the bones in his hand. 

What was that? What had happened?

“Hermione!”

But a small hand reached forward and touched Draco’s bloodied wrist. Large eyes blinked back up at him through the clearing smoke. Kippy. 

He choked out a sob of relief. How had she found him? Kippy pointed at Draco’s restraints, and the metal fell away. 

“Hermione,” he begged her. “Please. Save her.” 

Kippy’s wide eyes looked back toward the settling dust. She thrust out her hands at the werewolves surrounding Hermione and sent them all crashing back into the stalls several feet back. Hermione’s crumpled form remained in the center of the circle they’d formed around her. 

Draco struggled to get to his feet but could only get to his knees. His left ankle was definitely broken. He cried out in frustration. But Hermione was already on her feet, rushing toward the two of them. 

“Draco!” 

Hermione choked out a sob as she took in his condition.

Kippy placed her hand on both of their wrists and attempted to vanish. But they didn’t get very far. It was awkward and unsteady as they flew through the air. Kippy couldn’t apparate with two people. Especially when he was this injured. Draco bellowed as they crashed against the grass. His back roared in pain and he could feel his flesh tearing apart. He’d been splinched. 

“We can’t do this; we’ll kill him,” Hermione shouted as she scrambled toward them. 

Hermione had been tossed several yards away and was crawling back toward them.

Kippy gasped down great heaving sobs as she looked over Draco. They’d barely made it a hundred yards from the barn.

“Take him to Theo Nott,” Hermione instructed Kippy. “Take him straight there. He’s been bitten.” 

Kippy’s cries grew even louder. 

“No,” Draco gritted. “Get Hermione out of here, Kippy. That’s an order!”

Hermione’s hands were on Draco’s face. Several crashes and shouts rang out from around them. The werewolves. 

“Go, Kippy! Now!”

“Theo Nott,” Hermione said, looking at Kippy. 

She turned to Draco next. 

“I was never pretending,” she told him. “I was just lying to myself. I love you.” 

And without a second of hesitation, she broke into a sprint through the woods. 

Draco roared as Kippy grasped him and pulled him through space toward Theo. Hermione raced in the opposite direction, leading the pack of werewolves away. 

***

Hermione’s heart thundered in her chest as she raced through the woods. Branches tore and snapped against her, and her bare feet screamed in pain as she sprinted over rocks and twigs. Kippy could come back for her. She just had to get far enough away from the werewolves to survive a couple more minutes. 

Her feet ached, and her muscles burned as she forced herself to keep running. She just needed to survive a few more minutes. Her foot caught against the root of a tree and sent her spinning into the dirt and rocks. She didn’t even have time to brace herself against the fall.  After several seconds she stopped rolling and shuddered with a broken sob. The werewolves were close. She could hear them speaking clearly now. They’d scent her in a matter of seconds. 

She crawled on her hands and knees while she fought to regain even a modicum of strength. She had to keep going. Keep running. She had to survive. 

She sobbed as she pushed herself to her feet and stumbled against more of the trees. She clung to them desperately, wishing for some way out of this horror. Praying for more strength.

She thought about what would happen when they caught her. Especially since Draco had gotten away. She’d end up like one of the other girls in those stalls. She fought against the mental image and kept going. Bile rose in her throat and her body trembled.

“We smell you, pet,” one of them sang out. 

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth, muffling a sob. She stumbled through more of the woods, knowing it was completely useless. Her scent was everywhere. They weren’t even running after her now. They were leisurely stalking her. The casualness with which they laughed enraged her. She wouldn’t be caught without a fight. 

This would be her last chance. Looking around her for anything, she reached down and found two large rocks she fisted in her hands. She was not defenseless. She would fight just like Draco had. The werewolves began emerging from the thick line of trees. 

“Someone chased away our Auror snack.”

“He’ll be back,” another said. “With fur and fangs.” 

They cackled in unison. Hermione tried to count how many there were. 

“He chased after his pet once,” one said. “He’ll come back for her again.”

Seven.

“If there’s anything left.” 

Her blood nearly froze at the statement. Harsh realization struck her. The likelihood of her getting away was nearly impossible now. 

She prayed her death would be quick. She hoped her parents would never have to see her body. She prayed Draco wouldn’t blame himself. Thoughts of Theo, Ginny, Luna, Harry, and Ron all filled her mind and her heart swelled at the memories. At least she told him she loved him. She should have hung a dozen photos of the two of them. He had become the most important person to her over these last few months. She hoped he knew how much he meant to her. 

Hermione had never been faced with a danger like this before. Contemplating her own death was a strange sensation. She would fight, though. Until the very end. 

Several werewolves moved at once to grab her. And she unleashed holy fury on them with the rocks in her hands. She slammed her fists against any part of them within reach. She cried out as they lifted her. She threw all of her fury, all of her will to live, into fighting them. But the rocks were easily discarded from her hands, and she was hauled over the shoulder of one of them after a brutal strike to the back of her head. Sick with dizziness, they marched her right back to the same barn she’d been in. 

They dropped her in the same spot Draco had been chained earlier. His bright blood still stained the area she was slumped in now. The bright spotlights made it impossible to see anything beyond them. She squinted, but it was too late to react. A fist sent her tumbling to the floor as it connected with her cheekbone. Explosions of light burst forth in her head as she coughed against the pain. She tried to block another hit, but it was as if she were moving in slow motion. A harsh kick connected with her ribs, sending her tumbling in the opposite direction. All around her, cajoling laughs encouraged one another. This was a game to them. 

But this was a better alternative. Let them continue to beat her this way. Because the seconds, their hands turned curious. The moment that their motivations turned to exploration would be the time she’d want to die. Let them kick, punch, and throw her. Those she could handle. Those she could stomach. 

She wasn’t sure how long they continued. She was beaten and broken. Drifting in and out of consciousness, she didn’t even move to defend herself anymore. It wasn’t worth it. Blood poured from so many placed along her body she wasn’t sure what area hurt worse.

Someone gripped a handful of her hair and ripped her upright. Her eyes were swollen, and tears poured freely, making it even harder for her to see. But a green burst of light flashed through the space around them. Then another. One right after another, flashes of bright, sparkling green ruptured the space around them. 

Bright gray eyes blinked above her. They were lovely. So familiar. So comforting. But it wasn’t Draco. She blinked again into the light above her. It was an angel. It must have been. She was too lovely for earth.

“Easy,” the voice said. 

She sounded as lovely as she looked. It must be a Veela, that’s who’d come to rescue her. Hands dipped under her broken body and slowly lifted her closer to the beautiful angel. Perhaps this was death. And she was greeted by the ethereal loveliness of the afterlife. She was glad she didn’t feel the transition. She’d long since become numb to the pain inflicted on her. She felt the small pressure against her mind, and she finally allowed her eyes to close. 

“Hurry,” a masculine voice said. “She’s fading quickly.”

The last image she focused on was the stunningly white hair of the one holding her.

Chapter Text

Theo

Each night had become the same routine for Theo and Luna. They would sleep naked and tangled among one another until exhaustion finally gripped them. He would never tire of her. Never bore of her. She was as different, exciting, and captivating as any magic he’d ever witnessed. And she was his. He pulled her closer to him, relishing the feeling of her soft and warm skin under his hands. His nose buried into her hair, and he took in the sweet scent of lilacs and-

“Bloody hell!”

A thundering pop followed by racking sobs filled his bedroom. He pushed Luna behind him and grabbed his wand.

“Mr. Nott must come quickly,” the voice cried.

Theo blinked against the intruder, attempting to focus his mind on what was happening. A second pop followed.

“Mr. Nott is to be left undisturbed!”

That voice belonged to his house elf, Cart.

“Mr. Nott must come quickly!” the other squeaky voice argued through her tears.

“What in the bloody hell is going on?” Theo bellowed at the two elves.

“Theo,” Luna’s hand gripped his arm. “That’s Draco’s elf.”

“Lumos,” he snapped, and his room was bright with light as he glared down at the two elves. “What is going on?”

Luna magicked on a robe, and he pulled on a pair of sweats next to the bed.

“Master Draco!” Kippy sobbed.

“Where?”

“Downstairs!”

And he was running. This was the second bloody time that elf had crashed into his room late at night, sobbing about her master being half dead. Luna tried speaking to Kippy behind them as they hurried after Theo, but his ears were filled with the rushing of panic.

As Theo rounded the large staircase of Nott Manor, he saw the prone figure of his best friend in the center of his living room. Draco was wearing his boxer briefs, but that was it. As Theo magicked on the lights around them, he began to see the grim sight of a beaten and bloodied Draco Malfoy.

He heard Luna gasp behind him as he jumped over the railing of the last seven or so stairs. He ran toward him, his heart in his throat.

“You better be alive,” he threatened under his breath. “You fucking git. You better be bloody alive, or I’ll murder you myself.”

Kippy was sobbing about something else behind him to Luna. It was hard to decipher her hysterics. He was glad Luna was dealing with that.

Theo whirled his wand and the rug Draco was currently splayed out on became a hospital bed of sorts. Using his magic, he gently turned him over, only for Draco to groan loudly.

He’d been splinched, bitten, and horribly beaten. And his hand was… Theo swallowed. He could barely look at the mangled mass of flesh that had once been his friend’s hand.

“Drake,” he said sternly. “You better be alive.”

“Herm-”

Draco’s eyes fluttered despite being swollen and a sickening color of purple.

“That’s it,” Theo encouraged. “Stay with me. Wake up, mate. We’ve got to save your ass again.”

“Hermione!”

Luna’s voice caused Theo to jump.

“She’s still there,” she panicked. “With the werewolves. She ran so Kippy could get Draco to safety.”

“Fucking hell,” Theo’s face turned as white as a sheet. Both of them?

“Kippy, we need to get-”

A flash and pop sounded from Theo’s living room, and two figures stood before him.

The sharp gasp and intake of breath caused Draco’s eyes to flutter again. Narcissa Malfoy rushed to his side, choking back a sob as she looked over her broken and bloodied son.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lucius roared.

Kippy squeaked at the rage radiating off Lucius Malfoy. Her hiccupping sobs filled the space.

“Werewolves,” Theo said. “Kippy brought him here.”

“We need to get him to St. Mungo’s!” Narcissa cried. “He’s barely breathing!”

Theo couldn’t risk anyone there seeing him use the vaccination, though.

“I have everything I need to save his life here,” Theo said.

“He needs a bloody healer,” Lucius snapped. “Not a potions master.”

“I can fix this,” he argued. “It’s not safe for him there.”

“Hermio,” Draco gasped.

Narcissa’s eyes flashed to her son.

“What is he saying?” she asked.

“Hermione’s still trapped with the werewolves,” Theo said.

“Please,” Draco begged.

“Miss Hermione saved Master Draco,” Kippy wept. “Miss Hermione led the wolves away to save Master Draco.”

The Malfoys exchanged a serious look as Luna got to work setting up a healing station next to Draco.

“I’ll go if you’ll-” Theo started to say, but Narcissa cut him off.

“We’ll go. You know far more about your healing potions than us. Come, Lucius. We owe the girl a life.”

Lucius’ eyes had been on the several dozen bite marks marring Draco’s skin. His own pale skin looked even paler.

“You will keep my son alive, Theodore Nott,” he said sharply. “Do you understand me?”

A sharp nod from Theo was all they needed before they flashed out of the living room with Kippy.

“Cart, head to my office in the ministry,” Theo said. “I need the vials out of the safe. Your blood will open it. And when Sirius Black tries to stop you, bring him to me.”

Another pop and his elf vanished as well.

“I have skelegrow at my house,” Luna said, eyeing Draco’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”

She kissed his cheek and stepped into the Floo, leaving Theo alone with Draco.

“If you ever go near another bloody werewolf again,” he muttered as he poured a healing draft down Draco’s throat.

He got to work on the large tear along his back and side where he’d been splinched by the apparating. Draco’s barely conscious form hissed and trembled from the pain.

Luna appeared moments later, a bag of vials and jars in her hands.

“I brought more dittany as well,” she said, which was good because Theo’d used almost this entire vial on this one spot.

The two of them worked in silent companionship. Theo healed and mended the broken parts of his skin with spells, dittany, and drafts of healing potions he’d made. Luna followed beside him, cleaning his wounds from the dirt, straw, and blood that was caked over his skin.

A pop brought their attention to Cart. He had one arm cradling several vials and syringes, and the other arm was gripping Sirius Black’s trouser leg.

Sirius’ eyes flashed to Draco, and his reaction mirrored all of the others. Sickening dread clouded his features as he looked over his best Auror.

“What happened?”

“We’re not sure,” Theo said. “Kippy showed up about twenty minutes ago with him in my living room. The wolves still have Hermione. The Malfoys went after her.”

“Will it work?” Sirius’ eyes flashed to the vaccination in Cart’s hands.

“I trust Hermione’s work,” Theo nodded.

“Do it,” he said. “I’ll get the other Aurors over here so we can stop Lucius before he kills all our witnesses.”

“Cart, help Head Auror Black get the others to Kippy.”

The living room was quiet again as Luna and Theo stared at one another over Draco’s barely conscious form. Luna’s bright eyes blinked three times, and she offered him one of her lovely smiles.

“You can save him,” she nodded. “It will work. You’re brilliant, dear.”

His hands shook as he held the syringe in his hand. He’d watched Hermione demonstrate it back in the office, but he’d never actually injected anyone with anything.

“Go on,” Luna encouraged.

Theo measured out the precious liquid and depressed the air out of it. With a slow exhale, he pushed the point into Draco’s skin and pressed the liquid through the hollow needle. Draco groaned a bit and pinched his eyes shut even tighter.

They both watched Draco’s body, half-expecting the bite marks to vanish. They knew that wasn’t how it worked, but it would be bloody convenient if it did.

“We won’t know if it worked for another twenty-four hours,” Theo said. “We can test his blood then.”

“Should we give him a bit extra? For good measure?”

“Hermione said it will work,” Theo said, shaking his head. “We have to trust her.”

“I trust her. And you.”

Luna’s hand clasped his as she leaned against him. Theo blinked away the emotion he felt. He’d never come this close to the finality of life. He was never close to his own parents, so their deaths weren’t something that impacted him to any degree. But Draco? Theo blinked away more emotion. Draco was the closest family he’d ever had.

Draco rocketed forward with a heaving gasp, startling both Theo and Luna.

“Hermione,” he croaked.

His throat sounded as though he’d been screaming for hours.  

“Easy, mate,” Theo said. “We’ve got that under control.”

“I have to-”

Draco swung his legs off the bed.

Several pops filled the living room next. But all their eyes went straight to Lucius as he held Hermione’s limp figure.

The anguished cry that escaped Draco would haunt Theo for the rest of his life. He’d never heard anything so broken, so feral, so completely hopeless in his life.

Narcissa intercepted her son before he could topple over.

“She’s alive,” she said.

Theo launched into action. She was alive. Hermione was alive. He magicked another hospital bed in the center of the living room. Lucius walked forward and gingerly set her on top of it. If Theo thought Draco’s hand was gruesome, it was nothing compared to Hermione’s body. She was barely recognizable.

Another strangled cry poured from Draco as he saw her.

“Draco, please,” Narcissa and Lucius fought against him as he reached for her.

“Luna,” Theo called Luna out of her own dazed horrification as she looked over Hermione.

She blinked up at him, tears filling her eyes.

“Come on, love,” he urged Luna. “Help me clean her up so we can look for bite marks.”

That seemed to spur Luna to action. And they began cleaning and tending to Hermione as they had Draco just moments earlier.

After the fourth grunt of a struggle from Draco and his parents, Theo rounded on his best friend. His wand pointed directly at Draco’s head.

“You can keep it together,” he said. “Or I’ll give you a sleeping drought large enough for an entire herd of hippogriffs. The choice is yours.”

He didn’t wait for an answer as he turned back to Hermione. Her injuries were different than Draco’s. So far, he hadn’t seen any bites or claws. It looks like they just beat her. The dark bruising and broken bones covered nearly every inch of her small body.

Two more pops sounded from the left of them. Theo looked up to see Dean Thomas and Sirius Black.

“The surviving werewolves have been contained and will be brought in for questioning,” Sirius said. “How is she?”

“No bites so far,” Theo said.

“Let me,” Draco struggled against his father’s grip now.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Sirius said pointedly.

“You can’t keep me out of this,” Draco roared. “Not after this!”

“That’s quite enough out of you,” Theo said, turning back to Draco.

“Nott, don’t you bloody touch me,” he spat.

But Lucius and Narcissa held their son in place as Theo grabbed two vials off the table.

“Draco has a long road of healing ahead of him, and so does Hermione,” Theo said to the group. “Everyone say, ‘nighty-night’ to Draco.”

Theo reached forward, pinching the sides of Draco’s mouth to open it and pour the liquid down. He held his hand over his mouth to prevent a childish act like spitting it out. And Draco had no choice but to swallow the liquid. His eyes burning with rage the entire time he fought against the hold on him.

“You’re welcome to come back once you’ve cooled off and regrown some hand bones,” Theo said. “You’ll thank me later that you were unconscious for that bit.”

He watched as the effects took place almost immediately. Draco’s eyelids and limbs became heavy and limp. Theo took advantage of his semi-conscious state and poured the skelegrow down his throat next.

Theo helped Lucius put Draco back in his own bed. Draco blinked a few slow times at him.

“Stubborn git,” Theo said.

“I have to say,” Sirius said to Lucius. “I was impressed to only find two werewolves beheaded when I arrived.”

Lucius had a way of looking down his nose that made you feel instantly smaller and lesser. A condescending look that would shake even the most powerful wizards.

“You have Narcissa to thank for that mercy,” he sneered. “But I promise you, Black, that if every last one of them does not get a kiss of death from a dementor, I will hunt them myself.”

“You have my word.”

Chapter Text

Draco woke up completely disoriented. His entire body pulsed with excruciating pain. Especially his hand. He glanced down and saw it was almost completely blue with bruising and cuts from where the bones had protruded from the skin. He sat up, blinking against the harsh light of the windows. His head pounded, too.

Hermione.

He looked around the room and saw a second bed beside his. Hermione. A strangled gasp escaped his lips as he swung off the bed. He was so weak as he stumbled forward, bracing himself on the edge of her bed. He looked down at her sleeping form. She was wearing a tank and some sleeping shorts beneath the thin blankets. Her hair had been piled up on her head in a messy bun, though it did look clean. Not at all filled with debris, blood, and dirt like it had been when his father carried her in.

Her face and exposed skin were still dusted with scrapes, cuts, and bruises, though. He took his time, inspecting every last inch of her skin for any trace of bite marks. But he found none. A sob of relief and horror threatened to break forward. He’d failed to protect her. He’d led her right to them.

He blinked away his tears. She looked so small. So helpless.

He made his way to the other side of her bed and climbed beneath the covers with her. His own body was covered in bruises, bites, and cuts. But he ignored all of it. He needed her. Needed to be close to her.

“I was never pretending,” she had told him. “I was just lying to myself. I love you.”

He pinched his eyes closed as he pressed himself as near to her as he could without disrupting her. She loved him. And she hadn’t heard him say it back. He was so stunned by her confession that he couldn’t even speak.

“Wake up, Hermione,” he whispered against her ear. “Wake up so I can tell you how much I love you. How much I need you. Come back to me. Let me love you, darling.”

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that on the bed. The soft and even breathing Hermione’s unconscious figure and the desperate whispers Draco poured into her.

“I love you,” he said over and over. “I love the way you stir your tea an absurd amount of times. I love to count the freckles on your nose. I love to watch you run with me. I love that you love Muggle takeout food as much as me. I love everything about you, Hermione Jean.”

            And he drifted to sleep, losing track of how many ways he could tell Hermione just how much he loved her.

Draco’s eyes drifted open to see Nott over him, taking vials of blood from his arm.

“I run a very tight hospital,” Nott whispered at him. “And bed swapping is against our code of conduct.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Draco’s mouth. Hermione was still sleeping beside him, but it was much darker outside now.

“I also feel the urge to tell you,” Nott continued whispering. “That if your ruddy house-elf ever pops into my bedroom again because you’ve come home bloodied and dismembered, I’ll be calling off our friendship indefinitely.”

“That serious, huh?”

“Very.”

“But you do so well at stitching me back together.”

Nott glared at him with an arched brow and finished sealing up the last of his blood vials.

“What is that for?”

Nott held the vials of blood up.

“This is to make sure that the witch beside you and I really are the two most clever beings on the planet,” he said. “Someone has to prevent you from growing body hair and howling at the moon.”

Draco tensed.

If it didn’t work…if he were to turn into one of them…

Bile rose.

“You’ve been out for three days,” Nott said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “I test your blood every day. And so far, so good. No detection of the werewolf mutation. I think it bloody worked.”

Draco choked out a laugh of relief.

“Thank you,” he breathed, closing his eyes and forcing his rising emotions back down. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well,” Nott shrugged. “Thank the crazed witch next to you. It was her bloody idea.”

“I was wrong,” Draco admitted. “Wrong to react the way I did. Wrong to push her away. To push both of you away.”

Nott clasped his shoulder.

“You’ll have plenty of time to make it up to us,” he grinned. “My love, fortunately for you, can be bought.”

Draco smiled. But it faltered when he looked back down at Hermione.

“Will she be okay?” he asked Nott. “Will she wake up soon?”

“Maybe another day or so,” Nott said. “I’ve got her heavily sedated because of the healing she had to undergo.”

“When can I take her home?”

Nott snorted and motioned around him. That’s when Draco took in the surroundings of the room. This was his bedroom, and they were in his giant bed. The hospital beds had been magicked away. He didn’t notice yesterday where they were.

“I couldn’t very well have you camped out, bleeding into my living room,” he said lightly. “The portraits were starting to talk. It was all very improper.”

The two of them exchanged sly smiles and then laughed. Draco knew that it was far from the most salacious thing the portraits had witnessed over the years. Especially when Nott inherited the manor at the ripe young age of nineteen. It had become their party house for several years.

“There are people out in your living room when you’re ready to face them,” he said to Draco. “But only when you’re ready.”

Nott flipped Draco something silver, and he caught it. The Malfoy crest glinted up at him from the silver ring.

“Found this on her desk,” he said. “Might want to perma-stick that to her bloody knuckle after this.”

Draco smiled and slipped the ring back over Hermione’s finger. He’d never let her take it off again. Never give her a reason to want to.

The bedroom door loudly thudded open as Hermione’s cat slinked in. His loud mewing brought a smirk to Draco’s lips.

“Hello, beast,” he said as the cat leaped toward his lap.

He gave him a few scratches behind his ears before he settled between Hermione’s legs.

Draco untangled himself from the bed and Hermione’s warmth and left the two of them curled together. He needed to face his parents. He needed to explain things.

“Draco,” his mother’s grateful gasp filled the space as she stood and rushed toward him.

It was uncharacteristic of anyone in his family to show this much affection, so it caught him off-guard. He wrapped his arms around his mother’s slender shoulders and hugged her against him. He looked over her head and saw his father standing in front of the chair he was just sitting at. His eyes turned and saw Hermione’s parents seated on the loveseat next to the chair.

Draco’s father surprised him next, wrapping him in a quick, tight embrace.

“All right, then?” he asked tightly.

Draco nodded.

He didn’t realize the Grangers would be here, though he was glad they were. They stood next, and Hermione’s mother wrapped Draco in a tight hug while she worked down a quiet sob. Even Hermione’s father gave him a sturdy embrace, clapping him on the shoulder several times while he worked down his own emotions.

“Black’s waiting for me at the lab with these results,” Theo said. “I’ll check back in later. Send me a note if Granger pops up.”

“Thank you, Theo,” Hermione’s mother wrapped Theo in an equally tight embrace next.

“Thank you, Theodore,” Narcissa echoed.

“Sit, son,” Lucius said, motioning to the chair he’d gotten up from. “Do you need anything?”

“We’ve just had some tea and lovely treats from that darling Kippy,” Jean smiled.

At the mention of her name, she popped into view with a great gasping squeal.

“Master Draco,” she fawned.

She had stacked at least twenty skirts over her small torso, starting right under her armpits, so it fanned out like a colorful strapless dress.

“Kippy is just so happy to have you up and awake,” she said. “Kippy will make him a great feast of his favorites right away.”

“Just some water, Kippy,” he said. “Please. And Kippy?”

Her wide eyes looked up at him expectantly.

“Thank you for saving my life.”

In another shocking display of affection, the small creature launched herself at his leg and clung to it with a shuddering sob.

“Go on, Kippy,” he said, gently patting her head. “It’s all well now.”

She popped out of sight after wiping her tears on Draco’s pajama pant leg. He sat in the chair and tried not to wince at his aching body.

“I’m so grateful-”

Draco started, but he had to stop himself. The images of Hermione’s body filled his mind, and he closed his eyes. The image would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Kippy appeared with water a second later. He used it as a moment to get himself back in check.

“Thank you for saving her,” Draco turned to his parents. “Thank you for protecting her when I couldn’t.”

Narcissa’s eyes were wide and filled with tears. A first for him to witness. His father’s eyes were narrowed and serious.

“Draco,” his mother whispered, but he held up his hand to stop her.

“I have to be honest with all of you,” he said. “Because things are going to be very different moving forward.”

His parents exchanged a look. But he continued.

“Months ago, I used Hermione to pose as a fake love interest for me. I was attempting to break a marriage contract between my family and the Greengrass family that neither of us wanted. The only way out was if I was in love with someone else. Hermione needed help with a work project, so I told her I would agree if she would help me with this.”

Narcissa’s wide eyes and his father’s set jaw told him that they had no idea this was going on. Apparently, he and Hermione had played the part well enough. He was too cowardly to look at Hermione’s parents.

“But the more time I spent with her, the more real it became for me,” he laughed, running his hands over his face. “I’m in love with her. I’m so bloody in love with her. She’s completely ruined me.”

He stole a look up at Jean and Greg to find them both smiling.

“I will spend every day for the rest of my life caring for and loving that witch with every part of my soul. No more werewolves. I’ll take a bloody desk job pushing paper if it means that she’s safe. I’ll never endanger her like that again. Ever.”

“We don’t blame you, dear,” Jean said. “Not at all.”

“I’m sorry for deceiving you,” Draco continued. “All of you. I’m not marrying Astoria or Daphne. I’m marrying Hermione if she’ll have me. And I’ll wonder every day how I became so lucky. She saved my life. And I’m bloody desperate to keep her.”

“You’re already family to us, son,” Greg said, hugging Jean to his chest as she nodded animatedly. “Hermione loves you.”

“The gardens would be lovely for a summer wedding,” Narcissa said.

Draco’s head snapped toward his parents. Lucius stood behind Narcissa, his hand gently on her shoulder, while she clasped his fingers.

“She saved the life of my only son,” Lucius said. “I can’t think of anyone more worthy of the Malfoy name than her.”

Draco’s heart was hammering loudly in his ears. Were his parents…agreeing? Were they accepting her? Even though she was…

“She’s perfect,” Narcissa said. “Brilliant, brave, and beautiful. I’ll have some of the family rings brought up from the vaults. See if you like any of them.”

“Hermione was given her grandmother’s ring,” Draco said, remembering her mentioning it once before. “I was hoping maybe I could use that. Especially since I’ve already given her a Malfoy signet. I thought both families could be represented.”

“Of course, dear,” Jean beamed, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Both sets of parents returned home the next day. He’d tasked both mothers with preparing Narcissa’s garden for a summer wedding. He’d give Hermione a few weeks to fully heal, but he wasn’t wasting any more time with miscommunication. They would be married by the end of the month, and that was that.

Draco wasted no time. He had Kippy and her new beau, Cart, work on moving all of Hermione’s things into Draco’s home. They were under strict instruction to be very gentle with the photograph wall. Each frame had to arrive perfectly intact.

He filled his entire living room wall with her photographs, and then he had all of his printed and framed as well. The wall was now completely filled. He kept every mismatched and crooked frame, relishing the fact that his home was now their home. He had a place in her life, and now she would remain a permanent fixture in his as well.

He sat in the plush armchair from Hermione’s home and admired the photographs. He had Kippy and Cart swap out some of his less comfortable furniture for some of hers. The hideous orange tweed chair was a monstrosity. But it was bloody relaxing. He grinned at the photographs before him. Admiring Hermione’s smiling face, he vowed that he’d do everything in his power to ensure she smiled like that every day for the rest of her existence.

“Draco?”

He spun to find her walking wide-eyed into the living room. She was awake. And he was stunned with gratitude and relief.

“What is all this?”

“I love you,” he blurted. “I love you. So much.”

He walked toward her and swept her into his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered against her hair. “Forever. I’ll love you forever if you’ll let me.”

She pulled back and cupped his cheeks with her hands.

“Do you mean it?”

“With my life.”

She smiled as tears rolled down her cheeks. She pressed her lips against his, and he wanted to explode with happiness.

“Then love me well.”

“Oh, I’ll do far better than that, Granger.”

***

Draco swore that this would be the last time he’d ever lie to Hermione. It’d taken an enormous amount of power from his new position as Head Auror to keep everyone at the Ministry quiet about the upcoming ceremony. And to his relief, no one had spoiled the surprise for Hermione yet. He thought about going the traditional route and proposing to her and then allowing her to spend months planning a perfect wedding. But that didn’t feel right. They’d been unconventional from the start. So, he would follow through with that same theme.

Today was his wedding day. And Hermione would be finding out any second now. He smiled to himself at her surprise. Ginny, Luna, and both of their mothers would be showing her the dress options they’d found now. Narcissa would tailor them to fit Hermione perfectly, and in less than an hour, she’d walk down the aisle to meet him at the end.

“You sure you’re not worried she’ll say no?” Nott asked as he tipped a flask up.

“She’ll show,” Draco nodded confidently. “You have the rings?”

Nott dramatically searched his pockets. He tipped his head back and howled with laughter.

“How does it feel to be bedding the next Minister of Magic?” Nott asked. “She’ll definitely get it after Black retires.”

Draco knew he was right. The Ministry may not know that Hermione found the cure for Lycanthropy, but Sirius Black has made several statements that his work in the Ministry is what is keeping the entire thing afloat. And everyone is taking his words to heart.

Draco’s father has been busy championing Hermione’s causes in another way. He just returned from several libraries around Europe. The blood lock is now antiquated and abolished thanks to the Malfoy vaults and influence. His parents told Hermione the news last weekend at Sunday supper. The Malfoys now attended every other week with Draco and Hermione. Both families, in a Muggle home, enjoying Sunday roast.

It was like some parallel universe that Draco emerged from.

Hermione wept at the news, throwing her arms around Lucius and thanking him profusely. Lucius looked so caught off-guard by the tenderness and emotion that it almost made Draco laugh. These Muggles were softening his parents up. He’d taken note, and he was grateful for it.

Hermione’s research could continue now. She didn’t need to hide behind anonymity for these projects. And her life wouldn’t be endangered. And Draco had gratefully taken Black’s position, trading in dueling for paperwork and meetings. It was safer. For both of them. And their future family as well. And Draco had every intention of creating an abundance of Malfoy heirs with his new wife.

“Shall we get you to the alter, mate?”

Draco turned back to Theo and clapped him on the back.

“There’s no place I’d rather be.”

Chapter Text

Epilogue

Hermione looked around at the billowing arches of flowers and greenery. Chairs lined the aisle as her friends and loved ones looked on with shimmering smiles of happiness. She looked at her father one last time before she took a step toward the aisle. He gripped her arm with a gentle squeeze.

Hermione let her eyes drift to the front of the altar. Draco’s tall and lean form stood there, with his back to her, as she took a shaky inhale. She nearly laughed at the absurdity of today. She thought she was having tea at the Manor. Not getting married.

Nott elbowed Draco, and he slowly began to spin. She bit back a smile and waited for his reaction. Beaming light seemed to burst forth from him as his face broke into the most genuine and happy smile she’d ever seen. This was right. He was right. The flowers, the dress, the people, it was all perfect. He’d done all this for her. For them.

I love you, he mouthed at her.

Happy tears pricked her eyes as she got closer. It was a dream. A fairy tale. There’s no way that any of this could actually be for her.

“Forever,” Draco promised as he slipped her grandmother’s ring on her finger.

“Forever,” she agreed.

***

“That’s it, Hermione,” Draco’s head fell back, and his fingers dug into her hips.  

Her dress was discarded in the chair, and all she wore were the lace stockings and garter. She relished the feeling of him inside of her while she rocked against him.

His eyes were closed as he cursed beneath her. She was close. The feeling of him stretching her was too much. The pressure was building, and she was aching for relief.

“Draco,” she panted.

“That’s it, darling,” he urged, shifting his hips up in a strong thrust. “Come for me, Hermione.”

“Fucking hell,” she cried as he thrust again.

His hands trailed from her waist to her nipples. He teased and tugged at each one, drawing out all of her pleasure.

“Such a pretty wife,” he growled as he sat up and tugged her nipple between his teeth.

“Husband,” she cried, fisting her hands through his hair and tugging him closer.

“Come, wife,” he commanded.

And she shattered over him. Her legs convulsing and twitching as her orgasm took the breath from her lungs.

His lips crashed against hers. His tongue wildly explored her mouth as he came with her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, relishing the feeling of his mouth on hers and his cock in her.

“I love you,” she whispered against him as he peppered her with kisses.

“I love you,” he said.

***

“And for her groundbreaking research on the medicinal effects of agapanthus, we at St. Mungo’s would like to thank Hermione Malfoy by dedicating our new greenhouse to her and her family.”

Hermione balanced her blonde-haired toddler on her hip as she accepted the plaque that would match the one on the new greenhouse.

“Thank you so much,” she beamed.

She felt Draco’s hand on her other hip while he balanced their sleeping one-year-old against his chest.

The room of on-lookers clapped and cheered, and she reddened under their attention.

“My husband and I are so grateful that the hospital is willing to create their own medicinal creation unit,” Hermione said. “There are so many discoveries still to be made, and we’re honored to play a part in that.”

“We can only hope your next bout of research will be as useful as the last two,” one of the nurses said with a smile.

Hermione choked back a smile as Draco gripped her hip with a flirtatious pulse. Draco was convinced that the same was in store this time after their first two children were conceived at the end of her research. Hermione attempted to convince him that two children were plenty. But Draco had other ideas.

“Perhaps a dozen or so?” Draco asked after they tucked the boys in that night.

Hermione balked at his answer. She was not having a dozen children.

“The Weasleys had something right, didn’t they?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“Besides,” he said. “Nott and Luna are gaining on us.”

Hermione laughed at this. Luna had just found out she was expecting twins.

“Maybe you’ll have twins next, and we’ll be up four to three.”

She kissed him to shut him up. But the truth was, she’d likely agree to two dozen children with him. The way he looked, their sons cradled in his arms, made her heart want to burst.

“I’ve always wanted a daughter,” she mused.

He laughed and swept her into his arms.

“I’m happy to oblige, Mrs. Malfoy,” he said, kissing her deeply.

“Draco, we both work. Can we really have more children?”

“They have four needy grandparents to are desperate for time with them,” he said. “Give the people what they want, Hermione. They want more Malfoy babies.”

He buried his mouth against her neck and bit. She laughed against him. Their lives had transformed so much after the last three years. She had moved almost entirely into research with Theo at work. And Draco had become the new Head Auror. They had a far more flexible schedule now than they did years ago. And they were both happy. Incandescently happy.

“I want daughters, husband,” Hermione whispered in his ear.

And Draco met her request with a passionate kiss.

***

“Granny!” Leo launched himself at Narcissa with startling force.

Hermione panicked, knowing the five-year-old was going to topple her over completely from her spot kneeling in the garden. But Lucius swept in, intercepted the small boy with a triumphant laugh, and hugged him against him.

“Poppy!”

Leo’s stark blonde hair nuzzled against his grandfather. Hermione set down a squirming Orion and let him waddle toward Narcissa next.

“Hello, love,” she cooed. “Come to Granny.”

“Where’s-”

The sound of crying burst in behind Hermione as she turned to see Draco juggling their two daughters in his arms.

“Lyra woke Aries again,” he huffed.

Before Hermione could step in, her own parents were walking into the gardens behind them.

“Oh, my poor dears,” her mother fretted and took one of the twins. “Come to Nana.”

“Papa will help,” her father said, taking the other.

Instantly, their cries were soothed as their attention was diverted. Hermione grinned and let her hand absently sink to her belly. The twins were barely a year old, and she’d been beguiled by her husband once again.

Draco came up behind her and placed a hand over hers.

“Just a few dozen more,” he whispered and kissed her neck.

“The roast is just finished,” Narcissa said, taking Orion’s hand.

She walked toward Jean and wrapped her in a hug before kissing Lyra on the head.

Lucius and Greg exchanged handshakes as they walked toward the table. Hermione grinned at Lucius’ higher-pitched baby talk for Aries.

Another shout of glee rang forward from the garden.

“I’ve invited the Notts as well,” Narcissa called.

“Incoming, tiny toddlers of fury!” Theo’s shout rang through the garden.

Two raven-haired boys sprinted into the space, and Draco ran after them, drawing out more terrorized laughs. They were Theo in looks and spirit.

“Auntie Hermione,” Celina said as she wrapped her arms around her.

Their oldest had embodied Luna’s ethereal, calm nature.

“Hello, darling,” Hermione smiled and kissed her head.

Luna and Theo entered the clearing next. After Luna’s father passed away, Hermione and Draco’s parents both took in Theo and Luna as their own, too. When all the grandchildren were around, it was a chaotic cacophony of madness. And Hermione loved it.

“Hermione, I’ve been thinking about the latest testing on that odd fungus from Brunei all day,” Theo said, handing off his youngest to Narcissa’s eager arms.

***

“But what if I’m not placed in Slytherin?” Leo asked, nervously looking around the train station.

Hermione swept his blonde curls out of his eyes.

“Then you’ll be in another house,” she said. “Like me or Auntie Luna.”

“But all the Malfoys…”

“There has never once been a Leo Malfoy,” Hermione said to him. “So, Leo Malfoy gets to make his own mark on the world. Doing, achieving, and becoming anything he wants. And we’ll be so proud of you. No matter where you are sorted.”

“But I want to go,” Orion cried. “He’ll be lonely without me.”

Draco handled Orion’s meltdown behind her while the twins talked with Luna and Theo. Draco balanced young Scorpius on his hip while he crouched down, speaking to Orion in a gentle voice.

“Please send your brother letters from time to time,” Hermione asked Leo. “He’ll be nearly unbearable this year without you.”

“I will,” Leo said, and she knew he would. He was the model older brother. So protective, so nurturing. Just like Draco.

Hermione wrapped him in a tight hug despite her growing stomach. She made Draco promise that this was the last one.

“I love you,” Hermione said.

Hermione turned and reached for Orion’s hand.

“O, help mummy round up the girls, please,” she said. “We’ve got to get back to Nana’s for supper.”

Hermione watched as Draco stood and wrapped Leo in a fierce hug.

“I am so proud of you,” he whispered to him.

“I haven’t done anything,” Leo muttered.

Scorpius tugged at his older brother’s curls, and Draco unthreaded Leo’s hair from his fist.

“Watch after Celina,” Draco said. “Keep her away from bloody McLagan’s boy. And Weasley’s.”

“Draco,” Hermione warned.

Though her smile broke through. Celina and Leo would be starting as first years together. And the two of them had been close since they were babies.

“I’ll protect her,” he promised his father.

Draco leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Dad,” he muttered and looked around, feeling embarrassed by such a public display of affection.

“Son,” he said, patting his shoulder. “You’d better get used to it. Because I will kiss your damn head every day I can until I’m dead.”

“Mum,” Leo groaned.

Hermione tugged at Draco’s arm, and Scorpius squirmed toward her.

“We love you. Take Celina and go find a seat.”

Celina walked forward, giving her parents a final hug and her siblings one as well. Her dark black hair fell in a perfect sheen down her back. Her father’s coloring mimicked everywhere but her beautiful blue eyes. Luna’s eyes.

Hermione tugged Celina in for a hug as well, and Draco followed.

They waved as their two eldest boarded the train for Hogwarts.

“Think it’ll get easier?” Draco asked as the four of them stood there waving.

“Not a fucking chance,” Theo sighed, shifting his youngest onto his other shoulder. “Though I might be glad when the twins head out. I might actually get some sleep.”

The four of them laughed as they looked down at Theo and Luna’s naughtier set of male twins, Nyx and Aydan. They were only six, but they were trouble.

“Until they get kicked out of Hogwarts,” Draco laughed.

“Nyx, drop the frog, please,” Luna’s light voice filtered over the crowd.

Hermione watched as the two children took their spot on the train. Tears filled her eyes as she watched Leo speak reassuringly to Celina, who looked worried about leaving home.

“Remember our first train ride?” Draco asked in her ear.

“I was terrified,” Hermione smiled.

“So was I.”

“We figured it out, though.”

“We did, darling. We did.”

The train sounded as it pulled away from the station. The four of them were waving, blurry-eyed, at the first children off to school. And Hermione was overcome by the exhausted gratitude she felt for being so wholly and passionately loved and so completely and exceedingly happy.