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Chapter Text

Harry POV

Harry watched Ginny as she laughed, resting a pale hand on Blaise Zabini’s arm. She leaned in to whisper in his ear, the side of her breast pressed against his flexed muscle.

He looked away bitterly. Although it was true their breakup was mutual, he couldn’t help but wonder if they had made a mistake. Just days after the final battle, they finally came together in his old bed in Gryffindor Tower for the first time since their breakup the year before.

He took his time re-memorizing the subtle dips and curves of her body, the strength in her Quidditch-toned thighs wrapped tightly around his head. Yet, when they both finished, he felt an emptiness inside as they panted and stared at the ceiling.

They had both cried. He wasn’t sure why; he only knew the war had broken something inside him, and everything felt wrong.

Ginny cried because of her brother's death and the feeling that she had left Harry behind during their nine months apart, even though he was the one who left her while hunting Horcruxes. Apparently, Blaise had really been there for her at Hogwarts.

He sensed the resentment she had been trying not to show with those words. 

He reluctantly spent the summer going back and forth between the Burrow and Grimmauld’s. Although it took time, they could now sit and talk without the horrible awkwardness that immediately followed the breakup. For the first few weeks, they avoided each other. Then, they acted as if nothing was wrong while sitting across from each other at the table during meals. It wasn’t until Hermione came back from Australia that she pushed him to talk to her. 

He thought that as summer progressed and they re-bonded over Quidditch and had some time to heal, they might be able to make it work. She was one of the main reasons he came back to Hogwarts for his eighth year, after all. But based on what he saw in front of him, it was clear that she had moved on. His eyes met Hermione’s, who was sitting on Ginny’s other side, and he wanted to groan at the pity he saw in them.

He gave her a reassuring smile, and she returned it, her eyes searching his face for signs that he was truly okay.  

Ron, who was sitting beside him, put an arm around his shoulders. “So, who do you think you’re gonna get, mate?”

Harry looked around the circle of eighth-year students. Hermione, Dean, Ginny, and Blaise sat across from him. Next to Blaise, on his other side, was Malfoy with a disgusted expression as he watched Ginny’s hand rub Blaise’s arm. 

On one side of him sat Luna, then Theo Nott, and finally Neville, who looked a bit nervous. On Harry’s other side were Ron, Seamus, Pansy Parkinson, and Lavender, completing the circle.

After the war, those who had not finished their 7th year or who were forced to attend during the Carrows were allowed to return and complete their schooling if they chose to, except for Malfoy, who was court-ordered to be there. 

He internally rolled his eyes. If sending Malfoy back to Hogwarts was intended as punishment, then Harry was the one truly being penalized. 

Regardless, an unlikely group of people was gathered in a circle on the rug-covered stone of the eighth-year common room, playing a magical version of Seven Minutes in Heaven as if they were thirteen instead of eighteen.

It was Seamus and Dean who came up with it, which should have been evidence enough that it was a bad idea. Even so, they all signed the waiver that said they would follow the rules of the game or “suffer the consequences.”

Harry took another shot of Firewhisky and grimaced. “Not sure. I didn’t really think this through.”

Ron downed a shot. “What do you mean?”

“Well, there are more boys than girls. What if we get a bloke?”

It took a second for what he was saying to sink in. But when it did, Ron’s face went pale. “Shit.”

Harry nodded grimly. “Shit is right.” He lowered his voice and leaned in closer. “What did Hermione say about you two doing this?”

They officially became a couple after the final battle and have been together ever since. He couldn’t believe Hermione was okay with this.

Ron shrugged. “She said it was up to me. That if I wanted to, then we could.”

Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that Ron was making a mistake. But when Harry glanced at Hermione, she was sipping her drink and twirling a lock of her hair around her finger as she listened to Ginny excitedly gesturing about something. 

Seamus, who was already tipsy, stood up and clapped loudly. “Alright, you lot. Listen up for the rules.”

He pointed at the three bowls, ominously overflowing with smoke, sitting in a row in the middle of the circle. “All three bowls hold slips of paper. The first bowl contains a description of what you’re required to do once you get in the room. The second bowl has everyone’s names listed twice for…reasons, and the third bowl has the duration of time you have to complete your task. The door to the room,” he waved his hand toward a small room off to the side that was actually a study room, “will not open until the allotted time is up or until you complete your dare. And if you’re not ready to be done after you’ve completed the dare, too bad. Finish up, or everyone will see you in whatever state you’re in.”

Neville’s shaky voice spoke in the silence. “So, if I draw a slip of paper that says one hour, I have to stay in there for a full hour unless I complete the dare in, say, thirty minutes?”

Dean nodded his head. “If you complete your dare before the allotted time is up, the door will open regardless of how long you’ve been in there. However, the timer won’t start counting down until the magic senses that the parameters of the dare are being met. And yes, the parameters are particular to keep you from getting out of completing whatever is on that slip of paper. But if you want to use the full time,” and at this, his eyebrows went up and down, “then you just have to get a little creative.”

Hermione raised her hand as if she were in class, and he couldn’t help but smile a little.

Seamus snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Yes, Hermione.”

She lowered her hand and neatly folded it in her lap.

“What are the consequences if we don’t complete the dare?”

Dean groaned, and Seamus laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s not that bad. You’ll just be bald for a month.” Seamus looked proud of himself. “And before you say anything, hair growth potion won’t work.”

Suddenly, the room erupted with protests.

“Fucking what?” he heard Malfoy shout.

Harry rolled his eyes. Of course, Malfoy would freak out over his precious hair.

He overheard him mutter to Blaise. “This is what we get for hanging out with the Gryffindorks.”

Blaise snickered, and Ginny slapped his arm playfully.

Harry averted his gaze.

Ron was sweating and looked paler than usual, his skin stark white against his freckles. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Harry smacked him on the back good-naturedly. “Well, just think of it like this. Would you rather fuck Malfoy or be bald for a month?”

“Fuck.”

Harry nodded grimly. “At least that’s the worst that can happen.”

Ron shakily spoke up. “What if I get a bloke? I’m not gay.”

Seamus and Dean laughed. “Just call it an experiment.”

Seamus tried to yell above the noise of everyone speaking at once again. “Alright, alright, settle down. The consequences had to be a bad enough incentive to complete the task because some of them are…what do the muggles call it? Oh yeah, rated X.”

“Seamus!” Hermione yelled and began crawling across the floor to hit him in the head.

“Ouch, Hermione!”

“You idiot,” she yelled again, raising her hand to smack him again.

 He grabbed her hand and raised it above her head. “And we have a volunteer to go first!”

She snatched her hand away from him and growled, and with her sentient hair rising, she looked like a hissing kitten.

Harry and Malfoy laughed, then looked at each other with disgust. Why was Malfoy laughing at Hermione anyway? Was he teasing her? Harry laughed too, but that was because he thought Hermione was hilariously cute and a little awkward, and he was allowed because she was his best friend. 

Out of a desire to help his girlfriend feel better or because he just wanted to get it over with, Ron raised his hand. “I’ll go first.”

Everyone cheered, and suddenly, Hermione looked at Ron very seriously.

He gulped and reached into the first bowl. He pulled out the strip of paper and unfolded it, reading silently to himself.

“Out loud!” Seamus yelled.

Ron cleared his throat and began to read. “Cunnilingus. Better yet, let’s make it dinner for two, otherwise known as 69.”

There were looks of confusion all around the circle. Even Ron looked confused, which he thought was strange. Was it only a Muggle thing? 

Very quietly, Hermione explained. “It’s cunnilingus except in the case of 69, a male or female would lie on their back or side, and their partner would lie facing them, where their head is facing the direction of their lover’s feet, and cunnilingus is performed simultaneously.

Malfoy snorted. “Leave it to Granger to turn sex into a school lesson.”

Harry watched as her eye twitched in annoyance, but she didn’t look at Malfoy.

Ron reached into the second bowl. He opened the second strip of paper and sagged in relief. “Oh, thank Godrich. Lavender.”

Hermione’s face was a picture of horror, and suddenly, Harry realized that she was unaware of his and Ron’s previous conversation about having to screw Malfoy, and that’s where Ron’s relief was coming from, not necessarily from the fact that he chose Lavender specifically.

She blinked away tears and looked down, her face struggling to stay stoic. Ginny grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Hermione offered a grateful smile but then pulled away. Harry could tell she was trying to hide her feelings, but he knew her well. He knew everything about her, and even with her face perfectly composed, he could see the hurt in her eyes. 

Harry wanted to smack Ron on the back of his head, but before he could, Ron grabbed his third piece of paper. He shot Lavender a sly look and read the paper. “Fifteen minutes.”

Harry looked at Hermione as she looked at Ron, who took Lavender’s hand and led her into the study room.

The door closed, and they could hear Lavender’s laugh before the silencing charm took effect.

It was awkward and silent for a few moments until Ginny spoke up. “What a tosser.”

He wanted to agree with Ginny, but he was inexplicably upset with her, so he stayed quiet.

Quietly, he listened as Malfoy asked Hermione, “Aren’t you and the weasel together, Granger?”

She was silent for a few moments, and for a second, Harry didn’t think she would respond. Finally, she said, “Not anymore.”

Harry felt his stomach drop, and in a moment of solidarity, he and Ginny stared at each other in horror. At least until Blaise tapped her on the head, and she turned to him and kissed his cheek close to his mouth.

His stomach dropped for a different reason. Trying to ignore his own problems, he focused on Hermione, unsure of what to do for her in this situation. He’d pull her aside in the morning, and they’d walk around the lake and talk it through, just like she’d done for him in the past.  

She was staring off into space and wringing her hands in her lap. He wanted to reach out and pull her close, to be near her in case she needed to rest her head on his shoulder, like she often did when she was exhausted or worried. She looked so small and alone, and his heart ached for his best friend, who had never once left his side despite everything he had faced over the years.

Fuck it, he thought, and reached over to snatch her hand, dragging her across the circle and putting her in Ron’s spot. She wrapped an arm around his middle and leaned up to place a kiss on his jaw in thanks.

Fifteen minutes passed much more slowly than Harry thought possible. He fought Voldemort one-on-one for at least fifteen minutes, and it didn’t feel nearly that long. Finally, the door to the study room clicked open, and he heard Lavender’s sigh and giggle, along with Ron’s husky chuckle.

Ron and Lavender looked rumpled and satisfied when they came out, and Harry would do anything to keep Hermione from seeing that. He didn’t need to worry because she was staring at the bowls in the middle of the circle. Before Ron could squeeze in to sit beside her, she quickly crawled back across the circle to her spot.  

Ron sat beside him with a sigh, smelling like Lavender’s perfume and sex.

“Gods,” Harry said.

“What’s that?” Ron said, dazed.

Harry sighed. “Nothing, mate.”

Seamus and Dean were clapping and hollering, and finally, Harry had had enough.

“Who’s up next?” he asked, hoping to move this night along.

“Sounds like Harry wants a little 69 himself,” Seamus joked. “Go ahead, Harry.”

Harry sighed again before putting his hand into the first bowl to draw a strip of paper. “Finger or jack off your partner until they pop off.”

“Charming,” Hermione said.

He started sweating. What if he got a dude? He didn’t think he could go through with it, but he really didn’t want to be bald either.

He quickly reached into the second bowl for the second strip. He stared at the name on the paper, not sure how to react. Because at least it wasn’t a guy. But it wasn’t much better.

He looked at Ron guiltily before reading the name off the paper. “Hermione.”

Ron’s jaw dropped, and he heard Hermione gasp, but he couldn’t look at her.

Much more slowly, he reached into the third bowl. “Seven minutes.”

Okay, okay, seven minutes wasn’t that bad. But he honestly didn’t know if he could do this. They did not think of each other as sexual beings. She was his best friend and the most important member of his chosen family, next to Sirius.

He finally looked at her as she stood up, looking at him warily. The last time she looked at him like that, he had yelled at her after she accidentally broke his wand. The guys around the circle were laughing, all except for Ron, who was glaring at his profile if the raised hairs on the back of his neck were any indication.

He followed Hermione into the study room, a place where they had studied together many times, and after tonight, he would never study there again if he had anything to say about it. It suddenly felt like a much more sinister place. And it still smelled like sex. If Hermione’s nose scrunch was any indication, she agreed.

He slowly shut the door, and after a couple of seconds, the laughter stopped, and all he could hear was his breathing, which was much too loud and fast. 

Seeing the panic on his face, Hermione took pity on him and sat on the bed after scourgifying it. “We don’t have to do this, Harry.”

He sat beside her, aware of how close they were, which was no different from how they usually sat, but suddenly it meant something entirely different.

“Do you want to be bald, Hermione?”

It was quiet for a few seconds, then she said, “Not particularly.”

They looked at each other and laughed. He was imagining how ridiculous he would look without hair, but honestly, he might be better off being bald, given the state of his hair. Maybe she was thinking the same about herself because suddenly she laughed again, and her shoulders relaxed.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Seven minutes, Harry. We can do this.”

He hesitated but nodded. “Whether it’s seven minutes or two doesn’t matter, Hermione.”

The words remained unspoken. If he touched her like this, their relationship would shift, whether they wanted it to or not. They could pretend all they wanted, but after tonight, he’d always know what she felt and sounded like when she came.

“I guess that’s true,” she said quietly.

Because he seemed frozen, she finally slapped her knees with her hands and reached under her skirt. “Right. I don’t want to be stuck in here all night. Just close your eyes and pretend I’m Ginny, if you must.”

His eyes widened, wondering what on earth she was doing, until her pink satin panties rolled down her tanned legs as she pulled them off.

“Fuck.”

She nodded in agreement.

Because Hermione was Hermione and she took charge whenever they faced something daunting, she grabbed his hand and pulled him closer, adjusting his fingers so that his middle and ring fingers were up while she folded the rest down. 

“Fuck,” he said again, because honestly, what else was he supposed to say in this situation?

She sighed, and out of all the sighs he’d heard her release over the years, he knew this was her annoyed sigh. “For goodness’ sake, Harry, just do it already. It’s already been several minutes, and we’re stuck here for at least another seven, even if we start right this second, because I always have a hard time coming if I’m not in the mood.” 

Knowing that they would be stuck in there all night and bald by morning if he didn’t do something, he let her guide his hand between her thighs.

This wasn’t a romantic encounter, so there were no soft touches, but he couldn’t help but think about how warm her thighs were as his hand brushed against her on the way to her center.

“Fuck.”

“Stop saying that, Harry.”

He nodded and shut his mouth.

When he finally reached her center, he wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t wet. He couldn’t think of a more unsexy situation.

Scared of hurting her more than anything else, he pushed aside his nerves and concentrated on making her feel good. He whispered a lubrication spell, causing her to jump. He parted what felt like velvet and slowly rubbed up and down, all the way to her taint and then up to her clit, circling a couple of times, careful not to stimulate it too much yet. He repeated this over and over before gently dipping down into her center. After a bit, he felt her natural lubricant soak his fingers, and the obscene noise coming from where he was touching her had him hanging his head and gritting his teeth.

He exhaled shakily, trying to steady himself. Having confirmed that she was at least wet, he dipped his fingers in again, pushing them further in, leaning closer to her and encouraging her to rest her cheek on his shoulder so they wouldn’t have to look at each other. 

He kept his hand splayed on the side of her face, pressing her against him because he was a coward, and wasn’t sure he could look in her eyes as he fucked her with his fingers. He could hear her breathing pick up in his ear, and fuck, it was surreal. It reminded him of a winter night in a cold tent, weeks after Ron had left them. He had woken up to Hermione’s harsh breathing, and his immediate thought was that she was having a nightmare until a soft moan had escaped her lips. He had immediately put a silencing charm around his bed and squeezed his eyes shut, doing his best to expel that sound from his brain.

There was no escaping this, though.

She felt hot, and tight, and wet, and she periodically tightened around his fingers. He was hard as a rock, and if Hermione looked down, she would see the evidence that, in this moment, he wanted her.

“Faster, Harry,” she said. Her voice was a shaky whisper, as if she was fighting the urge to move her hips.

He sped up, making sure to bend his long fingers enough to hit her G-spot, and she let out a moan before covering her mouth with her hand.

“It’s okay, Hermione.” He found that his voice was just as breathless as hers.

“Hmm?”

“You can be loud if you want.”

She quickly shook her head against his shoulder. “Too embarrassing.” And then, “Gods, Harry. I think I’m about to come.” She laughed dryly. “I never thought I’d be saying something like that to you.”

He silently agreed, but the craving, the neediness he felt from those words alone surprised him. He could have come just from that if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to come in his pants like a thirteen-year-old.

“Shit. Hurry up and come on my fingers before I lose my mind.”

She whined, fighting what felt good and trying to pull away, but he didn’t let her. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s just me, Hermione. You don’t have to be embarrassed. I’ve got you.”

He circled her clit with his thumb a few more times while his fingers pounded into her, and suddenly, her body seized up, her legs shook, and she moaned so loud, he hoped the silencing charm was still working. He couldn’t help but groan along with her and rest his forehead against her temple where she’d thrown her head back. When she finally stopped twitching, he pulled his fingers out, fighting the urge to suck them into his mouth.

He absentmindedly kissed the top of her sweaty head before glancing at the timer above the door. Three minutes left. So, it only took him four minutes to get her off.

He wanted to smirk in satisfaction, but now wasn’t the time because Hermione had just gotten her panties back on and her skirt straightened out when the door clicked open. He had the urge to shut the door and finish what they had started, but instead, he stood up and rearranged his dick so no one would notice how hard he was.

They hesitantly stepped out to applause and cheers, all except the Slytherins, who clearly felt they were above it all.

“Performance anxiety, Potter?” Malfoy asked, prompting the other Slytherins to laugh.

He gave him a middle finger. The one that was inside Hermione, not like he’d ever say that out loud.

He looked at Ron, who was staring at Hermione, but Hermione refused to look at him. She took her seat next to Ginny, and Harry sat beside Ron. 

Ron finally shifted his gaze away from her to glare at him, but Harry shook his head. “We’ll talk about it later,” he murmured. “Now’s not the time.” Harry could see Hermione watching them from the corner of his eye, and he didn’t want Ron to upset her right now.

He tried to concentrate on the game, but it was hard. He had his chin in his hand, and he could still smell her on his fingers.

Pansy went into the closet with Neville, who came out looking like he had lost his virginity. And surprise, surprise, Ginny ended up with Blaise, who spent forty-five minutes doing “dealer’s choice.” The game was rigged. It had to be. Zabini must have used some magic on the bowl to get exactly what he wanted. 

Because their turn took so long, everyone else got up to walk around, refill their drinks, and change into more comfortable clothes since it was getting late.

Hermione stepped out of her room wearing striped shorts and one of his old Quidditch jerseys that was way too long on her, making it look like she wasn’t wearing any bottoms. He’d seen this exact outfit on her dozens of times, but he felt an unwanted surge of arousal as she turned around and he saw his name on her back.

He noticed several of the other guys and a couple of the girls staring at her ass, and he jolted, realizing she hadn’t had her turn yet. He looked around and wondered who she would get. His eyes met Malfoy’s, and Harry realized he had been caught staring at Hermione’s bum, even if that wasn’t exactly what he was doing. Malfoy smirked and looked away.

Tosser.

When Ginny and Blaise finally came out, her hair was mussed, and she had that freshly fucked look on her face that he knew too well, and he couldn’t help but feel a little sick to his stomach.

Hermione walked over and squeezed his hand in comfort, but now wasn’t the time because Ron was staring at their hands while Lavender chatted into his ear.

He gently pulled away, pretending to refill his cup while Hermione grabbed some spiked punch and talked to Luna. 

They slowly made their way back to the rug, and it was Malfoy’s turn. His eyes widened in horror that he had to make out with Luna for ten minutes, and wasn’t she his third cousin?

Harry wanted to laugh, but he didn’t want to hurt Luna’s feelings, so he kept it to himself instead of rubbing it in Malfoy’s face like he wanted.

Dean had to give Theo a sexy back massage, whatever that meant, but Harry thought that if he had had to do anything with a bloke, that would be the best option. Theo laughed like he didn’t give a shit, but he looked a little pale following Dean into the closet as Dean loudly told him to keep his hands to himself. If you asked him, he thought Dean was protesting a little too much.

Finally, it was Hermione’s turn. By now, it was past midnight, and everyone else had already gone, but Ron scoffed when Hermione reached into the first bowl.

Ron was in a mood because Harry had drawn Hermione’s name, and then poor Ron was chosen by Seamus, who had to give him a lap dance. He hadn’t spoken a word to him since he and Hermione came out of the room. Honestly, Harry was okay with that because he didn’t know what to say to him. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and he hoped that if Hermione were really breaking up with Ron, she would do it before Harry had to talk to him. 

Hermione, who had been looking very tired, suddenly looked alert as her eyes fixed on the paper. She screamed and hurled it at Seamus.

She pointed a finger at him. “Mark my word, Seamus. Starting tomorrow, you’d better watch your back. I will get you for this. You won’t know when or how, but you’ll be looking over your shoulder until it reaches a point where you’ll beg me on your knees to curse you and get it over with.”

Everyone stared at Hermione, slack-jawed. Theo leaned over and whispered to Malfoy, “Was that hot or was that just me?”

Harry was experiencing a sense of secondhand dread. “What is it, Hermione?”

She snatched the paper up and read it out loud through her bared teeth. “Have a threesome. Dealer plays the Dom.”

Lavender gasped. “My goodness, Seamus. Didn’t you know Hermione would be playing? You know she’s not like that.” She looked at Ron in support as she laughed, and he chuckled in agreement, but Harry could tell it was fake and that Ron was realizing that Hermione was about to have a threesome, and it might not be with him.

Hermione covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God. Why me?”

Resigned, she drew her second paper and gasped, her eyes flicking to Malfoy.

No. God, no.

“Malfoy.”

Malfoy looked at Hermione in shock as she looked right back.

Ron stood up angrily. “Absolutely not.” He reached out to grab her hand and pull her to her feet. “Come on, Hermione, let’s go hang out in my room.”

She jerked her hand away from him. “Oh, now you say ‘absolutely not’. I will not be bald for the next month, Ronald.”

He looked at her in surprise, then stormed off to his room. 

Hermione sighed, and Harry could tell she felt utterly defeated as she pulled out the second name from the bowl.

Her eyes met his, resigned. “Harry.”

He looked at Hermione in shock before glancing at Malfoy with disgust.

Everyone started laughing, except Malfoy and Hermione, who both looked like they were bracing for their execution.

This had not been a good night for any of them, except maybe Ginny and Blaise, who somehow drew each other’s names.

She pulled the last paper out of the third bowl. “Thirty minutes.”

“Salazar’s sake, that’s not fair,” Theo exclaimed.

Hermione held out the paper to him. “You want it?”

Theo smirked. “Nice try, Granger. I was saying it’s not fair that they get you telling them what to do for thirty minutes. Besides, if you traded you'd still be bald.”

She glanced at Seamus, who avoided her gaze but nodded to confirm what Theo was saying.

Harry felt he should be outraged that she would try to abandon him to a threesome with Malfoy and Nott, but he honestly couldn’t blame her.

Without saying another word, she stood up and headed to the room.

He slowly got up to follow, and even slower, Malfoy, behind him.

Chapter Text

He was going to murder Theo. This was entirely his fault. Draco had tried his best to keep to himself since being forced to return to Hogwarts this year. He didn’t tease, he didn’t cajole, and he mostly left Potter and the Weasel alone. 

He kept his head down, did his work, and spoke only when spoken to, except when he was with his mates in their dorm.

That had been his plan for the entire school year. He intended to complete his education, fulfill his probation, and then move to France to work on his potion’s mastery. He didn’t mind that the past few months had been lonely and isolating. It would be worth it if it kept him out of Azkaban where he experienced what true isolation felt like for two months this past summer.

But Theo wouldn’t give up. He wouldn’t leave Draco alone. Every weekend, all he heard was ‘come to this party with me, there’s a Ravenclaw that’s been eyeing you,’ or ‘Don’t you want to see the weasel make a fool of himself? Just come to the pitch tonight, I’ll bring some fire whisky.’

Draco always refused. He didn’t understand what made tonight different. Maybe it was the fact that it was Samhain and a full moon. He had momentarily lost control of his faculties when he agreed to come out of his room for the small ‘get together’ in the eighth-year common room. 

He knew he shouldn’t have listened to Theo. The night had started with him being subjected to the Weasel’s dopey, freshly fucked face, and then only got worse from there as he was forced to make out with his third cousin. He had tried to use the opportunity to apologize to Lovegood, because if he were going to be forced to kiss his cousin, then he would for sure try to cross a person off of his list titled ‘Making Amends Even if it Makes me Want to Avada Myself.’

When he brought up her imprisonment in the manor dungeons, she had stuck her tongue in his mouth before saying, ‘Oh, don’t apologize, I had a lovely time getting to know you, even if it was a little cold sometimes. You really need to take care of the wrackspurts, by the way. I’ve never seen so many.’ She took advantage of his open-mouthed stare, bit his bottom lip, and then licked it.

He shuddered, remembering how wet it had been as he slowly shut the door behind him. He wasn’t sure what was worse. Luna’s wet tongue or this situation he was now finding himself in.

The door hadn’t even fully closed before Granger was pacing at the foot of the bed. She was muttering to herself and running her fingers through her already bushy hair. He watched as her hair took on a freshly fucked look, and he wondered what she was thinking about.

Potter sat on the edge of the bed, watching her pace but not saying anything. At this rate, they’d be stuck in there all night. He opened his mouth to tell her to get on with it, but Potter caught his eye and quickly shook his head.

Draco rolled his eyes in return and sighed, knocking his head against the heavy door as he looked up at the cobwebbed ceiling.

After several minutes had passed without any sign of Granger snapping out of it, he finally broke the silence. “Granger,” he said awkwardly. 

She slashed her hand through the air. “Not right now, Malfoy.”

He scowled and ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Granger, for fuck’s sake. I want to go to bed soon and put an end to this Salazar-forsaken night.”

She glared at him, but he held firm. Finally, she let out a sigh, and her shoulders sagged. “Fine.” She ran her hand over her forehead as if she had a headache. That made two of them. 

She marched toward him with her wand in hand, and it took everything in him not to shrink back against the door. She grabbed his forearm and pulled him to the bed. “Sit beside Harry.”

He scowled but did as she said, making sure there was at least a foot of distance between him and the Boy Wonder. Wordlessly, she dimmed the lights and conjured some bluebell flames. He couldn’t help but be impressed, but he’d let Lovegood kiss him again before he ever told her that.

“Take your trousers off, both of you," she said, tossing her wand onto the bedside table. “And lie back on the pillows.”

He scooted back, using his arms to lie flat on the bed. “Not even a how do you do, huh, Granger? Is this how you seduced Weasley?”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

His lips quirked. “Yes, Mistress.”

She heaved a giant sigh, and he shrugged his shoulders. “What? I’m just getting into character.”

Potter lay flat beside him, maintaining the distance between them. Draco scooted closer to the edge of the bed. “Do not touch me, Potter.”

He scoffed. “Likewise, Malfoy.”

The bed dipped, and he watched as Granger sat between them on her knees, wearing her Muggle pajamas that showed far too much of her legs, and suddenly, he couldn’t swallow the spit lodged in his throat. 

“I told both of you to take off your trousers.”

Her no-nonsense tone had both of them quickly unbuttoning and sliding down zippers, and before he knew it, he was in his pants. On a bed. With Potter and fucking Granger. He threw a forearm over his eyes. This had to be a nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from.

“The way I see it,” Granger began, “I highly doubt Seamus and Dean set parameters on what constitutes a threesome. A threesome could mean a myriad of things.” He peeked under his forearm to see her looking at the timer that was still set at thirty minutes. “So, we’re going to do a little experiment.”

He huffed a laugh. “Of course we are.”

She extended both hands forward, then hesitated. Finally, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’m going to touch you both now.”

He heard Potter take a deep breath and hold it. For his part, he was stiff as a board, but at least he was still breathing, even if it was a little fast.

Suddenly, Granger’s hand was touching his dick through his pants. “Fuck.”

Hermione groaned. “Not you, too.”

“Huh?” he asked, though he didn’t really care what she said. Granger’s hand was on his dick. It didn’t matter that he still had his underwear on. He could feel her fingers sliding up and down his shaft, and his leg jerked.

He peeked at her again to see that she was still looking at the clock. It had started counting down, which meant he was officially engaging in threesome activities with Potter and Granger. He looked over at Potter, who had both of his hands covering his eyes and was taking slow, deep breaths.

Draco wanted to laugh. Was Potter already on the verge of blowing his load? He wouldn’t be surprised if he were a two-pump chump.

Suddenly, his pants vanished, and an embarrassing gasp escaped his lips.

Granger moved closer, whispering a spell into her hands. When she touched him again, her hand was warm and slick, and it took everything he had not to moan. Potter wasn’t quite as dignified. A groan escaped his mouth, and Draco wanted to spew all over the bed. He could have gone his whole life without knowing what Potter sounded like when he was turned on. 

“Hermione,” Potter begged. “If you don’t slow down, the timer will stop, and if the door doesn’t open, we’ll have to figure out another way to get out of here.”

Draco looked at the clock and sneered, because, come on, two minutes, Potter? Really? But if he was being honest with himself, the pull in his groin had already started, so he wasn’t as far behind Potter as he would have liked.

Instead of watching her hand glide down his shaft, he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Honestly, why was she so good at this? He thought Granger was a frigid prude if the length of her uniform skirts and baggy shirts was any indication.

Instead of uncoordinated hands, he felt her fingers trace the veins that ran down his cock, and the twist that she put into her hand when she reached his head. He felt her thumb swipe at the pre-cum, and how she squeezed with just the right amount of pressure.

He threw his head back and tried to think of the most unsexy thing he could imagine because he refused to come before Potter.

Filch naked.

Filch and Hagrid waltzing together in their underwear.

That time Milicent Bulstrode showed him her underwear, which had a suspicious brown stain on them, back in fifth year.

It didn’t matter, though. He was too close. He folded his legs, trying to control his reaction, but his back still came off the bed as he spurted onto his stomach and over her hand. A groan escaped his teeth, and he wanted to die of embarrassment that Granger and Potter were seeing him like this. It was a small consolation that it probably didn’t matter based on the noises coming from Potter’s side of the bed.

When he finally stopped coming, he lay there for a minute, hoping he would spontaneously apparate out of the room despite the anti-apparition wards on the castle. The awkward silence was so unbearable that he had to open his eyes to see what was going on. 

The first thing he noticed was the clock. It had stopped at 26 minutes and 30 seconds, and he felt embarrassed all over again. He felt the flush on his cheeks and cursed his pale skin.

A wandless, wordless cleaning spell touched his skin, and he shivered. He still hadn’t looked at Granger since she made him come. He peeked one eye open to see her studying the clock with a contemplative look on her face. 

Right back to business, then, if the calculated look in her eyes was any indication.

He glanced at Potter from the corner of his eye to see him covering his face with one arm and covering his junk with the other. Draco couldn’t help but laugh. “Embarrassed about how small your dick is, Potter?”

Potter scoffed but didn’t respond.

Granger, the champion of the underdogs, spoke up. “I’ll have you know Harry’s size is perfectly adequate.”

“Hermione, please,” Potter begged.

She looked confused. “I think you’re a very nice size, Harry. Above average, really.”

She grabbed both of their cocks, and they simultaneously let out an undignified noise. She leaned closer, moving back and forth between each of them as they both stared at her in shocked confusion.

“Now that I’m really looking, you two are nearly the same size. Hard and soft. Harry’s balls are just a little larger, and his penis is slightly darker.”

They stared at each other in horror. He didn’t want to look, but he had to know. He took a quick peek at Potter’s dick. Fuck, she was right. He caught Potter’s eyes skimming his dick as well and sneered. “Like what you see, Potter?”

“I don’t know, Malfoy. Did you like what you saw?”

Instead of answering, he glanced back at Granger, who was still studying his cock. He fought the urge to cover himself. “Can we get on with this?”

She straightened. “Right. I misjudged, thinking they wouldn’t set any parameters.” She cursed and slapped the bed. “Seamus is not smart! There has to be a loophole or something.”

He looked at her skeptically. “You honestly thought a hand job would meet the parameters? Do you even know that fire-setting twat?”

She shrugged and moved on before he could argue. He blinked as she tore off her top and pulled down her shorts. 

Granger knelt on her knees, braless, dressed only in black lacy knickers. 

A strangled noise escaped Potter’s throat before he spoke. “Hermione, you don’t have to take your clothes off for this to work.”

Draco wanted to punch the specky git between the eyes. Yes, this was Granger, and he’d never thought of her as more than an annoying bookworm with zero sex appeal. But as his eyes moved over her curves, his brain short-circuited. She had always been petite, barely reaching the top of his chest, so he was stunned to see a gorgeous set of tits on her. And Salazar, her ass. Her body was perfect.       

He was mortified to find himself getting hard again. Fortunately, she wasn’t paying attention. She was still talking to Potter.

“I understand, Harry, but it’s necessary for the next experiment.”

Draco palmed his face.

Potter’s voice sounded hilariously nervous. “Next experiment?”

Suddenly, it wasn’t so funny because Granger was lying between them, and far too much of her skin was touching far too much of his skin. He could feel her breath against his ear. Then suddenly, her knickers were thrown at the foot of the bed.

“Hermione, what experiment?” Potter asked again, his voice now sounding properly terrified.

She spread her legs with her knee resting on his upper thigh.

“We’re going to touch each other simultaneously. Even if both of you come, you can keep touching me because I don’t have a refractory period. Make sure to rub my breasts so we can count that.”

Despite the interesting fact he just discovered about Granger, he was hesitant to touch her, and apparently, Potter agreed.

“Hermione, I don’t know about this.”

She sighed, clearly exasperated. “Harry, you’ve already fingered me once tonight. What’s once more?”

When no one moved or spoke, she sighed again. “Fine, let’s do it this way. Both of you, turn onto your sides facing me.”

He was a bit slower to comply than Potter, but he eventually did turn on his side to face her. He took in all of her golden skin, his first proper look at her fully naked, and he felt himself growing harder against her thigh. He resisted the urge to rut against her.

His eyes locked with Potter’s over Hermione’s body. They sneered at each other, then quickly looked away.

Draco rested his head on his hand as he lazily took her in. “So, you plan to have us finger and grope you for the next 25 minutes? What if that doesn’t satisfy the parameters those two nitwits set?”

She groaned and covered her face. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. Let’s just do this and see what happens.”

Despite her having the prettiest cunt he’d ever seen, he was hesitant to touch her. Within the time he’d been stuck in this Salazar-forsaken room, he’d learned that Granger was attractive, and it was disconcerting.

Before he could second-guess himself any further, he reached forward and lightly ran his fingers through her slit, taking in how pink she was. Her quick intake of breath was the only acknowledgement of his touch. Too scared to look at her face, he studied her like she was his Ancient Runes homework.

She spread her legs a little further, and her hips thrusted up to meet his fingers. He froze and glanced at her face, thrown back on the pillow, her hair spread around her. Her lips were parted, and he watched as her tongue swiped along her plush bottom lip, and he had the urge to bend forward and kiss her.

“Look at your pretty mouth,” he said, and immediately wished he hadn't. He spoke before thinking, and if the shock on Granger’s and Potter’s faces was any indication, he was not the only one surprised. 

He shrugged and went along with it. “You know you’re fucking gorgeous, Granger.”

So he didn’t have to look at the confused and surprised expression on Granger’s face, he glanced at Potter instead, who was studying Granger like it was the first time he’d ever seen her. His eyes went to her mouth, and he could imagine what Potter was thinking. Her lips were plump and red and kissable. He followed where Potter’s gaze went as he took in her tits, and he watched the moment his eyes dilated.

“Thank you, Malfoy, but let’s get on with it, shall we?” She grabbed his dick and made him jump. “At this rate, we’ll be here all night.”

Whispering another lubrication spell, she again took both of them in her expert hands. This time, he let himself thrust against her, closing his eyes to enjoy it fully.

Granger moaned, and his eyes flew open. Potter was slowly rubbing her clit as Draco petted her velvety cunt. He loved the way it felt and knew it wouldn’t be a chore fucking her with his fingers for twenty-five minutes.

He glanced at the clock and jolted. Twenty minutes left. How the hell did five minutes fly by so fast? Suddenly, he felt a rush of urgency. He didn’t want this to end before he could do everything with her at least once. Because he knew once that door clicked open, they’d never speak of it again. She’d go back to being boring, bookworm Granger, and he’d return to being the annoying prick who was partnered with her in potions and annoys her most days. 

 Deciding to go for it, he leaned forward and took her nipple in his mouth, causing Hermione to gasp. To his disappointment, she let go of his dick, but then her hand went to his hair, pulling his head closer to her tit, and he didn’t care anymore. He flicked her nipple like it was her clit and then sucked it into his mouth, groaning as she arched against him and cried out.

“You like this, Granger?” he asked. “Do you like me sucking on your perfect tit and imagining it’s your cunt?”

She moaned and pulled his hair, making him groan from the ache. “Keep going.”

He smiled against her sternum. “Yes, Mistress.”

So absorbed in what he was doing, he hardly noticed when Potter leaned down and whispered something in her ear. He lamented that he couldn’t hear what was said, but he watched as Granger’s eyebrows dipped slightly before she hesitantly nodded her head. 

Draco’s eyes narrowed as he lapped at her skin, wanting all of her attention on him. He blew hot breath on her nipple, and she finally turned her eyes to meet his stare. Now that he had her full attention, he raised until his lips were barely an inch from hers. He heard Potter’s noise of protest in the background, but he didn’t look away from her eyes. Brown and huge and alluring.

He dared her with his eyes to object to what he was about to do, but before he could move, she grabbed him by the back of the neck, pulling him toward her mouth. He let her lead as their lips pressed together. She touched her tongue to his, and he responded by pushing hard against her lips, trying to take as much of her mouth with his tongue as he could. She was a filthy kisser, and he loved it. 

It wasn’t long before she was coming on his fingers, their mouths locked as she moaned into his mouth.

Needing to feel even more of her, he removed his fingers from her cunt, pulling her face closer to his, smearing her cum all across her jaw and neck.

Potter ripped his hand away from her face, and his tongue immediately covered the spots where Draco’s fingers had been, groaning low in his throat at her taste.

“So good,” Potter groaned, and Draco was irrationally jealous that Potter had tasted her cunt first, even if he beat him in tasting her mouth.

Draco pulled his lips away from hers and looked into her dilated pupils as they both tried to catch their breath.

He raised up and slowly started sliding down the bed, letting his intentions be known. She tensed, and so did Potter, but he didn’t stop. If she didn’t want him to taste her cunt, she could let him know.

“Let me taste you, Granger.”

Potter huffed out a breath and glanced at the clock. Draco didn’t look at how much time had passed since the last time he checked. He didn’t want to know.

Potter protested. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Malfoy.”

Draco chuckled softly. “I don’t think it’s up to you, Potter.”

Potter’s eyes briefly met his with a look that promised death when they were alone, but Draco smiled.

Draco grabbed Hermione’s legs right under her ass and pulled her closer to his mouth. He inhaled and groaned, lapping at her slit, causing Granger’s back to arch off the bed. He dragged his tongue clear up her center, pushed it into her core, kissed her clit like he had kissed her mouth, and bucked himself into the bed, ravenous with the taste of her.

She closed her legs against his head, and he used his hands to flatten them back out against the bed.

Coming up for air, he caught her eye before she looked over at Potter, who was still sucking on her tits. “Harry, come here so I can put you in my mouth.”

Potter looked up at Hermione in surprise. “Are you sure, Hermione? I don’t want you doing anything you’ll regret.”

From the outside looking in, he did feel sorry for Potter. Crossing this line with an enemy turned reluctant acquaintance was one thing; crossing it with a best friend was another, and he couldn’t imagine ever doing this with Pansy. One awkward kiss after the Yule Ball was enough for both of them to realize kissing each other was like kissing a sibling.

Though Draco wasn’t sure he believed that Potter and Granger had never fucked before. They were always touching, hugging, holding hands, and kissing each other’s cheeks, and he had lost track of how many times the Slytherins had bet in the past that they were fucking behind the Weasel’s back.

She rolled her eyes. “I have a feeling those two idiots made blow jobs a requirement. Let’s do it now before you come again. I’m hesitant to give you another hand job to completion because what if you can’t get it back up?”

Draco chuckled to himself in disbelief. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Granger.”

Granger stared at Potter until he finally relented, hesitantly sitting up and shuffling closer to her head. Without delay, she took Potter in her mouth, and Draco momentarily pulled his tongue away from her cunt to stare as she swallowed him all the way to the back of her throat.

Potter let out a curse, hands hesitating above her head before tentatively grabbing her curls. Draco periodically licked at her messy cunt as he watched Granger encourage Potter to use her face. She was full of surprises. Granger was a freak, and he loved it.

Feeling left out, he reluctantly pulled his mouth away from her, then shuffled on his knees until he was level with her head on the other side.

He tapped her nipple with the head of his cock. “Granger,” he prompted, holding his dick near her face.

She removed herself from Potter’s dick and turned to look at him.

She raised an eyebrow. “Ask nicely, Malfoy.”

He threw his head back and sighed. “Fine. Suck my dick, Granger. Please.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Not good enough.”

He wanted to be annoyed with her, but a part of him liked it when she was bossy. “Please, Granger? Can I feel your pretty mouth suck my cock down your throat?”

She smiled lazily. “I kind of like you begging like that.”

He huffed. “I’m not surprised, Granger. You’ve been leading this one around by the balls for years.”

She nodded, and Potter protested. Ignoring Potter, she opened her mouth. He immediately used the opportunity to feed his dick between her lips, and his whole body shuddered as he almost came.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “For fuck’s sake, how are you so good at this?”

He felt the vibrations of her laugh on his dick, and he fought not to push the head of his cock down her throat. Potter sat back on his heels on his other side, looking relieved at having a break from the insanity that was Granger’s mouth.

Potter collapsed beside her, kissing reverently along her collarbone and up her neck. As Draco pumped over and over, he watched Potter brush the sweaty, unruly curls from behind her ear, leaning forward to tenderly kiss behind it. Feeling oddly sickened by the display of intimacy, he pushed further into her mouth, wanting to make her gag. To punish her for making him feel so out of sorts. 

Instead of gagging, she moaned, and her hands came up, grabbing onto his ass and pulling him in further until her nose was pressed to his pubic bone. Fuck, he was going to come. She was far too good at this. The suction of her mouth, the tightness every time she swallowed…He wasn’t going to last.

To save his dignity, he tried to pull out, but she wouldn’t let him. She pulled him tightly against her face, looking up at him with devious intentions in her eyes, and suddenly a lubed finger was sliding into his ass, and massaging his prostate, all before he could protest.

He immediately started coming, and she sucked him down as he moaned above her, his legs shaking where he kneeled, his stomach muscles clenching. He no longer cared that Potter was seeing him come.

When she had finally milked him dry, he very slowly pulled out of her mouth and winced slightly as she pulled her finger out of his ass. He collapsed onto the bed, glaring at her. “What the fuck, Granger?” he asked, but was unwilling to say more because he didn’t want Potter to know what had just happened.

She laughed and shook her head. “No need to be embarrassed, Malfoy. Your secret kink is safe with me.”

He wanted to protest because that was not one of his kinks. Before he could, she roughly grabbed his hair, pulling him towards her until their lips were almost touching. “Taste yourself, Malfoy,” she murmured against his mouth.

 He couldn’t help but surrender. He didn’t even care that Potter’s dick had been inside her mouth, because as his tongue tangled with hers, she tasted of his cum, and he lapped up the remains of it greedily.

He pulled her head away from Potter’s hands, grabbing her face with both hands and pulling her slightly on top of him, feeling somewhat frenzied. Wild curls tangled in his shaking fingers, and he could have sworn he felt a tendril wrap around his finger where his signet ring sat.

He felt Granger being pulled away from him. “Fuck off, Potter,” he practically yelled in frustration, pulling her face to his again.  

Potter pulled her away more insistently. “The timer, Malfoy.”

Having momentarily forgotten why he was even in this room with Potter and Granger, he reluctantly pulled away to look at the timer.

“Shit,” he exclaimed.

The timer had stopped at two minutes, most likely when he had come in her mouth.

Potter looked at him in disbelief. “You couldn’t have lasted two more minutes?”

He rolled his eyes and rubbed the top of his head with his hand. “Like you could have lasted longer.”

Granger placed a hand on his arm. “Stop, both of you. It doesn’t matter. Even if he had lasted two more minutes, the door wouldn’t have opened until all the parameters were met. Let’s think about what’s left.”

She started listing what they did with her fingers. “Handjobs, blowjobs, fingering, Malfoy ate me out, kissing, we’ve all orgasmed…”

She covered her face with her hands. “Fuck. Those bastards really made it where we’d have to have penetrative sex.” She shook her head in disgust, and he tried not to be offended. He knew her anger wasn’t aimed at him.

Potter quietly sighed. “Shit, Hermione. I’m so sorry.”

She looked resigned. “You don’t need to apologize, Harry. It’s not your fault.”

He shook his head and grabbed her hand. “Still…it’s me and you and…” Potter looked over at him with disgust. “And Malfoy.”

She looked back and forth between the two of them. “Once we finally get out of here, I want both of your help to really get back at those two. I have half a mind to report them to the headmistress. But I think we can do better than just detentions for the rest of the year.”

It was official. Granger was scary, and he found it highly arousing as long as her anger wasn’t aimed at him. Theo was right. It was hot. “I’m in, Granger.”

She nodded once as if it was settled. “Good.” But then she hesitated. “I’m a little out of my depth here.”

Draco chuckled. “Never had a threesome, Granger?”

She lifted a cool eyebrow at him. “Have you?”

His mind briefly drifted back to a night in his sixth year after he finally finished fixing the vanishing cabinet. It was the night before he let Death Eaters into the castle, and he just wanted to feel something good. He had taken Astoria to his bed, and when they accidentally woke Theo, instead of closing his curtains, they had let Theo watch. And he’s pretty sure they hooked up after he fell asleep. Did that count?

Wait a second. Granger didn’t actually answer his question. It was a typical Slytherin tactic of redirecting, and he was surprisingly proud of her for using it. 

Before he could investigate further, she sat up and ran her hands through her wild hair. “I’ve never had sex with my best friend, Malfoy. Or my enemy turned…acquaintance?”

She glanced at Potter out of the corner of her eye. “Harry, I know we’ve never talked about this, but are you a virgin?”

Draco let out a surprised laugh, causing Potter to scowl at him.

He faced Hermione, dismissing him. “Of course not. What made you think I haven’t had sex?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t think you hadn’t necessarily. I just wasn’t sure if it had gotten that far with Ginny before we left on the…” Her eyes met his quickly before she looked away. “…the hunt last year.”

He sighed. “We did. But she wasn’t my first.”

Granger’s mouth dropped in shock. “She wasn’t? Who was?”

Potter hesitated and ran a hand through his messy hair. Did he even own a comb? Or fucking Sleekeazy? Didn’t his grandfather invent it for Salazar’s sake?

Potter looked sheepish. “Romilda in fifth year.”

Granger gasped and slapped his bare shoulder. “Romilda!? The same Romilda who tried to give you a love potion!?”

“Ow! Damn, Hermione! We slept together before she gave me the love potion. I think that’s why she gave it to me. Because I wasn’t interested in a repeat.”

Granger looked at Potter as if she'd never seen him before, and Draco rubbed his hands together in excitement. Clearly, Potter was just as afraid of Granger as everyone else, and he leaned back on his hands to watch. He didn’t even care that he was still naked.

Potter had a calculating look on his face. “Wait a minute. Who was your first? I know it wasn’t Ron, he told me you-” he abruptly cut off his sentence.

Granger narrowed her eyes. “He told you what, Harry James Potter?”

Potter gulped, and Draco stayed very still, afraid that if he moved even slightly, the spell would break and he would lose the chance to see Granger destroying Potter.

Potter looked away. “He’s going to kill me. He said you rode him like you were a real cowgirl from one of those films and that there’s no way that was the first time you’d done it.” He immediately cringed and put his head in his hands.

Granger gasped and put her hand to her naked chest. Fuck, how could he have forgotten that Granger was naked? He could have been staring at her tits this whole time. They jiggled with her jerky movements, and he felt himself getting hard again, reminding him that they were still stuck in this room.

He wanted to move the conversation along, but he also wanted to know who Granger’s first was, so he butted in on the conversation.

“Yeah, yeah, the Weasel is a dick. We already knew that, especially after tonight’s display. So, Granger, who was it?”

She kept staring at Potter until she muttered through her teeth, “We will be talking about this later, Harry.”

Potter nodded, resigned. Still slightly upset, she looked over at him in confusion.

He clarified. “Your first.”

“Oh,” she replied. “Uh, Victor. In fourth year.”

“Krum!?” he exclaimed. “Weren’t you like fifteen? Wasn't he a fucking seventh year?”

She nodded reluctantly.

“Hermione!” Potter gasped, then choked. If Draco weren’t so shocked himself, he’d laugh at Potter’s reaction.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, give me a break. He was a perfect gentleman. I’m the one who seduced him.”

They both looked at her in shock. “But, Hermione,” Potter reluctantly started.

She shook her head. “It wasn’t a big deal, Harry. I’m not scarred from losing my virginity to an older man. He didn’t sleep with me and then suddenly dumped me. We were in a relationship for a while, and I’m the one who broke up with him after that summer before fifth year. Remember? It’s really fine, Harry.”

Potter sighed. “I still don’t like it.”

Draco silently agreed. Fucking pervert.

She patted him, and Draco could tell there was a bit of condescension in the pat on his hand. “I know, Harry. I understand.”

Abruptly, Granger looked up at the timer and covered her face with her hands. “Gods, this is unbelievable. How long have we even been in here?”

Draco grabbed his wand and cast a Tempus spell. They all stared at the numbers in shock.

“Is it really two in the morning?” Potter asked, his voice higher than usual.

Granger growled, and he watched as her hair sparked. “Fuck. That’s it. We’re getting out of here in the next two minutes. This is what we’re going to do. We are not having penetrative sex. It’s crossing a line for me.”

Draco rolled his eyes internally at the thought that Granger wouldn’t fuck him, but she’d stick a finger up his ass.

Potter sighed. “Then what do you suggest we do, Hermione?”

She bit her nail, and he cringed at the gross habit. “Have either of you ever heard of cock warming?”

Potter looked horrified. “You can’t be serious.”

She shrugged. “Why not? It gets the job done, doesn’t it? Technically, it’s penis in vagina penetration, just without the…thrusting…and the…” her hands flapped in front of her, “And everything else that goes along with sex.”

Draco could understand what she meant. But he wasn’t sure how it would be any different. Honestly, he was just ready to get out of this damn room, so he was willing to do anything at this point. He had never spent so much time with Potter and Granger, and frankly, he’d had enough for one night.

He rubbed his hands down his face, trying to wake himself up. “Alright, Granger. How do you want to do this?”

She bit her lip briefly, and he watched as she chewed the corner of it. “Both of you, sit against the headboard.”

She directed Potter to lean against the headboard before she gingerly sat on his lap, facing him. Potter’s jaw clenched, and he looked up at the ceiling with his eyes closed.

“Okay, Harry?”

He nodded.

Draco looked at their laps, and he could see Potter’s cock nestled between Granger’s thighs and brushing against her soaked cunt. He tried not to feel jealous that she chose to sit on Potter’s lap first.

Absently, he stroked his already hard cock as he watched her get situated. Suddenly, she was raising up and slowly lowering herself on Potter’s cock, her fingers creating divots in Potter’s shoulders.

Potter’s head suddenly fell against her shoulder, and he quickly grabbed her hips, trying to slow her down as she descended. “Fuck, Hermione, you could have warned me.”

She didn’t answer until she had taken the whole thing. “Sorry, Harry,” she apologized, breathless. “Are you okay?”

He grunted and then groaned loudly. “Gods. Please stop squeezing me.”

Her head met his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”

Their breaths mingled for a few seconds, then suddenly, Granger sat up as if she was coming back to herself. “Do you think that’s enough time?”

Suddenly, she was lifting off of Potter completely. Potter’s hands jerked at her hips as if he was trying to pull her back, but instead, he reluctantly let go. 

“It should be,” he replied, his voice just as breathless as Granger’s had been. Yeah. Those two were definitely screwing around behind Weasley’s back. And if not yet, they wanted to.

Draco sat up straighter, anticipating feeling her hot, wet cunt squeezing him. Then she was in front of him. He leaned forward, stealing a kiss from her parted lips and then her sharp jaw, because he wanted to and he couldn’t help it.

She sat on him and grabbed his cock, notching him at her entrance. He bucked his hips, impatient, and entered her quickly, fully enveloping his cock in her warmth. She squeezed around him, and he groaned. Fuck, Potter wasn’t kidding. She was so tight, and she was rhythmically squeezing him like she was on the verge of coming.

Forgetting himself momentarily, he partially pulled out and then thrust back into her, causing them both to moan simultaneously.

If the protest from Potter was any indication, he realized exactly what had happened.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Granger.”

He wanted to do it again. He wanted to keep going until they had both come. Instead, he held himself taut, his hands gripping her hips and keeping them joined so he wouldn’t thrust again.

He buried his face in her neck, kissing along her shoulder and collarbone, trying not to lose control of himself.

He thought he could actually come like this. He tightened his muscles internally, and along with Granger’s squeezes, he felt a faint pull behind his navel. He wondered how long it would take him to come like this.

Suddenly, she was pulled away from him. He groaned in protest, wanting to pull her back, but then, finally, the door clicked open.

He vaguely noticed Potter had removed himself from the bed and was putting his clothes on, but he couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus, knowing this was over. Now that it was over, he didn’t appreciate it like he should have.

He covered his face with his hands. He was so hard. How was he supposed to walk out there after some of the best sex of his life when he hadn’t even technically had sex?

Plus, he was far from finished with her. He wanted a whole night with her, not a timed dare where he had to share her with someone else. One night, and then he could forget her and move on with his life.

Resigned, he got up from the bed, the silence loud as they put their clothes back on. They walked out single file to stare at the common room in silence. The only light in the room came from the fireplace. The rest of the room was dark, and everyone had gone to bed.

Granger sighed. “Thank the gods for small mercies, at least.” She briefly glanced between them. “Goodnight, you two.”

They both stared at her as she walked away.

Chapter Text

It was late, but he couldn’t sleep. He could still feel Hermione’s thighs on his lap as she warmed his cock, squeezing him and making him question everything. It was a tease of what could be, but never would be. She was his best friend. He didn’t even consider her more than that. But his mind was confused, thoroughly baffled by how completely un-Hermione-like she had been tonight.
The hours passed slowly. No matter how many times he told himself to stop thinking about what happened, his mind refused to shut off.

He was worried, and rightly so. Tomorrow was Saturday, but he was considering skipping breakfast. Hermione would probably be there, and he could picture how awkward it would be sitting at the table, pretending he hadn’t seen her naked. Pretending that she hadn’t made him come multiple times.

Fuck, he was hard again. Dammit.

Taking a page from Hermione’s book, he whispered a lubrication and warming spell into his hand, closing his eyes as he grabbed himself, picturing Hermione lying on her back and her breasts jiggling as he fucked into her mouth.

He had kissed her behind her ear and asked if he could kiss her lips, but fucking Malfoy beat him to it.

He had no idea what possessed him. He still couldn’t believe he had even asked her, but she had said yes. She hesitated, and he almost took it back, but then she agreed before Malfoy beat him to it.

She had smelled and looked so good that he couldn't keep his lips and hands off her.

He pumped himself faster, pausing to swirl his thumb around the head of his cock. His pre-cum joined the lubricant as he stroked to the base, pressing the fingers of his opposite hand against his taint. He threw his head back and tightened his abs as thoughts of Hermione swallowing his dick whole flashed through his mind. Before he was ready, he was coming on his taut stomach, covering his abs and chest. He startled as a rope almost hit him in the chin, and he jerked his head back as it landed across his neck.

Breathing deeply, he grabbed his wand. “Evanesco,” he whispered to the dark room, vanishing the cum spread across his stomach.

He covered his face with his hands, feeling guilty because he was no longer forced into a closet with Hermione but still couldn't stop thinking about her. “Fuck.”

He was in trouble. He felt like something inside him had shifted inexplicably after tonight. But if he thought about what was going on in his brain logically, he knew he didn’t want to be with Hermione in that way. For Godric’s sake, she was still with Ron, at least for now. But his friendship with Ron was only part of the problem. He knew Hermione didn’t want to be with him either. Even if she did, when he tried to picture a real relationship with Hermione, his mind rebelled. He couldn’t imagine them together romantically.

He resolved that this would be the last time he allowed himself to come to thoughts of Hermione. Not even six hours earlier, he had come to thoughts of Ginny in the shower. And he knew he still loved her. When he thought of her, he imagined them together. Physically, yes, but also married, with small redheaded children and matching Quidditch careers where they could travel as a family. Or maybe he was an Auror and she played Quidditch. Whatever reality he imagined, he could see it clearly.

He wanted to go back to that. It felt safer. Yes, they were over, and he hated Blaise for practically stealing her from him, but it was comfortable. Familiar. And not for one second did he believe they were truly finished. She needed time to forgive him for breaking up with her and leaving, and he understood that.

He forced his mind to continue focusing on Ginny if only to purge his mind of thoughts of Hermione. He knew Ginny’s body intimately. He could remember exactly how she sounded when she came, how her chest heaved, and how her legs shook from her orgasm. His thoughts began to betray him as Ginny’s pale figure was replaced with Hermione’s more golden one, and her curves replaced Ginny’s lean, athletic frame.

He quickly decided to think about Quidditch at the Burrow this past summer instead, imagining how he would watch Ginny as he circled above the other players. He’d watch as she outflew everyone, her skills as a chaser clear as she proudly flew circles around her brothers, making Ron pout because he couldn’t stop her from scoring. She’d shout in glee and smile, and he clearly remembered how uninhibited and beautiful she looked as her hair messily flew around her head.

Suddenly, he remembered Hermione on the ground below everyone, completely unaware of what was happening around her as she re-read Jane Austen. The sun created a halo around her hair and deepened the color of her skin visible in her yellow sundress. He recalled the urge to keep an eye on her, so soon after the war had ended. But in that moment, she was at peace and he knew she would be okay.

He smacked the bed beneath him in frustration. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, he got up and put his pajamas back on, quietly opening the door to his room, which was directly across from Hermione’s.

He felt the urge to cross the hall and knock on her door, but he forced himself to walk to the common room, where he sat in front of the fire and pulled out the Marauder’s Map.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” he murmured, watching as the map took form in front of him.

Sure enough, Hermione’s dot was in her room, not moving, and he figured she was asleep.

Ginny’s dot was in Blaise’s room, and he clenched his fingers on the map, causing it to crinkle.

To his shock, Pansy and Neville were in her dorm room, and their dots were nearly overlapping.

His eyes spotted Malfoy’s dot in his dorm room two doors down from his own. To his surprise, the dot was pacing back and forth across the room. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping.

Suddenly, Malfoy’s dot burst from his room and started down the hall, and Harry rushed to fold the map. “Mischief Managed,” he frantically whispered, even as he hurriedly stuffed the map under his arm.

“Talking to yourself, Potter?” Malfoy muttered, sinking into the armchair across from the couch.

Harry wasn’t in the mood. “Fuck off, Malfoy.”

He huffed. “And what has the sword of Gryffindor up your ass at four in the morning?”

He pulled his tired eyes away from the fire to glare at Malfoy. “Do you really have to ask that?”

Malfoy chuckled. “Having a hard time not picturing your best friend naked, huh, Potter?”

Harry saw red. “Don’t speak about Hermione, Malfoy. You know nothing about her, us, or our relationship.”

He laughed again, but this time it lacked humor. “Maybe not, but I know what her cunt tastes like.”

Harry sprang up, ready to take out his frustration on Malfoy’s pointy face.

Malfoy jumped to his feet along with Harry, and Harry met him toe to toe. They were nearly the same height. He was maybe an inch shorter than Malfoy, which oddly brought to mind Hermione’s comment about their dicks being the same size. “Earlier was not a bonding experience, Malfoy. Just because we’ve seen each other’s dicks doesn’t mean we are friends. Don’t talk about Hermione. Don’t speak about her or to her, for that matter, unless it’s about your little shared potions project. Am I clear?”

To his credit, Malfoy didn’t flinch. His jaw was clenched in anger, but he stood his ground, which was unexpected. He had always seen Malfoy as a coward. When Malfoy moved closer to his face and poked a finger into the middle of his chest, he raised an amused eyebrow to hide his shock.

Since the end of the war, people started to see Harry differently. Yes, they were glad he had defeated Voldemort, but he still noticed the fear in the looks some wizards gave him on the street or the way people avoided eye contact during conversations. They even sidestepped him in the halls while trying to get his attention at the same time.

It surprised him at first because the last thing he wanted was for anyone to be afraid of him. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized something had died in him the day he died. Much like a Horcrux, he lost a small piece of his soul the day Voldemort killed him, and he met Dumbledore at King’s Cross. Maybe people could see it in his eyes.

Malfoy spoke just above a whisper. “And what are you going to do about it, Potter? What if I want a repeat of tonight, except without you there to fuck it all up?”

Harry pulled back until Malfoy’s finger slipped away, and Malfoy smirked as if he had won something. “Try it and see, Malfoy.”

Malfoy chuckled and turned away as he headed toward the dorms. “Granger’s a big girl. Let’s let her decide if she wants to fuck me, yeah?”

Harry spun around and walked toward the fireplace, punching the stone wall next to a portrait of a witch behind the counter in a 17th-century apothecary.

“Excuse you, young man!” she cried, placing a hand to her chest. “What is the meaning of this!”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly. “Just had a rough night.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You speak as if I don’t know exactly what you ruffians have been up to this night.”

Harry felt his face burn. “I apologize that you had to see all of that.”

She hmphed and turned away. “What you all need are venereal potions,” she grumbled as she disappeared behind a heavy wooden door in the back of the painting.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and pulled off his glasses to rub his tired eyes. “Fuck, I need sleep.”

Instead of doing the smart thing and going back to bed, he wandered the empty hallways, lost in thought, until he was too tired to stand. He wanted to call Sirius on the mirror and talk it through with him, but he knew Sirius was probably asleep or with someone else, and he did not want to interrupt him. Again.

When he finally made his way back to his room, he was shocked to see Hermione curled up on his covers, fast asleep.

He quietly walked toward the bed and took off his glasses, setting them on the bedside table along with his wand.

He slowly got into bed beside her, curling up along her back like they did every night during the Horcrux hunt after Ron had left, until he came back.

Feeling his presence behind her, she stirred.

“Nightmare?” he asked, whispering as he kissed the top of her head.

She nodded and snuggled as close to him as she could. There was no space between them, and Harry hoped his body would cooperate. Never before had he feared a hard-on when snuggling with Hermione, and he wanted to scream in frustration.

He ran a hand through her hair soothingly. “Which one was it this time?”

She breathed in a shaky breath. “You dying,” she whispered, curling into herself further.

He let out a heavy sigh and kissed the top of her head again. “I’m right here, Hermione. I’m not going anywhere.”

She nodded but said nothing else. He thought she was asleep until she broke the silence. “Where were you?”

He groaned, and his breath ruffled the messy curls on her head. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk.”

She tsked and shook her head, as if disappointed that he was out past curfew. “Filch didn’t catch you?”

He was stiff behind her, unable to relax his body. He told himself that this wasn't different from any other night they had slept in each other’s beds, but it felt different. He struggled to have a normal conversation with her.

He answered belatedly, “I had the map.”

She was quiet, and Harry wondered what she was thinking as she finally spoke. “Are we alright, Harry?”

He cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, and he could feel her stomach tighten under his fingers. “Because of earlier. Are we alright? You’re acting funny.”

He drew her small body closer. “Of course we are, Hermione.”

“You don’t…think of me any differently?”

He couldn’t help himself. He kissed her temple and then breathed in the scent of her curls. “How so?”

“You and I have just never talked about…sex…Or, I guess, I’ve never really thought about you having sex. That is to say, objectively, I knew you were probably having sex, but it was just a passing thought. I didn’t…”

He cut off her nervous rambling. “I know what you mean, Hermione. Obviously, I knew you and Ron had sex because of some comments he’s made in the past.”

He felt her tense and quickly kept going so she wouldn’t think about their upcoming talk. “But I never really thought about you having sex and what that meant exactly.”

“But now you know.”

Her voice was quiet, as if she worried about being judged.

He hugged her reassuringly. “But now I know. And, Hermione, I think you’re incredible. You’re beautiful and confident, and when you speak, people can’t help but listen to what you have to say. You’re the strongest woman I know. Your liking sex doesn’t change that.”

She tilted her head slightly until she could meet his eyes. “It doesn’t weird you out?”

He tore his eyes away from her lips. “Hmm?”

“That I like sex. Love it, actually.”

He hid his face in her neck because he couldn’t look at her any longer. He could feel his neck burning. “No, Hermione. It doesn’t weird me out. And if anyone is weirded out that you enjoy sex, it sounds like they’re just insecure. You’re still my best friend and always will be, even if you liked watching troll porn.”

She huffed out a laugh before sighing in relief and snuggling into him again. “That’s good. And you’re my best friend, too. Always.”

Then it hit him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to bring up Ron right now, but he had to know. “Was it Ron?”

She jumped as if he had woken her up. “Was what Ron?”

“Who made you feel bad for enjoying sex?”

The silence stretched on so long he thought she had fallen asleep again. Then finally, she answered. “I think you’re right, Harry. He was insecure. I’m sure you know I was his first. I was more than willing to teach him what I liked, but I think he took it personally when I asked him to do things differently or suggested we try different things. He…he didn’t like that I prefer to be in charge in bed.”

He felt a jolt run through him at those words and quickly separated his lower half from hers, just in case. He could not handle the thought of Hermione telling him what to do in bed right now.

Before long, her breathing evened out, and he knew she was asleep. He wasn’t far behind her. Of course, all he had to do was talk to her. Everything felt okay now. Maybe not back to normal, but moving in that direction. It was probably just the unknown that had been bothering him. The thought that he might wake up and Hermione would no longer be his best friend because of frantic breaths, and sweaty skin, and crossed lines. But that wasn’t the case. It was like she said. They were best friends. Always.

------------------------

When he woke up in the morning, Hermione was gone. He stretched and grabbed the watch from his bedside table that Sirius had given him for his birthday. “Ah, fuck.”

He missed breakfast, and his stomach was protesting. Groaning, he got out of bed as he fastened his watch to his wrist. Since it was Saturday, he slipped on a pair of jeans and a black band T-shirt that he had stolen from Sirius’s closet.

As he tied his trainers, he wondered if he could persuade one of the elves to bring him some toast to tide him over until lunch. But first, he had to find Ron. He was dreading this conversation, but he wanted to be there to support Hermione. She didn’t deserve Ron’s anger, and he wouldn’t let him disrespect her over a game he wanted to play.

When he opened his door, Hermione was standing there, one hand half-raised to knock while holding a plate of toast in the other. She smiled mischievously. “Fancy a walk around the lake?”

It was so reminiscent of his fourth year that he couldn’t help but grin as he pulled her close to his chest. A tendril of her hair floated up and brushed his jaw, almost getting caught in his scruff and reminding him he needed to shave.

He wanted nothing more, but his smile faded as he thought about what they needed to do. She took a step back, and he met her eyes. “We need to talk to Ron this morning.”

Her hair started to spark. “I already talked to him this morning. We broke up.”

He ran a hand through his messy hair and grabbed her by the wrist, leading her to the common room. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I should have been there to talk to him with you.”

She adamantly shook her head. “No, Harry. I had to do it alone.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “If I’m being honest, something has felt off between us for a while. Last night was just the final nail in the coffin. It was time.”

He nodded because he couldn’t say he was surprised. They barely got along on a good day. He had started to think their arguing was just foreplay. “How’d he take it?”

She scoffed. “Not well. He thinks I’ll cool off and change my mind.”

To be fair, something similar had happened over the summer. If he remembered correctly, it was about her parents and Ron not wanting to meet them or have dinner with them or something after she had brought them back from Australia. Hermione and her parents had been trying to work on their relationship all summer, and she had been so happy that her parents had invited her and Ron to dinner.

He overheard her tell him that if he couldn’t accept her parents, then they couldn’t be together. A week later, they were back together after he apologized and agreed to go to dinner.

“Will you?” Now that he knew arguing wasn’t foreplay for them, he didn’t think they were a good match, but he had watched her pine over Ron for years. It was hard to believe their relationship was really over.

She shook her head. “No, Harry. As I said earlier, it’s just time.”

He wasn’t reassured.

Suddenly, she burst into laughter. “He did tell me why he reacted the way he did when he drew Lavender’s name.”

She looked up at him with a smirk. “You two thought you’d have to have sex with Malfoy?”

Harry groaned. “I didn’t think that. I just told him that it could happen.”

She handed him the plate of toast so she could grab his arm and pull him down the corridor toward the stairs. “Well, I guess you sort of had sex near Malfoy last night, so your nightmare partly came true.”

He came to a stop, his mouth dropping open in shock as she started laughing again. He couldn’t help but laugh with her as her hand slid down his arm to take his. He followed her down the stairs. “Too soon, Hermione.”

She finally took a breath, wiping her eyes. “Come along, Harry. I know you must be starving, so eat your toast, and let’s go enjoy the day by the lake.”

“I think I should still talk to Ron and clear the air.”

He couldn’t see her, but he knew she had just rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t our fault, Harry.”

“I know that. But you know how Ron is.” He crunched on his toast. “We don’t need a repeat of the tent situation.”

Quietly, she replied, “I know that he’s our best friend. He always will be. But we shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

He briefly felt guilty. It didn’t seem that way last night when he dragged his tongue across her jaw, trying to lick up every bit of her taste left behind from Malfoy’s fingers.

As Hermione conjured a blanket and pulled him down to sit beside her, he looked at her, determined. “I’m going to talk to him.”

She sighed but didn’t argue as she lay back on the blanket and covered her face with her arm. “If that’s what you want.”

He finished his toast then joined her, lying beside her so he could enjoy the last of October's sun.

He was warm and relaxed when Hermione’s voice woke him from that half-state of sleep. “Oh, I forgot to mention. Ginny and Blaise are going to join us after they finish flying together this morning.”

His eyes snapped open with a glare. He was no longer relaxed, and the feeling of peace he had felt was entirely gone. “Fuck.”

Chapter Text

He watched her from the Slytherin table. He was trying not to yell at Pansy, but she kept poking her face right into his way every so often to whisper in Daphne’s ear and giggle. She was probably talking about how boring Longbottom was or something. Granger sat facing him, her Gryffindor friends surrounding her on all sides. The girl Weasley on one side and Potter on the other. Longbottom sat across from her. He could tell they were laughing at him because his neck was turning a deep red and his hands were covering his face.

Granger laughed at something the Weaslette said. He wrinkled his nose, disgusted that his best friend was slumming it with a Weasley.

Draco wasn’t surprised that the Weasel was nowhere to be found. He wondered if Granger had broken up with him or if everything was forgiven after she had time to cool down. After all, when it was all said and done, Granger had crossed far more lines than Weasley did. Not to mention, she sat there as if she hadn’t suffered a recent heartbreak.

Potter sat close against her side, and although this was nothing unusual, there was something different in how he held himself around her. It was as if he had suddenly made it his business to watch over her. He refilled her tea and received a quick smile in return. He reached across the table to grab the jam for her, and she absentmindedly put a hand on his arm and squeezed it while she was talking to the Weaslette.

But there was also a certain hesitation in his actions. It was like he was trying too hard not to touch her too much or questioning whether she even wanted him to touch her at all. Usually, his hands would be all over her, whether it was his arm around her shoulders or their hands linked. Those two were always touching.

Draco expected it. He always thought they’d start dating once they got their heads out of their asses, but instead, she ended up with the Weasel. There’s no accounting for taste with that one. But now, the thought of Potter’s hands on her had him grinding his teeth.

Suddenly, Potter’s arm wrapped around her, and he leaned in to whisper something in her ear. She smirked, and her eyes shifted to the entrance hall where Weasley and Finnigan were walking side by side.

Weasley looked like he hadn’t slept at all, and his garish hair was sticking up in every direction.

Draco choked on a laugh, along with everyone else at the Slytherin table. Finnigan walked beside him, looking resigned and furious, probably because he was completely bald.

Everyone at the Gryffindor table started laughing and cheering, all except for Granger, who sat there with a smirk on her face as she shared a look with Potter. Did those two plan this without him? He was supposed to be part of the payback. They weren’t the only ones stuck in that room on Friday night. Nor were they forced to kiss their cousin.

She waved her fingers at Finnigan, and Draco’s grip on his fork tightened as Potter buried his face in her hair, his body shaking with laughter.

His eyes narrowed at the pair. This was outrageous. There’s no way that nothing happened between them over the weekend. When he saw Potter early Saturday morning, the idiot was a mess, and now he was relaxed and hanging all over Granger like they hadn’t just been forced to have sex a couple of days earlier.

“You all right there, mate?” Theo asked while studying his grip on the fork.

Draco quickly dropped it, and it clattered onto his plate.

“Fine,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

“Hmm,” Theo answered, following his gaze to where it landed on Granger. “So, are you finally going to tell me what happened the other night?”

He hesitantly turned his gaze from the pair to look at Theo. “None of your business.”

Theo draped an arm around him and nudged him, causing Draco to roll his eyes. “Aw, come on. It’s nothing we haven’t shared before.”

Draco shoved him away. “Fuck off, Nott. I’m not telling you.”

Theo had a look in his eyes that Draco knew well. It was calculating. If Draco didn’t want Theo to suspect anything unusual, he’d have to give him something.

“Granger was…surprising.”

Theo tilted his head as he looked at him. “How so?”

Draco waved his hand toward the Gryffindor table, trying to ignore that Potter still had his arm around Granger. Why was his arm still there? In front of Weasley? Did this mean she broke up with him? “Well, look at her.”

Theo broke his stare to look at him incredulously. “What about her? She’s fucking hot. Was she a total prude? I feel like she’d be bossy in bed.”

Draco ignored that remark, instead leaning back in surprise that Theo found her attractive. “Granger? Hot?”

He looked at her, trying to see what Theo saw. Her curls were messy and wild, but they no longer looked frizzy. They had a fresh, slightly disheveled look that was oddly attractive, even though curls were never his personal preference. He has always preferred straight, lighter hair.

Her lips were full, and now that he was intimately aware of how they looked around his cock, he could admit they were incredibly attractive. One of her best features. He just wasn’t used to seeing them in anything but a straight line of annoyance when directed at him.

Her body, on the other hand, was completely hidden beneath her loose clothes. Her white shirt was two sizes too big, making her look like she didn’t even have tits. Her skirt also fell below her knees and fully concealed her figure. She was too short to wear something so unflattering and baggy.

However, Draco knew what was underneath. But Theo didn’t. “I mean, look at her. She’s frumpy.”

Theo chuckled and shook his head. “Can’t fool me, mate. I know exactly what she’s hiding under those clothes.”

Draco’s head jerked around so fast that a jolt of pain shot through his neck. “What the fuck do you mean, Theo?”

He shook his head again, a secret smile on his face. “You share yours, and I’ll share mine.”

Suddenly, Draco felt the urge to punch him.

He didn’t have time right now, though, because Granger was getting up to go to Potions, and he wanted to catch her before she reached the classroom.

He pointed a finger at Theo’s face. “We’re talking about this later.”

Theo winked and turned to talk to Blaise on his other side, who was staring at Ginevra like a lovesick fool.

He ran to catch up with Granger, who had thankfully left Potter behind at the Gryffindor table. “Granger, wait!”

She paused and looked back at him, giving him a chance to catch up. “Good morning, Malfoy.”

He nodded in response. “Have you thought about what you want to do for our independent study in Potions?”

When she looked up at him with a smile, he felt his cheeks flush as he stared at her lips. She was really quite pretty. She was also wearing something that made her eyelashes appear darker and longer, and now that he was looking, her eyes looked more like the color of firewhisky than light brown.

“What are your thoughts on inventing a new kind of healing potion?”

“Huh?”

“For our project.”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Inventing a new potion? Ambitious. What did you have in mind?”

Preferably something they had to work on together outside of Potion’s.

She looked sheepish. “Well, when Harry and I were on the run last year-”

Their conversation was interrupted when Weasley stepped in, grabbing Granger’s hand and pulling her away so she was no longer next to him. The sound of outrage that escaped her mouth nearly matched his.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Weasley?”

He looked back with a stare that could have singed the hair on Finnigan’s head if he had any. “None of your business, Ferret.”

“Hermione, I need to talk to you,” Weasley hurriedly said, trying to grab her hand to pull her away.

She quickly pulled her hand back from him again. “I’ve said all I needed to say about the matter, Ron.”

She glanced at Draco as if she were embarrassed and hoped he’d walk away to give them some privacy, but unfortunately for her, he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hermione, please,” Weasley pleaded again. “Just let me explain.”

She let out a tired sigh. “I don’t need you to explain it to me again, Ron. I understand you thought you were about to be forced to have sex with Malfoy.”

Draco reared his head back sharply. “Excuse me?”

“It’s not that you went into the room with Lavender that upsets me so much,” she continued, ignoring Draco’s spluttering.

“Then what is it? Is it about what you had to do with Malfoy and Harry? Because we can work through that. I know you didn’t want to, and I’m okay with it.”

Draco would wager all the galleons in his vault that if the ginger idiot knew what they had been doing in that closet, he’d change his tune.

She shook her head, looking sad. He wanted to make her feel better. He could buy her jewelry or French chocolates if he thought she’d accept them. But he knew she’d be better off in the long run, so his sympathy was short-lived. “No, Ron. It’s because you agreed to that stupid game in the first place. Did you go into it expecting we’d automatically draw each other’s names?”

Weasley hesitated, and Draco tried not to feel glee at how foolish he was. “Well, no, not necessarily.”

She nodded. “Then, that’s your answer. Because if you truly thought we belonged together, you wouldn’t have taken the chance.”

He grabbed his hair in frustration, and Draco watched as the redness in his cheeks spread to his freckled ears. “You said we could!”

She stopped him with her hand. “I said we could if you wanted to, and you did, so I agreed.”

He started to walk away, but then he turned back. “Why wouldn’t you just say no?”

She started walking toward the Potion’s classroom, with Draco behind her. “I shouldn’t have even been asked a question like that where I’d have to tell you no.”

No longer able to keep his silence, he spoke loudly enough for Weasley to hear as he stomped away. “If you were mine, I know for a fact no one else would be allowed to put their hands on you.”

She gave him a droll look.

They continued the rest of the way in silence, but when they reached their seats, she huffed and looked at him, raising a sharp eyebrow. “Was that really necessary, Malfoy?”

He didn’t even bother hiding his smile. “It was to me.”

She started grabbing her textbooks. "Honestly, Malfoy, I’ve dealt with his tantrums enough this weekend. Now I know I'll hear about this later.”

“Well,” he started, unable to stop himself. “I never understood why you were with that ginger idiot to begin with. You’re way too good for him.”
She rolled her eyes and organized her books neatly. Their potions textbook, along with all their notes, was placed in front of them where he could see her messier handwriting next to his much neater writing.

“What?” he kept going. "You don’t agree?”

“I don’t want to talk about Ron anymore, Malfoy. Make yourself useful and go get the ingredients we need for our potion.”

“You haven’t told me what our base potion is yet.”

She flipped through the pages hurriedly until she found the right one. “I want to experiment with creating a variation of Essence of Dittany that has universal healing properties. We know Dittany quickly heals cuts, bruises, and other ailments, and also prevents scarring without any negative side effects. What if we could develop something similar that works internally?”

"For example, the potion could begin addressing internal issues in a life-or-death situation until the person can be properly triaged.”

He nodded, thinking. “Kind of like a cure-all potion. I like it.”

She beamed at him. “Exactly. We could call it Elixir Panaceum or something.”

He nodded again, but more slowly. “Sounds complicated, though. Do you think that’s something we could realistically do? We’ll probably have to spend a lot of time outside the classroom working on it.”

She hummed in agreement and went back to her notes. “I do think it’s possible, but you’re right. It’s going to be very challenging. Now, go get the basic ingredients for Dittany, and check if Slughorn has any Aurumleaf and Heartroot. Maybe some Willow sap.”

He let out a laugh but stood up anyway. “Yes, Mistress.”

The look she shot him had him anticipating a fierce right hook, one he had no desire to feel a second time. He smirked as he casually walked to the potions closet.

He stopped short before running directly into Potter as he came out of the storeroom. When did that damn git get so tall? Malfoy used to enjoy looking down on him.

Potter took a step back and sneered, a suspicious look crossing his face. “Why are you smiling, Malfoy? Did you do something to Hermione?”

Draco shrugged, running a thumb across his lip. “Nope, just getting the ingredients for our potion. What’s your problem, anyway? Jealous she’s my partner and not yours, Potter?”

His eyes flashed with what Draco would call murderous intent, but knowing he had defeated Voldemort with a disarming spell, Draco figured he was safe for now.

“You should have thought ahead and partnered with her instead of the idiot Weasel.”

Potter rolled his eyes and tried to push him back. “You know just as well as I do that Slughorn picked our partners for the independent study.”

Draco refused to step away from the door. If anyone was moving, it was Potter. “I guess it was just luck, then. Maybe you should have used the liquid luck that you cheated to win two years ago.”

Draco nearly stepped back at the look in Potter’s eyes. “My friends and I used that up the night you let fucking Death Eaters into the castle, Malfoy.”

Draco looked away and clenched his jaw. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of that night. The nightmares were enough to remind him. He probably should apologize, but it was more complicated than he thought, apologizing to the first person who ever sneered at his offer of friendship.

Fortunately, he was interrupted by Granger, who pushed him from behind until both he and Potter were forced to move out of the way. “What on earth is taking you so long, Malfoy? You’ve been standing in this doorway for five minutes!”

Her petite frame was almost flush with his back, and when her hands grabbed his waist and pushed him to the side, his mind raced with fantasies, imagining her hands beneath his starched shirt, caressing his heated skin. He longed for her to push him onto a bed and straddle him. Run her hands up his body and force him to do whatever she wanted.

“Oh! Harry, what on earth are you doing in here? I didn’t think you were ready to choose a potion for your independent study yet.”

Draco watched as she fussed over Potter, being nosy while she checked the ingredients in his hands.

Potter glared at him before turning to give Hermione his full attention. “I had an idea.” He held up both hands full of ingredients. “Just grabbing these to try something out.”

She grabbed his arm to gently move him aside. Draco was roughly handled in comparison. He couldn’t say he disliked it, though. “Let me know if you need help.”

Potter smirked as he met his eyes, and Draco swallowed the vitriol he wanted to spew. It was always fucking Potter getting everything. He refused to let him get the girl as well. Draco had made up his mind about Granger. He wanted her, and Malfoys always got what they wanted.

Potter hit his shoulder as he left, and Draco clenched his jaw in frustration. He watched as Hermione started reaching for the ingredients, and he absent-mindedly grabbed the ones above her head and handed them to her. “He’s not a child, you know.”

She ran a quill down her list of ingredients, checking items off as she went. “Hmm?”

“He doesn’t need you checking his work.”

She looked at him as if he were batty. “I know he doesn’t. But I’m still going to offer my help in case he needs it. He wants to be an Auror, and he needs at least an A in this class to get accepted into the program.”

He internally rolled his eyes as he silently shut the door behind him, wanting some privacy. He was in a closet with Granger. Why wouldn’t he take the opportunity to seduce her before Potter got his hands on her?

As she stood on her tiptoes, he gently leaned against her back, one hand on her waist and the other casually reaching up to grab the willow sap.

A coil of her hair practically slapped him in the face, nearly hitting his eye and causing him to rear back quickly. Unaware of this, Granger turned around and ran her quill down her list one last time. “Thank you, Malfoy. I think that’s everything.”

She looked up at him and examined his face, no doubt noticing how stunned he looked.

Granger did not bother to ask him what was wrong.

“Shall we?” she asked, trying to go around him.

He grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Granger, wait.”

Suddenly feeling awkward and nervous, he ran a hand through his hair and looked away. “Look, I know we haven’t had a chance to talk about what happened Friday. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She softened and offered him a small smile, and he let out a sigh of relief. He knew he could do this. He had plenty of experience with witches. How hard could it be to seduce Granger?

Her cheeks pinked, but other than that, she looked perfectly composed. “Thank you for asking, but I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I know we didn’t actually consent to having sex with each other.”

Suddenly, she looked more serious. “I’m sorry, Malfoy. I didn’t even think to ask. Are you okay after Friday? I know it was tough for you being forced to be... intimate with me. With Harry there, no less.”

Surprised, he shook his head. “Well, I could have done without Potter, but I’m fine too, Granger.” He took a strand of her hair and wrapped it around his finger. He could have sworn he felt it tighten, cutting off his circulation before shocking him. He quickly uncoiled it and put his hand in his pocket.

“Better than fine,” he continued. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She nodded with a relieved smile. “Perfectly fine as well.”

He gave her a crooked smile, one he knew other girls liked because it made the dimple in his left cheek stand out. “I’m glad. But honestly, I’m surprised at you, Granger.”

She opened the door and began walking back toward their station. She glanced back at him, confused. “What for?”

Setting the ingredients down on their table, she started organizing them. He wished she’d look at him. He was trying to flirt. “Well, Finnigan’s bald, which is hilarious, but I expected better than that from you.”

Finally, she looked up at him, and he made sure to keep eye contact.

She gave him a smirk that rivaled his own before putting the book in front of them to look at the instructions. “Oh, Malfoy. I know this friendship between us is new, but it’s obvious you don’t know me very well. That was just the beginning.”

Wait. She considered them friends? Well, that was a start, at least, but he refused to get stuck in what Theo called the friend zone.

“What else do you have planned? I want in on it, whatever your schemes are. I did promise to help, after all.”

She laughed quietly, her eyes shifting to Finnigan’s bald head, which was nearly reflective and sweaty from the sunlight streaming through the window. They watched as a drop of sweat landed in his potion, releasing an odorous green cloud. He gagged, and when Dean looked up from their shared potions book to see what was happening, he unknowingly inhaled, causing him to cover his mouth and dash for the door. The whole class started laughing. Potter turned around in his seat to glance at Granger, and they exchanged a secretive look.

It annoyed Draco.

He caught her eye and winked at her. “I learned a long time ago not to bet against you, Granger.”

She looked undeniably pleased with herself. Glancing at Potter’s table, he met his eyes and smirked. His potion was abandoned in front of him, leaving Weasley to stir and frantically search around for their missing ingredient, which might have ended up in Draco’s pocket.

Game on.

Granger tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at an excerpt in her book, excitedly explaining in more detail what she wanted to create with their potion. He made sure to lean in until their shoulders touched and his ear was close to her mouth. She was much shorter than him, and the classroom was loud, after all.

Chapter Text

Harry glanced at his watch. It was almost eight, and still no Ron. Hermione sat beside him, enjoying a bowl of figgy pudding. Ginny sat across from her, reminding them that Molly expected them for Boxing Day. She warned that Fred and George were working on something for everyone’s visit and told them to stay vigilant.

“Constant vigilance!” she growled, in a convincingly accurate impression of Moody.

Harry was only half listening. Ron hadn’t come to dinner, and it was unlike him to miss a meal.

Getting to his feet, he reached into his pocket for the map. “Hermione,” he said, stopping short.

Hermione and Ginny paused their conversation to turn and look at him.

He looked between the two of them. “I’m going to look for Ron.”

She nodded, worriedly searching his eyes. “Come find me later to let me know he’s okay?”

He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’ll stop by your room later.”

He glanced toward the Slytherin table. He scanned for the blonde-headed git, a habit he’d picked up before the height of the war. He nearly stopped short when he saw where Malfoy was looking. He followed the direction of his gaze back to the Gryffindor table.

He was staring at Hermione, eerily similar to how he looked at her in that room, before he started sliding down her body to taste her. Harry almost changed his mind about searching for Ron. He was a big boy and could take care of himself.

He was probably still licking his wounds from the breakup. But when he finally located his dot on the map, he was near the shore of the black lake. Alone.

Resigned, he left the Great Hall.

He had been avoiding this conversation. Things had been strained between him and Ron, but he only blamed himself. Ron had wanted to play Wizard’s Chess a few nights ago, but he begged off. He had asked him to go to the kitchens with him one night for a late-night snack, but he complained of being too tired.

He couldn’t put it off any longer. He didn’t want his friendship with Ron to suffer more than it already had. He was actually surprised by how mature Ron had been after the game that night. At least for the most part. He didn’t seem to hold anything against Harry for ending up in the closet with Hermione.

Spotting a hunched-over shadow in the dark, he made his way down the rocky path until he was sitting beside him on the grass.

They were quiet for several minutes, gazing out at the inky blackness of the lake in front of them.

Finally, Ron broke the silence. “I fucked up.”

Harry’s lips pressed into a straight line. He didn’t respond.

Ron put his head in his hands and took a deep breath before finally turning to meet his eyes. “What do I do?”

Harry shook his head, closing his eyes to avoid the devastation on his best friend’s face. “I don’t know.”

“Do you think I can get her back?”

Harry hesitated. Ron deserved honesty from him, but honesty felt like kicking a Niffler right now. “I don’t think so, Ron. She seems pretty set on her decision.”

“It’s been two weeks, and she still refuses to talk to me about it.”

Harry hummed. He was well aware Hermione was unwilling to talk about their break-up. They’d argued every night since then, and he wasn’t the only one tired of it.

Ron groaned and tucked his head between his knees. “I don’t want to lose her, mate.”

Harry didn’t mention that he probably already had. “What exactly did you like so much about being with Hermione?”

Ron looked pensive. “Well, she’s beautiful.”

Harry couldn’t help but agree. “What else?”

Ron smirked. “She’s really good at…you know.”

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes and saying, ‘I know.’ “Right. She’s beautiful and good at sex. What else? Something about her personality.”

Ron’s head tilted from side to side. Harry couldn’t help but list off the top of his head five things he loved about Hermione.

“She’s smart.”

Harry nodded.

Ron let out a soft sigh. “Sometimes I wish she weren’t so smart.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. She makes me feel like an idiot.”

“Not on purpose. I think most people feel that way when they talk to her.”

He nodded soberly. “I know.”

Harry smiled. “What about the fact that she’s loyal? Or brave? Or that she’s fierce? She did put Rita in a jar.”

They laughed for a moment.

Quietly, Ron replied, his voice thoughtful. “She did all of those things for you, you know?”

Harry knew. She’d always been there for him, even when he was too dumb to be there for her. He was usually the one who needed Hermione, so naturally she was all those things for him. But he tried to be that for her when she needed it. But there had been no hint of accusation in Ron’s voice so he kept his thoughts to himself.

Ron continued. “Third year with the broom.” He chuckled. “We were idiots about it, though. And then we treated her like shit. Despite all that, she still helped you save Sirius.”

A pang shot through his chest, and he rubbed it absently. They were fucking stupid, but he was right. Despite how they treated her, she stayed.

“Fourth year, she helped you prepare for the tournament. She stuck by you when I was a jealous git. Fifth year, she helped you form the DA and cursed Marietta. Then the horcrux hunt.”

Ron looked at him guiltily, both of them knowing what he was silently admitting. Hermione had stood by him over the years while Ron had been a jealous git. Again and again.

Ron sighed. “I never get the best of anything. But when we started dating, I had the thought that finally it’s my turn. She was the best, and she chose me. She was mine.”

That statement rubbed Harry the wrong way, but he wanted to keep the peace so he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t even sure why it bothered him. Was he implying they had been in some silent competition for Hermione’s affections? He didn’t even feel that way about her and never had. He was in love with Ron’s sister, for fuck’s sake.

The crunch of shoes on grass alerted them to a presence. They both turned around to see Ginny walking toward them. He looked past her, searching for Hermione, but she wasn’t there. She must have stayed at the castle.

Ginny sat on his other side, close enough for their arms to touch. “Where’s Hermione?” he asked.

She quickly glanced at Ron before meeting his eyes. “I think she was going to study in the library for a bit with Malfoy.”

Ron grunted. “Why is she studying with that ferret anyway?”

Harry wanted to know the answer to that as well.

“Something about a potion project they were partnered on.”

Harry was very aware of it.

Ron cleared his throat. “What happened that night, anyway?”

Lost in thought, it didn’t immediately register to Harry what he was asking. He was wondering if he needed to go to the library to check on Hermione. He didn’t trust Malfoy.

“I’d like to know that as well. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her about it.”

Ginny’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. “About what?”

She snickered. “About what happened in the room between you three that night. We all thought you wouldn’t go through with it and would stay in there all night and come out bald the next day.”

She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Imagine our surprise the next day when all three of you still had your hair.”

There was no way he would talk about this with the woman he loved and his best friend, who was in love with the girl he was forced into the closet with. “Is that why when we came out, everyone had already gone to bed?”

He glanced at Ron, but he was particularly expressionless.

“You know,” Ron said as he stood up, brushing the back of his jeans. “I actually don’t think I want to know.”

He walked away without saying another word, and Harry and Ginny exchanged knowing looks.

“Now that he’s gone, you’re really not going to tell me? Come on, we used to tell each other everything.”

He started to shake his head but then stopped. Was this the way to get Ginny back? Would it make her jealous if she knew what he’d done with Hermione? But no, he couldn’t do that to Hermione. If Hermione wanted to tell her, then she could.

A slow smirk appeared on his face. “Malfoy came in like two minutes.”

Ginny burst out laughing. “You can’t be serious. What happened? What was the context?”

He shook his head, still smiling. “You’ll have to ask Hermione.”

Saying her name reminded him that she was in the library, possibly alone with Malfoy.

Abruptly, he stood up. “See you at practice tomorrow, yeah?”

She nodded her head, giving him a curious look. “Okay, Harry. See you tomorrow.”

By the time he reached the library, he was out of breath. He immediately headed toward the back, where Hermione usually sat. Her favorite table was a small two-seater pushed up against a window. It was in the darkest part of the library, but she repeatedly claimed it had the best view of the grounds. All he could picture was Malfoy cornering her, trying to get her to repeat what happened in that room.

As he turned the corner, he saw her head bent over a thick tome as she scribbled furiously on some parchment, her hair threatening to break free of its restraints, just as furious. Malfoy was nowhere to be found.

He let out a sigh of relief, and she looked up at the noise.

“Harry? What’s wrong? What happened?” She jumped up from her chair so quickly it nearly fell over. “Is it Ron?”

He pulled her into his arms, pressing her face against his chest and cradling the back of her head with his hand.

He took a deep breath, his body trembling slightly as he tried to steady himself.

Hermione tried to pull away, but he held her tighter and shook his head.

“Harry?” she asked tentatively.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “You’re okay.”

She pushed against him more firmly, and he finally let her go.

“Of course I’m okay, you maniac. What happened?”

He took the seat across from where she had been sitting and ran his fingers through his hair before rubbing his face with his hands. “Fuck. Sorry, I think I freaked out for a second. I just needed to make sure you were alright.”

She sat back down across from him, and he stared at the scar Bellatrix left on her neck. “What brought this on?”

He couldn’t tell her he was thinking about Malfoy. Objectively, he knew Malfoy wouldn’t actually hurt her, even if he was a tosser. He knew Malfoy wasn’t an actual Death Eater. If he thought that, he would have never spoken up at his trial and helped keep him out of Azkaban. He just didn’t like him.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know, I guess I still have a hard time letting you out of my sight sometimes. Probably left over paranoia from the war or something.”

Her large amber eyes filled with tears as she reached across the table to grab his hand. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Harry. We’re safe now.”

He nodded solemnly. “I’ll always keep you safe, Hermione.”

She’s looked at him wryly. “I can protect myself, thank you very much.”

A humorless laugh slipped out of him. “Don’t I know it.”

After they were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor, Hermione explained to him how she had never felt more helpless than when she was at Bellatrix's mercy without a wand. After they were rescued, she practiced her wandless magic obsessively until it became second nature.

It wasn’t even supposed to be possible. But she had read in an obscure book that Sirius had gifted her from his library that before wands were invented, magical beings had been using nature as the conductor for their magic for centuries.

He studied her face, taking in how delicate her features looked. How small and fragile she seemed. Her slender hands that could work magic with or without a wand. She meant far too much to him. He had to protect her. “But I need you to humor me, Hermione. Even if you don’t actually need me for protection.”

She heaved a deep sigh, as if she were annoyed, but he caught the smile threatening to break across her face. “I guess I can do that for you. But just for the record, I need to protect you, too.”

He grabbed the hand that was still resting on his and kissed her palm. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

She reluctantly looked down at the book she was studying, then sighed and slammed it shut. “Fine. I need a break anyway. My eyes are starting to burn.”

He scoffed. “I think that has more to do with the fact that you choose to study in the darkest part of the library with just a tiny lamp for light.”

“This window has the best view of the grounds.”

After she tidied her books and put them back in her bag, he took it from her and slung the strap over his shoulder.

“Fuck. What the hell are you carrying around in your bag?”

She rolled her eyes and raised her hand. Suddenly, the bag felt weightless.

He grinned sheepishly, allowing her to take his hand to drag him along. They stayed quiet as they weaved through the stacks.

“I spoke with Ron.”

She glanced back at him. “How did that go?”

He shrugged. “I think he’s finally starting to realize you’re actually done.”

She released his hand, and he clenched his fist, placing it in his pocket.

He leaned over her to open the heavy library door with his other hand. “I hope so. I’m so tired of fighting with him every night.”

“Everyone’s tired of it, Hermione.”

She ignored him. “I just want us to be best friends again.”

“I know. I think it’ll just take some time.”

She was silent as she walked beside him, lost in thought. "Do you think it was a mistake for us to date?”

Usually, she was the one he went to for advice, not the other way around. “I think,” he started slowly, “that you had to try. That maybe you’d always wonder if you hadn’t. Now you know and can focus on finding someone who treats you the way you should be treated.”

She smiled at him with gratitude. “I think I’ll stay single for a while.”

He was inexplicably relieved by this. But when he thought about it more, the relief he felt from her statement was obvious. Malfoy was sniffing around Hermione, and he didn’t want her to fall prey the way he had seen other girls fall for Malfoy’s flirtatious behavior.

Hermione would never fall for that pale fucker’s tricks. But just in case, he’d keep an eye on him to make sure he kept his distance.

When they entered the eighth-year common room, nearly everyone was gathered around the fireplace, sipping firewhisky and butterbeer, including Ron.

Ron looked between the two of them and nodded at Harry before continuing his conversation with Dean. As soon as Seamus saw Hermione, his eyes widened, and he excused himself, saying he had an early morning.

Everyone laughed as he practically sprinted down the hall as if his ass was on fire.

Ginny came over and gave Hermione a hug. “What did you do to that poor boy, Hermione?”

She scoffed and joined everyone around the fire. “Nothing yet. All in good time.”

Ginny sat back down next to Blaise, who caught Hermione’s eye. “What are you planning to do to him?”

She shrugged and sat on the rug, her back to the fire. “Whatever it takes until he’s on his knees begging for forgiveness. Just like I promised.”

Theo burst out laughing. “Fuck, Granger. Was it that bad with Malfoy and Potter in the closet?”

Malfoy reached over and punched him on the arm. Harry’s eyes narrowed at both of them. He moved to sit beside Hermione on the floor, placing her book bag on the floor between them.

She smiled at him before turning back to Theo. “None of your business, Theodore.”

Luna interjected. “Of course it wasn’t. I can speak from experience that Draco is a good kisser. And Harry and Hermione are so in sync, I’m sure he pleasured her the way she deserved.”

“Oh, fuck me,” Malfoy muttered.

Hermione covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath.

“Er, thanks, Luna,” he replied, embarrassed.

Ginny spoke up. “I, for one, had a great time. We should do it again.”

Half of the occupants in the room yelled no, while the other half cheered.

Hermione tensed up next to him. “Absolutely not.”

He felt offended by the vehemence in her voice. He met Malfoy’s eyes, and based on the look on his face, he was offended as well. They shot each other a death glare.

“Oh, come on," Theo chimed in. “It doesn’t have to be the same game. We could play a different one."

It was quiet as he looked around the room. “What happened to inter-house unity? We’re supposed to be using this year to move past prejudice and get to know our fellow classmates outside of our own houses.”

Luna’s ethereal voice broke the silence. “What did you have in mind, Theodore?”

“It’s Theo, love.”

Harry gave Nott the stink eye. What was with the Slytherins flirting with his friends?

“What about Truth or Dare?” he asked. He conjured a bottle and placed it in the center of the coffee table, giving it a good spin.

“That’s spin the bottle, Theo,” Hermione said.

“We’re going to use it to determine whose turn it is.”

No one was objecting, but Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to do this. From Hermione’s expression, he could tell he wasn’t the only one. He knew Hermione didn’t want to speak up because she didn’t want to come across as a stick in the mud. Neville looked sick. Ron appeared resigned. Lavendar was staring at the side of Ron’s face.

“What are the rules?” Ginny asked.

Nott looked up, tapping his chin with his finger. “Nothing too crazy. Whoever the bottle lands on has to answer a truth or do a dare. Once they’re done, they can’t just pick someone; they have to spin the bottle. That way, there’s no targeting.”

He stepped closer to the coffee table, resting his hand on the bottle. “Any objections?”

Malfoy spoke up. “You need a hobby, Theo.”

Theo ignored him. “I’ll go first.”

Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand, squeezing it before letting go. She shot him a look, making it clear she wasn’t happy about this. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “At least it’s not Veritaserum or Dare. Just lie if you have to.”

Her lips twitched before she turned her head to whisper in his ear. “Don’t give him any ideas.” When she pulled back, she had a mischievous look on her face.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you thinking?”

She shrugged. “You’ll see.”

The bottle spun, round and round, gradually slowing until it finally landed on Ron.

He suddenly looked very nervous. “Ronald,” Theo exclaimed. “Truth or Dare?”

“Uh,” he briefly glanced around before resignedly staring at the bottle. “Truth, I guess.”

“Oh, come on. Where’s that Grynffindor bravery?”

“All used up in the war, I’m afraid,” he responded drolly.

Harry and Hermione burst out laughing, and Ron smiled at them. It made Harry think they’d be okay eventually.

Nott sighed. “Fine. Hmmm,” he started, looking around the room. “Who is the hottest person in this room?”

His face turned red as his eyes briefly flicked to Hermione before looking over at Lavender. “I want to change to dare.”

“Oh, come on,” he teased, “It’s not that hard of a question.”

Ron swallowed before finally responding. “Lavender.”

It looked like Ron was going to lie his way through this game as well.

Lavender looked pleased with herself as she stared at Hermione. Hermione looked indifferent, but he knew that she was not.

Nott clapped, and Zabini and Malfoy rolled their eyes. “Get on with it, Theo,” Malfoy said. “No need to make this idiocy a production.”

Theo pouted. “You’re no fun.” He pointed at Ron. “Fine. It’s your turn. Go ahead and spin the bottle.”

Ron disentangled himself from Lavender’s arm and stood up for his turn. It landed on Theo. Ron slowly smirked. “Truth or Dare?”

Nott grinned. “Dare.”

“I dare you to give Malfoy a lap dance.”

Everyone started laughing except Malfoy, who groaned. Theo shrugged as if it were no big deal and conjured a chair for Malfoy to sit on.

Malfoy reluctantly sat in the chair and leaned back. “Do not fucking grind on me, Nott, or I’ll curse your junk.”

He leaned back and covered his eyes with his hands. Everyone laughed as Nott mimicked a lap dance, rolling his hips and shaking his ass. Even Hermione started laughing at his antics.

After a few minutes and out of breath, he sat down again. Zabini smacked Malfoy on the back of the head. “It’s over now, idiot.”

Malfoy shot Theo a death glare. “Sleep with one eye open tonight, fucker.”

Theo laughed as if he thought it was a joke. “Yeah, yeah, your turn.”

Malfoy spun the bottle, watching it carefully as it slowed down. It went around the circle, and suddenly Harry felt nervous that it would land on him. But it just barely went past him and stopped on Hermione.

He heard the soft sigh she exhaled.

Malfoy smirked. “Granger.”

“Malfoy,” she replied, her tone warning.

He smiled, unapologetic. “Truth or Dare?”

She groaned. “Dare, I guess.”

Harry startled next to her. Dare?

Malfoy’s evil smirk grew. “I dare you…to kiss me.”

The room started cheering, and Theo pumped his fists in the air. “I knew it!”

Harry nearly grabbed Hermione’s arm to keep her in place. He had just promised himself he would protect her from Malfoy. He knew it. He knew Malfoy wanted her, and this only confirmed his fears.

Challengingly, Hermione looked at Malfoy with one eyebrow raised. Finally, she shrugged and stood up.

Harry clenched his fists in his lap.

Malfoy leaned back in his armchair, his pointy face smug as Hermione approached him. She paused in front of him, considering. Finally, she crooked her finger. Questioningly, he sat up. She shook her head, her finger still crooked. Slowly, he stood up until he was towering over her.

She pointed her finger toward the ground. He looked at her in confusion. “Kneel and say please,” she said.

Everyone started shouting and whistling. Malfoy’s face reddened, and he shook his head stubbornly. “You have to kiss me, Granger. That’s the dare.”

Stubbornly, she pointed at the ground again. “Kneel and say please, or I’m leaving.”

Malfoy seemed conflicted, then finally sighed in resignation. “Fine.”

He slowly dropped to his knees, and the cheers in the room grew louder. When he was kneeling in front of her, she grabbed his hair, forcing him to look up.

He groaned. “Fuck. Please, Granger.”

“Please, what?” she asked.

“Holy shit,” someone exclaimed.

Draco shook his head at her, but he looked amused. “Please kiss me, Granger.”

She patted his head like he was a dog, then leaned down until their faces were even. “Good boy,” she whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Then she grabbed his face and kissed him, and he immediately deepened the kiss. Harry watched in shock as Malfoy’s tongue lapped and curled around hers, pressing into her mouth.

The cheers were deafening. He met Ron’s eyes, and it was clear he was just as shocked.

Finally, Hermione pulled away, and Malfoy reluctantly released her where he had grabbed her hips during the kiss.

Hermione sat back beside him as if nothing had happened. She spun the bottle, and it landed on Theo. He was forced to do something embarrassing, but Harry wasn’t paying attention. Someone else went, and then Theo was forced to go again. This happened repeatedly until it hit him. Hermione was wandlessly stopping the bottle on Theo as often as she could.

He couldn’t even appreciate her genius. Malfoy had dared her to kiss him. Harry closed his eyes and cursed softly.

Chapter Text

Hermione hadn’t been in her room for more than thirty minutes when there was a knock on her door. 

She sighed and placed her quill back in its holder. “Come in,” she called, already knowing who it would be.

The door opened, and Ginny’s head poked in. “Busy?”

Hermione looked at the piles of books on her desk and thought about how much research she still needed to do for her and Malfoy’s project. “Yes, but I know you don’t actually care.”

Ginny grinned, barging in and shutting the door behind her. “How astute of you.”

Hermione stepped into the loo and changed into her pajamas. She heard Ginny flop onto the bed and prepared herself for a long-overdue conversation. “I know why you’re here.”

Ginny cackled. “Good. Then we can skip the bullshit.”

Despite how annoying Ginny could be, Hermione appreciated her friendship. Since the end of the war, she and Ginny had become much closer. Initially, it was out of necessity. Hermione had been staying with the Weasleys before she went to retrieve her parents from Australia. Even though she and Ron were dating at the time, she shared a room with Ginny. Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t hear of it any other way.

Ginny would cover for her when she stayed in Ron’s room. She’d cover for Ginny when she snuck out to see Blaise. 

When Hermione came back from Australia without her parents, she cried on Ginny’s shoulder. Ginny had been unaware of the situation at the time, and needing a good friend, Hermione had spilled her guts. Ginny was the one who encouraged her to keep trying. By mid-July, her parents had moved back to England, and she and Ginny were closer than ever.

It felt a bit awkward knowing that Harry still loved Ginny, but Ginny had started seeing Blaise after her and Harry broke up. Hermione was loyal to both, but she felt somewhat disloyal to Harry for keeping him in the dark. She knew he hoped he and Ginny would eventually get back together. She figured this was her burden to bear for putting Harry in the middle of her and Ron for years.

Hermione flicked her fingers to extinguish the lights in the loo. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

The grin on Ginny’s face looked maniacal as Hermione took her spot beside her. They gazed up at the ceiling she had enchanted to look like the night sky. It was similar to the magic in the Great Hall, except on a smaller scale. They pointed out shooting stars as they streaked across the ceiling. 

Ginny broke first. “So. What happened in the room that night? I already told Harry we all thought you three would be stuck in there all night and come out bald in the morning.”

“You spoke to Harry about it? What did he tell you?”

“He wouldn’t tell me anything.” She laughed. “That’s not true. He did tell me Malfoy came in two minutes.”

Hermione cracked a smile. Of course, Harry wouldn’t tell her that they had practically come at the same time during the hand job. If she remembered correctly, Harry might have lasted two seconds longer. If that. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

Ginny nudged her shoulder with her own. “Spit it out.”

Hermione sighed. “It feels strange even saying this out loud, but I really enjoyed it.”

“Which part?”

She hummed. “All of it, really. The threesome aspect. Being in charge and them doing what I told them to.”

“Shocker. Hermione Granger enjoys taking charge in bed.”

Hermione hesitated because she didn’t like to discuss Ginny’s brother with her. “I know he’s your brother and all, and it’s weird to think about, but that was one area where we weren’t compatible. Ron did not like me dominating him in bed.”

Ginny made a gagging noise. “Gross.” Then she said more seriously, “I love my brother, Hermione, and I really wanted you to be my sister-in-law, but honestly, you two weren’t compatible in a lot of ways. You’re a force in your daily life, and he’s constantly in your shadow. I can see why Ron would want the opposite to be true in the bedroom.”

Quietly, Hermione replied. “I never meant to make him feel that way.”

Ginny squeezed her arm before releasing it. “I know you didn’t. And that’s what I mean about the two of you not being compatible. You need to be with someone who won’t feel emasculated when you’re being yourself. Someone who wants you to take charge in the bedroom and loves that you’re such a badass outside of it."

“I don’t always want to be in charge in the bedroom,” she grumbled.

She felt Ginny shrug. “I prefer Blaise taking charge in the bedroom, but sometimes he lets me boss him around. As long as you’re with someone open to what you want and you’re open to what they want.”

Hermione nodded. “Compromise.”

“Exactly. How often was Ron willing to compromise?”

Hermione took the time to really think about it. “In the bedroom? Never. Without going into too much detail, he liked it a certain way every time. It always started with a gob job, then immediately went into sex with him on top, and that was it.” 

Ginny groaned. “Too much information, but also, I think Ron’s in for a rude awakening with any girl he gets if that’s the way he treats them in bed.”

Hermione sighed. “Maybe it was just me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe Ron wasn’t attracted to me and he’ll be more…amorous with someone else. I know Harry is your ex, and you probably don’t want to know this, but Harry and Malfoy were both so attentive. I mean, Victor was attentive, but I don’t know... it was just different with those two. I could tell they were really…”

“Turned on?”

Hermione felt her cheeks pink. "Yeah. Something like that.”

Ginny raised her finger in the air. “We’re coming back to that. But first, let me just say that you’re beautiful, Hermione, and I know that Ron thinks you’re beautiful as well.”

She shrugged. “Possibly. But there’s a difference between thinking someone is attractive and being attracted to them. Now that we’ve been broken up for a couple of weeks and I’ve had some time to think about everything, I believe it comes down to a lack of chemistry. He’s a great best friend, not a good boyfriend. At least for me.”

“How very mature of you, Granger.”

She shrugged. “Not really. The night he suggested we play Seven Minutes in Heaven with everyone, I hexed him with an impotence spell. He couldn’t get it up for two days.”

Ginny snickered. “Hey, that would be a good one for Seamus.”

She smirked. “Way ahead of you.”

Ginny clapped once. “Okay, now that that’s out of the way. I want details. Tell me everything.”

Hermione groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I can’t tell you everything, Ginny. That wouldn’t be fair to Harry. Or Malfoy.”

“Since when do you care about Malfoy’s feelings?”

She shrugged. “He’s not so bad.”

“He’s in love with you.”

Hermione startled. “What? Why would you say that?”

“Hermione,” Ginny chided, speaking to her like a child. “Ever since that night, that man has been watching you constantly. Staring at you across the Great Hall during every meal. He always looks like he wants to eat you for dinner instead.”

Hermione shrieked. “Ginny!”

“What?” she exclaimed. “It’s true. That man’s obsessed.” Then, teasingly. “So? Did he spread you out like a feast?”

“Oh my Gods.”

“That’s not a no.”

An awkward silence followed. Then, “Fine! Yes, okay? He did, and it was glorious. He’s extremely good with his mouth, not that I’d ever tell him that.”

Ginny laughed loudly and kicked her feet on the bed. “Maybe you should. He looks like the kind of wizard who likes to be praised.”

Hermione had a feeling that she was right. A large part of her wanted to test it on him, just to see how he’d react.

“Good for him. I didn’t know the ferret had it in him. Looking at him, you’d think he’d be selfish in bed.” 

Hermione shook her head. “Definitely not.”

Ginny hummed thoughtfully. “Actually, after that little show you two put on tonight, I take it back. I bet he would be fun to dominate, and it’s pretty clear he wants you to. I can’t believe that proud ponce got on his knees for you, holy shit.” 

Hermione did not want to admit what that statement did to her. 

“What about Harry?”

Hermione coughed at the abrupt change in conversation. “What about him?”

“Did he eat?”

She shook her head. “No, he didn’t. I think Harry was very hesitant to try anything without me telling him to do it. I think he was scared it would mess up our friendship.”

“Hmmm,” Ginny replied.

It was quiet for several seconds. Hermione didn’t want to ask, but she had to know. “Did you teach him how to do that thing with his fingers?”

Ginny laughed so hard that it took her several minutes to settle down. “I know exactly what you’re talking about, and yes, I did. You’re welcome.”

Hermione didn’t think she’d ever come so fast from someone’s fingers, but she’d keep that little detail to herself.

It was silent for so long that Hermione had nearly fallen asleep when Ginny finally spoke again. “I’d be okay with it, you know.”

“Hmm?”

“If you wanted to be with Harry.”

Hermione was wide awake now. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I know I was talking about Malfoy earlier, but it’s not just him. I see the way Harry looks at you.”

Hermione laughed dryly. If Ginny only knew. “Harry doesn’t want to be with me, Ginny.”

“Now, hear me out, Hermione.” When Hermione didn’t object, Ginny continued. “He’s very attentive to you. He makes sure you get your tea in the mornings and that you eat breakfast. He carries your bag everywhere. He has to know where you are at all times. You two even sleep in the same bed most nights.”

“It’s called trauma, Ginny.”

Ginny groaned. “I know your camping trip changed things-”

Hermione interrupted. “Nothing ever happened between us, Ginny.”

Gently, Ginny continued. “I know that, Hermione. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that when my idiot brother left you, it was just the two of you taking care of each other. So, I can see why you think all the things he still does for you are nothing unusual. But the war is over, and he’s still just as attentive.”

Hermione couldn’t tell Ginny that Harry was still in love with her, so she settled for, “I don’t think he knows how to be any other way right now. I think the war changed him.”

Hermione felt Ginny shrug. “He doesn’t treat anyone else that way.”

Hermione understood what she really meant. He didn’t treat Ginny that way and never really had. But it was different because Ginny hadn’t been there all those months. This was a major reason they were no longer together. Still, Harry had dealt with the aftermath of Hermione’s torture. They’d starved together and slept in the same bed most nights just to stay warm. Of course, Harry was overprotective of her. 

Meanwhile, Ginny had been dealing with her own trauma at Hogwarts, and when they finally reunited, the war had caused a rift neither could fix. So, Harry had clung to Hermione for stability, and she had let him because she needed him just as much. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Ginny. “You think Harry’s still in love with me.”

Hermione showed no reaction.

“He’s not, Hermione. Even if he still thinks he is.”

“Hmm,” was all Hermione said.

“Anyway. I just wanted you to know that. I’ve planted the seed, and now, in Hermione-like fashion, you’ll think about what I said, ignore it, or overanalyze until the truth is staring you in the face. And I want you to know that when that happens, you have my support. Even if Ron loses his shit over it.”

Hermione grimaced. Ron would never support her being with Harry. Plus, just thinking about being with Harry for real felt completely foreign. He was her best friend. That isn’t to say that she hadn’t shamelessly thought about that night with both Harry and Malfoy when she pleasured herself. 

A knock on the door interrupted her lewd thoughts.

Ginny groaned. “I’ll get it. I need to be going anyway. Blaise is waiting for me in his room,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at Hermione.

Hermione had been expecting Harry to show up after what happened during Truth or Dare, so when Ginny greeted the ‘ferret,’ Hermione’s eyes popped back open. 

As she stood up, she waved her hand to ignite the sconces. She canceled the spell on the ceiling and joined Ginny at the door. Sure enough, Malfoy was standing on the other side, with his hands in his pockets.

He nodded at her in greeting. “Granger.” His eyes flicked to Ginny and then back to her. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Ginny turned to smirk at her before slipping through the door, squeezing past Malfoy. “That’s fine, I’m going to go find Blaise.”

Malfoy kept his eyes on Hermione as he responded to Ginny. “He’s in his room waiting for you.”

Hermione held the door open, inviting him inside. “Malfoy,” she greeted. “What’s up?”

He still hadn’t taken his eyes off of her by the time he shut the door behind him. “Finally,” he breathed, and then he stepped into her, grabbing her face with both hands and pulling her to him, bending over to press his lips to hers. 

His lips parted, and hers followed suit. His tongue met hers, coaxing, and she obliged, tangling hers with his. He groaned as if in agony.

She ran her fingers through his hair, admiring the feeling of the silky strands. He guided her toward the bed, and his hand found the warm skin of her stomach beneath her baggy T-shirt.

His hand climbed the ladder of her ribs, mapping her skin until reaching the underside of her breast. Then, he shifted his hand to hold her ribs while his thumb lightly brushed her nipple. 

Her back bowed, and only his other hand on her lower back prevented them from toppling onto the bed. 

He groaned into her mouth. “Holy shit, you feel just as good as I remember. I can’t stop thinking about that night. It’s driving me crazy.” 

His voice snapped her back to reality, and she pushed him away, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth. “Malfoy, what was that?” 

He was breathing just as heavily as she was. His pale cheeks were flushed, reminding her of how he had looked that night. He began to reach for her again, but she raised a hand to his chest, stopping him from moving closer. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m so confused right now,” she replied because her brain was only half working, and this was very un-Malfoy-like behavior. 

“About what?” 

She stared at him in shock. “You just kissed me, Malfoy!”

“Trust me, I’m very aware. Why did we stop exactly?”

In her impatience, she felt her hair moving and rising on her head, as if it were slithering. Malfoy inexplicably flinched and stepped back. 

She watched him as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Frankly, it was annoying that he was so pretty. He had grown into his looks, and they suited him very much. If he were a Muggle, he could easily be a high-fashion model. 

Finally, he opened his eyes, and she was left with the intensity of his grey eyes staring into hers. “I can’t make it any clearer to you, Granger.” 

She kept staring at him in confusion. He looked manic, and she started to wonder if he had been given a love potion as a cruel trick. “Try.”

He groaned in frustration, waving his hand vaguely toward the common room. “I literally just got on my knees in front of all our classmates and begged you to kiss me. And you did.” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it more than she already did. “Malfoys don’t beg. Especially in front of other people.”

Before she could say anything, he kept going. “I have no pride left. I’ve been trying to get you to spend time with me outside of class for a couple of weeks now. Ever since that night. But by the look on your face, you had no idea what I was doing.”

She dumbly shook her head.

He chuckled in a very self-deprecating way. “Of course not.” His hands fisted at his sides. “Fine. Let’s try this again in a way that Hermione Granger would understand. I want to court you.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock. “Malfoy, I think I need to take you to Madam Pomfrey.”

“Dammit, Granger. I didn’t take a love potion.”

“Maybe someone slipped it to you?” she asked.

He was starting to get frustrated as he paced back and forth across her room. “I’m not trying to discount your feelings, Malfoy. This really came out of nowhere."

He paused again in front of her. “I haven’t had anything since dinner. I didn’t even drink anything during Truth or Dare.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Then start over, please. When did this begin? You can’t just say you want to court me, whatever that means, and expect me to understand. I didn’t even know you paid any attention to me.”

He grabbed her folded arms and gently pushed her toward the bed until she was sitting down. Her neck hurt just looking up at him. 

He crouched down in front of her so they were eye to eye.

“I know it sounds crazy, so I’m going to be much more honest than a Malfoy ever has been with a woman. You’re right, it is unexpected. I’ve never thought about you that way before. But that night changed something in me, and no matter how hard I’ve tried to forget what happened, I can’t.” 

She searched for something to say, but he didn’t give her the chance. “I’ve had plenty of one-night stands, Granger. I’ve never once woken up and thought twice about them, no matter how good the sex was. That might be crude to say, but it’s the truth. We have this undeniable chemistry that I don’t think we should ignore.”

Finally, she found her voice. “You don’t even know me, Malfoy. Not really.”

He scoffed. “That’s what courting is for, Granger. To get to know you. Plus, I don’t think that’s wholly true. I’ve known you for years.”

She shook her head. “Not the things that matter.” 

“Then let me court you so I can learn.”

“I just broke up with Ron a couple of weeks ago. I’m not ready to-”

“Let me finish what I was going to say, and then I want you to think about it. You don’t have to give me an answer tonight.” 

She nodded, quietly staring at his earnest face. 

“I learned a lot about myself that night that was incredibly unexpected. It also explains the half-chub I got when you punched me.”

Hermione couldn’t help it. She laughed. 

He smirked at her, and his dimple appeared. “You can’t deny that we'd be good together, at least physically. You want to boss me around in bed, and I want to be bossed around by you in bed. Letting me court you would let us see if this connection is more than just physical.”

She held his eyes, hesitant to say no again. What if he was right?

“And even if it turns out our connection doesn’t go beyond what we can do together in bed, we can at least enjoy some really good sex.”

She huffed out a laugh, turning her head toward the wall, no longer able to face him. She didn’t know what to do because he was right, but it was also way too soon to start something with someone else. Despite knowing that she and Ron weren’t a good match, she was still getting over the heartbreak. 

She pressed her lips together. “Give me until Christmas. I need to think about it. I’m not making excuses when I say that it’s too soon.”

He hesitated. “Without Potter, though, right?”

She laughed and shrugged. “Not into threesomes then, Malfoy?”

“Not with Potter.”

She laughed harder before sobering. She opened her mouth to speak, but then hesitated, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

“Spit it out, Granger.”

“If we do this, we have to keep it a secret.”

He nodded. “I agree. I wouldn’t want anyone to know either. Not unless we decided to move forward with courting.”

She rolled her eyes. “How pureblood of you.”

He flashed that crooked smile that all the girls swooned over and stood up, taking her hand to help her to her feet. “One kiss before I go.”

She grinned. “Say please.”

He groaned. “Fuck. Don’t do this to me right now.” Before she could protest, he grabbed her face and pressed his lips to hers. He gradually eased the pressure until their lips were barely touching.

“Please say yes, Granger,” he whispered against her mouth.

He pulled away and looked at her for a moment longer before disappearing through the door. 

She stared at the closed door before trudging to the bathroom. She needed a cold shower.

Chapter Text

Draco dipped his quill into the new bottle of onyx ink he’d bought from Scrivenshaft in Hogsmeade, dreading writing this letter to his mother but knowing he couldn’t delay it anymore. She had sent three letters since school started, and he still hadn’t replied. 

With his father in Azkaban for life and his mother on probation for two years, he knew she was lonely in the manor by herself. She had no one but the elves to keep her company. Now that her husband was gone and one of her sisters was dead, he encouraged her to reach out to Andromeda, but as far as he knew, his mother had not relented. 

He felt a heavy responsibility to watch over his mother and ensure she was okay, but it was difficult when he was in Scotland in his own version of hell. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel guilty, as if he had abandoned her.

A part of him clung to the excuse that he had been too busy and, in some ways, it was true. He was taking the maximum number of newts, and his days were filled with arithmancy, ancient runes, and a complicated potions project with a swotty muggleborn he couldn’t stop thinking about. 

Which led him back to the main point of this letter.

Mother,

I’m sorry I haven't written sooner. I’ve been focusing intensely this year to stay on task so I can graduate and complete my probation without any further visits from my probation officer.

I still plan to pursue a master’s in Potions. McGonagall unexpectedly offered to write me a letter of recommendation to a friend of hers in France who is a Potions Master. I’m actually working on an independent study in Potions that I believe will secure me a spot as a mentee, although nothing is guaranteed. 

It’s moments like these that remind me once again that Severus is no longer with us. I didn’t even bother asking Slughorn if he would be my mentor since he favors the Gryffindors and their ilk. If Severus were still here, he’d grumble and complain, but in the end, he would reluctantly agree.

Regardless, if I am accepted, my plan to move to France after I graduate remains unchanged. However, it probably won't be a permanent move as I initially intended. You are still welcome to move into the Chateau after your probation ends, but I will likely be going back and forth to London regularly.

You might be surprised to hear this, given how often and loudly I complained over the summer that I had no intention of courting anyone despite what you and father expected. Despite my many protests, things have unexpectedly changed.

The realization that I wanted to pursue someone was sudden and unexpected, and I fought myself about it as much as I could. However, I’ve simply accepted the inevitable, even if she hasn’t.

Please send me the book from the library about Floriography. I saw it once, and if I remember correctly, it’s titled The Language of Flowers.

Also, please send me the first edition of Jane Eyre. It’s a Muggle book, so I doubt any Malfoy would notice its absence. I’m not even sure how it ended up in our library in the first place, but I know someone who will appreciate it much more than any Malfoy ever could. 

You’ll forgive me if I’m not ready to tell you yet who I’ve chosen to pursue. She hasn’t officially agreed, and I plan to use the coming weeks to make sure she will eventually say yes. 

When she agrees, I will tell you then, but you have to promise to keep an open mind.

I'll try to write again soon.

P.S. Don't tell father that I'm interested in pursuing a witch. He finally stopped sending me letters from Azkaban, and I’d like to keep it that way. 

With love,

Draco

Draco hurriedly folded the letter and used his signet ring to seal it with melted wax. 

It had been risky to introduce his mother to the idea of him courting. Even with the light side winning the war and her barely escaping Azkaban, he wasn’t sure how accepting she’d be of Granger. Life-long beliefs were not so easily changed.

He at least wanted to get her used to the idea that he was interested in someone before revealing who it was. Even if his mother didn’t agree with his choice, the Malfoy estate had passed to him when his father was sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban. He was no longer at risk of being disinherited.

Still, he didn’t want to become estranged from his mother. She was the only family he had left, so he’d do whatever he could to ensure she accepted Granger.

He didn’t care that Granger hadn’t agreed to court him yet. He just wanted to be ready when she said yes, and there was no harm in giving himself a head start on the courting process. 

He would start small, with flowers and practical gifts. He already had a few ideas he believed Granger would like. Ideas that would make her more receptive to the idea of him and them and help them get to know each other in the meantime. He would save the jewelry for when they officially became a couple. 

Draco opened his dorm window and whistled for his owl, Aquinas. After a few seconds, Aquinas landed on the sill with a disgruntled hoot. “Sorry, old boy. I need you to deliver this letter to my mother.”

He tied the letter to Aquinas’s foot and gave him a treat from the jar on the windowsill. “Feel free to stay in Wiltshire tonight.”

After giving Aquinas a final pat on the head, he closed his window and started putting on his Quidditch kit. It was the last game of the year for Slytherin, and naturally, it was against Gryffindor. 

As much as he hated playing against them, he had some pent-up aggression he needed to release. Preferably on Potter’s spectacled face. The other positive was that Granger would most likely be there to support her friends. 

The witch was driving him crazy. Since their little talk in her dorm room, where he had made his intentions clear, she’d acted like nothing had happened.

He’d looked at her throughout breakfast the next day to see if she showed any signs of thinking about him, but she never once looked in his direction. 

She had sat and laughed with her friends as usual, and when it was time for Ancient Runes, she kissed Potter’s cheek as she stood up to leave. 

Draco swallowed his anger, reminding himself that it wouldn't be long before she was kissing his cheek instead.

Luckily, none of her brainless friends shared Ancient Runes with her, so when he rushed out of the Great Hall behind her and caught up, he figured they could talk without interruptions and maybe flirt a little.

But then she turned and smiled at him, saying, “Good morning, Malfoy,” in that polite tone of hers, as if he hadn’t just begged her the night before to let him court her. As if he hadn’t kissed her again and again.

He had been stewing throughout class, contemplating his plan. Clearly, Granger was serious when she asked for more time. What he didn’t expect was for her to act as if nothing had happened between them. Was she planning to play oblivious until she finally gave him an answer?

Frankly, waiting several more weeks for any kind of reciprocity was not an option for him. But subtlety was his friend when he wanted it to be. By the time Granger agreed to court him, she wouldn’t have realized they’d already started.

Grabbing his broom, he hurried to the pitch, already running late. The eighth-year common room was empty, as were the corridors, but when he reached the Entrance Hall, groups of students were gathered in anticipation of the match, divided by house colors. 

A large group of red caught his attention, and he came to a sudden stop. He immediately spotted Granger, a head and a half shorter than Weasley and Potter, who were like sentries standing in front and behind her.

Weasley had his arms crossed over his chest behind her, looking around as if he was scouting for suspicious activities.

Potter stood in front of her and handed her his glasses. She grabbed them and Spelled them with something, probably to keep them on his stupid face during the game. Was that wandless magic? But no, it couldn’t have been.

She handed him back his glasses, and he watched as Potter adjusted them on his face before nodding and smiling like an idiot, then leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

He could feel his eye twitching out of annoyance.

Weasley shifted slightly to make room for the big-boobed blonde who always hung all over him, and Draco’s eyes narrowed at Granger’s clothes. 

She was wearing muggle jeans that fit much more tightly than usual, which did amazing things to her bum. She had on a pair of white trainers and her hair was parted into two thick braids on either side of her head. She looked beautiful, but what had him feeling slightly murderous was the red jersey with the name Potter across the back. 

If he remembered correctly, it was the same one she had worn to every game over the years. In the past, he had paid no attention to it. He begrudgingly accepted that he couldn’t do anything about it now, but when they came back from winter break and were officially courting, he’d make sure she was wearing green with his name on the back for the rest of the school year.

He stormed out of the Entrance Hall.

When he finally reached the pitch, he saw his team gathered in a circle, clearly waiting for him.

The team captain, a seventh-year student who hated Draco for sleeping with Astoria while they were supposedly courting, huffed as Draco joined the circle. With his broom slung over his shoulder as if he didn’t have a care in the world, he raised an eyebrow at Burke.

Burke averted his gaze.

“Now that Malfoy deigns to grace us with his presence, let’s discuss strategy.”

He looked around the circle of players, everyone’s expression much more serious than it had been minutes ago.

“Zabini, make sure to stay close to the girl Weasley. She’s our biggest threat besides Potter. Don’t let her score.”

Blaise smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay close to her.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Good. That leaves Potter. He’s predictable, so when he-“

Draco cut in. “Leave Potter to me.”

Burke shot him a murderous look. “Your job is to catch the snitch, Malfoy. Not to follow Potter around the pitch. Sewlyn will cover Potter. He’s our strongest beater and will keep him dodging bludgers so often he won’t have time to search for the snitch.” 

Sewlyn nodded in agreement.

Draco clenched his jaw but held his tongue. He reminded himself for the hundredth time that his goal was to keep his head down this year. Just because he wanted to prove to Granger he was the better choice between him and Potter, his goal remained unchanged.

Stay out of Azkaban.

It wouldn’t do to violate the terms of his probation by murdering Burke on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch.

Getting into position, he flew around the pitch, watching the Gryffindor team as they did the same. He immediately saw Potter take to the skies as usual so he could get a bird’s-eye view of the pitch.

He scanned the Slytherin stands and saw Theo sitting with Pansy and Daphne. The girls were staring at him, and when they noticed his attention, Daphne whispered in Pansy’s ear, and they started giggling.

He made a face. What the fuck was that about?

He flew in a low circle, covertly letting his eyes scan the Gryffindor stands. There she was, sitting between Longbottom and Thomas. On Thomas’s other side was Finnigan, whose jersey kept flashing from red to green, like a gaudy Christmas ornament. His ears were oddly shaped, with pointed tips, and some type of jester’s hat on his head, with a bell attached to the end. Despite Finnigan’s efforts to pull the hat off, it stayed in place. 

Draco smirked and looked back at Granger, who was already staring at him with her own smirk in place. 

He winked at her, and she shook her head, her plush lips fighting a smile.

“Be good,” she mouthed to him.

A jolt shot through him, and he felt himself getting hard. Fuck, not right now.

He narrowed his eyes at her before making a decision. A reckless one, yes. She’d kill him for it later.

He flew straight toward her, watching her eyes widen as she realized his intentions. She was sitting in the front row, leaning forward with her arms resting on the barrier. 

He flew right up to her and turned his broom sideways until their faces were just inches apart.

“Malfoy,” she angrily whispered. “What are you doing?”

The Gryffindor stands had gone quiet, and though he kept his eyes on hers, he could feel everyone watching them.

He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “What do I get if I catch the snitch?”

She jerked back, giving him the stink eye. She looked irresistibly cute. She had a little lion painted on one cheek, and he wanted to trace the shape of a snake with his tongue across the other.

He was suddenly grateful her volatile hair was contained today as she gritted her teeth and jerked him closer to her by the front of his uniform. He let himself be dragged willingly. “I don’t know what game you’re playing here, but this is not keeping things a secret. Furthermore, this is awfully presumptuous of you as I haven’t even agreed yet.”

“Humor me, Granger. What do I get? How about a kiss? You should probably tell me before more people start noticing.” He glanced to the side, and his eyes caught Longbottom’s look of confusion. “People are starting to wonder what Draco Malfoy is doing so close to Hermione Granger.”

She growled, and despite the tight braids, a coil of hair burst free and settled across her forehead.

He fought to hold in his grin.

“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “If you catch the snitch, I’ll give you a kiss. But if you lose,” she began with a more ominous tone, “I get to punish you.”

He leaned back to look her in the eyes, intrigued. “Punish how?”

Her smirk was just a little bit evil and it turned him. A lot. “Don’t lose and you won’t find out,” she said before pushing him away.

He let the force of her push, which wasn’t much, propel him backward. He couldn’t help but smile as he flew back to the center of the pitch. 

The look of violent murder in Potter’s eyes when he looked over at him made his smile grow despite his best efforts.

He gave him a sarcastic wave. “Good luck, Potter.”

Potter flipped him off and flew up again. Blaise snorted beside him. “What’d you do to make the savior of the wizarding world so mad?”

He shrugged. “Nothing yet.”

Blaise groaned. “Please don’t antagonize Potter, Malfoy. Remember your goal for this year. Stay out of Azkaban. That’s it.”

Draco nodded, suddenly serious. “I remember it.” He raised his arms above his head, stretching. “But that’s not my only goal this year. At least not anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Blaise asked.

But then Madam Hooch blew the whistle, and the game started.

The harsh November wind whipped across the pitch, carrying the roar of the crowd as Draco flew upward as fast as the Firebolt could take him.

With practiced precision, he weaved between players, avoiding bludgers and chasers racing with the quaffle.

Now high above the other players, he and Potter circled each other like sharks, both looking for that glint of gold.

Below them, the crowd roared. Gryffindor had scored. Malfoy didn’t allow his focus to waver. He searched near the stadium’s perimeters, skimmed his eyes along the goalposts and walls, refusing to be distracted by Granger and whether she was secretly cheering for him despite wearing Potter’s Jersey.

He squinted at shadows and along the base of the stands, but the snitch still eluded him. Judging from the way Potter continued to circle above him, his luck wasn't any better. 

Plus, Sewlyn kept sending bludgers at Potter’s head, keeping him occupied.

Using his peripherals, Draco kept his eyes relaxed, hoping to catch a glint in the corner of his eye.

After completing numerous slow laps around the pitch, he started feeling a sense of urgency. He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by. At least twenty minutes, but the score was 70 to 40 with Gryffindor in the lead.

Although interested in seeing what kind of punishment Granger could come up with for him, Draco had to catch the snitch. It was about the principle of the thing. He had to beat Potter.

The fact that the snitch was elusive today was frustrating, but not surprising.

Suddenly, Potter leaned forward on his Firebolt, his eyes narrowed. Draco surged ahead as well, his eyes scanning for the snitch in the direction Potter was looking. Finally spotting it about twelve meters near the base of the goalpost, his blonde hair whipped around his head as he pushed his broom as fast as it could go. 

Two bludgers, one for him and one for Potter, knocked them both off course.

When he looked for it again, it was gone. “Fuck,” he exclaimed.

Victory was so close he could taste it. Better yet, he could picture what victory tasted like on Granger’s lips.

Suddenly, the crowd on the Gryffindor stands gasped. He jerked his head toward the noise, and his eyes immediately fixed on two golden things: Hermione Granger and the snitch hovering right in front of her.

Absentmindedly, he noticed that more tendrils of hair had escaped her braids, and the sun illuminated the flyaways and, to a lesser extent, the snitch. 

Changing course, he didn’t bother to check if Potter was with him. He could hear him, less than a meter behind on his right.

The acceleration of his broom made it hard to hear as the wind whipped around his face, but the screams of the crowd had his focus wavering.

Just a few meters from the snitch, he noticed the screams growing louder. Sewlyn had sent a bludger as hard as he could toward Potter, but as Potter dove out of the way to escape getting nailed in the head, the bludger continued its trajectory toward the stands. More specifically, straight toward Granger’s head.

The bint didn’t even look scared as she raised her hand, and he wondered what on Salazar’s grave made her think she could stop a bludger traveling at 70 miles per hour with her hand. Didn’t she realize she was a fucking witch? Where was her wand?

Resigning himself to losing a game he was just seconds away from winning, he sped past the snitch, quickly turning his body to the side to block the bludger from hitting Granger.

Only, he should have known Potter would never leave his precious Gryffindor princess in danger. So when he and Potter collided, their bodies and brooms becoming tangled, the last thing he remembered before the bludger smacked him in the head and he lost consciousness was the look of horror on Granger’s golden face.

——————————————-

When he regained consciousness, he found himself under the dull, gray ceiling of the hospital wing. He closed his eyes to ward off the headache pounding through his skull. 

“Fuck,” he groaned.

He tried to press his hand to his head, but he couldn't move his arm.

“Language, Mr. Malfoy,” Madam Pomfrey scolded as she approached his hospital bed.

“What happened?” he asked, breathing through his nose to keep himself from vomiting.

Madam Pomfrey tsked and then brought a vial to his lips. Judging by the smell, it was a very potent pain potion. He swallowed it quickly. 

“Quidditch,” was her one-word reply, but that wasn’t nearly enough to explain how he ended up in the hospital, unable to move any part of his body without feeling agonizing pain.

After checking his vitals and adjusting his bedding, she forbade him from moving. Not that he could anyway.

The potion was beginning to work, and Draco could breathe a bit easier. He was nearly asleep again when a gentle voice startled him awake. 

“You’re an idiot, you know.”

He slit his eyes open and barely turned to the left. It was Granger.

“Granger,” he breathed, suddenly recalling everything that happened. 

She looked different from the last time he saw her. Her hair was in a low bun, and she was wearing her uniform.

“What day is it?”

She looked exhausted. “Tuesday.”

“Shit. I missed class.”

Per the terms of his probation, he wasn’t allowed to miss any classes unless McGonagall preemptively excused him.

She nodded and reached into her bag, pulling out a stack of parchment. “I made a copy of my notes from Monday and today’s classes since we’re in all of the same courses.”

“And…” she paused, suddenly looking awkward. “Headmistress McGonagall spoke to your probation officer. She wanted me to tell you everything is taken care of on that front.”

He nodded, feeling relieved.

He changed the subject, trying to avoid discussing any part of his probation with Granger. “What happened Saturday?”

She opened her mouth, but he cut off her snarky reply he knew was coming. “And don’t say Quidditch. I remember that part. What happened after I got knocked unconscious?” 

She let out a sigh and looked away from him. “You and Harry are idiots.”

“You said that already.”

“After you inexplicably decided to shield me from the bludger with your head, you and Harry plummeted to the ground since you were locked together.”

He winced. “Ah, fuck. I’m glad I was knocked out for that.”

She nodded soberly. “I tried to slow your fall as much as possible, but you still ended up with a broken clavicle, a broken arm and wrist, a broken femur, and, of course, a severe concussion from the bludger. Oh, and your ribs. Can’t forget that. You broke six of them.”

No wonder his body hurt so badly. “So that’s why I can’t move.”

She nodded again, studying him. “Your bones are being regrown right now. It’s slower than usual because of how severe the breaks were.”

“What about Potter? How did he fare?”

She cringed. “Not great, but not as bad as you. He was released this morning.”

He slowly turned his head toward the window. He could tell by the position of the sun that it was evening.

“Tell me, Granger…I would’ve had the snitch if I hadn’t given it up for you. Doesn’t that earn me at least a little kiss?

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t need protecting, Malfoy.”

He scoffed. “Sure you didn’t. You would have broken your hand if I didn’t intervene.”

She didn’t say anything, but then she scooted her chair closer to the bed to lean over and take his hand. She was warm, and her hand fit perfectly in his. “Thank you, Malfoy. I wish you wouldn’t have done that. But...” She shook her head, seeming at a loss for words. “Thank you.”

Then, before he could even process what was happening, she leaned over and kissed the side of his mouth. So light, he barely felt it. He wanted to protest when she pulled away, to cup her head in his hand and pull her mouth back to his. If only his arm would cooperate. 

Instead of begging for another, he asked. “Who won?”

She groaned. “Boys. Harry asked the same thing.”

“Don’t compare me to Potter.”

“The game was rescheduled for the new year. You’ll both get another chance to commit mutually assured destruction on the pitch in January.”

He smirked, then winced. Even his face hurt. “Good. You’ll get a chance to wear my jersey next time.”

She laughed, and he wondered if he should be offended. “Don’t count on it, Malfoy.”

Before he could think of a retort, Madam Pomfrey came back to the bed. “Visiting hours are over, Ms. Granger. You’ll need to come back tomorrow.”

She nodded at Madam Pomfrey, before looking back at him, something soft and contemplative on her face. “Feel better, Malfoy. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

After Granger left, he replayed what happened on the Quidditch pitch over and over. He still didn’t understand what Granger had been thinking or what she was trying to accomplish when she held out her hand.

Finally, it hit him. He thought back to that night, him lying on a bed and Granger on her knees in front of him. Granger had thrown her wand on the nightstand, but he’d been too preoccupied to notice. When she’d grabbed his cock, she had whispered a spell into her hand to make it warm and slick.

For fuck’s sake. The witch could do wandless magic.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up earlier than usual, his body still sore from the Quidditch accident the week before. He stretched his aching muscles and groaned. He wished he could stay in bed all day, but it wasn’t possible. He was both looking forward to and dreading this morning in equal parts. Christmas was two weeks away, and he had promised Hermione and Ginny he’d go Christmas shopping with them. 

He hated shopping and kept postponing it until the last minute. He only had a vague idea of what to get everyone. Ron and Ginny were easy, as were Remus, Tonks, and Teddy. He had been racking his brain about what to get Hermione and Sirius, but he hadn’t had any luck. He thought Sirius might appreciate a new leather jacket since his last one had gone missing after he was sentenced to Azkaban.

Hermione, on the other hand... He had no idea what to get for a witch who wasn’t materialistic at all. He didn’t want to give her another book; it felt too impersonal. She didn’t wear any jewelry that he knew of. He was stumped. He hoped he could keep an eye on her covertly as she shopped, to see if anything caught her attention.

The highlight of his day would be meeting Sirius and Remus for lunch at the Three Broomsticks. He had missed Sirius while he was at school, and he was one of the reasons Harry considered not returning to Hogwarts. 

The summer after the war ended was the first time he truly got to know Sirius. He had moved into Grimmauld Place at Sirius’s urging, and he got to experience his truly abominable cooking, but ate it anyway and loved every minute of it.

His nights were spent in the library drinking Ogdens while Sirius shared stories of Harry’s mom and dad that didn’t involve war or sacrifice - only pranks, crushes, and happiness. Sometimes Remus would join them, and that would really get them going. They’d tell stories late into the night, and Harry would sit back and smile as they laughed and reminisced.

It’s the little things like that, the moments most people don’t even notice, that Harry would never take for granted.

But as much as Harry loved living with Sirius and finally getting to know him beyond the stories, he sometimes felt like he was walking on eggshells at Grimmauld Place and felt a little guilty about the relief and space Hogwarts provided.

There were things they simply didn’t talk about. Sirius never mentioned the war, the twelve years stolen from him in Azkaban, or the way his best friend had believed he was a traitor. He didn’t speak about how no one had fought for him, or even asked what had truly happened that night. Everyone, Dumbledore included, had written him off and left him to rot.

They certainly didn’t talk about the years he’d lost with Harry, or how Molly still treated him as if he were a bad influence.

Harry kept his own silences too. He never explained his mixed feelings about Dumbledore or how he, Ron, and Hermione had carried the weight of the Horcruxes alone. He didn’t admit how he’d listened to Dumbledore’s orders to keep the mission secret and how he’d shut Sirius out even when Sirius begged to understand why they had to leave.

Because of that, the guilt lingered. Months of Sirius trapped at Grimmauld Place, hiding, isolated, surviving on the occasional mirror call just to check Harry was alive. Harry felt he owed him everything.

After the war, clearing Sirius’s name was one of the few genuine benefits of being the so-called Savior of the Wizarding World and he took advantage of that.

He was eager to make up for lost time, ready to dive straight into the Auror program just to stay at Grimmauld Place with him. But Sirius refused. He insisted Harry finish his NEWTs first. Harry reluctantly agreed, though he spent every moment he could with Sirius that summer.

They had hardly spent any time at Grimmauld’s during those first couple of months of Sirius’s freedom. They went to the beach, to the movies, and did all the things Sirius had missed out on while he was in prison. Sometimes, Hermione and Ron would join, and it made his heart happy to know that Sirius loved Hermione just as much as he did.

He still wasn’t quite sure about Ron, and that was Harry’s fault. He had briefly mentioned what happened during the Horcrux hunt, and Sirius was very hesitant to trust him. He’d called him a fair-weather friend more than once. Harry didn’t blame him after what Peter had done, but he knew Ron was definitely not like Peter.  

Regardless, Sirius had asked Harry to bring Hermione today. He hadn’t mentioned Ron, so Harry was hoping that the threat of shopping would keep Ron from showing up in Hogsmeade. As far as Harry knew, Ron was participating in a Wizard’s chess tournament with a few of the other guys in Gryffindor.

Reluctantly, Harry extricated himself from his warm bed and shuffled to the loo to shower. He flicked his wand to turn on the lights and looked at himself in the mirror.  

He grimaced. His hair looked worse than usual, and his five o'clock shadow was dark against his jaw. He examined his lips - average - his eyes -bright green and tired. His chest was toned and still slightly tan from summer beach trips. His face and torso were still a little bruised from the accident.

He wondered if he should dress up today. He hadn't thought much about Ginny in the past couple of weeks, and he questioned if it was time to make a move to get her back. He shook his head. It didn’t feel like the right time. Plus, he’d been preoccupied with Hermione and her recent descent into madness. She’d kissed Malfoy in the common room, for fuck’s sake.

He couldn’t quite place how that sight had made him feel. Angry, yes, because it was Malfoy. Concerned, maybe? Then, again, before the Quidditch match, Malfoy had practically kissed her on the pitch.

He needed to talk to her. She’d been so busy this week with classes and her project, and taking care of him when he had still been hurt, she’d been unwilling to talk about it. He’d try to get her alone today so they could finally discuss everything that had happened.

After his shower, he pulled on a pair of blue jeans and another of Sirius’s band shirts. He tried to fix his hair until it was artfully messy, but he was afraid he missed the mark. He left the stubble because, frankly, he wasn’t in the mood to shave and wasn’t even sure he could hold his arm up that long without the pain in his shoulder flaring up. 

Magic could only heal him so much, and Madam Pomfrey warned him that he might need to do some exercises to strengthen his arm after the injury.

He grabbed his cloak and wand, then walked across the hall to knock on Hermione’s door. It took a few seconds before the door creaked open. 

Her eyes took in his face and the lingering bruises around his eye where his occipital bone had been broken. She then observed what he was wearing. “Oh, good, you’re ready. I wanted to get a head start.”

He smiled wryly. “I figured. Have you spoken to Ginny?”

“She said she’d meet us in Hogsmeade.”

Harry grimaced. What Hermione wasn’t saying was that she was having a lie-in with Zabini.

She left the door open to step back and grab her coat. She was wearing those tight jeans again, the ones that hugged her frame. She wore a cream sweater that looked incredibly soft and was tighter than her usual clothing. She looked beautiful.

He followed her down the hall, taking in the way her hips swayed in her jeans. “Are those new?”

“Hmm?”

“Your clothes. I don’t think I’ve seen them before.”

She ran her hand down the front of her sweater before pulling up the neckline to cover the little bit of cleavage showing. “Oh. Yeah. My mom sent them to me for my birthday.”

He caught up to her to walk beside her, and she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Well, you look beautiful.”

She smiled, and her face lit up.

“Excited to see Sirius today?” she asked, changing the subject.

He let her, giving her a small smile. “Yeah. I miss him.”

She snorted. “Funnily enough, I do too.”

“I never thought I’d hear you saying that. I know how much he gets on your nerves.”

She shrugged. “He grew on me over the summer.”

 He opened the door to the common room so she could walk through. “Like a fungus, maybe.”

She snickered. “Don’t tell him I said this, but I’m looking forward to seeing Professor Lupin more.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “That’s because you have a crush on him.”

She gasped and smacked him on the chest, and he feigned injury. “That was third year! His son is my godson!”

He almost laughed at the outrage in her voice. “I’m only joking, Hermione. I don’t actually think you’re trying to steal Remus from Tonks.”

When they sat down for breakfast, the Gryffindor table was mostly empty aside from a few first years. Harry looked around the Great Hall, but besides him and Hermione, it was Ravenclaws with a few Hufflepuffs scattered throughout.

“Gods, I don’t think I’ve ever been in the Great Hall this early,” he said while making Hermione’s tea. 

“Why were you up so early?”

He shrugged, and it pulled at his injury. He winced, and Hermione noticed. “Is your shoulder still bothering you?”

He didn’t like Hermione worrying about him, but she could spot a lie a mile away. “A little.”

She looked concerned as she examined his shoulder, as if she could see the injury through his shirt. “Are you doing the exercises Madam Pomfrey showed you?”

He grunted. “I’m fine, Hermione.”

“Harry, this isn’t something you can ignore. It’ll only worsen if you keep procrastinating.”

It was moments like these that he remembered how vexing Hermione could be. She just didn’t know when to let things go.

He didn’t want to confront the fact that his shoulder wasn’t healing properly because of an old injury. When Madam Pomfrey asked why he hadn’t repaired the torn labrum in his shoulder, Harry was stunned. He hadn’t even realized it was torn. 

But then he remembered a time when he was six years old, and Uncle Vernon had grabbed him by the arm and thrown him against the wall. He could barely move his arm for a week afterward, but eventually the pain dulled to an ache, and he forgot about it.

“Hermione. Drop it.”

Her hair sparked. “I will not,” she replied, her brow furrowed. “We will talk about this, Harry Potter, whether you like it or not.”

He dropped his fork. “You’re fucking unbelievable, sometimes,” he spat.

She reared back at his tone. He, himself, was surprised by how he had spoken to her, but he was too angry to care right now. “How many times this week have I tried to talk to you about Malfoy? And every time, you’ve refused. You’ve said over and over again you’re fine, and you don’t want me to worry about it. I recall saying the same thing to you. That we would talk about it, whether you wanted to or not.”

He was met with silence and a stunned face. He didn’t realize until that moment how mad he was about the whole situation. Apparently, he hadn’t let it go yet.

“And what did you say, Hermione?”

Stubbornly, she looked away. He watched the side of her face silently. Her jaw was sharp, delicate, and clenched in anger.

He waited for her to say something.  He refused to be the one to give in this time because he knew his concerns didn’t deserve to brushed aside.

Finally, she sighed, and her shoulders hunched inwards. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just, I’m worried about you, Harry. That’s why I’ve been pushing you so hard about these exercises.” 

He couldn’t hold onto his anger when she looked at him like that. Her eyes were big and luminous and were filled with worry. “You think I’m not worried about you? Malfoy is up to something, Hermione. I know it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Here we go. It’s like sixth year all over again.”

 “And I was right. He was a Death Eater and he was up to no good,” he pointed out gleefully.

She stared at him in disbelief. “You know it was more complicated than that. We both spoke at his trial, Harry. We heard everything that was happening in his home.”

“My gut feeling is never wrong, Hermione.”

Before she could argue further, Ron joined them across the table. He briefly looked at Hermione before focusing on him. “What are you two arguing about so early in the morning?”

“Nothing,” they replied at the same time.

Ron’s expression shuttered, and he clenched his jaw. The silence felt awkward as he filled his plate.

Harry wasn’t in the mood to placate him, so he stayed silent as well. Hermione didn’t even bother to make conversation as she studied her planner.

Finally, Ron addressed Hermione. “You need to ease up on Seamus, Hermione.”

She looked at him in affront. “Why would I do that? He deserves it.”

“What you’re doing is torture, and you know it.”

Harry had to know. “Hermione. What did you do?”

The grip on her fork tightened. “Nothing he doesn’t deserve.”

Ron scoffed. “Come on. You’ve taken it too far.”

He addressed Harry. “He hasn’t been able to get it up since that night. He says he’s about to go crazy with how blue his balls are.”

Harry winced in sympathy.

“Hermione also did something to his clothes. He’s constantly itchy. The only time he gets any relief is when he’s naked or in the shower.”

Harry looked at her in shock. “Hermione,” he chided.

She merely shrugged and kept eating.

He and Ron stared at each other in disbelief.

“That’s not all,” Ron added.

Harry put his head in his hands.

“This morning, he woke up and everything was sticking to him.”

He started ticking things off on his fingers. “Toothbrush, toothpaste, parchment, quill, and his wand, to name a few. Then, to make matters worse, the only way he can get rid of them is if someone else removes them. He’s unable to remove things himself. Including his own dick from his hand when he takes a piss.”

Hermione stood up, finished with breakfast, and he slowly followed her lead. They needed to start shopping early, but it felt wrong to leave Ron when he was so upset. 

Buttoning her coat, she addressed Ron. “He knows what to do if he wants it to stop, Ronald.”

Ron shook his head, his face twisted in disgust. “He has to get on his knees and beg, right? He’s not Malfoy,” he sneered. “He’s not going to do that.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Then he’s not desperate enough.”

She walked away, and Ron turned back from staring at her to address him. “Talk to her, Harry. Maybe you can get her to listen to reason.”

Agitated, Harry ran a hand through his hair. “We both know Hermione does nothing she doesn’t want to do.”

Their trek to Hogsmeade was silent. The bitter wind was harsh, and he kept the lower half of his face hidden in his cloak. One glance at Hermione revealed her in a very similar position.

He wasn’t sure how to handle the Seamus situation. Judging by her expression, now wasn’t the time to reason with her. Harry also felt like it had gone on long enough. He had helped her initially, but now she had gone rogue. If he knew Hermione, though, she was far from finished. His mind flashed with images of Rita in a jar and Umbridge being dragged into the forest by the centaurs. He also thought of Marietta, who now had bangs because Hermione still refused to give her the counter-curse to the pimples on her forehead.

On second thought, maybe he should just talk to Seamus instead and remind him why it was in his best interest to beg for forgiveness.

When they reached the village, Harry looked at his watch. “We have about three hours until Remus and Sirius meet us for lunch.”

She took his hand in hers. It was freezing, so he slipped their intertwined hands into the pocket of his cloak.

“Let’s go to the Quidditch store before Ginny meets up with us. Ron and Ginny mentioned they needed new Quidditch gear.” 

He nodded, briefly forgetting that Ginny would be joining them. “Gloves and boots. You want to split the cost?”

When she nodded, he kissed her temple. “Let’s get this over with.”

When they finished at Quality Quidditch Supplies, Hermione pulled him into Gladrags, where they both bought Mr. Weasley some novelty socks and got Mrs. Weasley a new set of winter gloves and a hat. She always made everyone a new sweater but never bothered to make anything for herself. 

They went to the bookstore, where they both picked out something for Remus and Tonks, and Hermione chose a couple of magical books she thought her parents would enjoy.

Ginny met them at Honeydukes two hours later, and he swallowed bitterly. He didn’t want to imagine what or who made her so late.

They spent their last hour shopping between Honeydukes and Zonkos for gifts for the rest of the Weasleys and Teddy. By the end, he was knackered and still hadn’t found anything for Hermione.

Harry started to panic. She hadn’t seemed particularly interested in anything except a few books, which he refused to buy as a gift.

When they separated from Ginny to have lunch, she hugged Hermione and gave him a wink. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, you two.”

He stared blankly at her, confused.

Hermione shrieked and smacked her on the arm.

After she walked away, he turned to Hermione. “What the fuck was that?” he asked.

Hermione groaned and grabbed his hand to drag him to The Three Broomsticks. “She’s delusional.”

“About what?”

“About us. Apparently, we’re in love and nobody told us.”

He pulled her to a stop. “Wait, what?”

“I know,” she replied solemnly. “Honestly, the nerve of her. It’s absurd.”

Harry opened his mouth to agree, but the words wouldn’t come. He tried to ignore the unfamiliar twist in his chest. Absurd? He’s not sure he’d go that far.

She tugged at his hand again, and he blinked, still rooted to the cobblestone. “Right,” he said slowly. “Absurd.”

Saying it aloud didn’t help; if anything, the ache in his chest worsened.

“Harry!” A familiar voice called from the entrance of The Three Broomsticks. “What are you doing just standing out here? Come inside where it’s warm. We’ve got a table.”

Harry unstuck himself to hug Sirius. When it was Hermione’s turn, Sirius picked her up and swung her around.

He set her down and grinned as he looked between the two of them. “If it isn’t the golden duo.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and followed him to the table he and Remus had claimed in the back corner. “Don’t let Ron hear you say that.”

“I heard you finally came to your senses and broke up with him.” He winked at her. “Being single looks good on you, Kitten.”

“Sirius,” Harry warned.

Remus stood up to hug them both. “Harry, Hermione. You’re both looking well.”

Harry held out Hermione’s seat before taking his own. “You too. How’s Tonks and Teddy?”

They sat and listened as Remus caught them up on Teddy’s milestones and Tonk’s adventures in the Auror office.

“You should send her a letter,” Remus suggested.

Hermione nodded and grabbed his arm in excitement. “That’s right, Harry! She could probably give you some pointers about the auror program.”

He smiled fondly at her. “Already done, Hermione.”

He turned to address Remus and saw him and Sirius looking at each other in amusement. “I sent Tonks an owl last week, actually. I’m surprised she didn’t mention it.”

Remus shook his head. “She’s been on a mission all week. We’ve exchanged letters, but only to make sure the other was doing okay. I don’t know what I’d do if it weren’t for Andromeda. She’s been helping with Teddy while I’m at work.”

“Not that anyone asked,” Sirius interrupted. “But I’m doing fine as well.”

Harry stared at him in exasperated amusement. “And what have you been doing the past few months, Sirius?”

Sirius tapped his chin with his finger. “Women. Lots of women,” he replied.

Harry chuckled, and Hermione groaned.

“I didn’t need to know that,” she cried.

Harry patted the top of her head in sympathy. “Just be glad you’ve never walked in on him having a threesome. With twins.”

Hermione looked at Harry in disbelief, then she got a look in her eyes and they darkened, as if their own threesome ran through her mind like it had done his.

They averted their eyes from each other.

“Gods, Sirius. You don’t have to look so smug about it.”

He shrugged and leaned back in his seat, placing his hands behind his head. “No need to be jealous, Kitten. All you have to do is ask.”

“You crass idiot,” Hermione replied.

Harry clenched his teeth. He knew Sirius was joking, but it rubbed him the wrong way when he talked to Hermione like that.

“Anyway,” Sirius said as he straightened up in his chair. “What day are you coming in for Yule, Harry?”

“The 21^st, I believe.” He looked at Hermione to confirm, and she nodded.

“Okay, good.” Sirius looked at Hermione. “And what about you, Hermione? Staying with us for Yule this year?”

She shook her head. “My parents want me home for the holidays. I figured it’s probably best anyway to try to work on our relationship.”

He nodded sympathetically. “Well, at least stop by on Boxing Day if you can. I’d like to see you, and I know Harry would as well.”

He winked at Harry.

He clapped his hands, making Hermione jump. “On to other matters. I want to have a New Year’s party this year to celebrate my freedom, so you two need to put together a list of who you’d like to invite. Get it to me by next Friday, and I’ll have Kreacher plan the food.”

“Are you being nice to him, Sirius?”

Harry grabbed her leg and squeezed, silently warning her that now was not the time to argue with him about the crotchety old house-elf.

Sirius placed a hand on his heart. “I swear on my mother’s grave that Kreacher and I get along like flies on shit.”

“You hate your mother,” she replied.

Before the argument could escalate, a presence approached their table. It was Malfoy.

“Cousin!” Sirius exclaimed.

Malfoy nodded before looking around the table. “Sirius. Professor. Granger.”

He didn’t bother to address Harry as he stared at Hermione.

“Malfoy,” Hermione greeted in return. “What brings you here?”

He pointed to a table of Slytherins. “Grabbing some food. I just wanted to stop by and officially meet Sirius.”

Sirius stood up and shook his hand, slapping him on the back. “It took long enough, but better late than never. I’m not sorry your dad’s in Azkaban though.”

“Sirius!” Hermione exclaimed.

Malfoy chuckled. “You and me both, cousin.”

He turned toward Remus. “Professor, I’d like it if we could set up some time over break so I could officially meet Nymphadora as well.”

“Call her that to her face,” Harry muttered.

Remus laughed. “I haven’t been your professor in a long time. But I would like that and I know she would as well.”

Harry didn’t bother to point out that Malfoy had treated Remus like shit when he was the professor.

Sirius pulled up a seat from an empty table, and Malfoy took it. “I spoke to your mother last week. Sounds like she’s getting on all right.”

For the first time Harry could remember, Malfoy reacted viscerally, looking shocked and maybe a little uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his stupidly blonde hair. “Oh yeah? What did she say?” He glanced at Granger before turning to Sirius. “It’s a relief to know she’s talking to you. I’ve been worried about her in that big house by herself.”

Sirius grinned. “Don’t worry, cousin. I’ll watch out for her. I’ve sent her about a dozen letters. She returned the first six before finally giving in and writing me back.”

Malfoy smirked and shook his head. “I’ve been trying to get her to contact Andromeda, but she hasn’t agreed. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

Sirius rubbed his hands together. “Challenge accepted.”

Harry narrowed his eyes when Malfoy looked at Hermione…again.

“Working on our project tonight, Granger?”

She nodded. “See you at seven.”

After Malfoy left, Sirius broke the odd silence that had fallen over the table from Malfoy’s unexpected visit. “Maybe the Malfoy kid isn’t so bad after all. You should invite him to the party.”

Harry grunted.

When he looked at Hermione, she was studying her food intently, as if she didn’t want to look at him.

He ignored it for now, intending to make her have a conversation with him later and focused on spending the rest of the time with Remus and Sirius.

when it was time to head back to the castle, he held Sirius back while Remus and Hermione walked ahead. “I need help, Sirius.”

“What’s wrong,” he demanded, immediately on guard.

Harry shook his head. “Nothing bad.” He glanced at Hermione and lowered his voice. “I don’t know what to get Hermione for Christmas and I need your help figuring it out.”

Sirius studied him. “What about a book?”

He shook his head again. “Not good enough.”

“Well,” Sirius said, drawing out the word. “What are you wanting to say with this gift?”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed and looked away, thinking. Suddenly, he got a glint in his eye. “What about something of you moms from the vault? She has a ton of jewelry in there.”

Harry thought about it. “That could work, but I’ve never seen Hermione wear any Jewelry.”

Sirius shrugged. “I bet she’d wear whatever you got her.”

Harry was starting to come around to the idea. “I think you’re right. I remember seeing a gold necklace with a pearl. I wonder if a jeweler could add an otter to hold the pearl.”

Sirius chuckled, and slapped him on the back. “I think that’s a fine idea. She’ll love it.”

Relived, Harry hugged his godfather. “Thank you, Sirius.” He stepped back and Sirius squeezed his shoulder.”

“I’ll see you soon, kiddo. Go get your girl.”

It didn’t hit Harry until he and Hermione were walking back to the castle that he hadn’t disagreed with what Sirius had said.

He didn’t even think to protest.

He watched as Hermione threw her head back as she laughed, recalling something Luna had told her in Ancient Runes.

She looked pretty. Beautiful, even.

He’d always known this in the back of his mind but he suddenly couldn’t stop noticing it.

He found himself staring a beat too long before he looked away, a vague half-formed thought stirring in the back of his mind.

Chapter Text

Draco slipped into the potion’s classroom ten minutes before seven to find Granger already there. Her face was glowing with a sheen of sweat, and her curls had rebelled against the bun she’d tried to tame them with, spilling across her forehead in wild strands.

She was no longer wearing the outfit from earlier, the one that hugged her curves and made him jerk off twice when he returned to the castle. She had changed into a sweater that slipped off one shoulder and a pair of loose cotton shorts that revealed way too much leg.

“Oh, Malfoy,” she said, looking up as she stirred whatever was in the cauldron. “You’re early.”

“So are you,” he drawled, moving to stand beside her. He peered into the cauldron, but the potion’s hue gave nothing away. It wasn’t Dittany. “What are you brewing?”

She glanced at him before returning to her stirring, counting the stirs under her breath, switching between clockwise and counterclockwise with practiced precision. “A potion for Seamus.”

Draco smirked. “What do you have planned for the nitwit now?”

He was a little annoyed that Granger had left him out of her payback so far. He’d heard from Theo, who had heard from Thomas, what Finnigan was currently going through.

He winced and cupped himself, feeling some sympathy for Finnigan's plight but not enough to care much. He was conflicted about what Granger was doing to Finnigan. After all, he had practically forced Draco to have a threesome with Potter and Granger. But if it weren’t for that night, he’d probably still be unaware of what he was missing with Granger. 

He felt he should be thanking him instead.

“More baldness potion to add to his pumpkin juice in the morning.”

He let out a surprised bark of laughter. “So that’s how you’re doing it. No wonder no one can figure out the counter-curse. It’s not a curse at all.”

Her grin widened, and her eyes gleamed with mischief as she stirred. “Tinky puts it in his goblet every morning.”

“What did you have to give her to get her to agree to that?” he asked, incredulous.

Granger rolled her eyes, though her lips showed her amusement. “I had to promise not to free her or any of the other kitchen elves.”

He ran his hand across his face to hide his laughter.

“Go ahead and laugh,” she replied. “I know I was a bit overzealous when I was younger about the house-elves.”

That was putting it lightly. Draco remembered the night he’d stumbled into the kitchens and found the elves plotting rebellion against her. Back then, he’d been cruel enough to encourage it.

Her voice softened. “I still don’t like how elves are treated, mind you. They should have the option to be free if they want.”

He sighed because there was no right answer when it came to house-elves. Only compromises. House-elves couldn’t live long without their human masters because they needed that house-elf-human bond to survive. Something that Granger most likely wasn’t aware of because of her upbringing. But he did agree that some house-elves were treated poorly and should have the choice of freedom. Like Dobby. 

His heart ached at the thought of the elf who helped raise him and was abused by his father. Back then, he hadn’t thought much of it. He can barely think about it now without feeling deeply ashamed that he didn’t do anything to stop it. He wanted to ask Potter where Dobby was buried, but he hadn’t yet gathered the courage to ask. 

“I believe it’s time for a change, don’t you think?” he asked, steering the conversation away from the bad memories.

Her brows lifted. “What do you mean?”

“He’s been bald for nearly two months now. Keeps pestering everyone to beg you for a counter-curse. What if…” Draco’s smirk sharpened.  “You brewed a potion that made his hair grow long and impervious to cutting.”

Granger blinked at him, stunned, before laughter spilled out of her in unrestrained waves. “Merlin, Malfoy, that’s brilliant! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it.”

He chest warmed at her words, satisfaction curling through him.

“I love it.” She banished the potion in her cauldron, then tugged her textbook from her bag. “That’s a complicated brew, if I remember right. I just can’t recall the name.”

He stepped closer to her, their arms touching as he turned to the correct page, pointing at the name. “Aurea Capillaris Draught.”

Her fingertip slid down the list of ingredients, and he found himself aching for that same touch against his skin. Heat pooled low in his stomach, and he shifted subtly, adjusting himself before she could notice.

“We need quite a few ingredients,” she murmured.  “Do you think Slughorn has all of these?”

He scanned the list, lips moving silently as he read:

Aconite root shavings

Mooncalf milk

Powdered kelpie mane

Lacewing flies

Essence of Murtlap tentacles

Strands from a unicorn’s shed tail hair

Dragon blood

Fresh rosemary sprig

Their eyes met. “Shit,” he muttered. “Slughorn wouldn’t have dragon’s blood. Or unicorn hair.”

She sighed, disappointed. “You’re right. Maybe I’ll let him grow his hair back, then charm it pink.”

Draco smirked. “Eh. Not your best work.”

Her glare was sharp, though amusement lingered at the corners of her mouth. “Bald it is, then.”

He tsked. “Now, now, Granger.” He tilted his head. “I might have those ingredients at the manor. Give me a few days.”

“His hair will have grown back by then.”

“All the better,” he said with a snicker. “He’ll think you’ve eased up. Lower his defenses.”

 She flashed him a cheeky grin. “Your Slytherin is showing, Malfoy.”

“I am a Slytherin, Granger.”

 She nodded firmly. “Alright. Let me know when you get them.” She glanced around the messy workstation. “For now, I guess we need to concentrate on our potion.”

With a wave of her hand, she vanished the mess from the table.

“About that,” he said.

“About what?” She was already scribbling the list of ingredients for their next potion.

“Your wandless magic.”

Her quill froze. She looked down, then up at him, eyes wary. “Shit.”

He arched a brow. “Didn’t think I’d notice?”

She hesitated, weighing her words.

“The truth, Granger. Wandless magic is supposed to be impossible. Not to mention, wandless and non-verbal? How do you know how to do that?”

Her shoulders sagged. She relit the cauldron, adding Essence of Dittany. “After your aunt tortured me…”

Draco flinched, his gaze darting away.

“I felt powerless,” she continued, voice steady but low. “When I realized I had a second chance at life, I swore I’d never feel that way again.”

Shame pressed against him, heavy and suffocating. He hadn’t yet found the words to apologize for everything he had done. No words seemed adequate.

“Granger, I…”

She reached out, squeezing his arm. He stared at the golden hue of her hand against the paleness of his forearm. Finally, he forced himself to meet her eyes.

“You don’t have to say anything, Malfoy.”

Suddenly persistent, he stepped closer to her and cupped her face in his hands. His thumb brushed her cheekbone, and a strand of her hair caressed his hand in return. He liked to believe her sentient mane had begun to like him.

“I do,” he whispered. “I need to say this, even if I don’t know how.” He shook his head. “No words can ever describe how much I regret the way I’ve treated you since we met on the train.”

A self-deprecating laugh escaped him. “Salazar, I was such an idiot. I was an eleven-year-old bigoted idiot. I thought my father was my hero, and I wanted to be just like him. When I was thirteen or fourteen and you punched me,” he shook his head again. “I wasn’t lying when I said it gave me a half-chub.”

She let out a gentle laugh, her eyes fixed on his. Her face looked small and fragile in his hands.

“I still hated you, I was just confused about it," he kept going. “Same thing with seeing you at the Yule Ball in fourth year.”

She rolled her eyes. “Merlin forbid a girl dress up every once in a while.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling. Her eyes, flecked with gold, glowed amber in the torchlight.

“When you were on that floor,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "something shifted in me. It hit me. Torturing a girl because of something she had no control over…We were the bad guys.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. He kissed it away, tasting salt and devastation.

“I wanted that mark,” he confessed. “But when you escaped with Dobby, He came back. I was tortured for hours. And the whole time, I knew I deserved it. It was my penance.”

Her gasp was sharp, but he held her gaze.

“Then, when we got back to school, I still didn’t like you, but it wasn’t because you were a muggleborn. It was because you reminded me of how much of an idiot I was.”

Her laugh was breathless, tinged with disbelief.

“Then, that night happened,” he said, brushing his lips against hers. “And everything changed. Again. For the better. You just…never stop surprising me, Granger.”

She inhaled shakily, eyes darting away. “I just…I don’t know. I don’t understand how you could go from disliking me to wanting to court me so quickly.”

He tilted his head. “Is that why you haven’t given me an answer? You don’t think I’m sincere?”

She shrugged. “It’s a part of it, I’m sure. I’m just waiting for you to change your mind again. And…I’m not ready, Malfoy.”

His jaw tightened. “It’s been two months since you and the Weasel split up, Granger. Don’t tell me you’re still pining for that idiot.”

She pulled away, busying herself with ingredients. “No,” she finally answered. “I’m not still pining for Ron.”

He floated the vials closer and lined them up in the order they’d be added to the potion. “Then what is it?”

She hesitated before turning to look at him. Silently, she took his hand and pulled him further into the classroom where the shadows were darker. He had seen Granger leading Potter around by the hand everywhere. Is this what it felt like? Her hand around his, like a collar around his neck, as she took him where she wanted him to go? His jealousy of Potter intensified.

She pushed against his chest, causing him to fall back into a chair against the stone wall. He winced, his chest still sore from his barely healed ribs. Seeing his expression, she leaned forward slightly, kissing along his stuttering chest in apology. His heart rate increased as he thought about Granger kneeling between his legs. He wanted to beg her to suck his cock. He’d say please, and she’d say yes because he was good for her. 

She waved her hand at something behind his head. He looked up to see leather handles appear on the wall behind him.

“Hold onto those. Don’t let go.”

He obeyed instantly, knuckles white against the straps. He thrust against his slacks, hoping for some friction on his weeping cock.

“I want you on me, Granger,” he breathed. “Ride me just like this, and I promise I’ll keep my hands where they are.”

Her lips brushed his neck, sucking gently, and his body jolted. “You’ll keep them there anyway.”

He groaned. “Oh, fuck.”

“I love how markable you are,” she whispered.  “Your skin reddens so nicely.”

“Mark me as much as you want.”

Her voice dropped. “Since the war, I made a promise not to lie to myself.”

He was confused about the direction of the conversation, but he stayed silent because she was talking and he wanted to hear all her words.

“I do want you, Malfoy.” She kissed up his neck and behind his ear before biting his earlobe and making him shiver. “I love that you want to please me. But I know you want more from me than just what we can do together physically.”

“Fuck, you have no idea how badly I want to please you, Granger. I’ll say it as many times as you need. I’m yours. My body is yours. You can do whatever you want to me, and I’ll thank you for it.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed against his skin, lips grazing his jaw. “I like the sound of that.” His eyes squeezed shut as he fought to keep his hands where they held on to the leather straps.

“I want to be yours. Tell me how.”

“You need to learn to be patient, Malfoy.”

She straddled him, pressing down, and he gasped, head knocking against the stone.

“I’m not patient, Granger.”

Her hips rolled, teasing.

 “Just like that. Keep going,” he said breathlessly.

His restraint snapped. He grabbed her hips, pulling her down harder.

She broke away instantly, and he fucking whimpered.

“You broke your promise. You weren’t supposed to let go.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck, Granger. I’m sorry. Please come back. You can punish me if you want? Slap me like you did in third year.”

But she ignored him and turned back to the cauldron, adjusting the flame as if nothing had happened.

 “Shit,” he groaned. Standing up, he tried to readjust himself, but even that was painful. He was so fucking hard. “What was the point of that? Are you trying to torture me?”

She shrugged, curls bouncing slightly with the motion. “The point was that we know physical chemistry isn’t the problem. We could sleep together right now, and it would be amazing. But physical chemistry doesn’t mean we make sense in any other way. We need to get to know each other. You say you want to court me. I’m not sure I believe you. But maybe…if we took the time, I would.”

“If you ask me, that was your way of telling me you’re a fucking sadist,” he muttered to himself as he joined her at the cauldron. She was right though. He did need more from her and he hoped that she’d grow to want more from him as well. Plus, they had gotten sidetracked, and he had other obligations tonight.

“Alright. So, what’s the first step?”

“Cut up the Aurum leaf and grind it as fine as possible.”

Her voice carried a calm authority that tugged painfully at something in his chest.

“Yes, Granger,” he murmured, trying not to sound like he enjoyed being told what to do.

She reached for the Heart Root, and Draco drifted closer than was strictly necessary. He hovered in her orbit, pulled in by the gravity she didn’t seem to realize she had.

“As soon as you add the Aurum leaf, stir clockwise for ten minutes, then counterclockwise for five.”

“I know, Granger. I’m not a dunce like your nitwit friends.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “Then what are you doing? You need to focus.”

“I am,” he insisted, though his knife had slowed as his mind wandered with the image of her grinding on his lap.

She leaned in to check the temperature of the dittany base, her sleeve brushing his overheated arm. “Two minutes and the leaves need to go in. After we stir, we have to wait twenty minutes for the Heart Root. Then the potion has to simmer all night.”

He nodded, forcing his thoughts back to the task. “After we’re done in here, I need to go to the Slytherin common room.”

Her eyes flicked toward him. “What for?”

“Daphne needs my notes for Astronomy.”

“Why did she decide to stay in the dungeons this year anyway?”

“She wanted to stay with Astoria.”

“That’s her younger sister, right?”

Draco swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “Yeah. She’s in her sixth year.”

Fortunately, Granger didn’t ask any further questions, too concentrated on the potion and the precise timing. 

When the timer chimed, they added the Heart Root together. The liquid shifted to a glowing orange, and relief passed between them.

“Thank Merlin,” she breathed.

He nodded. “The potion needs to simmer for thirty days, correct?”

“Yes. Which is crazy, but all of my research points to an extended brewing time. Besides Wolfsbane, I’ve never seen a potion that takes this long to brew, just for the healing base.”

She began to wring her hands nervously. “If it fails and we have to start over, we’ll only have three more chances before the school year ends.”

“What should we do about the Lunara petals?”

Hermione’s lips pressed into a thin line. “They have to be fresh, gathered under the full moon. Which means we’ll have to go into the Forbidden Forest.”

Draco swore under his breath. “Fuck. The Forbidden Forest on a full moon.”

She sighed. “I don’t know of any other option. But we’ll be careful.”

 “I’ll make sure to get permission from Slughorn before Yule so we won’t have any obstacles when we get back.”

He reached for his book bag, fingers hesitating before pulling out a slim leather-bound journal. Without explanation, he handed it to her. “Here.”

She turned it over in her hands, brows furrowing. “What is it?”

“Well,” he began, “you keep saying we need to get to know each other before you decide about us. I figured this was a way to make that happen.”

She flipped through the blank pages, skeptical. “What do you mean?”

“It’s charmed,” he explained. “Got the idea from your coins, actually. The protean charm.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You mean to tell me you enchanted these journals so we can write back and forth?”

He nodded, pulling out his quill. “Here. Watch.”

He grabbed his journal and scrawled across the first page:  Let me fuck you.

A moment later, her journal glowed faintly. She opened it, gasped, and scribbled furiously: How about I slap you instead?

Draco grinned, writing back without hesitation: Yes, please

Hermione shook her head, torn between admiration and exasperation. “You’re ridiculous. But clever.”

”Thank you, Malfoy.” She clutched the journal to her chest, rose on her toes, and kissed his jaw. It wasn’t enough for him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, and pressed his lips to hers.

“You’re welcome, Granger,” he murmured, releasing her slowly. “I’ll give you everything if you let me.”

Her teeth worried her lip as she studied the journal’s cover. “It’s really very clever. I’m thoroughly impressed.”

He nodded and checked his watch. He was late. “I need to go.”

He grabbed her chin with his fingers and tilted her face upward. “You want to know me?” he asked seriously. “Write to me in the journal. Ask me questions. I’ll tell you anything.”

She nodded silently.

Without another word, he left the classroom and headed deeper into the dungeons. When he reached the common room, he muttered the password, and the stone wall slid open.

Astoria was in the common room and looked up at his entrance, her face lighting up as she stood to greet him. He waved at her and then hurried past, heading to Daphne’s dorm that she shared with a few of the older girls who chose to stay in the dungeons.

“Draco, wait!” Astoria called.

“Fuck,” he muttered, stopping reluctantly. “I’m kind of in a hurry, Astoria.”

Her eyes shimmered with hurt, and guilt twisted in his gut. He shouldn’t have slept with her again at the start of term. He’d known she wanted more, and he promised himself not to give her false hope. But loneliness made him weak.

“Your mother wrote me,” she said suddenly.

His stomach dropped. “Why would she do that?”

She bit her lip, but the action lacked the charm it had when Granger did it. “She said you were thinking about courting someone. She wouldn’t tell me who until you had a chance to talk to them.”

Ah fuck. His meddling mother…

 “Astoria…”

“Draco! Finally.” Daphne descended the stairs, arms crossed. “The homework is due tonight, you wanker. What took you so long?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Daph. I was working on potions.”

Her smirk was sharp. “With Granger? Did you beg for another kiss?”

Astoria gasped.

“How did you hear about that?” Draco demanded.

“Pansy saw it,” Daphne replied with a roll of her eyes. “Honestly, the whole school’s talking about it.”

“I didn’t know,” Astoria says quietly, the hurt thick in her voice.

Draco shoved his notes at Daphne. “Here. Keep them. I’ve got to go.”

He strode toward the entrance, but Astoria followed him through the door and down the corridor.

“Astoria…”

“So it’s her?” she asked quietly. “Granger?”

He raked a hand through his hair, sighing. “I’m sorry-”

“I thought after last time that-”

“Malfoy?”

He froze. Hermione stood in the doorway of the classroom he’d just left, eyes flicking between them.

“Is this Astoria?” she asked calmly, extending her hand. “I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced.”

Astoria stared at the offered hand as though it were a venomous snake. Instead of shaking Granger’ hand, she slid closer, clutching Draco’s arm with her nails, digging into his skin.

Granger examined the hand on his arm, and her eyebrow raised as she looked at him. “I see.”

He tried to pry her off, but she clung tighter. “You really don’t,” he said.

Granger’s lips curved into a knowing, cool smile. “I think I do.” 

Her gaze flicked to Draco, and his jaw tightened. He was trying to pull away, but he didn’t want to hurt Astoria physically. He was taught better than to ever lay a hand on a woman. Plus, he refused to be anything like his father.

He opened his mouth to tell Astoria to let go, but Granger beat him to it.

“If he wanted you to touch him,” she said evenly, stepping closer, “he wouldn’t look like he’s trying to escape right now.”

Heat rushed to his cheeks. Granger was sticking up for him, and fuck, did it do things to him.

Astoria faltered, but her nails stayed hooked in his sleeve. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. His mother wrote to me and told me he was planning on courting someone and-”

Granger’s voice cut through, cool and sharp. “His mother doesn’t decide who Draco courts. And neither do you.” She reached out, prying Astoria’s hand off of him with a steady grip. Her touch was firm, and for the first time since Astoria touched him, he could breathe.

Relief flooded him, loosening the knot in his chest.

Astoria’s lip trembled. “You think you’re better for him? A muggleborn marrying into an ancient, pureblood line? Narcissa will never allow it.”

Granger snorted. “Who said anything about getting married?”

Draco opened his mouth, then closed it quickly. They’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

Astoria practically snarled. “Good luck with keeping him after you’ve fucked him.”

Granger’s gaze didn’t waver. “Already did, and he stalks me more than ever.”

She finally met his eyes. “Come on, Malfoy,” she said softly, her tone final.

He followed her without hesitation, leaving Astoria behind in the corridor.

“So…” she started, “You talked to your mother about courting me?”

Draco winced at her words, the heat creeping up his neck. “Ah, fuck,” he muttered. “Technically, I didn’t tell her who, but yes, I did mention I was interested in courting someone.”

Granger’s lips curved, not quite a smile, but enough to ease the tightness in his chest. “And what did she say?”

Before he could tell her that he hadn’t even heard from his mother, Potter rushed out of the entrance to the common room. “Hermione, there you are.”

She ran to Harry and grabbed his hands. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Teddy,” he said, voice low but urgent. “His magic is unstable. He tried to change his hair and something went wrong. Remus and Andromeda took him to St. Mungos, and Tonks is trying to get a portkey back from her latest assignment.”

Granger gasped. “Unstable how?”

Potter shook his head, frustration etched across his face. “His transformations won’t stop. He’s cycling through faces, hair color…like he can’t control it. He’s getting weaker and the healers are worried his body won’t hold up.”

Draco stepped up behind Granger, his hand firm at her waist. “It sounds like he’s tearing himself apart with magic.”

Potter shot him a glare, but before he could say something snarky, Granger cut in sharply. “We need to go to St. Mungo’s, Harry.”

Potter tugged her forward, breaking Draco’s hold. “Already ahead of you. The headmistress is waiting by the Floo in her office.”

Granger turned, supposedly to say goodbye. He cut her off before she could speak. “I’m coming with you.”

Potter scoffed. “No, you’re not.”

Granger grabbed both of their hands, pulling them down the corridor. “Enough. This isn’t the time. Teddy needs us.”

Granger released their hands and rushed in front of them, practically taking three steps to their one. For once, neither one argued as they followed behind her. Draco had never met Teddy, but he wanted to. He wanted a family to love and care for and visit in the hospital when needed. Teddy was his cousin and Granger’s god child. He’d do whatever he could to be there for them.

Chapter Text

Teddy lay on a narrow bed, his hair flickering from turquoise to jet black to sandy blonde in rapid succession. His eyes shifted colors with each breath, his small frame trembling under the strain. Andromeda sat at his side, her hand pressed to his forehead, whispering soothing words.

Harry rushed forward, Hermione’s hand clenched tightly in his own. “How is he?”

His gaze locked on Teddy’s trembling limbs, the way his tiny face scrunched in pain. He wasn’t even a year old. “Where are the healers? Why isn’t anyone else here helping him?”

Andromeda didn’t look up, her eyes fixed on Teddy. “They just left. No one knows what to do. They’ve never seen anything like this. I believe Healer Maxton went to consult with another healer.”

Malfoy stepped into the room and stopped at Hermione’s other side. Harry had forgotten he was even there. Andromeda’s eyes widened in surprise.

Malfoy inclined his head. “Hello, Aunt Andromeda. I’m sorry our first meeting is under these circumstances.”

She nodded warily. “Hello, Nephew. Hopefully, we’ll have a chance to talk under better circumstances soon.”

Hermione’s voice cut through the tension. “Have the healers tried a stabilizing charm?”

Remus and Tonks burst into the room. “They have, and it didn’t work,” Remus answered for Andromeda.

Tonks rushed to Teddy’s side, pressing her hand to his forehead. “He’s burning up, mum. We have to do something. If these blithering fools can’t figure it out, we need to take him somewhere else.”

She reached for Teddy, but Remus caught her arm. “They’re doing everything they can, Love. His healer is consulting with a pediatric healer in France right now.”

Hermione pressed on. “What stabilizing charm did they use?”

Remus frowned. “What are you thinking?”

Hermione spoke slowly, reasoning aloud. “We hypothesize magic comes from our core, right? So wouldn’t it make sense to stabilize his core, assuming that isn’t what was done?”

Malfoy nodded, eyes sharp. “You’re right. Most healers wouldn’t use ancient familial magic, but there are rituals that have been passed down from generation to generation…”

Silence fell. Then Malfoy stepped closer to the bed, surprising them all as he looked down at Teddy and ran a long finger down his cheek. “There is a ritual we could try. Pureblood families use it for children with volatile magic. One of us could act as an anchor to stabilize him.”

Remus looked wary, and Tonks looked desperate. “What do we need to do?’ she asked.

Malfoy hesitated. “It’s blood magic. Grey magic.”

Tonks snapped, “Whatever it is, I want to try.”

Remus placed a steadying hand on her arm. “Love, I know you’re worried. We all are. But we need to think this through. It could be dangerous.”

Tonks ignored him. “Will it help if I act as the anchor since I’m his mum?”

Malfoy shook his head, then paused. “It might. But the spell is complicated, and I believe it requires the blood of a pureblood. So, it would have to be either Andromeda or me.”

Hermione scoffed. “Or they just want you to think it needs to be the blood of a pureblood,” she muttered.

“Are you willing to take that chance right now, Granger?” Malfoy responded.

Harry frowned. “And you think this ritual will work on Teddy?”

Malfoy’s gaze was cold, challenging. “It’s worth trying. Unless you’d rather watch him burn himself out.” He studied Teddy closely, his eyes calculating. “I’m not a healer, but he has hours at most. I’ve seen something like this once before.”

Harry ran his hands through his hair, panicked. He couldn’t do the ritual. He didn’t know it. Besides that, he wasn’t a pureblood and if what Malfoy was saying is true, he didn’t want to risk hurting Teddy further.

Andromeda rose, placing a hand on Malfoy’s shoulder. “I know the ritual you’re talking about. I also know what it means if you go through with this.”

Everyone in the room looked between Andromeda and Malfoy in confusion.

 “What does it mean?” Hermione asked.

Malfoy met her eyes. “It means, if Teddy were ever gravely injured, he would draw magic from my core. And if he took too much, there’s a chance I could die, though the odds of that are low. He would have to be exceedingly powerful for that to happen.”

Hermione gasped and clutched Malfoy’s arm. Harry stared at the fingers wrapped around his bicep.

“Malfoy,” she said very seriously. “Are you sure about this?”

Remus and Tonks both shook their heads. “No,” Tonks declared. “We won’t let you do that. Are you sure neither Remus nor I could do it?”

Malfoy shook his head regretfully. He looked at Remus, then looked away. “He can’t because he’s a werewolf. His magical core would probably overpower Teddy’s. I don’t know what would happen. It has to be either Andromeda or me, and no offense,” he told Andromeda, “but the spell takes a lot out of you. It could fail because of your age.”

Andromeda nodded in understanding. Remus looked away, shame etched across his face. Tonks squeezed his arm, trying to comfort him.

Suddenly, Teddy whimpered and took a stuttering breath. Everyone quieted and stared at his body as the tremors seized his muscles violently. Harry’s throat tightened…they were out of options and he felt useless. Helpless. 

“Where’s Sirius?” Harry suddenly demanded. “He could do it, couldn’t he?”

Remus groaned. “I doubt he knows the ritual. Plus, the last time I saw him, he was bullying the healers. He was yelling in French over the floo.”

Hermione shivered. “If he’s speaking French, you know he’s serious.”

Harry nodded grimly as Malfoy looked confused. Sirius had gone through the same pureblood training as every other child from the Sacred 28 families. He learned dance, Latin, French, and etiquette. He simply chose not to use any of it.

Malfoy exhaled raggedly. “I’m doing it. We don’t know how much more of this he can handle. It could be hours, but where he’s so small, I’m not sure we even have that long.”

Tonks wrapped her arms around him, hugging him. “Thank you, cousin. Remus told me you wanted to meet over Yule. Consider yourself welcome anytime.” She began crying on his shoulder, and Malfoy looked uncomfortable. “We’ll never be able to repay you for this. Ever.”

Remus nodded and put a hand on Malfoy’s shoulder, too choked up to say anything.

Andromeda was the next to hug him, followed by Hermione, who reached up on her toes to kiss his jaw. “Thank you, Malfoy,” she whispered.

Harry’s jaw clenched. Teddy was suffering, and yet, everyone was standing around hugging Malfoy.

Remus looked at Hermione and Malfoy questioningly, then turned to Harry, who was just as confused. He knew he was missing something. Hermione kept dismissing him every time he tried to talk about Malfoy. He couldn’t let that happen again. They needed to talk soon, whether she wanted to or not.

Malfoy stepped closer to the bed and pointed his wand at his hand, creating a deep cut along his palm. Blood instantly started pouring from the wound, and he let the droplets land on Teddy’s chest, staining the white onesie. After healing the cut, he drew his wand in a slow arc above Teddy, murmuring words in what he thought was Latin. Hermione grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly as a silver light entered Teddy’s body.

“Radicem tene, lumen serva…”

The air thickened, shimmering with faint silver threads that coiled around Teddy’s trembling frame. His hair slowed its frantic shifting, lingering on turquoise before flickering again.

“Stabilis anima, vinculum firmum…”

Malfoy’s voice grew stronger as he repeated those two phrases, the complicated wand movements sharp and precise. Several minutes later, sweat beaded on his forehead as the threads brightened, wrapping Teddy like a cocoon. Malfoy traced a sigil in the air, and everyone in the room watched as his body lit up silver from within, before a silver stream of light left him and shot toward Teddy. His fragile body lifted several inches in the air, his arms, legs, and head limp. Everyone gasped and rushed forward, hands reaching to catch him.

Malfoy repeated the phrase one last time, teeth gritted. Slowly, Teddy lowered back onto the hospital bed, his body relaxing against the pillows. The light faded. His tremors stopped, and his breathing grew calmer.

His hair remained turquoise. They waited, but even after five minutes, it didn’t change.

Hermione conjured a diagnostic and scrutinized it. “He’s…stable,” she said with reverence in her voice.

Tonks let out a shaky breath, tears glistening. She hurried to pick up Teddy and hug him close. “Merlin.” Gently, she set him back down.

She turned to Malfoy, voice breaking. “You saved him, Draco. Thank you.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief. He nodded at Malfoy in thanks, but he didn’t notice. He had locked eyes with Hermione, and it looked like they were exchanging a wordless conversation.

Malfoy tried to say something, but his words slurred. Hermione gasped as he collapsed sideways. Harry lunged, catching him before his head hit the floor.

“Oh my gods,” Hermione cried. “I think he’s passed out. We need to get the healer in here.”

“Shit,” Remus cursed, running his hand through his graying hair. “Let me go find someone.”

Andromeda transfigured the armchair into a lumpy bed, and Hermione floated Malfoy onto it.

An older healer rushed in, muttering over a parchment. He was sweating, and his face was flushed a deep red. “I spoke with Healer Marquix. He said this was unprecedented, but there are things we can try.”

He looked up and studied the various faces around the room, eyes widening on Malfoy. “Oh, Merlin. What’s happened now?”

Tonk’s hair flared crimson, her temper rising like a flame as she looked ready to unleash fury on the healer. Remus’s hands settled gently on her shoulder, grounding her.

Tonks jabbed a finger toward Malfoy’s still form on the bed. “Heal him. Now.”

Perhaps sensing the danger in the room, the healer didn’t argue. He moved quickly to Malfoy’s side, wand sweeping in practiced arcs. A diagnostic shimmered in the air, glowing faintly before fading.

“He’s alive,” the healer said at last. “But his magical core is severely strained. It may take him several days to recover. What happened?”

Everyone ignored him.

“Should we call his mother?” Hermione asked nervously.

Andromeda’s reply was low, steady. “Leave Narcissa to me.”

The healer’s eyes darted from face to face, confusion etched across his features. “Is someone going to tell me what happened?”

“No,” they all answered in unison.

He sighed, resigned. “Then let’s check on our younger patient, shall we?”

Hermione quickly stepped forward and waved her hand, vanishing the blood.

At Teddy’s bedside, his expression shifted to bewilderment.

“Something the matter?” Tonks asked challengingly.

The healer performed another diagnostic above Teddy’s head, then shifted his gaze from Teddy to Malfoy and back. “His magical core is stable again.”

Hermione muttered under her breath, “No shit, Sherlock.”

Harry shot her a look, but she only rolled her eyes at him.

The door swung open, and Sirius strode in, voice booming. “I told that useless healer…” He stopped short, eyes narrowing as he spotted the man by Teddy’s bed. “The French one, of course.”

"I need a holiday," the healer muttered.

Sirius ignored him, crossing to Harry and pulling him into a hug. “Everything’s going to be okay, kiddo.” He turned then, arms opening for Hermione. “Hi, Kitten.”

She smiled faintly, stepping into his embrace. “Hi, Sirius.”

Sirius’s gaze swept the room, lingering on Malfoy’s unconscious form, then on Teddy, who was sleeping peacefully. Relief softened his features. “What the hell happened?”

Remus clapped him on the back. “Long story. Now, who do I need to apologize to at the Hôpital Magique de Paris?”

“Your French needs work, my friend.”

Harry felt the exhaustion settle deep in his bones. As much as he loved the banter between Sirius and Remus, he couldn’t bear it tonight. He just wanted to get Hermione back to Hogwarts and collapse into bed.

Hermione seemed to read the weariness in his face. She squeezed his hand. “We should probably head back,” she said softly, though her eyes lingered on Malfoy’s long frame sprawled across the bed, feet dangling over the edge.

They made their rounds of goodbyes. Hermione paused at Malfoy’s bedside, brushing her hand across his forehead, fingers threading briefly through his hair. Sirius caught Harry’s eye, his expression grave, and Harry returned it.

The corridors of St. Mungo’s were silent as they walked out, their footsteps echoing. When they returned to Hogwarts, they informed Headmistress McGonagall about what was happening with Malfoy. She sighed and rolled her eyes, but a smile played on her face. After telling them she’d contact his probation officer, she said goodnight.

The silence lingered in the hallways and in the deserted eighth-year common room. Hermione led him down the hall to their doors.

She turned to hug him, and he kissed her on the temple. “Goodnight, Harry.”

But urgency burned in him. He couldn’t let Hermione go to her room tonight without knowing what was going on. “We need to talk, Hermione.”

She looked weary, exasperated. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “No. Sleep in my room tonight. You owe me an explanation about you and Malfoy.”

Resignation flickered across her face, then she nodded. “Fine. Let me change. I’ll come in after.”

Harry rushed through his routine, heart pounding. When Hermione joined him, they settled into their familiar positions. His chest pressed to her back, his arm wrapped around her. He breathed in the scent of her hair, floral and sweet. Orange blossom? “I’ve missed you,” he murmured against her neck.

She squeezed the arm he had wrapped around her chest. “We see each other every day.”

He took another deep breath and pulled her tighter against him. “That’s not what I meant. I meant when the night's bad dreams force us to share a bed. It’s been a while.”

“Have you been having bad dreams? You can always come to me, you know,” she responded quietly.

“Sometimes,” he responded.

“Me too,” she breathed. “It’s exhausting.”

He squeezed her. “Take your own advice. Come to me next time.”

In the silence, he buried his face in her hair as he reflected on how they hadn’t slept in the same bed since that infamous night, and he hadn’t realized how much he missed having her so close. He traced the scar across her stomach beneath her shirt.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked.

 Sometimes she would twist in her seat and wince. Or she would raise her arms too high above her head and quickly lower them as if she forgot it was even there, and the pain surprised her.

She shook her head, but he thought she was lying to save him from the guilt he already felt. It was his fault she had that injury. He’s the one who didn’t take a second to think before rushing into danger.

But he would let it go for now, because that wasn’t the discussion he needed to have with her. He hated to disturb the easy quiet between them, but he had to know. He’d been thinking for a while now that something was going on between her and Malfoy, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Malfoy had shot right past the snitch and put himself between Hermione and a bludger. He’d ignored the signs, maybe on purpose, but tonight they continued to stare him in the face, and he couldn’t ignore them anymore.

“What’s going on with you and Malfoy, Hermione?” he asked abruptly. Quietly.

She paused and held her breath. Then slowly, she exhaled. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t freak out.”

It was Malfoy. He wasn’t sure if he could promise that, so he told her, “I guess it depends on what it is.”

“Then I’m not telling you, Harry.”

He hesitated. “Fine. I promise. No overreacting.”

She groaned softly. “Malfoy wants to court me.”

The words hit Harry like a curse. Court her. As in preparing for marriage. Did Hermione even understand what courting meant? He hadn’t until Sirius explained it to him over the summer. And courting Malfoy, the same boy who had watched as she was tortured in his family’s drawing room. His Hermione. He felt numb, detached, as though watching himself from outside his body.

“Harry?” she called to him breathless. “I can’t breathe.”

He realized he was clutching her too tightly and released her. “Shit. Sorry.”

He forced himself to remember his promise. Keeping his promises was important to him, especially his promises to Hermione.

He took a deep breath and released it onto her skin. He felt her skin prickle with goosebumps, and he kissed them in apology.

“I need details, Hermione.”

And so she told him how, after that night, Malfoy had pursued her for weeks, but she hadn’t realized what he wanted until he outright told her. She explained her hesitation and why she wasn’t sure if she could believe him. Then, she told him about tonight and what happened in the classroom. She brushed over the details, but he understood the gist, and it took everything in him not to get out of bed and kick Malfoy’s unconscious ass.

She told him about running into Astoria and how Malfoy had told his mother he wanted to court someone. Then they discussed tonight and how he had volunteered to connect himself to Teddy, someone he didn’t even know.

Hermione believed his motivations centered around wanting a family. Harry thought he did it only for Hermione’s benefit, and she responded with, ‘Can’t it be both?’ and ‘Did his reasons even matter as long as their godson was okay?’

 And it had worked. Harry could tell from how she talked about him that she was interested. That she might say yes.

Harry felt a hollow ache in his chest.

A feeling of something not being right.

She was in his arms, but her mind was on another man. It was similar to Ginny with Blaise, but somehow, this felt even more painful. He and Hermione were not. Even. Together. Had never even had the chance to be together. Now that losing her was staring him in the face, did he want that chance?

When she asked his opinion, he wanted to tell her it wasn’t a good idea. That Malfoy didn’t deserve her. That she deserved the best. But he saw the flicker of hope in her eyes, the possibility of happiness, and the words died on his tongue.

“So, you don’t think you and Malfoy courting sounds absurd?” he asked, teasingly. He ran a hand lightly across her ribs, tickling her, and she squirmed against him.

“What do you mean?”

Suddenly serious, he replied, “You said the idea of you and me together was absurd. You don’t think the idea of you and Malfoy is absurd?”

“Yes,” she replied softly. “I do. But…I don’t mind absurd things anymore, Harry.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant. Was she suggesting that, even if the idea of them together was wild, absurd, impossible… she would still be willing to try?

And if she was, was that something he even wanted?

Before that night not so long ago, the answer probably would have been no because he had never even let himself think that way before. Ron was always there, and Hermione and Ron had naturally gravitated toward each other.  Before this summer, when he was with Ginny that last time, it would have been absolutely no. He was too in love to see anyone but Ginny, despite knowing there breakup was the best thing for them. Then, after the breakup, he was too busy trying to get over her. 

But as the seconds, minutes, hours, and days he spent around Hermione after that night blurred into weeks, the thought gradually began to creep into the back of his mind, uninvited. He’d try to stamp it out, only for her to reignite it again, pouring gasoline on the embers with a glance, a laugh, a cheeky smile in a way only she could.

He deflected, because he didn’t understand. Couldn’t let himself think thoughts that seemed like a betrayal to Ron. To Ginny. To Hermione, even. “Oh, so you don’t mind divination?”

She scoffed, and he could feel her rolling her eyes. “Let’s not get carried away.”

He smiled against her back, but she sounded so offended he couldn’t help it. He laughed.

He laughed until she joined him, but his heart felt heavy. He pulled her closer, his arm across her chest. He couldn’t shake the thought that he was losing Hermione. He couldn’t lose Hermione. He wouldn’t let himself lose Hermione.

Chapter Text

Draco woke in the hospital for the second time in as many weeks. His body felt leaden, like that night in fourth year when he, Theo, and Blaise had drunk too much firewhisky and collapsed in front of the fireplace in the common room.

He groaned, blinking against the sterile light, and immediately spotted his mother seated in an armchair pulled close to his bed.

“Mother,” he rasped, his voice scratchy from sleep and disuse.

Her face was unreadable. She was occluding.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

One eyebrow arched nearly to her hairline. “My son just tied his magical core to a baby, and he wants to ask me what’s wrong?”

“Come now, Sissy,” a voice chimed in from his other side. “Your son saved your nephew’s life.”

Draco turned, shocked to find the estranged sisters sharing the same room. “Aunt Andromeda.”

Her stern features softened into something gentler and she no longer resembled Bellatrix. “Draco. Welcome back, nephew.”

“How’s Teddy?” he asked.

Her smile widened. “He’s perfect, thanks to you. Tonks and Remus send their love.”

He nodded, turning back to his mother. A fleeting smile tugged at her lips before she smothered it. “That was very foolish of you, my son.”

Andromeda scoffed softly.

“But…” she added, her voice quieter. “I am proud of you.”

Draco’s grin was heavy-lidded with exhaustion. “How are you here?”

His mother hesitated. “The headmistress and Ms. Granger were kind enough to speak to Minister Shacklebolt so I could visit.”

His eyes widened in shock. “You spoke with Granger?”

If she noticed the change in the pitch of his voice, she didn’t say anything. “No. Headmistress McGonagall sent me a missive letting me know that both she and Ms. Granger visited the ministry to appeal to the minister for a visit.”

He was floored. Granger had done that for his mother. For him.

“She was here, you know,” Andromeda said knowingly.

Draco feigned casualness. “When?”

Andromeda’s lips twitched. His mother looked perturbed.

“Yesterday afternoon,” his mother replied. She gestured toward a stack of books on the bedside table. “She brought you those.”

It took everything in him not to snatch them up immediately.

“Several muggle books, it seems,” she continued. “I added the two you requested as well.”

Draco tore his gaze from the pile, studying his mother’s expression. She was calculating, putting pieces together. He said nothing. He wasn’t ready for her to know, at least not yet, especially since he hadn’t worn down Granger quite yet.

He was hoping that the journals would give them a chance to get to know each other, something he had yet to take advantage of. He didn’t even know what day it was.

But the journals weren’t the only way he was trying. Risking his life for Teddy had been partly self-serving: Granger was Teddy’s godmother. Binding his core to the child emotionally and physically tied him to the family and to her. Even if she refused a courtship by Christmas, he would have opportunities to wear her down in the future.

And, if he was honest, it felt good to be accepted by a family that genuinely wanted to spend time together out of love, not obligation.

While he ruminated, his mother and aunt exchanged stiff words. He let them. It was a start, at least. Another benefit of binding himself to Teddy.

When they finally departed, Narcissa kissed his cheek and murmured, “We will discuss this further over break.”

He didn’t doubt it.

As soon as the door closed, he reached for the books. He set aside the floral volume and the first edition of Jane Eyre, then examined the rest.

He chuckled. Granger’s own worn copy of Jane Eyre, complete with marginalia. Pride and Prejudice. A gothic-looking Dracula.

How did the Muggles know about Dracula?

To his pleasant surprise, his copy of the journals was at the bottom of the stack. He wondered how Granger had gotten through the wards of his room to get it, but then he remembered it was Granger.

He opened to the first page, and his heart skipped a beat at the message scrawled there in her messy handwriting.

HG: Congratulations on your hero status, or whatever. Welcome to the club ;)

He grinned to himself. Cheeky fucking witch.

DM: Happy to be here. Where’s my trophy?

The journal stayed blank. He picked up her annotated copy of Jane Eyre, curious to glimpse her thoughts. As he read, he began to notice similarities between Granger and Jane Eyre: resilient, independent, self-respecting. It made this fictional character awfully endearing to him.

Hours passed before the journal lit up.

HG: Malfoy, you’re awake! How are you feeling?

DM: Like I’m ready to get out of here.

HG: I can’t imagine. I can’t believe how long it took for your core to recover.

HG:  I spoke with your healer when I stopped by to drop off the books. He said once you were awake, they’d assess your magic to determine when you could leave.

DM: He stopped by an hour ago. I’m getting released in the morning.

HG: Just in time for Yule break.

DM: Can I see you before you leave the castle?

HG: That can be arranged. Just send me a message in the journal whenever you’re back. I need to give you my notes anyway.

They exchanged messages for several hours, with him battling lingering exhaustion as they discussed everything he could think to ask. He learned that Granger’s favorite color was actually green, that her favorite flowers were dahlias, and that her parents were dentists.

Then she explained what dentists were, and he tried not to let her know how terrifying her parents sounded. 

Her favorite books were Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre, and he smiled to himself as he thought about how she’d react to her Christmas present. He wondered if he could find a first edition of Pride and Prejudice to give her as well.

He told her his favorite color was black, and she replied, “I’m shocked.” He laughed, even though it wasn’t funny, because he was giddy with happiness.

Finally running out of topics for the night, she told him she needed to finish packing and go to bed, and he responded with a quote from Jane Eyre.

DM: “I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you – especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame.”

HG: I should have never given you that book.

He grinned, closing the journal and setting it beside his bed. 

Before he could succumb to the call of sleep, he called his house elf. “Topsy,” he whispered.

Topsy popped into the hospital room, her large eyes luminous. “Master Draco is okay,” she exclaimed. “Topsy has been so worried.”

“How’s mother, Topsy?” he asked, redirecting her. If he didn’t, she’d not stop crying all night. Plus, he wanted to know if his mother was exhibiting any murderous behaviors after her visit today.

She straightened to her full height. “Mistress Narcissa is being okay. She is missing you.” She hesitated. “And Master Lucius, of course.”

He nodded in understanding. He didn’t want to discuss Lucius either. 

“I have a favor to ask, Topsy.”

She perked up. “What is Master Draco needing? Tell Topsy, and she will take care of it for you.”

“Thank you, Topsy. Could you please deliver a bouquet of purple dahlias to Hermione Granger at Hogwarts?”

Her large eyes studied him curiously. “Is this who Master Draco is wanting to court?”

He stared at you in shock. “Mother told you about that?”

She nodded solemnly. “She be telling all the elves. She is wanting to prepare the manor for when you complete the bonding ceremony.”

He covered his eyes. “Fucking Salazar,” he groaned. 

“Topsy,” he said patiently. “You cannot tell Mother who it is, okay? I’m not ready for her to know yet.”

Not to mention, they would not be moving into the manor. 

Topsy wrung her hands. “But Mistress be wondering and if she be finding out that Topsy knows…”

“She won’t. But if she does find out, I order you not to punish yourself, okay? I’ll handle telling Mother.”

She nodded reluctantly. “Will that be all, Master Draco?”

He nodded, then paused. “Do not let yourself be seen, Topsy. Granger mustn’t see you. Okay?”

With no further orders, Topsy disapparated. 

He smirked to himself as he settled back against his pillow. He couldn’t wait to know what Granger thought of the arrangement. If she understood the meaning. He wanted to send her something that spoke of his desire for her, like red tulips, or something that proclaimed she was his destiny, like red camellias. But those, he would save for another time. For now, he chose dahlias, because he had just found out they were her favorite. He picked purple for their meaning of elegance, quiet grace, strength, and dignity under pressure. They were perfect for Granger.

Chapter Text

Harry and Sirius flooed into the Burrow on Christmas Eve, the hearth giving way to a flurry of red hair and laughter. Before Harry could even dust the soot from his robes, he was surrounded by Weasleys. He took in the newly knit Christmas sweaters with initials scattered throughout the living room and braced himself for when it was time to put on his own sweater. He just hoped it wasn't green again this year.  

Fred and George swooped in first, flashing identical grins as they clapped him on the back and guided him toward the center of the living room, amidst the chaos. 

Mrs. Weasley grabbed him and pressed his face against her chest until he struggled to breathe. He always appreciated the motherly gesture, but he often wondered if this was how he’d die. His back bent so far forward that his spine ached, and he couldn't take a single breath without inhaling worn cotton. Last year, he counted thirty seconds before she finally let go. 

When she released him, Bill’s arms wrapped around him next, followed by Fleur with her rounded belly. From the kitchen doorway, Ron and Ginny watched with matching grins. Harry pushed his way through the rest of the Weasleys, offering hellos as he went, until he finally reached Ron.

Ron gave him a half-hug and a hearty slap on the back. “Glad you’re here, Harry.”

Harry looked at Ginny, noticing the faint half-smile playing on her lips. He moved away from Ron to give her a quick hug. “Hi, Gin.”

She patted his shoulder lightly. “Hi, Harry, you clean up nice.”

He looked down at himself, taking in his usual jeans, but paired with a half-zip instead of one of his typical t-shirts. He applied some gel to his hair, though he wasn’t sure it made much difference. Overall, he thought he looked the same.

“Uh, thanks,” he replied.

“How’s it been, spending the week with Sirius?”

He chuckled, remembering the burnt pancakes from this morning. “It’s been great. I’m happy to be back at Grimmauld with him.”

He looked between the two of them. “When’s Hermione getting here?”

Ginny tilted her head. “You haven’t talked to her?”

He shook his own. “Not really. She sent me an owl saying she’d see me today, but that’s it.”

“She said closer to seven,” Ginny replied, handing him a glass of firewhisky. “She and her parents went to a Muggle play, then she’s apparating straight here.”

He nodded in thanks. “Oh, right. She mentioned her parents had tickets to The Nutcracker.”

Ron rummaged through the pantry, pulling out a bag of crisps that he tore open and devoured. Ginny shot him an exasperated look.

“What?” Ron mumbled with his mouth full. “I’m starving. Mum already smacked my hand with a spatula when I tried to nick a roll.”

Ginny sighed. “You’ll ruin your appetite.”

“Not likely.”

Harry tuned out their arguing. His thoughts lingered on Hermione. As far as he knew, things with her parents hadn’t improved, and the worry gnawed at him. He just hoped she wouldn’t arrive upset.

Sirius strolled into the kitchen then, greeting Ron with a nod and Ginny with a hug. His eyes swept the room. “Where’s my kitten?”

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “She’s at a play with her parents. She’ll be here later.”

Sirius chuckled. “Poor Hermione. She told me she was nervous. I hope it’s going alright.”

Harry blinked. “You spoke to Hermione? When?”

Sirius snapped his fingers. “Ah, right. Forgot to mention it. She floo-called the other night while you were at the pub. We talked for a bit.”

Harry felt his chest fill with anger. Most of the time, Sirius’s carefree nature made him the life of the party. But it was moments like these when Harry hated how irresponsible he could be.

Sirius must have noticed the look on his face because he raised his hands. “Before you get your knickers in a twist, I meant to tell you, but you didn’t get home until after I went to bed. Then, you were gone before I got up.”

He sighed. “Fine. Did she at least sound okay?”

Ginny hurried past him. “Hermione!” she yelled. “You’re finally here, thank Merlin. Save me from these fools.”

He heard her laugh before he saw her. In the next moment, he turned around to find her, and his breath caught. She was wearing a dark blue silk dress that hugged her curves. The straps on her shoulders were wide, but they were mostly bare. She had tamed her curls into waves, with a diamond clip above her ear on one side. She looked stunning.

He noticed she also had diamond earrings and wondered if they were a gift from her parents. Her neck was bare, and he couldn’t help but think the necklace he got her would look perfect on her.

He watched as Fred picked her up and swung her around, all the while screeching at him to set her down. She barely had time to catch her breath before George did the same. Mrs. Weasley’s hug was slightly less friendly - no smothering involved - and he wondered if it had something to do with the breakup.

 Hermione was passed from Weasley to Weasley, receiving hugs and kisses. By the time she reached the kitchen, her skin was flushed, and her smile was so wide that her white teeth were completely on display.

Breathlessly, she greeted him. “Hi, Harry,” she said, and he bent down to kiss her cheek.

“Hi, Hermione,” he replied, pulling her into his arms. “You look beautiful,” he murmured into her hair.

She leaned back to look at him, and Harry felt warmth from the full force of her smile.

“Kitten!” Sirius exclaimed, grabbing her hand and pulling her into his chest. “You’re radiant tonight.”

“Thank you, Sirius,” she replied, kissing him on the cheek. “You look dashing yourself.”

She turned to face their small circle and waved at Ron, but didn’t go in for a hug. “Hi, Ron. Happy Christmas.”

Ron gave her a close-lipped smile. “Happy Christmas, Hermione. They’re right. You look beautiful.”

She returned his tight-lipped smile with one of her own. “Thank you, Ronald.”

Before things could become more awkward, Harry addressed her. “How was the play?”

“The Nutcracker is a ballet, and it was beautiful,” she replied.

He refrained from rolling his eyes. “And how were your parents? Have you been able to reconnect with them at all over break?”

She hesitated. “It’s definitely getting better. It’s just been a lot of tears and arguing and them asking why I obliviated them over and over despite me already explaining everything to them.”

Sirius nodded sympathetically. “It’s going to take time. Just don’t stop talking to them and trying to work through it.”

Harry studied Sirius and wondered if he was actually talking about his own problems with Remus. He had thought they seemed perfectly fine, but maybe he was missing something.

“Everybody gather round and claim a spot!” Fred yelled from the living room. “It’s time to pass out presents!”

Ron groaned. “I thought we were eating first.”

Mrs. Weasley, who had heard him, yelled from the living room. “I already told you, Ron! We have to wait for the roast to finish cooking!”

Harry followed Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys into the living room, claiming a spot on the ottoman while Ron sat in the chair behind him.

They waited silently as Fred and George theatrically handed out presents. Harry watched Hermione and Ginny sitting side by side on the couch, giggling and whispering secrets into each other’s ears.

Ron leaned forward. “What’s going on with you and Ginny? Any progress there?”

Harry’s eyes flicked to his. “Hm? Ginny? No, no, I haven’t really had the chance to talk to her lately.”

Ron looked at him askance. “I thought you wanted to get her back? That is still the plan, right? I don’t want a Slytherin marrying into the family, mate.”

Harry could understand that, but he shook his head, preoccupied because Fred had just handed Hermione the gift he had painstakingly designed for her.

Slowly, she unwrapped the admittedly poorly wrapped box and looked at the large flat velvet box. Then, she opened it and looked some more.

Suddenly, her eyes lifted to meet his, and she looked at him in wonder. Her large, brown eyes glistened with tears, and she mouthed the words ‘thank you.’ He smiled at her and mouthed ‘you’re welcome,’ then she broke their gaze to ask Ginny to help her put it on.

Ginny stared at the necklace in disbelief and shot Hermione a look that Harry didn’t understand. Hermione brushed her hair aside, exposing her neck and turning her back to Ginny. Once she secured it, it settled just below her collarbone, and he admired how the pearl contrasted with her skin.

“Is that from you?” Ron asked. “What is it?”

“A necklace that belonged to my mom,” Harry answered.

He missed the stormy look that crossed Ron’s face.

Harry finally tore his eyes away from Hermione to open his own pile of presents. He received the traditional sweater from Mrs. Weasley, green again. He bit the bullet and took off his half-zip to replace with the sweater. He got a new pair of cufflinks from Mr. Weasley, and the twins had gifted him a variety of daydream charms, with the limitations removed so he could, as the twins said, ‘live out his ideal fantasies with the woman of his choice. As long as it wasn’t their sister.’

He tried not to blush as he set them aside. Ron had gotten him a new quill and some Chocolate Frogs, while Ginny had gifted him a new pair of Quidditch gloves. He looked up and met her eyes, smiling at her as they both held up the matching gloves they had bought each other.

Sirius gave him several vintage band t-shirts. Apparently, he had noticed that all of his had gone missing. He looked over at Sirius sheepishly, and Sirius winked at him. 

He unconsciously saved Hermione’s gift for last. She had painstakingly wrapped it in red paper with a green bow. He could tell she was watching him as he slowly tore off the wrapping to reveal a plain wooden box. He opened it just as slowly and found a rectangular leather-bound book. The front had a tiny gold picture frame with a photo of the Marauders (minus Peter) and his mom.

He stared in shock. He’d never seen that picture before. Likely noticing his confusion, she walked over and carefully knelt beside the ottoman, trying not to rip her dress. She leaned in close so he could hear her over the noise, and she smelled like a Christmas cookie.

“I asked Sirius to dig up some pictures of your mom and dad that you’d never seen before. He had to go digging in his vault, but he found a whole box of them. I tried to pick out the ones I thought you’d enjoy looking at.”

He opened the first page and saw a picture of Sirius, his dad, and Remus from what looked like their second year. Remus appeared annoyed, while James and Sirius were laughing. Below the picture, there was also a paragraph written in Hermione’s handwriting.

It read, “Oh, I remember that. James and I had just dared Remus to kiss Mary on the cheek, and she ran away screaming. He didn’t kiss another girl for two years.”

He turned page after page, each one with a small paragraph below the photo. He only skimmed the photos until he could be alone and could study them without the fear of crying in front of everyone.

Without his permission, his eyes welled up, and he did his best to blink away the tears. Hermione squeezed his arm.

“Thank you,” he said, choked up. “This is…perfect.”

She smiled softly and clenched her necklace. “Thank you for my necklace. It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”

His eyes flicked to her chest, where the gold chain gleamed in the firelight, and the golden otter held the pearl in its tiny paws.

“The pearl necklace actually belonged to my mom. I had it redesigned to include the otter.”

She gasped as she looked at the necklace in a new light. Suddenly, she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for trusting me with this, Harry. I’ll keep it safe always.”

“She’d want you to have it, Hermione.”

Ron excused himself to talk to his brother across the room, but when Harry looked at him to thank him for his gift, he paused as he took in the look on Ron’s face. It was red with anger. He and Hermione looked at each other in confusion.

Hermione shrugged and then stood up to look around the room. “Where’d Gin go?”

Harry looked with her, finally spotting her in the kitchen whispering with Fred and George. Hermione saw them at the same time.

“Oh no,” she groaned. “What are those three up to?”

Ginny was whispering frantically to Fred and George, who were both nodding seriously. “I have no idea. But it might be a good idea not to drink the punch, yeah?”

She laughed. “I’ll stick to butterbeer the rest of the night.”

Hermione squeezed his shoulder. “I need to use the loo. Can you check on Sirius? Make sure he’s not causing trouble?”

“He’s a grown man, Hermione.”

She looked at him, exasperated. “Really, Harry? He destroyed Molly and Arthur’s garden this past summer with that flying bike of his.”

He groaned as he stood up. “Fine. You’re right.”

As Harry looked around, Sirius was nowhere to be seen. He figured the Marauder was probably outside smoking, so he headed toward the kitchen and the back door. Ginny was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame as she talked to the twins. He put his hands on her arms to move her aside, but when he went to pass by her, he found he was stuck.

“What the fuck?”

He stared down at his feet, which seemed glued to the floor. He looked at Ginny in disbelief, then at the twins accusingly. “What did you two do?”

They snickered and hurried toward the back door. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, mate. Good luck to you!”

Before he could say anything more, the two slipped out the back door, cackling.

“Sorry, Harry,” Ginny said. “I didn’t realize you were there, or I would have warned you.”

She pointed above her head.

He looked up to see mistletoe floating above them. He groaned. “Are you kidding me? I thought that mistletoe was banned this summer when Fred was forced to kiss Fleur, and we thought Bill was going to kill him.”

She shrugged. “That was during the testing phase. They said they perfected it. Apparently, what they meant by that was this mistletoe only terrorizes unmarried people now.”

She smirked, and it was a look he knew well that reeked of trouble. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before, am I right?”

He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “Right,” he said, because his ability to hold a conversation with someone he’d known since he was eleven had suddenly vanished.

She was just a few inches shorter than him, so she barely had to turn and lift her head to reach his lips. The familiar scent of broom polish and lavender wafted up to him, warm and nostalgic.

When her lips touched and pressed against his, he allowed it. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, and he let her do that as well. Ginny kissed him the same way she always had: with confidence and aggression.

As the kiss continued, Harry’s stomach didn’t swoop. His chest didn’t tighten with nerves. The spark that had been there just a few short months ago was missing. It should have felt like coming home, but instead, it felt like…nothing slipping quietly into place.

He pulled back and stared at her in shock. She looked at him knowingly. They both looked up and saw the mistletoe was gone.

She stepped away and turned to grab a butterbeer, as if nothing had happened. As if his entire way of thinking hadn’t just been completely upended in the most surprising way.

“Quidditch tomorrow, right?”

He nodded.

She opened the back door, where he could hear Sirius and the Weasley twins laughing.

He lingered in the doorway, trying to accept his new reality. When he finally turned around, Hermione stood there with an unreadable smile on her face. “Finally made your move?”

He shook his head in wonder. “The twins.”

Her face cleared. “Ah. The mistletoe. I thought that was banned.”

He didn’t answer her. He was still processing that he wasn’t in love with Ginny anymore. He loved her, of course, he did. She was an essential part of his life and always would be. But he wasn’t in love with her. 

Holy shit. He wasn’t in love with Ginny.

Hermione stood beside him, her tone casual. “So? How was it? Did you finally get what you wanted?”

Harry felt the air escape from his lungs.

Hermione was asking earnestly. Kindly. Like she was hoping he’d say yes. Like his happiness was her only concern.

But the question struck him deeply because he had wanted it. At least, he thought he did. That was until a minute ago when Ginny’s kiss revealed to him exactly how much his heart had changed without him noticing.

He swallowed. “I…don’t know.”

Hermione’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t?”

Harry forced a shaky exhale. “It’s just…not what I imagined.”

Hermione nodded slowly and moved closer, wrapping her hand around his arm. “Well,” she said, “if you need me, I’m here. I just want you to be happy, Harry. Whatever that looks like.”

He suddenly looked at her, watching the sway of her hips as she walked away, struck by the growing realization that the future he thought he was trying to reclaim was no longer what he wanted.

           ~

The Christmas Party at The Burrow was nearly over, with the noise quieting down as more firewhisky was consumed. The twins were passed out on the floor, and Sirius was asleep in the armchair, reeking of cigarette smoke and alcohol.

Ron had gone to his room sometime after dinner, claiming he needed to write to Lavender. Harry had watched discreetly as Hermione covered for Ginny so she could sneak out. He and Hermione were the only two still awake or sober.

Harry was helping Hermione gather stray wrapping paper from the floor when he heard her say, “Harry, could you grab me another-”

She stopped abruptly.

Harry looked up at her from where he was bent over. “What’s wro-?”

Hermione was staring upward, her face frozen in disbelief.

“Fucking Ginny and those twins,” he thought he heard her murmur.

Floating above their heads was a glowing, hovering sprig of enchanted mistletoe.

“Oh my gods,” Hermione groaned.

“Hermione,” Harry said very calmly. “Can you move?”

She stood up and tried to take a step to the left, but her feet were stuck to the floor. Harry stood up to do the same, despite knowing the outcome. “Brilliant,” he muttered.

They stood there, looking at each other in frustration. He was close enough to see the freckles on her nose, the ones she hadn’t hidden with makeup.

“Do you think it would count if I kissed you on the cheek?”

She shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

He nodded and bent down until his lips were close to her ear. He kissed the apple of her cheek, warm and flushed from alcohol and laughter. He straightened up and tried to move, but his feet stayed glued. “Bollocks.”

She suddenly laughed. “You know, we always end up in these kinds of situations because of other people.”

He glared at the twins, completely unaware of the chaos Harry was about to unleash upon them. “Thank Merlin, those two weren’t at Hogwarts this year.”

Hermione snorted. “Seamus and Dean are bad enough without those two.”

Harry looked at her thoughtfully. “You know, we almost kissed.”

She raised an eyebrow in question.

“That night. I had asked if I could kiss you, and you agreed. But then…”

The confusion in her eyes faded, and she nodded. “Ah. Right. Malfoy…”

He felt a surge of anger in his gut at Malfoy kissing Hermione. “Yeah...”

She swayed on her feet, and Harry reached out to steady her before she could fall. She growled, and the hair that had been so tame at the start of the night was slowly expanding to match her anger. “I hate wearing heels. The only reason I put them back on was that I was about to leave.”

He nodded in understanding. “Let me just kiss you so you can get out of here and get off your feet.” 

He wrapped his arms around her to hold her up in the meantime.

She inhaled slowly, and so did he. He was frozen as he stared at her. Finally, “Just kiss me, Harry,” she demanded, and it was what he needed to hear.

He grabbed her face with both hands and lowered his mouth to hers. The moment their lips met, a burst of heat shot through him. Her mouth was soft and tentative at first, and Harry felt his hesitation fade into desire. Almost immediately, he sought entry with his tongue. She responded, opening her mouth for him, their tongues meeting and entwining. He tilted her head, wanting to get deeper, wanting to taste more of her. There was a sense of urgency in the kiss as he pressed his lips harder and faster against hers. Devouring her.

He groaned into her mouth, his hands tangled in her curls as he pulled her head closer. Their tongues met, danced, then pulled apart only to meet again, like a waltz he didn’t want to end. When he finally had to breathe, he barely moved back, his lips tingling on her parted mouth. 

His heart was pounding in his chest, and his fingers were trembling, maybe even his whole body. He was overwhelmed with the urge to take her back to his room right now and touch every inch of her with his lips and his hands and his tongue. He promised himself that if she agreed, he would savor every second, not like last time when his thoughts were elsewhere, and he was forced to share her.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes fully, and they stared at each other in shock. His eyes moved across her face, taking in features that were so familiar to him yet somehow newly discovered. Her brown eyes, infused with amber, complemented her golden cheeks dusted in freckles. Her full lips, glistening and red from his kiss, contrasted with the fragile curve of her cheek and the gentle shape of her chin.

Slowly, he eased his fingers from the tangles in her hair. A curl had latched onto his ring finger, which bore the Potter signet ring, and he gently twisted his finger to unfurl it so he could pull away.

He knew even before testing his feet that they weren’t stuck anymore, but he still felt frozen in place. He opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione placed a finger to her lips, reminding him they weren’t alone. 

He looked around, but the twins and Sirius were still sleeping. A small hand landed on his chest and gently pushed him backward. He let her keep pushing until they reached the kitchen, where he suddenly flipped her and pressed her against the wall, safely hidden from anyone else in the house. 

He pressed her more firmly against the wall and then pressed himself against her. He leaned in to press his lips against hers again, but this removed his body from hers. Frustrated, he lifted her to wrap her legs around his waist, but her dress had no give. Too far gone to care, he tore the slit that ended at the knee up to her hip.

She gasped his name, but he ignored her outrage. He was often in trouble with Hermione, and if she was going to scold him for ruining her dress later, he was going to enjoy her now. 

Despite being angry, she wrapped her legs around him, locking them into place around his waist, and he gasped as his cock rubbed against the warmth of her soaked knickers. She was wet for him. He exhaled in disbelief. His hands explored under the ruined dress, grabbing handfuls of her arse and squeezing…pulling her in closer to him. 

“I want you,” he breathed into her neck as he pressed against her. 

He felt out of control as she removed his face from her neck and kissed him in response.

She pulled away, but he shook his head. His whisper echoed loudly in the quiet kitchen. “Kiss me,” he panted.

She raised up and gently brushed her lips against his and then leaned back against the wall to stare at him.

“Harder,” he murmured.

She kissed him again, this time harder, delving into his mouth over and over again until she was pulling away to breathe.

He shook his head again. “Harder, Hermione.”

This time, he took control of the kiss. He kissed her hard, just like he wanted, and she met his enthusiasm easily.

Suddenly, she pulled back, trying to catch her breath. She looked around the shadows of the empty kitchen, as if she expected to find someone there. “We can’t, Harry. Not here.”

“Why?” he asked. 

She was looking at him in shock instead of desire, and his desire immediately cooled.

He realized how confused she must be. He groaned and pressed his forehead to hers. “Can we just acknowledge here and now that I’m an idiot and have recently come to the realization that it’s not Ginny I want?”

She shook her head as she tried to push him away. “It’s not Ginny I’m worried about.”

Suddenly, it hit him like a jolt of lightning. “Ron,” he replied, hastily setting her down. “Shit. If he sees us, he’ll kill me.”

She placed a hand on his arm, trying to calm him down. “Ron doesn’t get a say in who I kiss, or who you kiss. But I don’t think we should do this here. Whatever this is.”

His heart skipped a beat at the thought of defining what just happened. “You want to tell Ron?”

She shrugged. “Not about that, no. But… if you and I-”

Suddenly, she stopped and shook her head. “Actually, I think we need time to process what just happened before we discuss this. I have some things I need to think about anyway.”

He couldn’t deny that she was right. But it filled his stomach with trepidation that she was going to go home and think about what happened, probably overanalyze it, and say it meant nothing. He’s not sure he could handle that, even though his thoughts were so discombobulated right now, he wasn’t even sure where he stood.

Finally, he nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

She hesitated briefly before leaning up to kiss him on the jaw. “I need to go before anyone sees me like this.”

He nodded again, mute.

She gave him a small smile, and he returned it. She turned to walk away, but before she could, he grabbed her and kissed her one more time, just in case it was the last time. Breathless, he finally let her go and watched as she disappeared out the back door. He didn’t stop staring until he heard her pop of apparition.

Suddenly, clapping echoed from the living room. Harry spun around in disbelief to see Sirius sprawled lazily in the armchair, grinning as he applauded. “Finally!” he crowed.

In a daze, Harry stalked toward him. “Are you kidding me? You were awake the whole time?”

Behind him, the twins snickered. Harry whirled to face them, his voice sharp. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Oh, nothing,” Fred said innocently.

“Only our master plan working like a charm,” George finished, smirking.

Harry gaped. “You planned this?”

Sirius’s grin widened, mischief dancing in his eyes. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t look at me. It was all the twins and Ginny.”

Harry’s breath caught. “Ginny?! What the-”

“Come on, Harry,” George urged.

“Yeah, mate,” Fred added. “We’ve all seen how you look at her. We just gave you the push you needed to get your head out of your arse.”

Harry’s pulse hammered. His body felt like it was shutting down. “Are you telling me you and Ginny deliberately planted mistletoe above Hermione and me?”

The twins nodded in perfect unison. “And above you and Ginny.”

Harry could be slow at times, but he pieced it together instantly. “Ginny wanted me to realize I don’t have feelings for her anymore.”

They tapped their noses at the same time. “Got it in one,” they replied.

Harry stared around the room, half-convinced he’d slipped into an alternate reality. “And Ginny was okay with this?”

Sirius snorted. “It was her idea.”

Harry dragged his hands down his face. “You know what? I can’t do this right now.”

Sirius rose, clapping him on the back. “Let’s get home. It sounds like you have some thinking to do.”

But Harry hesitated, turning back to the twins. “What about Ron?”

Suddenly serious, the twins looked at each other. George spoke quietly. “Ginny told us what happened at Hogwarts, Harry. He’s our brother, and we love him. But you can’t make decisions for your life centered around how it makes Ron feel,” George said.

Sirius nodded firmly.

“He’s going to hate me,” he muttered.

The twins shrugged. “He’ll get over it.”

Sirius stepped closer, his tone serious now. Something Harry rarely heard. “Harry, the question isn’t how Ron feels. It’s how you feel. Do you want to be with Hermione?”

Harry faltered. “I…I’m not sure. She’s my best friend. What if it doesn’t work out with us and I lose her?”

Sirius stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Are you kidding me? After that kiss? She’s not going anywhere, Harry.”

Harry’s mouth fell open. “You were watching?”

Fred guffawed. “We all were, mate.”

“The hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” George chimed in. “It’s too bad you disappeared to the kitchen for the encore.”

Harry groaned, mortified. “I’m not sure it matters. Even if I do want her…she likes Malfoy.”

Sirius rubbed his jaw, thoughtful. “I was wondering if something was going on with those two back at the hospital.”

The twins looked horrified. “Are we talking about Draco Malfoy?”

Harry nodded grimly. “He wants to court her. Last I spoke with her, it seemed like she was coming around to the idea.”

Sirius clicked his tongue. “I like the kid well enough, but you’re my godson. You and Hermione belong together. So, you need to get your shit together and figure that out for yourself, or you’re going to end up losing her for good.”

“Fuck,” he swore. “I don’t know what to do.”

Sirius clapped him on the back again, eyes gleaming. “Then we make a plan. The New Year's party is next week, right? We just need to make sure that you and Hermione kiss at midnight. Then it’s up to you to take it from there.”

Harry swallowed hard, resolve settling in his chest. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I can do that.”

He wasn't sure it would be that easy though.