Forgive and Forget (Chapter 15)
Chapter 15: A Bittersweet Escape
Let us put tears and memories away,
While the fates sleep time stops for revelry;
Let us look, speak, and kiss as if no day
Has been or yet will be.
~ From "While the Fates Sleep" by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Friday
"You never said anything about a House-Elf!" Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and giving Draco a withering glare.
"I didn't think you'd get this worked up over it!" Draco argued back. "How the hell did you expect us to survive for a whole week without someone to cook for us?"
Hermione and Draco had just arrived at the Malfoy summer home that evening and, so far, their holiday was not off to a very relaxing start. The moment the two had entered the house, Hermione had nearly jumped out of her skin when a House-Elf had appeared with a poof and offered to relieve her of her luggage. The House-Elf in question, bearing the name of Dinky and wearing a little pink tea towel, was currently watching with wide eyes while Draco and Hermione argued with each other.
"Draco, you and I are perfectly capable of looking after ourselves," Hermione said. "We do not need a House-Elf."
"This is supposed to be a holiday, Hermione. I don't want to have to worry about cleaning and cooking and all that shite."
"You are such a spoiled prat."
"Oh yeah? Well you are a stubborn pain in the -”
"Master Draco!" Dinky squeaked, surprising both of them when she interrupted. "What would Mistress Narcissa be saying if she heard you talking to a lady like that? Dinky is having to wash your mouth out with soap if you be talking that way to the pretty lady. Dinky is washing Master Draco's mouth with soap all the time when he was a little boy and Dinky is doing it again now if she has to."
Draco spluttered wordlessly in embarrassment, turning pink all the way to the tips of his ears. Hermione, however, felt as if Christmas had come early.
"Okay," she said, grinning widely. "The House-Elf stays."
Saturday
Hermione awoke bright and early the following morning, and for a moment, she blinked at her unfamiliar surroundings. Then she smiled when she recognized the beautiful guest room Draco had selected for her to sleep in. She had been surprised, and a bit disappointed, when Draco had not suggested that they share his room - the bedroom where they had spent the night together a few weeks before. However, she felt the sleeping arrangement was probably for the best. Draco was a difficult temptation to resist as it was, and it would be even worse if she had to share a bed with him.
Hermione hopped out of bed and stretched, causing her nightshirt to ride up to her hips. Ginny had always teased her for her minimalist approach to nightwear, but Hermione found that she was most comfortable wearing nothing but one of her father's old tee-shirts and a pair of knickers, even in the dead of winter. Humming cheerfully, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen, where Draco was already awake, wearing a grey silk robe and sitting at the table reading the weekend edition of the Daily Prophet.
When Hermione strolled into the kitchen, Draco gaped at her, his jaw hanging open at the sight of her bare legs. Dinky came bustling by and placed a piece of toast in Draco's open mouth, pushing his chin up to close it.
"Master Draco is not polite to be staring at Mistress Hermione that way," Dinky chided, going back to tending a pan of bacon on the stove.
Draco rolled his eyes and swallowed his mouthful of toast before speaking.
"Yeah, well it's not polite to walk around half-naked, either."
"I am not half-naked," Hermione said haughtily, taking a seat across the table from him. "These happen to be my pajamas."
Draco looked as if he was about to make some other snide comment, but caught Dinky's eye and fell silent.
"She really knows how to put you in your place, doesn't she?" Hermione said, spreading some butter onto a slice of toast. She was pleased to note a slight flush of embarrassment on Draco's cheeks again. She liked it when he blushed - it made him appear so much more human.
"Dinky has been in the family since before I was born," he explained. "She was always in charge of taking care of me, so she's become quite fond of me over the years. That's how I knew I could trust her to be here with us and not mention anything to my parents regarding who I chose to be my houseguest this week."
"I see," Hermione said. She leaned back and propped her legs up on an adjacent chair, causing her oversized tee-shirt to ride further up her thighs. Draco groaned and buried himself in his newspaper to shield himself from the tantalizing glimpse of knickers that Hermione's new position provided.
"So, what were you planning on us doing today?" Hermione asked before biting into her toast.
"I was thinking of going sailing," Draco said from behind his paper. "You know that labyrinth I showed you the last time we were here? Well, there's a grotto at one end of it, where my family keeps a few sailboats."
"You know how to sail?" Hermione asked, surprised.
Draco emerged from behind his paper, his face bearing an expression of impatience.
"Well, I wouldn't exactly suggest doing it if I didn't know how, would I?"
"You really aren't a morning person," Hermione said with a sigh. She shifted positions, drawing her knees up to her chin so that her tee-shirt was bunched around her waist, baring everything else below that point.
Draco ran his eyes up and down her legs and made an odd little choking sound before disappearing behind his Daily Prophet once more.
Monday
"It looks like it's going to storm today."
"No kidding? Is that what it means when the sky gets all dark and it starts to thunder? I'm so glad you're here to explain these things to me."
"Shut up," Hermione said, "or I'll get Dinky to wash your mouth out again."
Draco scowled darkly at her, but Hermione simply responded with a grin that was worthy of the Cheshire Cat. She’d had the unique and unexpected pleasure of watching Dinky tackle Draco and clean his mouth out with soap the day before, and she didn't think she would ever live to see a more beautiful sight. She was glad that she had agreed to let the House-Elf stay with them for the week, even though she was disappointed that she had not thought to bring along a camera.
"Good thing I brought a source of indoor entertainment for days like these," Draco said, clearly trying to change the subject from his recent punishment at Dinky's hands. They were currently in the sitting room overlooking the ocean as he retrieved a large, ornate box from a shelf in the corner, and placed it on the table between him and Hermione. He opened it and withdrew a very expensive-looking wizard's chess set, and upon seeing it, Hermione's face fell.
"I'm terrible at wizard's chess," she said ruefully as Draco set up the pieces, which were white and emerald green. She recognized it as the set his parents had given him for Christmas, having seen him and Dean playing with it on more than one occasion.
"That's all right, I can teach you," Draco said, sitting in the chair across from hers. "But I have to warn you, I'm a ruthless chess player."
"Considering you're a Malfoy and a Slytherin, I wouldn't expect anything less."
For the next couple of hours, Draco tutored Hermione on the subtle strategies of wizard's chess; however, the chess pieces seemed to sense her inexperience and were reluctant to obey her orders. More than once, she had to coax them to move where she wanted them to go on the chessboard, as Harry often had to do when he played against Ron.
"Any day now," Draco muttered at one point, when Hermione was taking even longer than usual to decide her next move.
"Patience is a virtue!" she trilled, chewing on her lower lip as she studied the board. She was not oblivious to the fact that Draco's eyes had zeroed in on her lips as she nibbled them. She outlined her lips with the tip of her tongue, and inwardly emitted a smug chuckle when she saw Draco squirm in his seat.
A sudden crash of thunder shook the house, and Hermione couldn't help jumping and letting out a little gasp. For some reason, the sound of the thunder and the rain pounding against the windows made Hermione's heart speed up and blood pool in her groin as it brought back memories of the last time she and Draco had spent together during a storm. She glanced up at Draco and saw that his eyes had become two dark, burning coals, and she knew that he was thinking the same thing.
Forcing herself to tear her gaze away from Draco, Hermione tried to focus on the chessboard in between them, but with the hot lust that was now pulsing through her veins, it had become nothing but a green and white blur to her. A tense silence hung between them, causing every tick of the clock on the mantelpiece to sound like the crash of a gong. The room suddenly felt stiflingly warm, causing a bead of sweat to trickle down Hermione's spine. She shivered and clutched her arms around her chest, noticing too late that this elevated her breasts so that the lacy top of her bra peeked out of the open collar of her blouse.
This was the last straw for Draco.
"That's it!" he hissed, rising to his feet and lunging around the table.
Hermione gasped as Draco yanked her roughly to her feet and captured her mouth with his. His kiss was at first brutal in its intensity, but it softened almost immediately as he ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of her lips, tracing them in replication of what she had done with her own tongue mere moments before. His hands slid down her shoulder blades to rest on the small of her back, where he pushed her body forward so that her hips melded with his. Hermione could feel his burgeoning desire pressed between them, and urgently deepened their kiss, sucking his tongue into her mouth. She tasted traces of the coffee he had drunk with his breakfast, as well as the syrupy hotcakes he had eaten. He tasted bitter and sweet at the same time.
Groaning from Hermione's fresh assault on his mouth, Draco suddenly shoved his chess set aside to make room on the table before lifting Hermione up onto it. The chess pieces ran helter-skelter out of the way with shrill screams of "Retreat!" and "Every pawn for himself!" as Draco lowered Hermione down, laying her on her back. Draco paused for a moment to take in the sight of Hermione sprawled across the table, and he licked his lips as if she were some sort of exotic dessert that he was about to indulge in. Then, he bent down, and she was entirely at the mercy of his mouth.
Draco kissed Hermione frantically once more, undoing the buttons of her blouse, and revealing the pink lacy bra that she wore underneath. His lips sank into the soft flesh at the base of her throat, and Hermione arched at his touch, thrusting her chest up towards him. Obliging her unspoken request, Draco drifted further down and delicately lapped up a bead of sweat between her breasts in much the same way that one licks the drips off the side of a melting ice cream cone. Apparently wanting to taste more of her, his eyes lit up when he noticed the front clasp on her bra.
Hermione tried to form coherent thoughts, but as often happened in Draco's presence, she was having a difficult time doing so. While she had allowed some heavy petting during their nighttime rendezvous over the past couple weeks, Draco had not attempted to remove her shirt since that one night they had slept together. However, before Hermione could even attempt to assess their current situation, Draco had undone the clasp on her bra, baring her breasts to his eager lips. She moaned as he took first one, and then the other into his mouth, and thought that if they kept this up much longer, she was literally going to die right there on his sitting room table. She couldn't think of a better way to go, really.
Hermione could just picture Rita Skeeter's headline on tomorrow's edition of the Daily Prophet: "Famous War Hero Hermione Granger Suffers Death-By-Fondling at the Hands (and Mouth) of Notorious Ex-Death Eater, Draco Malfoy". That would sell a hell of a lot of papers.
Suddenly, Hermione was snapped out of her strange and pleasure-blurred thoughts by Draco unzipping the front of her jeans. Knowing that if he managed to get them off, she would be helpless to keep the situation from escalating any further, Hermione firmly, yet with great reluctance, pushed his hands away.
"We need to stop," she whispered, and Draco slowly pried his lips off of her, looking like a child who’d had his favorite toy taken away. It was very difficult for Hermione not to smile at his crestfallen expression.
"Sorry," she said, "It's just, I'm not quite ready to...you know."
Draco nodded, quickly bending down to pick up his chess set as a means of hiding his disappointment, and to avoid looking at Hermione's bare midsection. Thinking it would be cruel to torture him any further, Hermione rushed to refasten her bra and button up her blouse. By the time she finished readjusting her clothes, Draco had put away all the chess pieces, who were still grumbling mutinously about their mistreatment. Hermione decided to try and lighten up the mood.
"Honestly, Draco, what is it about thunderstorms that makes you act like a wild man?"
"Oh please," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "We both know you like it when I indulge my inner caveman. You were practically begging for me to club you over the head and drag you up to bed by your hair."
"As romantic as all of that sounds, I think I'll pass," Hermione said, trying to maintain a sense of decorum in spite of the shameless and flagrantly sensual scenario she had just participated in. She left the room under the pretense of procuring a book from the library, not willing to give Draco the satisfaction of knowing he was right - she definitely had no qualms with him "indulging his inner caveman".
Later that night, Hermione lay in bed listening to the storm as it continued to rage against the walls of the house. She tossed and turned, trying to bury her head under her pillow in an attempt to block out the sound of the howling wind and thunder, but it was no use. Finally, she gave up and crawled out of bed, pacing back and forth as she debated whether or not to seek refuge in Draco's room. She knew it was probably a bad idea, but she felt rattled sleeping alone in unfamiliar surroundings during a storm.
At last, Hermione decided to throw caution to the wind and join Draco. With a murmured "Lumos", she lit her wand and crept as quietly as possible down the second-story hallway. Several portraits, no doubt of long-dead Malfoy ancestors, grumbled and complained as they shielded their eyes from the light of her wand. Finally, she reached the door of Draco's room and knocked gently. Hearing no response, Hermione cracked it open and peeked inside.
Draco was fast asleep, his platinum hair mussed up around his head, and his mouth slightly open as he breathed deeply. Hermione grinned as she recalled that he found thunderstorms soothing. She thought only someone like Draco could find comfort in such a violent, unpredictable force of nature. Treading softly, she approached the side of his bed, gazing down at him while he continued to slumber peacefully. While conscious, he was one of the most frustrating men Hermione had ever met, but unconscious, he looked innocent - angelic, even. She couldn't resist the urge to reach out and smooth his hair.
"Agggh!" Draco shouted, his eyes snapping open at Hermione's touch. His hand flew up to clamp around her wrist.
"It's okay!" Hermione whispered, wincing at Draco's iron-like grip. "It's just me."
"Gods, woman," Draco muttered, loosening, but not releasing, his hand around her wrist. "Were you trying to scare me to death, or what?"
"I was just, um, wondering if you would let me join you. I'm having a hard time falling asleep in the storm."
Hermione felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment at her confession. Then, she noticed that Draco's blankets had fallen away from the top half of his body, revealing the smooth, hard planes of his bare chest.
"Erm, Draco, please tell me you're wearing something other than your own skin."
"Why don't you come under here and find out?" he said with a smirk, as he yanked on her wrist and pulled her down into the bed. Before she knew it, he had lifted the blankets to cover them both and maneuvered her onto her side before he rolled over to lie against her back. She was relieved to note that he was wearing his boxers. Like her, Draco appeared to have a minimalist view on nightwear, but at least he wasn't completely starkers. Hermione didn't think she had that much self-control.
"Sorry for startling you a moment ago," she whispered, wriggling into a comfortable position against Draco's firm and distinctly masculine body.
"S'okay," he mumbled sleepily. "I just wasn't prepared for any assaults on my person this evening."
"I was not ‘assaulting your person'."
"I know - that's the problem. Why don't you get to it already?"
Hermione chuckled softly as Draco buried his face in the nape of her neck.
"Draco?" she murmured.
"Hmm?"
"I'm sorry I made you stop, um, doing what you were doing with me earlier today. I think I still need a bit more time to adjust to the idea of sleeping with you again."
Draco was silent for a few minutes, and Hermione thought that maybe he had fallen asleep. Then he startled her by speaking once more.
"Hermione, what bothers you so much about being with me? Does it feel...wrong?"
Hermione rolled over so that she could face him, trying to make out his expression in the dark. His brow was furrowed, but his eyes were unreadable.
"No, that's not what bothers me," she whispered. "What bothers me is that it's supposed to feel wrong to be with you, but...but instead it feels so right."
Draco stared at her blankly for a couple of seconds before shaking his head in bewilderment.
"And you call me a puzzle."
Tuesday
As she and Draco sailed around the coast of his summer home, Hermione was impressed at how adeptly he handled the water craft. She glanced up and watched as he adjusted the rigging of the sleek white boat, his cheeks pink from the cool wind, and his blond hair glowing in the sun. In his trim khaki slacks and black wool pea coat, Hermione thought he looked like a model from a Ralph Lauren ad. Of course she didn't voice her assessment out loud, knowing that the last thing Draco needed was another boost to his already-oversized ego.
Having adjusted their course, Draco took a moment to sit beside her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and grazing her lips with his own.
"I like this," Hermione said with a peaceful sigh, once their lips parted.
"Which part? The kissing or the sailing?"
"Both. Well, just spending time with you I guess. I don't want it to end."
Draco was silent for a few minutes, apparently processing her words. He idly twirled a few of Hermione's curls around his finger with a thoughtful expression on his face.
"You know, we could have more time like this," he said finally, "if we traveled around the world together for our scholarship projects. Just imagine all the things we could do as we visited Europe, Asia, and America....One whole year of being together without having to worry about what other people think of us."
"And what would happen when we came back home?" Hermione asked, gazing up at him. Draco did not give a response to her query, but that was okay with Hermione.
She hadn't expected him to.
Wednesday
The wind was fierce and the waves turbulent that afternoon, as Draco and Hermione walked along the beach, hand in hand. Grey clouds scudded across the horizon, and the spring sun was hidden behind them, turning the sky to pewter, and the water to a deep shale color.
Hermione thought that the gloomy landscape suited her mood perfectly. She had woken up that morning with the realization that her week with Draco was already more than halfway over. Soon they would have to return to Hogwarts, and the harsh reality of the outside world.
Hermione was beginning to wonder if Ginny had been right about this week-long retreat being a very bad idea. It had done little to answer the questions she had about her and Draco's relationship; if anything, it raised more of them, and it had provided her with a tantalizing glimpse of what life with Draco could be like if his parents' prejudices didn't get in the way. It was a cruel sort of torture, like a whiff of cigarette smoke to someone who was trying to knock the habit, or a sip of liquor to a recovering alcoholic.
There was still so much more Hermione wanted to understand about Draco, and while she had learned a lot about him in the time she had spent with him, he still remained a mystery to her. He was a puzzle that Hermione was beginning to think she would never be able to solve. She couldn't figure out how all the different pieces of him fit into place.
Since Hermione was holding Draco's left hand, she took the opportunity to glance down at his forearm, where he had rolled up the sleeve of his polo shirt after becoming overheated from their walk. The skin of his arm was white and unmarred, just as he had said it would be. The last time she had seen his bare arm, several weeks before, she had been too absorbed in the sexual urgency of the moment to bother looking for what she was afraid she might find there.
"Did you think I lied to you, back in Sixth Year?" Draco asked suddenly, noticing the direction of her gaze. "I told you I hadn't taken the Dark Mark."
"I think a small part of me thought you were lying, back then," Hermione said, running her fingers up his arm. "But I guess seeing is believing. Why don't you have the Mark?"
"I...wasn't really a full-fledged Death Eater - more like an unofficial one. The Dark Lord - I mean V-Voldemort was just using me to try and get rid of Dumbledore. At the time, I don't think he actually expected me to survive the task, and I don't think he considered me worthy enough of receiving the Dark Mark, especially after my father had already failed him."
Hermione hesitated, wondering if she dared ask Draco anything more on the subject. Encouraged by the fact that he had answered her first question, she asked another.
"What was it like? Being a Death Eater?"
Draco froze, and he stood silent for so long that Hermione was convinced that as usual, he was not going to respond. Then, to her surprise, he did.
"It was like...being in a nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. When Voldemort was at the Manor, he would make me do things. He would make me torture people, use the Cruciatus on them. I felt trapped. He told me that if I didn't do what I was told, he would kill my parents. I wanted to run away but I - I couldn't."
Draco's grey eyes bore a pained, haunted expression that made Hermione feel as if her heart was being ripped from her chest. She longed to wrap her arms around him and pull him close, kissing all of his bad memories away, but she knew instinctually that right now, he would prefer that she not attempt that form of comfort. So she merely squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him with that simple contact. It seemed to work, because soon the haunted expression was gone from his eyes, and he pulled himself free of his reverie, focusing on her face once more.
"I still don't understand," Hermione said. "Why didn't you run away?"
"I already told you, I couldn't leave my parents."
"Then why didn't they run away with you?"
"My parents threw in their lot with Voldemort a long time ago," Draco said, "and when Malfoys make a decision, they stick to it until the bitter end. Well, almost until the bitter end."
Hermione knew that when he added that last line, he was thinking of how his parents had defected during the last battle, in order to be reunited with their son.
"So just because your parents followed Voldemort, you had to follow him, too?" she pressed. "And if your family had ever gotten back into Voldemort's good graces you would have been given the Mark?"
"Yes."
"And you would have taken it willingly?"
"Yes."
Hermione stared at Draco, trying but failing to understand him. Draco sighed and glanced out at the water for a moment, as if searching for the right words to explain. Then he turned back to her, clasping both of her hands in his.
"Hermione, over the years, when you were running around doing crazy things to try and save the world, wasn't there ever a time when you thought about turning back? When you thought about saying, ‘To hell with all this, I don't want to do it anymore,' and just walk away?"
Hermione bit her lower lip in consternation.
"There was one time that I seriously considered turning back," she said slowly. "It was when we were searching for Horcruxes. Ron left us - it just got to be too much for him, and he left me and Harry on our own for awhile. Harry was acting so distant, and part of me...part of me blamed him for causing Ron to leave. I felt so alone. I don't remember ever feeling so alone. And there were days when I thought that we'd never find the Horcruxes, or that in the end, we wouldn't even survive. And on those days, yes, I did think about giving up and walking away from it all, like Ron did."
"Then why didn't you?" Draco asked. "Why didn't you give up?"
Hermione paused, thinking hard about the answer to his question.
"I...I couldn't abandon Harry like that, and leave him to do it all alone. He had already been through enough with Ron leaving....I didn't think he could handle it if I left him, too. I made a promise to help Harry find the Horcruxes, and I intended to keep that promise."
Draco's grey eyes were earnest as he gazed down at her.
"You see," he said, "because you're a loyal person, and up to that point you had always stayed by Potter's side, you wouldn't have chosen to do anything differently. Even if you wanted to turn back, you never actually would have. You thought you were making a choice to stay with him, but you didn't have a choice...not really. All the forces that shaped your life - your family, your friendships, your experiences - all of those things were leading you down one path: to help Potter. Just like all the forces that shaped my life could only lead me down one path: to become a Death Eater."
"That's not true!" Hermione said, bothered by Draco's fatalistic point of view. "We both had a choice, Draco. The difference is that when I was faced with that choice, I chose the more difficult path, instead of taking the easy way out like you did."
Draco let out a sigh, and seeing the weariness and sadness in his face, Hermione suddenly noticed how much he had matured in the past couple years - just as Harry had; just as they all had.
"Hermione," he said, "what makes you think that the path I chose was easy?"
And just like that, another piece of the puzzle clicked into place.
Thursday
"Merlin, Hermione, if you're going to keep sleeping in my bed with me, could you please wear something other than that skimpy little night shirt? Some pajama bottoms, perhaps? The Ministry has laws against torture, you know."
"Look whose talking!" Hermione countered, poking Draco in his bare chest. "At least I'm not topless like you are!"
"I'm a bloke, so it's acceptable for me to sleep shirtless. Not that I would protest if you wanted to dress to match...or more appropriately, undress to match."
Hermione rolled her eyes in frustration and shifted over to the edge of her side of Draco's bed. Her solitude didn't last long, however, because Draco slid over and wrapped his body around hers, running his hand up one of her bare legs. She shivered as his touch raised goose bumps on her skin.
"I don't suppose that's your wand I feel poking me in the back?" she teased.
"Damn it, Hermione, don't you see what you do to me?" Draco groaned, grinding his hips into her backside. "You're driving me insane. What do I have to do? I'll do anything you ask - within reason. Do you want flowers or chocolates? Do you want me to recite poetry? Do you want me to stand on my head and sing ‘I'm a Little Teapot'? For Merlin's sake, just tell me what to do and I'll do it!"
"Do you even know how to stand on your head? And I thought ‘I'm a Little Teapot' was a song only Muggle children knew."
"Hermione, please," Draco moaned, "this really isn't the right time to discuss the difference between Muggle nursery rhymes and wizard ones. Do you see what you've reduced me to? You actually have me, Draco Malfoy, pleading for sex. You've completely ruined me, Granger."
Hermione couldn't help laughing as she rolled over and pressed a kiss to Draco's lips.
"I'm glad you find my agony so amusing," he muttered, pouting somewhat.
Hermione shook her head and gave him another soft kiss, before coming to a decision. Suddenly she bent down to suckle Draco's neck, feeling pleased when this action drew a startled gasp from him. Then she moved lower, trailing wet kisses down his muscled chest and stomach, finally reaching the narrow trail of golden hairs that disappeared beneath his knickers.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Draco stammered.
"Well," she said, looping her thumbs under the waistband of his boxers. "Just because I'm not ready to sleep with you again, doesn't mean we can't do other things."
Hermione pulled his knickers down and slid them all the way off of his legs.
"Hermione," Draco breathed, his eyes darkening with need when he understood her intentions, "you don't have to...I mean if you don't think you're ready...fuck that feels good."
Draco groaned and buried his fingers into Hermione's hair as she took his length into her mouth. She pulled away for a moment to smirk up at him, and say in a chiding voice, "Such language! You don't want to have Dinky overhear you and wash your mouth out with soap again, do you?"
"I think you're the one who’s going to need her mouth washed out...ah! Bloody hell, Hermione!"
For the next several minutes, Draco lost the ability to speak coherently, his eyes squeezing shut and his hands balling into fists in Hermione's hair as she teased him with her tongue and lips. Glancing up, she thought that the pleasure dancing across his pale face was one of the most erotic things she had ever seen, and when he reached his peak while calling out her name, she thought that the sound might send her tumbling over the edge after him.
Afterwards, Hermione curled up next to Draco, laying her head on his heaving chest. He lay there limply on the bed, his limbs shaking as if she had hit him with a Jelly-Legs Curse.
"So that's all it takes for you, huh?" Draco said finally, once he regained the ability to talk. "I don't even have to do anything - just promise to do anything? Well, I suppose every woman has her weakness."
"Humph, well every man has his weakness, too," Hermione said primly. "However, unlike women, men all have the same one."
She arched one eyebrow suggestively at Draco while running her hand along his still-sensitive length. Draco made a strangled sound in the back of his throat before giving her a look that was a mixture of admiration and annoyance.
"You know, I think I may have underestimated you, Hermione Granger. You have the potential to be as sly and manipulative as some of the greatest Slytherins in the history of Hogwarts. I don't know whether to be peeved or incredibly turned on by that fact."
Considering that Draco then proceeded to flip her onto her back, rip off her knickers, and return the favor that she had just bestowed upon him, Hermione decided that he must have settled on the latter.
Friday
Hermione and Draco burst into the back door of the summer home, both flushed from their broom ride. Despite the amount of physical contact Hermione enjoyed while sharing a broom with Draco, he had insisted that she improve her skills by riding solo. She discovered that she was getting much better at handling a broom, and though she doubted she would ever value flying as much as Ron and Harry, she liked, at the very least, to be adequate at everything she did.
"Lunch is ready," Dinky announced the moment they entered the house. "What is Master Draco and Mistress Hermione wanting for dinner tonight?"
Draco spoke up before Hermione could even think of a response.
"That won't be necessary, Dinky," he said. "Why don't you take the night off?"
Dinky and Hermione both stared at him, their mouths agape.
"Master Draco is wanting Dinky to - to take a night off?" the little House-Elf stammered, wringing her small hands in confusion. "B-but, who will cook dinner if Dinky is not here to do it?"
"Um, well...." Draco avoided Hermione's gaze, obviously embarrassed about what he was about to suggest. "I was actually thinking Iwould do it."
Dinky's eyes widened to the point that Hermione was afraid they would pop out of the poor creature's tiny head.
"Uh, Draco, did you accidentally hit your head on a tree branch while we were flying?" Hermione asked, utterly gobsmacked. "Because I think I just heard you say you were planning to cook dinner. If you've got a concussion, we should take you to St. Mungo's..."
"For Merlin's sake," Draco muttered. "Here I try to do something romantic and you think I'm suffering from brain damage. What does that say about me? Wait - don't answer that."
All during lunch, and for the rest of the afternoon after that, Dinky pleaded desperately with Draco to change his mind about trying to cook dinner. However, in the end, Draco won out, and Dinky disappeared to Malfoy Manor for the rest of the evening, looking as if she thought it was the last time she would see Draco and Hermione alive and in one piece. Once the House-Elf was gone, Draco stalked into the kitchen with an air of determination, as if he was marching into battle.
"Honestly, Muggles cook their own food every day," he said to Hermione as he went to start dinner. "And they don't even have magic. How hard can it be?"
Hermione had never heard a statement that could more aptly be described as "famous last words", but did not comment aloud on the matter. Instead, she sat at the dining room table, reading a book. This way, she was close enough to the kitchen to hear what was going on inside it - and rush to Draco's rescue, if need be - but she was far enough out of the way that he couldn't accuse her of "hovering".
Before starting to prepare the meal, Draco poured Hermione a glass of wine to sip on while she waited. After about half an hour, he emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of salad, which he proudly placed on the table in front of her. Hermione accepted it gratefully, her stomach already growling with hunger. She tried not to chuckle as she noticed that the carrots in her salad had been cut very precisely into identically sized pieces, much like Draco cut his potion ingredients.
Draco disappeared into the kitchen again for another half hour, and just when Hermione was beginning to worry, he emerged to pour her a second glass of wine. He poured one for himself as well, and swallowed it in just a few gulps, instead of sipping it politely as he usually did.
"Um, Draco, do you need any help with the rest of the dinner?" Hermione asked tentatively.
"No, I'm doing just fine on my own, thanks," he snapped, before rushing back into the kitchen.
Hermione sat there, starting to feel a bit tipsy after drinking a second glass of wine on a mostly-empty stomach. The screeching sound of the kitchen's Fire Alarm Charm and the smell of smoke snapped her out of her doze.
"Draco?" Hermione called out nervously.
"It's okay!" he called back. "Just stay there!"
Reluctantly, Hermione stayed seated in the dining room, trying to shut out horrifying images of Draco's body lying prone on the kitchen floor, engulfed in flames. After several minutes of hearing the clanking of pots and pans, as well as an indistinct stream of profanities, she was relieved when Draco finally emerged from the kitchen bearing two plates of something black and smoking.
"I hope you like your steak well-done," he grumbled, plopping a plate in front of her, and sitting across the table with his own meal. He went to pour himself another glass of wine, but then surprised Hermione by taking a few swigs straight out of the bottle instead. He glowered at her, as if daring her to comment on his odd behavior, or the disastrous results of his cooking.
Hermione dutifully picked up her knife and fork, and after several minutes of sawing at the charred lump of meat, managed to cut off a bite-sized piece and place it into her mouth. Her eyes watered as she forced herself to chew the steak, which tasted something like burnt shoe leather. She swallowed the morsel as quickly as possible, and then washed it down with several gulps of her wine. She glanced up and saw Draco staring at her expectantly.
"It's, uh, very good," Hermione managed, taking another swig of wine. She thought that maybe if she was more intoxicated, she could force herself to finish the rest of her meal without appearing too disgusted by it. She tried to cut off another piece of her steak, but the meat was so tough that the blade of her knife actually snapped off its wooden handle. Hermione froze, biting her tongue to keep herself from laughing. She looked up and saw that Draco's shoulders were shaking, and his cheeks were turning a bright pink. She was afraid that he was about to explode into a temper tantrum, but to her shock, he burst into laughter instead.
Once Draco started laughing, Hermione was helpless to keep herself from joining in, and soon they were both laughing so hard they were practically in tears. They stumbled into the kitchen to find something else to eat, both a little wobbly from all the wine they had consumed. When they found the tray of sandwiches that Dinky had left for them in the pantry, bearing a small note that read, "Just in case," they broke into a fresh wave of giggles until their legs could no longer support them, and they both sank to the floor. They ended up eating the sandwiches right there on the kitchen floor, both of them unable to find the strength to pick themselves back up again.
"Here, try one of the ham sandwiches, they're delicious," Draco said, after they had calmed down a bit.
Hermione thanked him and took the sandwich he offered, biting into it and causing some mayonnaise to dribble down her chin. She looked around for a napkin, but Draco found one first and surprised her by leaning over to dab the sauce off of her face. He looked at her for a second, and then shook his head, his lips twitching with amusement once more.
"I still can't believe you lied to me and said that the steak tasted good," he said.
"You're right," Hermione said, grinning. "What I should have said is that it was so bad, it makes Hagrid's rock cakes taste like gourmet."
They both laughed again, and Hermione realized that she had never seen Draco this way before - so light-hearted and full of genuine happiness. It was at that moment, sitting there on the kitchen floor, that Hermione knew she had stopped falling in love with Draco, and started being in love with him. She couldn't exactly say how it happened; with Ron, her love had developed gradually over time, but it came about more suddenly with Draco. She acknowledged that falling in love over burnt steak and ham sandwiches was unorthodox and more than a bit strange, but there it was.
After all, what could be more bizarre than Hermione Granger being in love with Draco Malfoy?
Next Chapter
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Table of Contents
Let us put tears and memories away,
While the fates sleep time stops for revelry;
Let us look, speak, and kiss as if no day
Has been or yet will be.
~ From "While the Fates Sleep" by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Friday
"You never said anything about a House-Elf!" Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and giving Draco a withering glare.
"I didn't think you'd get this worked up over it!" Draco argued back. "How the hell did you expect us to survive for a whole week without someone to cook for us?"
Hermione and Draco had just arrived at the Malfoy summer home that evening and, so far, their holiday was not off to a very relaxing start. The moment the two had entered the house, Hermione had nearly jumped out of her skin when a House-Elf had appeared with a poof and offered to relieve her of her luggage. The House-Elf in question, bearing the name of Dinky and wearing a little pink tea towel, was currently watching with wide eyes while Draco and Hermione argued with each other.
"Draco, you and I are perfectly capable of looking after ourselves," Hermione said. "We do not need a House-Elf."
"This is supposed to be a holiday, Hermione. I don't want to have to worry about cleaning and cooking and all that shite."
"You are such a spoiled prat."
"Oh yeah? Well you are a stubborn pain in the -”
"Master Draco!" Dinky squeaked, surprising both of them when she interrupted. "What would Mistress Narcissa be saying if she heard you talking to a lady like that? Dinky is having to wash your mouth out with soap if you be talking that way to the pretty lady. Dinky is washing Master Draco's mouth with soap all the time when he was a little boy and Dinky is doing it again now if she has to."
Draco spluttered wordlessly in embarrassment, turning pink all the way to the tips of his ears. Hermione, however, felt as if Christmas had come early.
"Okay," she said, grinning widely. "The House-Elf stays."
Saturday
Hermione awoke bright and early the following morning, and for a moment, she blinked at her unfamiliar surroundings. Then she smiled when she recognized the beautiful guest room Draco had selected for her to sleep in. She had been surprised, and a bit disappointed, when Draco had not suggested that they share his room - the bedroom where they had spent the night together a few weeks before. However, she felt the sleeping arrangement was probably for the best. Draco was a difficult temptation to resist as it was, and it would be even worse if she had to share a bed with him.
Hermione hopped out of bed and stretched, causing her nightshirt to ride up to her hips. Ginny had always teased her for her minimalist approach to nightwear, but Hermione found that she was most comfortable wearing nothing but one of her father's old tee-shirts and a pair of knickers, even in the dead of winter. Humming cheerfully, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen, where Draco was already awake, wearing a grey silk robe and sitting at the table reading the weekend edition of the Daily Prophet.
When Hermione strolled into the kitchen, Draco gaped at her, his jaw hanging open at the sight of her bare legs. Dinky came bustling by and placed a piece of toast in Draco's open mouth, pushing his chin up to close it.
"Master Draco is not polite to be staring at Mistress Hermione that way," Dinky chided, going back to tending a pan of bacon on the stove.
Draco rolled his eyes and swallowed his mouthful of toast before speaking.
"Yeah, well it's not polite to walk around half-naked, either."
"I am not half-naked," Hermione said haughtily, taking a seat across the table from him. "These happen to be my pajamas."
Draco looked as if he was about to make some other snide comment, but caught Dinky's eye and fell silent.
"She really knows how to put you in your place, doesn't she?" Hermione said, spreading some butter onto a slice of toast. She was pleased to note a slight flush of embarrassment on Draco's cheeks again. She liked it when he blushed - it made him appear so much more human.
"Dinky has been in the family since before I was born," he explained. "She was always in charge of taking care of me, so she's become quite fond of me over the years. That's how I knew I could trust her to be here with us and not mention anything to my parents regarding who I chose to be my houseguest this week."
"I see," Hermione said. She leaned back and propped her legs up on an adjacent chair, causing her oversized tee-shirt to ride further up her thighs. Draco groaned and buried himself in his newspaper to shield himself from the tantalizing glimpse of knickers that Hermione's new position provided.
"So, what were you planning on us doing today?" Hermione asked before biting into her toast.
"I was thinking of going sailing," Draco said from behind his paper. "You know that labyrinth I showed you the last time we were here? Well, there's a grotto at one end of it, where my family keeps a few sailboats."
"You know how to sail?" Hermione asked, surprised.
Draco emerged from behind his paper, his face bearing an expression of impatience.
"Well, I wouldn't exactly suggest doing it if I didn't know how, would I?"
"You really aren't a morning person," Hermione said with a sigh. She shifted positions, drawing her knees up to her chin so that her tee-shirt was bunched around her waist, baring everything else below that point.
Draco ran his eyes up and down her legs and made an odd little choking sound before disappearing behind his Daily Prophet once more.
Monday
"It looks like it's going to storm today."
"No kidding? Is that what it means when the sky gets all dark and it starts to thunder? I'm so glad you're here to explain these things to me."
"Shut up," Hermione said, "or I'll get Dinky to wash your mouth out again."
Draco scowled darkly at her, but Hermione simply responded with a grin that was worthy of the Cheshire Cat. She’d had the unique and unexpected pleasure of watching Dinky tackle Draco and clean his mouth out with soap the day before, and she didn't think she would ever live to see a more beautiful sight. She was glad that she had agreed to let the House-Elf stay with them for the week, even though she was disappointed that she had not thought to bring along a camera.
"Good thing I brought a source of indoor entertainment for days like these," Draco said, clearly trying to change the subject from his recent punishment at Dinky's hands. They were currently in the sitting room overlooking the ocean as he retrieved a large, ornate box from a shelf in the corner, and placed it on the table between him and Hermione. He opened it and withdrew a very expensive-looking wizard's chess set, and upon seeing it, Hermione's face fell.
"I'm terrible at wizard's chess," she said ruefully as Draco set up the pieces, which were white and emerald green. She recognized it as the set his parents had given him for Christmas, having seen him and Dean playing with it on more than one occasion.
"That's all right, I can teach you," Draco said, sitting in the chair across from hers. "But I have to warn you, I'm a ruthless chess player."
"Considering you're a Malfoy and a Slytherin, I wouldn't expect anything less."
For the next couple of hours, Draco tutored Hermione on the subtle strategies of wizard's chess; however, the chess pieces seemed to sense her inexperience and were reluctant to obey her orders. More than once, she had to coax them to move where she wanted them to go on the chessboard, as Harry often had to do when he played against Ron.
"Any day now," Draco muttered at one point, when Hermione was taking even longer than usual to decide her next move.
"Patience is a virtue!" she trilled, chewing on her lower lip as she studied the board. She was not oblivious to the fact that Draco's eyes had zeroed in on her lips as she nibbled them. She outlined her lips with the tip of her tongue, and inwardly emitted a smug chuckle when she saw Draco squirm in his seat.
A sudden crash of thunder shook the house, and Hermione couldn't help jumping and letting out a little gasp. For some reason, the sound of the thunder and the rain pounding against the windows made Hermione's heart speed up and blood pool in her groin as it brought back memories of the last time she and Draco had spent together during a storm. She glanced up at Draco and saw that his eyes had become two dark, burning coals, and she knew that he was thinking the same thing.
Forcing herself to tear her gaze away from Draco, Hermione tried to focus on the chessboard in between them, but with the hot lust that was now pulsing through her veins, it had become nothing but a green and white blur to her. A tense silence hung between them, causing every tick of the clock on the mantelpiece to sound like the crash of a gong. The room suddenly felt stiflingly warm, causing a bead of sweat to trickle down Hermione's spine. She shivered and clutched her arms around her chest, noticing too late that this elevated her breasts so that the lacy top of her bra peeked out of the open collar of her blouse.
This was the last straw for Draco.
"That's it!" he hissed, rising to his feet and lunging around the table.
Hermione gasped as Draco yanked her roughly to her feet and captured her mouth with his. His kiss was at first brutal in its intensity, but it softened almost immediately as he ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of her lips, tracing them in replication of what she had done with her own tongue mere moments before. His hands slid down her shoulder blades to rest on the small of her back, where he pushed her body forward so that her hips melded with his. Hermione could feel his burgeoning desire pressed between them, and urgently deepened their kiss, sucking his tongue into her mouth. She tasted traces of the coffee he had drunk with his breakfast, as well as the syrupy hotcakes he had eaten. He tasted bitter and sweet at the same time.
Groaning from Hermione's fresh assault on his mouth, Draco suddenly shoved his chess set aside to make room on the table before lifting Hermione up onto it. The chess pieces ran helter-skelter out of the way with shrill screams of "Retreat!" and "Every pawn for himself!" as Draco lowered Hermione down, laying her on her back. Draco paused for a moment to take in the sight of Hermione sprawled across the table, and he licked his lips as if she were some sort of exotic dessert that he was about to indulge in. Then, he bent down, and she was entirely at the mercy of his mouth.
Draco kissed Hermione frantically once more, undoing the buttons of her blouse, and revealing the pink lacy bra that she wore underneath. His lips sank into the soft flesh at the base of her throat, and Hermione arched at his touch, thrusting her chest up towards him. Obliging her unspoken request, Draco drifted further down and delicately lapped up a bead of sweat between her breasts in much the same way that one licks the drips off the side of a melting ice cream cone. Apparently wanting to taste more of her, his eyes lit up when he noticed the front clasp on her bra.
Hermione tried to form coherent thoughts, but as often happened in Draco's presence, she was having a difficult time doing so. While she had allowed some heavy petting during their nighttime rendezvous over the past couple weeks, Draco had not attempted to remove her shirt since that one night they had slept together. However, before Hermione could even attempt to assess their current situation, Draco had undone the clasp on her bra, baring her breasts to his eager lips. She moaned as he took first one, and then the other into his mouth, and thought that if they kept this up much longer, she was literally going to die right there on his sitting room table. She couldn't think of a better way to go, really.
Hermione could just picture Rita Skeeter's headline on tomorrow's edition of the Daily Prophet: "Famous War Hero Hermione Granger Suffers Death-By-Fondling at the Hands (and Mouth) of Notorious Ex-Death Eater, Draco Malfoy". That would sell a hell of a lot of papers.
Suddenly, Hermione was snapped out of her strange and pleasure-blurred thoughts by Draco unzipping the front of her jeans. Knowing that if he managed to get them off, she would be helpless to keep the situation from escalating any further, Hermione firmly, yet with great reluctance, pushed his hands away.
"We need to stop," she whispered, and Draco slowly pried his lips off of her, looking like a child who’d had his favorite toy taken away. It was very difficult for Hermione not to smile at his crestfallen expression.
"Sorry," she said, "It's just, I'm not quite ready to...you know."
Draco nodded, quickly bending down to pick up his chess set as a means of hiding his disappointment, and to avoid looking at Hermione's bare midsection. Thinking it would be cruel to torture him any further, Hermione rushed to refasten her bra and button up her blouse. By the time she finished readjusting her clothes, Draco had put away all the chess pieces, who were still grumbling mutinously about their mistreatment. Hermione decided to try and lighten up the mood.
"Honestly, Draco, what is it about thunderstorms that makes you act like a wild man?"
"Oh please," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "We both know you like it when I indulge my inner caveman. You were practically begging for me to club you over the head and drag you up to bed by your hair."
"As romantic as all of that sounds, I think I'll pass," Hermione said, trying to maintain a sense of decorum in spite of the shameless and flagrantly sensual scenario she had just participated in. She left the room under the pretense of procuring a book from the library, not willing to give Draco the satisfaction of knowing he was right - she definitely had no qualms with him "indulging his inner caveman".
Later that night, Hermione lay in bed listening to the storm as it continued to rage against the walls of the house. She tossed and turned, trying to bury her head under her pillow in an attempt to block out the sound of the howling wind and thunder, but it was no use. Finally, she gave up and crawled out of bed, pacing back and forth as she debated whether or not to seek refuge in Draco's room. She knew it was probably a bad idea, but she felt rattled sleeping alone in unfamiliar surroundings during a storm.
At last, Hermione decided to throw caution to the wind and join Draco. With a murmured "Lumos", she lit her wand and crept as quietly as possible down the second-story hallway. Several portraits, no doubt of long-dead Malfoy ancestors, grumbled and complained as they shielded their eyes from the light of her wand. Finally, she reached the door of Draco's room and knocked gently. Hearing no response, Hermione cracked it open and peeked inside.
Draco was fast asleep, his platinum hair mussed up around his head, and his mouth slightly open as he breathed deeply. Hermione grinned as she recalled that he found thunderstorms soothing. She thought only someone like Draco could find comfort in such a violent, unpredictable force of nature. Treading softly, she approached the side of his bed, gazing down at him while he continued to slumber peacefully. While conscious, he was one of the most frustrating men Hermione had ever met, but unconscious, he looked innocent - angelic, even. She couldn't resist the urge to reach out and smooth his hair.
"Agggh!" Draco shouted, his eyes snapping open at Hermione's touch. His hand flew up to clamp around her wrist.
"It's okay!" Hermione whispered, wincing at Draco's iron-like grip. "It's just me."
"Gods, woman," Draco muttered, loosening, but not releasing, his hand around her wrist. "Were you trying to scare me to death, or what?"
"I was just, um, wondering if you would let me join you. I'm having a hard time falling asleep in the storm."
Hermione felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment at her confession. Then, she noticed that Draco's blankets had fallen away from the top half of his body, revealing the smooth, hard planes of his bare chest.
"Erm, Draco, please tell me you're wearing something other than your own skin."
"Why don't you come under here and find out?" he said with a smirk, as he yanked on her wrist and pulled her down into the bed. Before she knew it, he had lifted the blankets to cover them both and maneuvered her onto her side before he rolled over to lie against her back. She was relieved to note that he was wearing his boxers. Like her, Draco appeared to have a minimalist view on nightwear, but at least he wasn't completely starkers. Hermione didn't think she had that much self-control.
"Sorry for startling you a moment ago," she whispered, wriggling into a comfortable position against Draco's firm and distinctly masculine body.
"S'okay," he mumbled sleepily. "I just wasn't prepared for any assaults on my person this evening."
"I was not ‘assaulting your person'."
"I know - that's the problem. Why don't you get to it already?"
Hermione chuckled softly as Draco buried his face in the nape of her neck.
"Draco?" she murmured.
"Hmm?"
"I'm sorry I made you stop, um, doing what you were doing with me earlier today. I think I still need a bit more time to adjust to the idea of sleeping with you again."
Draco was silent for a few minutes, and Hermione thought that maybe he had fallen asleep. Then he startled her by speaking once more.
"Hermione, what bothers you so much about being with me? Does it feel...wrong?"
Hermione rolled over so that she could face him, trying to make out his expression in the dark. His brow was furrowed, but his eyes were unreadable.
"No, that's not what bothers me," she whispered. "What bothers me is that it's supposed to feel wrong to be with you, but...but instead it feels so right."
Draco stared at her blankly for a couple of seconds before shaking his head in bewilderment.
"And you call me a puzzle."
Tuesday
As she and Draco sailed around the coast of his summer home, Hermione was impressed at how adeptly he handled the water craft. She glanced up and watched as he adjusted the rigging of the sleek white boat, his cheeks pink from the cool wind, and his blond hair glowing in the sun. In his trim khaki slacks and black wool pea coat, Hermione thought he looked like a model from a Ralph Lauren ad. Of course she didn't voice her assessment out loud, knowing that the last thing Draco needed was another boost to his already-oversized ego.
Having adjusted their course, Draco took a moment to sit beside her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and grazing her lips with his own.
"I like this," Hermione said with a peaceful sigh, once their lips parted.
"Which part? The kissing or the sailing?"
"Both. Well, just spending time with you I guess. I don't want it to end."
Draco was silent for a few minutes, apparently processing her words. He idly twirled a few of Hermione's curls around his finger with a thoughtful expression on his face.
"You know, we could have more time like this," he said finally, "if we traveled around the world together for our scholarship projects. Just imagine all the things we could do as we visited Europe, Asia, and America....One whole year of being together without having to worry about what other people think of us."
"And what would happen when we came back home?" Hermione asked, gazing up at him. Draco did not give a response to her query, but that was okay with Hermione.
She hadn't expected him to.
Wednesday
The wind was fierce and the waves turbulent that afternoon, as Draco and Hermione walked along the beach, hand in hand. Grey clouds scudded across the horizon, and the spring sun was hidden behind them, turning the sky to pewter, and the water to a deep shale color.
Hermione thought that the gloomy landscape suited her mood perfectly. She had woken up that morning with the realization that her week with Draco was already more than halfway over. Soon they would have to return to Hogwarts, and the harsh reality of the outside world.
Hermione was beginning to wonder if Ginny had been right about this week-long retreat being a very bad idea. It had done little to answer the questions she had about her and Draco's relationship; if anything, it raised more of them, and it had provided her with a tantalizing glimpse of what life with Draco could be like if his parents' prejudices didn't get in the way. It was a cruel sort of torture, like a whiff of cigarette smoke to someone who was trying to knock the habit, or a sip of liquor to a recovering alcoholic.
There was still so much more Hermione wanted to understand about Draco, and while she had learned a lot about him in the time she had spent with him, he still remained a mystery to her. He was a puzzle that Hermione was beginning to think she would never be able to solve. She couldn't figure out how all the different pieces of him fit into place.
Since Hermione was holding Draco's left hand, she took the opportunity to glance down at his forearm, where he had rolled up the sleeve of his polo shirt after becoming overheated from their walk. The skin of his arm was white and unmarred, just as he had said it would be. The last time she had seen his bare arm, several weeks before, she had been too absorbed in the sexual urgency of the moment to bother looking for what she was afraid she might find there.
"Did you think I lied to you, back in Sixth Year?" Draco asked suddenly, noticing the direction of her gaze. "I told you I hadn't taken the Dark Mark."
"I think a small part of me thought you were lying, back then," Hermione said, running her fingers up his arm. "But I guess seeing is believing. Why don't you have the Mark?"
"I...wasn't really a full-fledged Death Eater - more like an unofficial one. The Dark Lord - I mean V-Voldemort was just using me to try and get rid of Dumbledore. At the time, I don't think he actually expected me to survive the task, and I don't think he considered me worthy enough of receiving the Dark Mark, especially after my father had already failed him."
Hermione hesitated, wondering if she dared ask Draco anything more on the subject. Encouraged by the fact that he had answered her first question, she asked another.
"What was it like? Being a Death Eater?"
Draco froze, and he stood silent for so long that Hermione was convinced that as usual, he was not going to respond. Then, to her surprise, he did.
"It was like...being in a nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. When Voldemort was at the Manor, he would make me do things. He would make me torture people, use the Cruciatus on them. I felt trapped. He told me that if I didn't do what I was told, he would kill my parents. I wanted to run away but I - I couldn't."
Draco's grey eyes bore a pained, haunted expression that made Hermione feel as if her heart was being ripped from her chest. She longed to wrap her arms around him and pull him close, kissing all of his bad memories away, but she knew instinctually that right now, he would prefer that she not attempt that form of comfort. So she merely squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him with that simple contact. It seemed to work, because soon the haunted expression was gone from his eyes, and he pulled himself free of his reverie, focusing on her face once more.
"I still don't understand," Hermione said. "Why didn't you run away?"
"I already told you, I couldn't leave my parents."
"Then why didn't they run away with you?"
"My parents threw in their lot with Voldemort a long time ago," Draco said, "and when Malfoys make a decision, they stick to it until the bitter end. Well, almost until the bitter end."
Hermione knew that when he added that last line, he was thinking of how his parents had defected during the last battle, in order to be reunited with their son.
"So just because your parents followed Voldemort, you had to follow him, too?" she pressed. "And if your family had ever gotten back into Voldemort's good graces you would have been given the Mark?"
"Yes."
"And you would have taken it willingly?"
"Yes."
Hermione stared at Draco, trying but failing to understand him. Draco sighed and glanced out at the water for a moment, as if searching for the right words to explain. Then he turned back to her, clasping both of her hands in his.
"Hermione, over the years, when you were running around doing crazy things to try and save the world, wasn't there ever a time when you thought about turning back? When you thought about saying, ‘To hell with all this, I don't want to do it anymore,' and just walk away?"
Hermione bit her lower lip in consternation.
"There was one time that I seriously considered turning back," she said slowly. "It was when we were searching for Horcruxes. Ron left us - it just got to be too much for him, and he left me and Harry on our own for awhile. Harry was acting so distant, and part of me...part of me blamed him for causing Ron to leave. I felt so alone. I don't remember ever feeling so alone. And there were days when I thought that we'd never find the Horcruxes, or that in the end, we wouldn't even survive. And on those days, yes, I did think about giving up and walking away from it all, like Ron did."
"Then why didn't you?" Draco asked. "Why didn't you give up?"
Hermione paused, thinking hard about the answer to his question.
"I...I couldn't abandon Harry like that, and leave him to do it all alone. He had already been through enough with Ron leaving....I didn't think he could handle it if I left him, too. I made a promise to help Harry find the Horcruxes, and I intended to keep that promise."
Draco's grey eyes were earnest as he gazed down at her.
"You see," he said, "because you're a loyal person, and up to that point you had always stayed by Potter's side, you wouldn't have chosen to do anything differently. Even if you wanted to turn back, you never actually would have. You thought you were making a choice to stay with him, but you didn't have a choice...not really. All the forces that shaped your life - your family, your friendships, your experiences - all of those things were leading you down one path: to help Potter. Just like all the forces that shaped my life could only lead me down one path: to become a Death Eater."
"That's not true!" Hermione said, bothered by Draco's fatalistic point of view. "We both had a choice, Draco. The difference is that when I was faced with that choice, I chose the more difficult path, instead of taking the easy way out like you did."
Draco let out a sigh, and seeing the weariness and sadness in his face, Hermione suddenly noticed how much he had matured in the past couple years - just as Harry had; just as they all had.
"Hermione," he said, "what makes you think that the path I chose was easy?"
And just like that, another piece of the puzzle clicked into place.
Thursday
"Merlin, Hermione, if you're going to keep sleeping in my bed with me, could you please wear something other than that skimpy little night shirt? Some pajama bottoms, perhaps? The Ministry has laws against torture, you know."
"Look whose talking!" Hermione countered, poking Draco in his bare chest. "At least I'm not topless like you are!"
"I'm a bloke, so it's acceptable for me to sleep shirtless. Not that I would protest if you wanted to dress to match...or more appropriately, undress to match."
Hermione rolled her eyes in frustration and shifted over to the edge of her side of Draco's bed. Her solitude didn't last long, however, because Draco slid over and wrapped his body around hers, running his hand up one of her bare legs. She shivered as his touch raised goose bumps on her skin.
"I don't suppose that's your wand I feel poking me in the back?" she teased.
"Damn it, Hermione, don't you see what you do to me?" Draco groaned, grinding his hips into her backside. "You're driving me insane. What do I have to do? I'll do anything you ask - within reason. Do you want flowers or chocolates? Do you want me to recite poetry? Do you want me to stand on my head and sing ‘I'm a Little Teapot'? For Merlin's sake, just tell me what to do and I'll do it!"
"Do you even know how to stand on your head? And I thought ‘I'm a Little Teapot' was a song only Muggle children knew."
"Hermione, please," Draco moaned, "this really isn't the right time to discuss the difference between Muggle nursery rhymes and wizard ones. Do you see what you've reduced me to? You actually have me, Draco Malfoy, pleading for sex. You've completely ruined me, Granger."
Hermione couldn't help laughing as she rolled over and pressed a kiss to Draco's lips.
"I'm glad you find my agony so amusing," he muttered, pouting somewhat.
Hermione shook her head and gave him another soft kiss, before coming to a decision. Suddenly she bent down to suckle Draco's neck, feeling pleased when this action drew a startled gasp from him. Then she moved lower, trailing wet kisses down his muscled chest and stomach, finally reaching the narrow trail of golden hairs that disappeared beneath his knickers.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Draco stammered.
"Well," she said, looping her thumbs under the waistband of his boxers. "Just because I'm not ready to sleep with you again, doesn't mean we can't do other things."
Hermione pulled his knickers down and slid them all the way off of his legs.
"Hermione," Draco breathed, his eyes darkening with need when he understood her intentions, "you don't have to...I mean if you don't think you're ready...fuck that feels good."
Draco groaned and buried his fingers into Hermione's hair as she took his length into her mouth. She pulled away for a moment to smirk up at him, and say in a chiding voice, "Such language! You don't want to have Dinky overhear you and wash your mouth out with soap again, do you?"
"I think you're the one who’s going to need her mouth washed out...ah! Bloody hell, Hermione!"
For the next several minutes, Draco lost the ability to speak coherently, his eyes squeezing shut and his hands balling into fists in Hermione's hair as she teased him with her tongue and lips. Glancing up, she thought that the pleasure dancing across his pale face was one of the most erotic things she had ever seen, and when he reached his peak while calling out her name, she thought that the sound might send her tumbling over the edge after him.
Afterwards, Hermione curled up next to Draco, laying her head on his heaving chest. He lay there limply on the bed, his limbs shaking as if she had hit him with a Jelly-Legs Curse.
"So that's all it takes for you, huh?" Draco said finally, once he regained the ability to talk. "I don't even have to do anything - just promise to do anything? Well, I suppose every woman has her weakness."
"Humph, well every man has his weakness, too," Hermione said primly. "However, unlike women, men all have the same one."
She arched one eyebrow suggestively at Draco while running her hand along his still-sensitive length. Draco made a strangled sound in the back of his throat before giving her a look that was a mixture of admiration and annoyance.
"You know, I think I may have underestimated you, Hermione Granger. You have the potential to be as sly and manipulative as some of the greatest Slytherins in the history of Hogwarts. I don't know whether to be peeved or incredibly turned on by that fact."
Considering that Draco then proceeded to flip her onto her back, rip off her knickers, and return the favor that she had just bestowed upon him, Hermione decided that he must have settled on the latter.
Friday
Hermione and Draco burst into the back door of the summer home, both flushed from their broom ride. Despite the amount of physical contact Hermione enjoyed while sharing a broom with Draco, he had insisted that she improve her skills by riding solo. She discovered that she was getting much better at handling a broom, and though she doubted she would ever value flying as much as Ron and Harry, she liked, at the very least, to be adequate at everything she did.
"Lunch is ready," Dinky announced the moment they entered the house. "What is Master Draco and Mistress Hermione wanting for dinner tonight?"
Draco spoke up before Hermione could even think of a response.
"That won't be necessary, Dinky," he said. "Why don't you take the night off?"
Dinky and Hermione both stared at him, their mouths agape.
"Master Draco is wanting Dinky to - to take a night off?" the little House-Elf stammered, wringing her small hands in confusion. "B-but, who will cook dinner if Dinky is not here to do it?"
"Um, well...." Draco avoided Hermione's gaze, obviously embarrassed about what he was about to suggest. "I was actually thinking Iwould do it."
Dinky's eyes widened to the point that Hermione was afraid they would pop out of the poor creature's tiny head.
"Uh, Draco, did you accidentally hit your head on a tree branch while we were flying?" Hermione asked, utterly gobsmacked. "Because I think I just heard you say you were planning to cook dinner. If you've got a concussion, we should take you to St. Mungo's..."
"For Merlin's sake," Draco muttered. "Here I try to do something romantic and you think I'm suffering from brain damage. What does that say about me? Wait - don't answer that."
All during lunch, and for the rest of the afternoon after that, Dinky pleaded desperately with Draco to change his mind about trying to cook dinner. However, in the end, Draco won out, and Dinky disappeared to Malfoy Manor for the rest of the evening, looking as if she thought it was the last time she would see Draco and Hermione alive and in one piece. Once the House-Elf was gone, Draco stalked into the kitchen with an air of determination, as if he was marching into battle.
"Honestly, Muggles cook their own food every day," he said to Hermione as he went to start dinner. "And they don't even have magic. How hard can it be?"
Hermione had never heard a statement that could more aptly be described as "famous last words", but did not comment aloud on the matter. Instead, she sat at the dining room table, reading a book. This way, she was close enough to the kitchen to hear what was going on inside it - and rush to Draco's rescue, if need be - but she was far enough out of the way that he couldn't accuse her of "hovering".
Before starting to prepare the meal, Draco poured Hermione a glass of wine to sip on while she waited. After about half an hour, he emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of salad, which he proudly placed on the table in front of her. Hermione accepted it gratefully, her stomach already growling with hunger. She tried not to chuckle as she noticed that the carrots in her salad had been cut very precisely into identically sized pieces, much like Draco cut his potion ingredients.
Draco disappeared into the kitchen again for another half hour, and just when Hermione was beginning to worry, he emerged to pour her a second glass of wine. He poured one for himself as well, and swallowed it in just a few gulps, instead of sipping it politely as he usually did.
"Um, Draco, do you need any help with the rest of the dinner?" Hermione asked tentatively.
"No, I'm doing just fine on my own, thanks," he snapped, before rushing back into the kitchen.
Hermione sat there, starting to feel a bit tipsy after drinking a second glass of wine on a mostly-empty stomach. The screeching sound of the kitchen's Fire Alarm Charm and the smell of smoke snapped her out of her doze.
"Draco?" Hermione called out nervously.
"It's okay!" he called back. "Just stay there!"
Reluctantly, Hermione stayed seated in the dining room, trying to shut out horrifying images of Draco's body lying prone on the kitchen floor, engulfed in flames. After several minutes of hearing the clanking of pots and pans, as well as an indistinct stream of profanities, she was relieved when Draco finally emerged from the kitchen bearing two plates of something black and smoking.
"I hope you like your steak well-done," he grumbled, plopping a plate in front of her, and sitting across the table with his own meal. He went to pour himself another glass of wine, but then surprised Hermione by taking a few swigs straight out of the bottle instead. He glowered at her, as if daring her to comment on his odd behavior, or the disastrous results of his cooking.
Hermione dutifully picked up her knife and fork, and after several minutes of sawing at the charred lump of meat, managed to cut off a bite-sized piece and place it into her mouth. Her eyes watered as she forced herself to chew the steak, which tasted something like burnt shoe leather. She swallowed the morsel as quickly as possible, and then washed it down with several gulps of her wine. She glanced up and saw Draco staring at her expectantly.
"It's, uh, very good," Hermione managed, taking another swig of wine. She thought that maybe if she was more intoxicated, she could force herself to finish the rest of her meal without appearing too disgusted by it. She tried to cut off another piece of her steak, but the meat was so tough that the blade of her knife actually snapped off its wooden handle. Hermione froze, biting her tongue to keep herself from laughing. She looked up and saw that Draco's shoulders were shaking, and his cheeks were turning a bright pink. She was afraid that he was about to explode into a temper tantrum, but to her shock, he burst into laughter instead.
Once Draco started laughing, Hermione was helpless to keep herself from joining in, and soon they were both laughing so hard they were practically in tears. They stumbled into the kitchen to find something else to eat, both a little wobbly from all the wine they had consumed. When they found the tray of sandwiches that Dinky had left for them in the pantry, bearing a small note that read, "Just in case," they broke into a fresh wave of giggles until their legs could no longer support them, and they both sank to the floor. They ended up eating the sandwiches right there on the kitchen floor, both of them unable to find the strength to pick themselves back up again.
"Here, try one of the ham sandwiches, they're delicious," Draco said, after they had calmed down a bit.
Hermione thanked him and took the sandwich he offered, biting into it and causing some mayonnaise to dribble down her chin. She looked around for a napkin, but Draco found one first and surprised her by leaning over to dab the sauce off of her face. He looked at her for a second, and then shook his head, his lips twitching with amusement once more.
"I still can't believe you lied to me and said that the steak tasted good," he said.
"You're right," Hermione said, grinning. "What I should have said is that it was so bad, it makes Hagrid's rock cakes taste like gourmet."
They both laughed again, and Hermione realized that she had never seen Draco this way before - so light-hearted and full of genuine happiness. It was at that moment, sitting there on the kitchen floor, that Hermione knew she had stopped falling in love with Draco, and started being in love with him. She couldn't exactly say how it happened; with Ron, her love had developed gradually over time, but it came about more suddenly with Draco. She acknowledged that falling in love over burnt steak and ham sandwiches was unorthodox and more than a bit strange, but there it was.
After all, what could be more bizarre than Hermione Granger being in love with Draco Malfoy?
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