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“Hey Granger, do you think aliens exist?”
She sighed again for what felt like the thousandth time in the past half hour. Lowering her book to the grass at her side, Hermione looked up at him through her lashes, her head perched on his lap. Even after being together for the majority of 8th year, the sight of him so relaxed still made her breath catch in her throat. With his head back against the tree, Draco looked across the courtyard with a small smile upon his face.
Hermione had quickly found that she was content with just being in his presence. An encouraging smile from him in the halls or the touch of his palm against her back was the best antidote to her stress. But their relationship didn’t start out so seamlessly.
It all started with a letter she received at the start of term. She hadn’t recognized the owl, and there was no seal on the envelope to reveal the mysterious sender. Yet somehow she knew. She knew it was him who sent it and what it contained before she even opened it. An apology. Because with the envelope came an emotion so heavy she couldn’t even try to describe it at the time. She now knows it was guilt and despair, and outright pain. But it was a way to bridge that gap between them, no matter how large it may be. An olive branch. So she grabbed onto it, tugged, and brought it straight to her chest and into her heart where it now permanently resides.
So now she lays, her head resting on his lap as he gently runs his fingers through her curls.
“Granger?”
She hums in response, still deep in thought.
“What do you think? Do they exist?” He asks, genuine curiosity laced in every word.
“Do what exist, Draco?” she sighs.
“Aliens, Granger. Keep up. I read about them in one of those muggle books of yours, suggesting that life other than us could exist in this universe. Extra tarantula life or some rubbish.” His eyes were contemplative, seemingly engrossed in the topic of something so trivial yet so entertaining.
She snorted as he looked down at her, his eyes shining in delight at the sudden noise. “Extraterrestrial life, Draco. It’s extraterrestrial,” she said, a large grin spreading across her face.
He playfully rolled his eyes. “Same thing, Granger. And you never answered my question.”
That was another thing she found so lovely about him. Draco’s thirst for knowledge was nearly as strong as Hermione’s, and his ability to have intellectual conversations with her only made her fall for him more deeply. She wasn’t just attracted to his looks or his personality. She also fell in love with his mind; how he thinks and views the world. War changes people, for better and for worse, and she truly believes that after the war Draco has come alive. He isn’t simply existing anymore. He’s living, and she can’t help but immerse herself in it.
So when he asks her questions such as this, she humors him. After so many tiring years of fighting, it can be refreshing to contemplate the simpler things in life. It is a blessing to have the ability to do so, and she refuses to take anything for granted.
“It depends on how you define aliens. A living, breathing individual who has the ability to create a society on another planet and live as humans do? Or simply any small organism that doesn’t reside on our planet?”
He hums in thought. “The latter seems more plausible.”
“Exactly,” she responds. “If going by that definition, then sure. Some kind of organism could probably exist on another planet, somewhere in our galaxy.”
Draco nods in agreement, satisfied with her answer and the conclusion they came to together. So Hermione picks up her book and resumes her reading, basking in the heat of the sun and the warmth from Draco’s body.
Only minutes could have passed. Maybe even less, before the silence is broken yet again. “Hermione, love, if you could name a country, what would you name it?”
“Draco, why in the name of Merlin are you asking me this?” Hermione exclaims, just wanting to read her book while in the comfort of her boyfriend.
“Why not? I don’t have a book to read, so I have to come up with ways to entertain myself,” he teased, the wind carrying the tune as it blew through the courtyard. The only way she could describe him in this moment was radiant. So full of life that she almost wanted to cry. His laugh was a tune she could listen to everyday, selfishly wishing she could bottle it up for only herself.
They just stare at each other for a moment, enjoying the presence of the other, a feeling they have become so accustomed to over the months. His clear blue eyes to her golden. Her fire to his ice. And she would burn for him everyday, melting away the terrified boy he used to be in order to watch the light inside him glow.
“Crookshanks,” she whispers, not even paying attention to what she was saying, his intense stare causing all rational thought to flee her mind.
“What?” he laughs again, the dimples on his cheeks growing the more he smiles. She can’t help but reach up and poke one before sliding her hand against his cheek. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to her palm before turning back to her.
“That’s what I would name my country,” she says, trying her best to lift her chin haughtily while still laying across his lap.
“You’d name a country after that cat? Granger, he sleeps all day and tries to eat my socks every time I go near him. Surely you could think of a better name?” His eyes still shine in amusement at her answer.
She scoffs, “Excuse me, but ‘that cat’ is the smartest familiar in this castle. Put more respect to his name, mister.”
He narrows his eyes slightly, “Swot.”
“Arse.”
“Wench.”
“Dick.”
“My dick is just fine Granger, don’t bring it into this.”
She can barely contain her smile, and soon enough they’re both laughing outright. Once the giggles subside, Draco settles back against the tree and pulls on one of her curls that lay across his lap. “Since my choice was so terrible, what name would you choose?” She has to ask, curiosity always getting the best of her.
He seems to think for a moment, before looking back down to her. “Probably something after my mother. I would want to honor her in some way.”
“Narcissa is a beautiful name. Good choice.” She smiles, a warm glow in her heart at how much he loves his mother.
They soon slip into another comfortable silence, and Hermione sits up in order to tuck herself against Draco’s side. He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him as they both lean into the tree trunk, her head on his shoulder.
After a few moments of watching the other students milling throughout the courtyard, Hermione picks up her book again, keen on finishing it before the day is up. Yet it must have been too good to be true, because she only got through a few pages before their little bubble was popped once again by Draco himself.
“Hey Granger, what—”
“Draco, I love you, but you need to shut up.”
Draco only glanced at her, a smirk etched its way onto his face. Her nose was deep in her book, refusing to look up at him lest he somehow convinces her to abandon her reading for the third time.
“I love you too.”