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“So I found out years later that what my family thought was a crop circle made by aliens was actually made by Mooncalves, presumably during a mating ritual, which was just…” Hermione trailed off, watching her date push a piece of leftover salad around his plate.
“Bonkers to me,” she continued, her mouth setting as this was at least the third time he’d zoned out of their conversation, “but maybe it’s not as interesting a story as I thought.”
He looked up from his plate, and she found that the more dates they went on, the less attractive she found him.
She had met him about a month ago. Zachary Turner, one of the Aurors who worked frequently with Harry and Ron. He was handsome, but all he ever talked about was work and whenever she tried to engage him in another subject, and she’d tried many over the course of their first two dates, it was like he entered another dimension.
He immediately started telling her the story of the allies of Voldemort he’d helped Harry catch for the fifth time since they’d met, and she really wished he wouldn’t, because when he did this, it was hard not to let her mind wander to what her dinner dates used to be like.
~~~
“People always paint, well, what they still think are mythological creatures out to be extremely beautiful, which, they are, in their own way, but I’m sure you were just as surprised as I was when you first saw an actual mermaid at Hogwarts?” Hermione asked, and Draco huffed a small laugh, nodding his head back once in agreement.
“More like terrified, you didn’t have them lurking about in your common room windows while you were trying to read.” He accused, and Hermione’s smile grew wide as she imagined it.
“That’s what I mean, it’s the same with sea nymphs. I’ve seen plenty of illustrations of them as just normal, beautiful human women, perhaps a bit fairy-like just next to some water, and I never really questioned it before, but I read something recently that described them as really quite scary. Apparently, they have gashes in their faces for mouths, like if you cut your leg on some sharp coral, teeth like sharks and their voices sound like harsh waves crashing against stone in a storm. I actually happen to like that sound, but I imagine it wouldn’t be very comforting to talk to.” Hermione almost launched into another branch of thought, when she registered Draco watching her over his wine glass, and although there was warmth in his eyes, she paused.
“Sorry, I’ll stop talking now.” She said instead, lowering her eyes to the table as she realised how much of the conversation she’d dominated over the course of the evening.
Draco was the only person who indulged her in these kinds of conversations, so when she saw him, she found herself spouting all the information she’d learnt since their last date.
In fact, their dates started in the first place because he’d seen Hermione reading about Roman Gods and their relation to the planets in the Ministry café, made a snide comment about it, but then ended up sitting down and eating lunch with her so he could learn more.
When she talked around Draco you’d think a passing comment about the weather was the most interesting thing you’d hear all year.
“And why would you do that?” He asked, a slight frown now creasing his forehead.
“Well, I don’t want to bore you.” She said, feeling herself becoming quieter with every sentence.
“You’re doing quite the opposite, Granger. In fact,” Draco leaned forward over the table and Hermione lifted her eyes to his, “it’s becoming increasingly difficult not to get under this table and put my face in between your thighs as you continue to educate me.” He murmured, and Hermione’s jaw dropped before she glanced to the other couples in the restaurant around them to check no one had heard, her cheeks suddenly hot.
“Are you sure I’m not being rude-”
“You’re adorable, Granger, so stop deviating and tell me more.” He instructed, dropping a hand to cover hers where she fiddled with the tablecloth, tucking the backs of her fingers up and against his palm.
Hermione smiled the most content smile she possibly ever had.
~~~
Hermione drifted back to the present, her eyes slowly focusing again on her wine glass as Zachary finished his story.
“Your table, Mr Malfoy,” Hermione heard distantly, and she thought she must be reliving another of her memories, when she heard a scrape against the floor and her eyes flicked up to find the platinum blonde holding a chair out for a girl a few tables across from her.
She blinked to check she was truly conscious and Zachary’s story hadn’t sent her to sleep.
“Thank you,” she only just heard him say, and she took a deep breath through her nose when she realised this was real. He was in the same room as her, three months after their split, because of course she couldn’t try to move on without him around.
She couldn’t help but stare as he moved around the table, facing her now, and just before he sat, he glanced up and met her gaze.
He froze, his already reserved expression dropping even further into lifelessness.
“Draco?” The girl at the table in front of him prompted, and he cleared his throat, tearing his eyes from Hermione and sitting down.
“Hermione, are you alright?” Zachary asked and she snapped back into her body.
“Oh, yes, sorry, I just, uh, I need the bathroom.” She babbled and slid out of her chair, walking to the stairs at the back of the restaurant that led down to the lavatories.
Once she’d pushed open the door to the ladies, she crossed to the sinks, covering her face with her hands and shutting the world out.
It was fine, it was fine, she was fine, she can just pretend he doesn’t exist. She only had to get through dessert.
Maybe she could ask to move tables-
No, she was fine.
Hermione paused, taking her hands from her face when she realised she’d been pacing, and with her short heels clicking on the floor it probably sounded like a stable in there, not a bathroom.
Hermione took a deep breath and braced herself on the porcelain, closing her eyes briefly before looking in the mirror to psyche herself up.
She couldn’t do it.
She shook her arms and hands out with a frustrated grunt, propelling herself toward the door.
She could. She had to.
She pushed open the door, halting almost immediately as she saw the back of Draco going into the men’s lavatories opposite.
“Oh for-” she cut herself off, her fingertips flying to her temples as she turned to go back into the bathroom, but she found the strength to circle instead and carry on back to her table, bringing her arms to her sides with another deep breath before she sat back down.
Zachary smiled at her, and she tried to forget Draco’s existence completely.
“So, dessert?” He asked, handing her a menu, and she smiled back at him before lowering her eyes to it.
After a few moments of perusing, Draco’s cologne wafted past her as he returned to his seat and she felt herself drift momentarily, almost closing her eyes she revelled in the intoxicating scent.
Shaking her head a little Hermione focused back on the menu, and she smiled when she read their flaming crème brulee option, being reminded of one of her disastrous culinary experiments.
“I tried making a crème brulee once,” she started, drawing her dates eyes to her, “I thought putting the finishing touches on it with magic would be easy, but when I cast fire onto the top of the pudding the glass case burst all over the kitchen-”
Hermione cut herself off with a small yelp as the hand she waved outwards knocked her wine glass and sent it over the edge of the table.
“Oh, my god,” she muttered, standing immediately and grabbing her wand out of her purse, already broken glass crunching further under the thin bottoms of her heels as she moved out from the table and crouched down as a waiter rushed to her side.
“I can do that, Madam,” he offered eagerly.
“No, no, it’s fine, I’ll do it.” She said up to him before starting to collect the pieces with her wand.
“So sorry,” Zachary spoke, and Hermione paused when she saw his squinted eyes and uneasy smile twisted with embarrassment.
As Hermione’s foot swivelled on the tile, a shard of glass slipped in between the sole of her shoe and her foot, and she gasped quietly through her nose, discreetly waving her wand in the vicinity.
As it was pulled from its spot the jagged edge cut her skin slightly.
Hermione glanced to Draco before she could stop herself, but she found his eyes already on her, watching her with a creased brow before he slid them back to his date, his frown remaining though.
She stood up straight again and lifted each foot to charm the last of the shards stuck to the bottom of her shoes before lifting them up as a collective and into the waste bin the waiter held out for her.
“Thank you. I’m so sorry,” she said with an anxious smile, but his face was kind.
“No problem at all, Madam,” he bowed slightly before walking away, and Hermione sighed as she sat back down, her lips pursing as she remembered a man who handled that kind of situation in a much nicer way.
~~~
“Oh, don’t, I still have nightmares about Pince.” She told Draco who was grinning at her from across the table.
“I tripped in first year once, which is when I learned the rule about not carrying things higher than your eyeline perhaps wasn’t so inconvenient, because my books and notes went absolutely everywhere-” Hermione gasped when she felt her hand knock against the side of her wine glass.
She flicked her fingers out to grab it but the stem just slipped through them as it fell over the edge.
They both rose from their seats immediately, but Draco took her elbow in his fingers gently.
“Stay there, Granger,” he said, keeping his fingers on her as he stepped out to the side of the table.
“I can do it-”
“Sit down, you’ll sweep glass onto your feet,” he looked pointedly into her eyes but it wasn’t laced with anger, only concern.
Hermione lowered back onto her chair, her chest tight with embarrassment, as Draco pulled his wand from his inside suit pocket.
“Sir, if you’ll allow me,” a waiter appeared as Draco crouched to the mess.
“I’ve got it, if you could just bring us another wine glass, please?” He asked politely, and the waiter nodded, leaving the dustpan he’d brought on the floor next to him before disappearing.
Hermione felt the hem of her dress wet with the mess as Draco lifted it carefully with his thumb and forefinger, and she allowed herself to crane her head to watch him as he scourgified it first before the floor.
She didn’t want to move too much in case of any more accidents.
She startled slightly as Draco used the remaining free fingers of his right hand to press against the underside of her calf, the now clean silk of her dress brushing her skin as he lifted her heel off the floor, freeing the last remaining shard from under her stiletto.
Hermione couldn’t help but smile when she saw it, and Draco looked up at her to meet it warmly as he swept the collection of glass shards onto the dustpan with his wand.
He lowered her foot gently back down to the floor, making sure her dress fell as it was supposed to before he stood up with the collected mess as the waiter appeared, placing a clean intact wine glass onto the table.
“Thank you.” Draco nodded once as he handed him the dustpan.
“Thank you, sir.” The waiter nodded back before disappearing.
As Draco sat down Hermione felt like she took the first breath she had since the accident.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t understand why you bring me to these fancy places, I clearly don’t belong,” she said, watching him nervously as she let out a small self-depreciating laugh, but when his eyes met hers she felt the blood in her veins start to flutter.
“Clumsy people still deserve nice things, Granger,” he said before he plucked their bottle of wine from the ice bucket.
“Especially when they’re you.” He grinned at her, and she blushed, turning her wide smile to the table as he refilled her glass.
~~~
“So, have you decided?” Zachary brought her back to the present, and when Hermione refocused she realised she’d been staring at her water glass
Hermione’s eyes betrayed her again when they flicked to Draco’s seat, but she frowned a little when she found he wasn’t in it.
She flicked her gaze around the room as discreetly as she could, until she saw the back of him standing outside through the window.
Her frown deepened when she saw the cloud of smoke swirling out of him, sweeping away in the breeze.
“Um, I’m just going to get some air,” she muttered as she stood from the table again before she could think about what she was doing.
As she crossed to the door, she caught the gaze of Draco’s date, who smiled at her. Sweetly.
Hermione’s eyebrows shot up briefly in surprise, and she gave her a smile back before she pushed open the front door of the building.
She walked the short length of the wall toward Draco but stopped a few paces away.
Draco’s eyes flicked to the side at the sound of her heels but he returned them to the street in front of him just as quickly, his brow creasing slightly as he took another drag of his cigarette.
Hermione turned to face forward as well, focusing on the peach glow on the pavement from the late winter sun starting to set.
“Since when do you smoke?” She asked after a few moments, watching his arm pause as he lifted it back to his lips out of the corner of her eye.
“Since when do you?” He replied flatly, and Hermione frowned.
“I’m not out here to smoke.”
“Then why are you out here?” He asked immediately, and Hermione turned her head to him at his agitated tone.
“To ask when you started smoking.” She stated, starting to harden.
“And why the hell do you care about that?” He asked into the street, smoke falling from his lips with every word.
“Because smoking is bad for you, Draco!”
Draco snapped his head to her, looking at her properly for the first time since she arrived out there.
“So is dating a man like that but you don’t see me asking when you started seeing him.” He seethed, and Hermione’s jaw dropped.
“What is bad about seeing him?” She asked, but Draco just laughed bitterly, throwing his head back.
“He’s-!” Hermione burst, but she paused when nothing came to mind except “Fine.”
Draco looked to her with raised eyebrows, an amused smile still lingering on his lips.
“He’s fine? Merlin, I’d hate to see your bad.” He said, but then his head cocked to the side.
“Oh wait.” His mouth twisted ruefully, eyes squinted as he turned back to the street, lighting his cigarette again as it had burnt out.
Hermione’s mouth opened to say ‘You weren’t bad,’ but she stopped herself, and searched the stone beneath her for a few moments as she listened to him exhale deeply, casting the smoke out of his body again as she wrapped her cardigan around herself a bit tighter.
“He’s…fine,” she decided to continue, more to assure herself, “he has no problem being out with me-”
“I didn’t have a problem being out with you.”
“You did in the beginning!”
“And why the fuck is that relevant?” He spat, completely unconcerned about the disapproving looks from the strolling wizards and witches passing them.
Hermione stuttered a bit, thrown off by them.
“Well, you brought it up!” She burst.
“I didn’t, Granger, you were listing ways in which he’s better than me.” He sneered, stubbing his cigarette out on the small, cauldron-shaped appointed bin for them before throwing it inside it, as it was clear he wasn’t going to be able to finish it.
“That wasn’t what I-”
“No, no, carry on, I’d like to hear it.” He smiled at her insincerely, motioning for her to continue with a sweeping of his hand.
Hermione opened her mouth then closed it again, because she was struggling to think of anything else, her eyes flicking between his as they bored into her.
Although, there was one thing.
“Well, his friends were immediately welcoming and treated me with respect-”
“They treated you like the golden girl, you mean? And you liked that?” He raised his eyebrows at her, and Hermione opened her mouth but only a frustrated grunt fell out of it because she knew she couldn’t lie.
“No, but it was a lot nicer than meeting your friends! Or, re-meeting some of them!” She scrambled, and Draco rolled his eyes with an indignant grunt.
“You got along with them eventually, quite quickly I might add, not that how my friends treated you in the beginning was my fault and not that any of this even matters anymore anyway!” He threw his arms up before turning and stalking down the road. Hermione thought he was heading back into the restaurant, but he carried on past the door.
“Where are you going? You can’t just leave your date!” She called after him.
“I’m not exactly in a very romantic mood now, am I? Congratulations!” He shouted back without turning around, and Hermione paused.
“Draco, I didn’t mean to-”
She stopped as he did, watching him as he turned around and stormed back into the restaurant.
She took a few hesitant steps toward the door herself, but she halted as she watched him slap money down onto the counter, muttering something to the host before storming back out again.
The force in which he pushed open the door made Hermione’s hair blow back over her shoulders as he exit before her.
“I’m sorry, I-”
“Don’t.” He spat dully without a look to her before he carried on down the road, disappearing around the corner.
Hermione took a deep breath, her whole body feeling numb but simultaneously ablaze.
“Hey,” Zachary stepped out of the door making her jump, “are you alright? You’ve been out here a while.”
Hermione opened her mouth to say she was fine, but then she realised that would mean she would have to go back inside.
“Actually, I’m feeling a bit ill, I’d quite like to go home.” She said, putting a hand to her stomach for added effect, and he gave her a sympathetic smile.
“Too much wine?” He asked, and she fought frowning.
That was hardly possible when he only ordered her half a glass in the first place.
“Possibly.” She replied with a small tight smile, but it quickly dropped with realisation.
“Oh, my purse, um, I’ll get dinner, if you’d like.” She offered, trying to get rid of him as fast as possible.
“Oh, thanks Hermione, I’ll wait for you, make sure you get home okay,”
“Oh no, I’ll be fine, see you later.” She gave him a quick smile before opening the door and ducking inside.
She glanced back to see him standing confused for a moment before shaking his head a little and walking away, and she turned back to her table with a relieved sigh.
She unhooked her bag from the back of her chair and slung it over her shoulder.
After fishing out enough money from her purse and sliding it under her water glass, she started to walk back toward the door, when she spotted Draco’s date.
She stopped, watching the girl play with her napkin, nervous eyes darting around the restaurant as she waited.
Hermione sighed before approaching her.
“Excuse me,” Hermione spoke, and she looked up, innocence truly present, “Draco had a family emergency, and he had to leave. Do you need any help getting home?” She asked, feeling the guilt eating her up on the inside as the girl’s face dropped.
“Oh, yes actually, I’m not too sure how to get back to my hotel.”
As soon as she spoke Hermione nodded in her head. French, and visiting, hence why she seemed to have no clue about Hermione’s connection to Draco.
“Which hotel are you staying at?”
Hermione stood outside his apartment door, nerves shaking her entire body.
She almost turned and walked back to the elevator, but she raised a fist and knocked before she could.
She took a deep breath as she heard his steps approaching the door and tried to stand as tall as she could as it swung open.
Draco rolled his eyes as soon as he saw her.
“Didn’t think you’d ruined my evening enough?” He asked, and Hermione took in his white shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, his tie pulled loose around his neck and his hair mussed out of place.
“I just wanted, urm,” she cast her eyes to the floor in front of them, “I just wanted you to know that…you weren’t bad.” She finished, making Draco frown slightly.
“You couldn’t have put that in an owl?” He asked, but tension had already started to flood from his features.
“I could have, and I was going to, but I…I wanted to see you.” She admitted, closing her eyes briefly.
Draco regarded her for a few moments before he sighed through his nose.
“Well, so far you’ve seen more of the floor.” He quipped, and Hermione lifted her eyes to him nervously.
Draco stepped back, pulling the door open wider with him and nodding his head inside.
Hermione pressed her lips together gratefully, walking slowly past him into his apartment, which hadn’t changed a bit since she’d last seen it. The cream everything with the contrast of his many deep green houseplants still as homely as ever.
Draco closed the door and buried both his hands in his pockets, watching her take in the space again.
“Did you ever get another glass of wine?” He asked, turning her back to him.
“I didn’t, um, I didn’t go back in.” She said, clasping her hands at her stomach anxiously. “Well, I did, but just to get my purse.”
Draco nodded slowly after she corrected herself.
“Would you like one?” He said, his tone plainly polite.
“Um, yes, thank you.” She said, trying to smile at him while every bone buzzed with nerves.
Draco moved to the fridge, pulling out an already opened bottle of white, and when he took a glass down from his hanging rack and placed it on the marble countertop she saw he’d already started on a glass himself.
Her eyes were drawn back to him when he laughed to himself as he poured it for her.
“How could you say that we weren’t bad?” He asked, putting the bottle back into the fridge.
“I said you weren’t bad, but we weren’t either.” Hermione found confidence in her correction, and she started to relax as he brought her glass over to her, his in his other hand.
“Thank you.” She said, trying to ignore her heart skipping when she saw how close their fingers were as she took it and how much she wished he didn’t step away from her afterwards. It was only one, but one alone was too much.
“It was always outside forces. When it was just us, or with family and friends, we were always good.” Hermione continued, stopping herself from adding ‘great’ at the end.
“You said you couldn’t walk around being looked at like a piece of dirt on my arm forever.” Draco stated, taking a sip of his wine. Hermione tried not to note how his shirt stretched over his upper arm as he did so.
“Because almost everyone at your social events did look at me like that, Draco, but you always tried your best to make sure I didn’t feel that way.” She elaborated, and she saw the muscles in his face start to relax.
“So why did you let them get to you so much?” He asked, the warm honey of the lamplight casting tiny shadows on his forehead as his brow creased.
“It was hard not to, when it’s the same thing over and over again, you start to, I started to believe it!” Hermione stammered out, but the breath stilled in her chest as Draco stepped one foot toward her hesitantly.
“I never wanted that for you, I- you don’t know how much it infuriated me.” He stated, his eyes focused solely on hers, but after a moment a small smile broke on Hermione’s lips.
“Well, I did a little bit.” She said quietly, warming as she was cast back to when he would storm out of whatever insipid event they were at and how they would reassure each other and how she had never felt so safe as she did when he held her after even the smallest of comments.
A corner of Draco’s lips twitched up slightly also, and Hermione was aching to pull him to her, bring him even closer than he was now.
She could feel her chest falling heavier with every breath as she stared at him, and she had to take a sip of her wine to make sure that she could still function properly.
“So, who was the girl?” She found the strength to speak, but she immediately wished she hadn’t as he withdrew his intent eyes from her and cast them into his living area as he leant his backside against the kitchen counter, his small smile mostly remaining still.
“One of mother’s friends’ daughters.” He informed her, taking another sip of his wine as Hermione stepped slowly to lean against the back of his sofa, facing him.
“She’s nice.” She said simply, pausing as soon as the words left her mouth.
Draco’s eyes flew to her, watching her eyes grow slightly wide and her lips press together as they always did whenever she said something she shouldn’t have.
“How do you know she’s nice?” His brow furrowed but she couldn’t meet his gaze.
“I…might have walked her back to her hotel.” She admitted, rolling her shoulders back to try and maintain some dignity, and Draco’s head jerked.
His mouth opened several times but he struggled to make anything come out of it.
“So you made me leave my date and then left with her, what did you want, details on all of my failed dating attempts since we broke up? Was this all some convoluted plan to get dirt on me?” Draco pushed himself to stand properly, his hand holding the wine glass waving out to the side.
Hermione pushed herself off the back of the sofa to stand too, tensing as her body went into defensive mode.
“I didn’t make you do anything and of course I wasn’t snooping on you, I felt bad and I wanted to make sure she got back okay after you just left her there!”
“I gave the host money to book a carriage for her!” Draco exclaimed, and Hermione opened her mouth to retort when she stilled, remembering the man’s face as she left with the girl.
“Ah, yes he did look quite confused when he bid us goodbye.” She recalled, and a tiny, embarrassed smile grew once again as she cast her gaze to the floor.
“Unbelievable.” Draco muttered after a moment, warmth returning to his eyes as he shook his head at her.
Hermione lifted her eyes to him after a small bout of tender silence to find his wandering down her body and lingering on her dress, before he huffed a tiny laugh out of his nose.
“What?” She asked immediately, crossing her arms in front of her stomach, feeling the base of her wine glass meet the lilac satin at her side.
“Do you really think he’s…worthy, of that, of you? I’m not saying I was but I know I treated you better than he did tonight.” He stated, his face suddenly set with seriousness.
Hermione dropped her head to take in the structured bodice adorned with small pink roses, the dainty chiffon sleeves gently caressing her shoulders under her cream cardigan. She loved the dress, but she could admit that when she looked in the mirror after trying it on she knew the only man she wanted to wear it for was Draco. But she couldn’t, and she wanted to wear it and she didn’t want it to go to waste.
Her eyes briefly darted to where her foot curved towards her toes, the cut that she had yet to discreetly treat.
“You did, um,” Hermione scrambled for more words as those were unintentional, “I don’t know, that was only our third date, and…” She made the mistake of meeting Draco’s eyes, as it caused her to sigh, her shoulders sagging as she gave up trying to find an excuse.
“It’s hard to…find someone as good for me…as you were.” She admitted, the small of her back falling against the sofa again as she took another sip of wine.
Draco nodded to himself, a punishing smile on his lips as he echoed, “Were.”
Hermione’s brow creased as she analysed his expression, but before she could say anything she watched his lips part again.
“Are you going to go on a fourth?” He asked, lifting his head to her.
“No.” She answered before she could even think about it.
“Good.” He said just as quickly, and Hermione’s heartbeat skyrocketed as he stepped towards her purposefully.
“He doesn’t deserve it.” He stated, plucking the glass from her fingers as he took both to the countertop to refill them.
Hermione refrained from letting out a huge breath as he turned his back to her, and to distract herself from her everything buzzing with adrenaline she turned also and inspected his side table, finding The Return of the King illuminated by the lamp shining above it.
Hermione smiled as she picked it up to see how far he’d gotten, when she paused at the shining top of the polaroid sticking out from the top of the pages almost at the very end of the book, reflecting the light.
She slid it out carefully, revealing the top half of the picture and confirming her suspicions, as she stared down at the picture of her that she’d assumed he’d thrown away.
~~~
Hermione lifted her eyes to Draco as he leapt onto the sofa, straddling her legs as she lounged across it, but the glee quickly drained from her as she caught sight of her polaroid camera in his hands.
“How does this work?” He asked, inspecting the buttons before he held it up before his face as he’d seen her do on their walks around the park nestled just behind her apartment.
“No, Draco, don’t!” Hermione covered her face with her hands and tried to turn away from him, but he shuffled up to sit on her knees, putting his eye to the small glass square on the contraption.
“Ah, there you are,” he muttered, taking one of her wrists and tugging it gently.
Hermione lowered her hands from her face but she crossed her arms over her chest with a huff.
“Now, sit pretty for me, Granger,” Draco said, leaning back slightly as he made sure the shot would be how he wanted it, “or in your case just sit.” He added with a grin as he brought his hand back to hold the other side of the camera.
She glared at him through the lens.
“Beautiful.” He whispered, and her pursed lips turned up into the slightest smile against her will just before he took the picture.
She sighed through her nose but her glare fell as she watched him watch the picture churn out of the top of the camera.
When he plucked the picture out of it he frowned at the black rectangle.
“What a waste of money, why do muggles even-”
“You have to keep it in the dark while it develops.” She informed him, shooting him a warning look before she took the camera from him and reached to place it on her coffee table next to them, and Draco nodded slowly.
“Ah, well what a deeper, darker place to hide it than in your head of hair?” He grinned at her, capturing her gasp with a kiss as he buried the picture in her curls, being careful not to touch her scalp with it.
Hermione hummed as she wove her fingers into his own hair, shaking her head at him before bringing his lips to hers again.
Draco’s palm drifted from her shoulder down her arm and stopped at her wrist, wrapping his fingers around it to keep her hands in his hair before he dropped it to her waist.
The back of her head pressed against the arm of the sofa as he kissed her again, and again, and as his fingers drifted under the hem of her jumper and up the bare skin covering her ribs he forgot he even had another hand at all, let alone what it was holding.
Hermione broke their lips apart with a small laugh and coaxed his other hand out of her hair with one of hers.
Draco held it against the back of the sofa between them and smiled fondly at the developed picture of his witch.
“I’m keeping this.” He stated, reaching beside him to slide it into his pocket before he sunk down onto her again.
~~~
When Draco started to step toward her with her glass and his eyes flicked to what she was looking at, he froze.
“That’s, uh, that’s old, I read that ages ago.” He blurted far too quickly for his liking.
“And you never finished it?” Hermione asked with raised eyebrows.
“No, it was terrible.”
“But you love Tolkien-”
“Shut up, Hermione,” Draco spun to walk back towards the countertop, but when he realised he still had her wine glass in his hand, he spun back to her wide eyes and thrust it toward her.
Hermione waited to smile to herself until he had retreated again, watching his shirt pull across the muscles of his shoulders as he put one hand on his hip and raised the other to bring his wine glass to his lips.
“Alright, it wasn’t terrible,” he admitted, and Hermione pushed her smile down as best she could as he turned back to her, “I just didn’t have another bookmark, and I don’t like to fold the pages, as you know.” He rambled, his lips pursed the way they always did when he scrambled to maintain his dignity.
“Okay.” Hermione spoke softly, nodding even though she knew he’d taken his two favourites from the Manor library with him when he moved out.
It was silent then, and they both sipped from their glasses as they each tried to decide what should be said next.
Hermione watched his mind work as his eyes flicked across the dark wooden floor.
“It wasn’t terrible,” Draco repeated, and he gulped as he debated carrying on, “but it didn’t feel as magical as it would when I read it next to you.”
Hermione’s face fell as she stared at him, her whole body stunned still as she waited for him to continue. He kept his eyes firmly on the floor.
“I could appreciate the beauty of the words, but they meant less not witnessing them around you.” He stated, his jaw set, determined yet terrified.
Hermione tightened her hold on her glass when she remembered its existence, the condensation against her fingers making it dangerously close to slipping to the floor.
“You are…”
Hermione dragged in a breath as quietly as she could.
A corner of Draco’s lips quirked up slightly with a huffed breath.
“The lighthouse of my universe. You illuminate everything. You make everything more.” He spoke so slowly, as if the very words could lift him off the ground.
He finally raised his eyes to her, but he didn’t give her time to give any reaction at all before he placed his wine glass on the countertop and crossed to her.
Hermione thought she may never be able to move a bone again when he reached her, taking the book from her fingers but not taking a single step back. She had to tilt her head back to look at his face, aglow in the lamplight.
“One part that was particularly hard to read, though,” he almost murmured as he opened the book to his bookmarked pages, the rich green and gold dust jacket a hairs breadth away from brushing the bare skin of her chest.
Hermione watched his eyes falling down the page, reaching slowly beside her to place the wine glass down on the side table and clasping both of her hands in front of her stomach to keep them occupied.
He found the line he was looking for, and flicked his eyes back up to her briefly, and she took another deep breath as she watched his lips part to read it.
“But I have been too deeply hurt, Hermione.” Draco paused before swapping the character’s name with hers, and she felt her face break with a small blushing smile as he glanced up at her with a tiny playful smirk in his eyes, but his face soon fell again as he returned them to the page.
“I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Hermione, when things are in danger: someone has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them.” He finished, his throat bobbing as he gulped, closing the book again and staring down at it.
“As you can see I…haven’t made it past that part yet.” He mumbled, his eyes slowly travelling back to hers, but his brow creased slightly when he found them glassy.
Hermione blinked and cast her eyes down to the book, sniffing as she found her voice.
“What if they don’t want anyone else to have them?” She whispered, watching the book twitch in his hands before they slowly lowered level to her stomach.
She looked back up at him to find his slightly wide eyes flicking all over her face, his lips parting as he propelled his arms to move and place the book on top of the sofa cushions, but they fell closed again as he failed to make anything come out.
“I miss you, Draco,” Hermione whispered the words she had been screaming in her head all evening, and every day since they had broken up, no matter how hard she had tried to silence them.
A breath fell from his lips and he took another small step toward her, lifting a hand to her cheek, his fingers brushing her ear as he combed them into her hair, his other drifting to her waist as he pulled her to him gently.
“I’m right here,” he whispered back, and a sigh fell from her as her hands broke from their clasp and flattened against his sides, feeling a weight lift as she felt the curve of his hips through his shirt, “and I always will be.” He finished as he dipped his head to hers, and she closed her eyes as a small groan fell from her lips.
He kissed her then, and her hand flew to his cheek, thumb anchoring over his cheekbone as she drew his face even closer, their chins crashing together.
She slid her hand to the back of his head as they took a breath and he turned to press her back against the sofa, fusing their bodies as he kissed her again before breaking apart suddenly, the tips of their noses still flattened against the other.
“What about-”
“I don’t care.” She breathed, kissing him again.
“They won’t have changed-”
“I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care,” she rushed, placing a kiss on his nose and each of his cheeks.
“You don’t care?” He echoed, a wide smile stretching across his face as she kissed both of his eyelids and along the arch of his right eyebrow.
“I don’t care.” Her breath fluttered his eyelashes as she kissed along the other arch, and Draco grazed his hands down the curves of her body to grasp at the underside of her thighs where she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Draco lifted her to sit on the cushions next to the book, where Hermione stopped, panting against his lips as her shoes clattered to the floor and she pressed her heels into the back of his legs.
“I can’t believe you said Tolkien was terrible-” she started to tease, but he shushed her with his lips as he devoured her.
Draco pulled his head away and opened his mouth to retort but he promptly shut it again, stepping out of her legs embrace and lifting her foot with delicate fingers to inspect her cut.
“And I can’t believe you haven’t healed this yet. It could get infected, Granger!” He chastised her, but a bewildered smile rose on her face as he disappeared into his bathroom like lightning.
He reappeared in seconds with what she assumed was a vial of essence of dittany, but she didn’t question it as she trusted his knowledge of healing potions.
Hermione put a hand on his shoulder for balance as he guided her foot to rest on her other knee, and she watched him rub the potion into her cut gently before placing a long kiss on his temple, earning a small hum.
He stepped back and lifted her foot again, crouching slightly to check it.
“There. If I ever see that flobberworm of a man again, I swear, I’ll-”
Hermione waved her foot out of his grip to lightly nudge his nose with her big toe, making him stop with a grunt.
“Disgusting. I’ve changed my mind, Granger, get out.” He said, a grin rising on his lips as he pointed to the door, before he tackled her, rolling them over the edge and pinning her into the plush cushions of the sofa, kissing her through her laughs.