Work Text:
As she skittered across the cobbled path winding gently through Malfoy’s back garden, Hermione shivered and wished she’d brought a wrap. When she’d arrived for Draco’s annual fund raising gala it had been a balmy summer evening. Now, hours later, the temperature had dropped sharply and the filmy material of her light golden summer gown was providing very little protection against the elements.
Stepping beyond the reach of the light spilling from the party inside, she paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the paler glow of the full moon above, and scanned the garden before her, her gaze seeking a familiar figure. After a moment, she found him leaning against one of the long thin poles of the gazebo nestled at the bottom of the gentle slope between mansion and lake. Suddenly he moved restlessly, wandering further under the gazebo’s covering and disappearing from view.
Eager to catch up to him before he disappeared altogether, Hermione lifted her skirts and made her way quickly, but cautiously down the gently descending path. The annual Malfoy fundraiser was always an elegant affair, made more so by the host himself, but it was also an important event for a serious cause. Every year, the proceeds raised by the dinner were donated to a worthy cause. In the beginning the money was mostly used for war related causes; housing orphans, repairing damage – to property and people – but now, ten years later the scope had widened so that any worthy cause was eligible. And all because of one man. He had never spoken of his reasons for hosting the galas, not even to Harry to whom he had made the proposal. All Harry had ever told her was that Malfoy had appeared on his doorstep one evening and offered to host the charity event he somehow knew they were trying to arrange. Though it was not common knowledge, Malfoy funded the entire event from his personal account, allowing the entirety of the donations to reach their intended recipients.
When she was halfway down the hill she began to feel the first drops of summer rain on her unprotected shoulders. Cursing under her breath, she wrapped her arms around her chest and began to run, high heels clattering on the smooth stones beneath her feet. Three feet from the gazebo she felt the heavens open. Rain poured down, bouncing off the cobbles and slapping mercilessly against her exposed skin. Nothing for it, she thought, tilting her head down to protect her face as she pelted towards the shelter of the gazebo. It wouldn’t exactly be the casual, non-threatening entrance she’d been hoping to make, but at least she would be dry. Ish. Two feet, she counted, focusing on the increasingly slippery path as she approached the shelter ahead. One and a half. How could it take so long to travel such a short distance? One foot. She was looking up to check that she wasn’t about to barrel into the gazebo when she felt her grip falter. Suddenly her feet were skidding on the dangerously smooth surface of curved stones worn by generations of Malfoy feet, and she felt her body tip forward as her feet slid back. Flinging her arms out to take the worst of the fall, she braced herself for an abrupt encounter with the ground. And then, suddenly, she felt her forward motion halted. Eyes closed, she wondered what had happened. Hands, she could feel hands, fingers curled around her elbows, supporting her, protecting her from falling. When she realised who the hands, and the fingers, must belong to – could only belong to – she felt a flush travel the length of her body.
Tilting her head up, she opened her eyes to find Draco Abraxas Malfoy regarding her with a strange expression on his face. She might have called it wistful, but it was gone before she could be sure, replaced with his trademark smirk. ‘Well, Granger,’ he drawled, his soft voice soothing and jangling her nerves simultaneously, ‘I certainly hope there’s no sneaking involved in your work; stealth is not your forte.’
‘Perhaps I should take lessons from you,’ she snapped, embarrassment making her snippy. He said nothing, but she saw something remarkably like hurt flash in his eyes before he released her abruptly, straightening from the uncomfortable crouch he’d adopted to catch her from behind the rail of the raised gazebo. Biting her lip, Hermione quickly made her way up the short flight of steps to the gazebo. Stepping inside, she pushed her sodden curls back from her face and nervously wiped rain drops from the ends of her lashes. ‘Um,’ she cleared her throat, ‘I’m...sorry. About what I said, it was uncalled for.’ Looking over, she caught a flicker of movement from one of his almost invisible eyebrows before he shrugged.
‘Perhaps you should,’ he suggested archly. ‘I could see you coming from about halfway down that hill.’
Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not like there’s anything to hide behind,’ she retorted.
Malfoy smirked. ‘Amateur. Truly great sneakers don’t need to hide behind things.’
‘Go on, then,’ she demanded, hands on hips as she watched him steadily.
‘As the lady wishes,’ he murmured, bowing low, one hand curved behind his back. Suddenly, as if between one breath and another, he was gone.
‘What-?’ Hermione cried. ‘How did you do that?’
‘Magic,’ he whispered over her shoulder. Spinning round, she found herself face to face with one of the poles supporting the gazebo roof.
‘Be serious, Malfoy,’ she demanded. ‘You obviously don’t have an invisibility cloak-’
‘Sure about that?’ a voice called from her left. Twisting her body about, she let out an exasperated breath as she was presented once more with a Malfoy-free vista.
‘Yes,’ she snapped waspishly. ‘I am, and even the most accomplished magicians can’t Disillusion themselves that quickly. So, how are you doing it?’
‘I told you,’ he whispered, his voice so close that she could feel his breath stir the hairs on the back of her neck. ‘Magic,’ he murmured, his breath caressing the shell of her ear as he moved round to the side of her. Suppressing a full body shiver, she lunged towards the direction of his voice and felt her body squeezed tightly as her vision went dark. Before she could panic her vision cleared and she blinked as she realised she was standing on top of the gazebo bench on the other side of the shelter, Malfoy’s strong arms stopping her from toppling off the narrow bench in shock.
‘Apparition?’ she cried. ‘You were Apparating all this time?’
Malfoy smirked.
‘That’s cheating,’ she muttered sullenly, narrowing her eyes at him.
He laughed aloud at that. ‘Once a Gryffindor...’
‘The same goes for Slytherins,’ she countered, before she realised it might be a sore subject for him. She was evidently right, as the laughter in his eyes faded at her words and she felt his arms tighten convulsively, unconsciously pressing her closer.
‘Do you believe that, Granger?’ he asked quietly. ‘Do you really believe that?’
She stared at him, speechless as he tilted his head down, his eyes blazing with the intensity of his emotions.
‘Or do you believe that people can change? Can be better than the circumstances of their birth?’
Meeting his gaze squarely, she gave him her honest answer. ‘I believe people can change. If,’ she added, ‘they really want to. After all,’ she added, her eyes crinkling slightly in an encouraging smile, ‘you did.’
He smiled at her then, a proper smile that went all the way up to his eyes. Eyes that were so close to hers that she could see the almost-white inner circle around his pupil fading to the darker silver that dominated his iris. As she stared at him with wide brown eyes, she almost imagined she could see him begin to tilt his head closer, before she felt the irrepressible tension across her back that presaged a shiver. As her muscles convulsed against the chill they had received, she felt her teeth start to chatter. Swiftly Malfoy stepped down from the bench, striding across the shelter to scoop up the suit jacket he had discarded. Returning just as quickly, he had lifted her down from the bench and swept his coat across her shoulders before she could register his absence.
‘Better?’ he asked, watching her intently. When she nodded, he winked at her. ‘Good. Can’t have you expiring in my back garden. Potter and Weasley’d have me dumped in my own lake without a wand.’ Turning away, he walked back to the bench where he’d left his jacket, sliding his long, graceful hands into his trouser pockets as he looked out over the lake. ‘Rain’s off,’ he murmured after a moment.
Pulling his jacket closer, Hermione was suddenly enveloped in his scent, and had to resist the urge to breathe deeper. Biting her lip, she pushed the sleeves up until her hands showed and followed him to the railing, wrapping the coat tightly around her small frame. If he heard the soft rustle of material as she joined him, he gave no indication of it, his face tilted towards a sky that was startlingly clear now that the clouds had passed on.
‘The moon is full,’ Hermione commented after a few moments of silence. There was a pause before she heard Draco speak.
‘What a rare night for romancing.’
Startled, Hermione wondered if she’d imagined the ripple of laughter in his tone. Was it possible that Draco Malfoy watched Muggle musicals? Sneaking a glance at him she saw the side of his mouth tip up wryly as he continued to gaze up at the stars. Hugging his coat against her, she looked away and quietly took up another tune from the same film.
‘I’ve no proof,’ she sang, ‘when people say you’re more or less aloof, but you’re sensational.’ Chancing a glance to her left, she saw the surprise and amusement in his eyes before his soft voice flowed out into the night.
‘I don’t care, if you are called “The Fair Miss Frigidaire”,’ Hermione glared playfully at him as he continued, ‘’cause you’re sensational.’ As the next line came to mind, Hermione suddenly wished she’d started a different song. ‘You again,’ Draco commented, nudging her gently.
‘I’ve forgotten the words,’ Hermione whispered, keeping her gaze deliberately averted.
‘Hermione Granger, forgotten something?’ he responded facetiously. ‘I’m shocked!’ Turning away from the dark night, he leant back against one of the poles supporting the gazebo.
‘It has been known to happen,’ she retorted, leaning against the next pole along. Looking up she found him smiling at her and felt a small smile grace her lips in response. Smiling up at those sparkling silver eyes, she was suddenly unable to look away. She knew she should say something, but, though she searched her mind frantically, she could think of nothing to say.
Suddenly, he took a deep breath and moved away, putting his back to her as he strode restlessly around the gazebo. ‘Tell me something, Granger,’ he said, all humour leeched from his tone, ‘what’s the longest you’ve waited to tell someone...how you feel?’
Frowning at the abrupt change of subject, Hermione considered the question. The longest time was...well, she didn’t want to get into that. But, the second longest? ‘Three years,’ she said quietly.
Twisting round, he smirked at her over his shoulder. ‘Weasley?’ he asked slyly. Hermione nodded. ‘What happened with that?’ he asked, turning back to face her again.
Hermione shrugged. ‘We just...ran out of fuel,’ she explained. ‘Drifted apart. We’re still good friends,’ she added quickly.
Malfoy nodded without comment. Hermione tucked one damp curl behind her ear as she watched him resume his anxious pacing. ‘You?’ she asked curiously.
She saw him start to turn towards her, stop himself and turn to face the rails again as he directed his answer to the endless expanse of water beyond. ‘Thirteen years.’
Hermione stared at him, rendered speechless by the implications of his admission. ‘Thirteen?’ she gasped finally. ‘But, that’s...fourth year! You’ve...had feelings for someone since fourth year?’
He gave a slight nod. ‘Since the Yule Ball,’ he clarified, still staring out over the lake. ‘I couldn’t believe it, when I saw her,’ he said, lost in his own recollections. ‘It was like I’d never seen her before. And then, after the ball, I couldn’t stop seeing it. Every time I saw her, every time, it was like she was still in that gown, still in that hall. I couldn’t stop thinking about her.’
‘Then...why?’ Hermione asked. ‘I mean, what woman couldn’t Draco Malfoy get?’
He turned round then, and smiled at her with something akin to pity in his eyes. ‘Hermione Granger,’ he said, suddenly, ‘would you dance with me?’
‘Malfoy,’ she began repressively, ‘don’t avoid the-’
‘One dance,’ Draco interrupted. ‘C’mon Granger. Just one dance, and then I’ll tell you.’
There was no way she could have said no, his low intense tone was impossible to ignore. ‘Okay,’ she said quietly, slipping the jacket off her shoulders and stepping towards him. Reaching out he slid one strong arm around her waist, drawing her towards him as he gently lifted her delicate hand in his long fingers. Gliding around the gazebo under Malfoy’s skilful direction, Hermione became lost in his scent and the feel of his hands gently guiding her body, the feel of his shoulder under her hand and his soft skin against hers where their hands clasped. Until she realised he was humming a familiar song under his breath. Suddenly he began to sing, his voice low and quiet, his lips close to her ear.
‘I love you, Samantha, and my love will never die. Remember, Samantha, I’m a one- gal guy.’
Hermione smiled, moved by the gentle sound of his voice and the sway of the dance.
‘Together, Hermione, we could ride a star and ride it high. Remember, Hermione, I’m a one-gal guy.’
Hermione’s eyes widened as Draco continued to sing.
‘And if, some distant day, you decided to say, “Get along. Go away. Goodbye.”, remember, Hermione, I’m a one-gal guy.’
As his voice trailed off, Draco gently brought them to a halt and pulled back to look down at her, his expression hopeful.
‘Malfoy,’ Hermione said quietly, ‘there’s something I need to tell you. I lied,’ Draco frowned, obviously not expecting this response. ‘Earlier, when I said three years was the longest I had waited?’
‘Yes,’ Malfoy said cautiously.
‘Well, I lied. The longest I’ve ever waited to tell someone how I felt,’ she looked up into his intense confused face as she saw the truth begin to dawn on him, ‘is thirteen years.’
‘Really?’ Draco asked, trying not to look hopeful.
‘Ever since the Yule Ball,’ Hermione confirmed.
Smiling warmly down at her, Draco slid his other arm around her waist, drawing her closer as he tilted his head forward and pressed a loving kiss on her soft full lips. Pressing herself against him, Hermione wound her arms around his neck and returned his kiss wholeheartedly.
And if, some distant day, you decided to say “Get along. Go away. Goodbye.”, remember, Samantha, I’m a one-gal guy.