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Draco heard the door click as soft light from the hallway entered his room before darkness enveloped him. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know who it was.
He felt a cold rush of air as the covers were pulled back and the small dip in the bed as she carefully crawled in before covering them both once again. Still, he didn’t dare move. Not after what happened today.
Truthfully, Draco didn’t know what to think after watching his wife, the love of his life, stab his body double in the back three times when she believed it to be him just hours earlier today. He knew she had very good reasons for attempting his murder, but it didn’t make the sight any less uncomfortable for him to witness.
A stronger man might’ve cast wards on their door to not let the woman who was trying to kill him into his room so easily, but he was defenseless when it came to her. He didn’t want her to stay away, even if the only way she’d come close to him was when she was trying to hurt him. Besides, he suspected his girl needed him tonight just as much as he needed her.
“This means nothing,” Hermione whispered into the dark, already knowing he was awake.
“Of course,” he replied, still not moving, worried he might spook her.
“So don’t read into it,” she commanded. He loved when she was bossy.
“Never, my queen.”
They were both silent for a time; the only sound in the room was their breathing, which was not slow enough yet for either to believe the other was asleep.
Suddenly, Hermione waved her hand, opening his drapes and allowing the moonlight to filter into his chambers. She turned on her side, crossing her arms in front of her, and he mimicked her movements. “I’m still planning on killing you.” She said it like it was some monumental confession, like he didn’t already know, though he supposed he’d never been confronted with her plan quite like he was today.
He hummed, entranced by the way the moonlight's subtle glow accentuated the freckles on her cheeks, the small scar next to her right eye, the wildness of her curls that were no longer held back by the weight of the crown. “Then why not do it in my sleep?”
“It’s undignified.”
She said it so poshly that Draco couldn’t stop a snort from escaping. Hermione’s eye narrowed, her lip pushed out in a pout, and he wanted to kiss her then. He wanted to kiss her all the time, but he knew that wouldn’t help her now. She needed to talk.
“Unlike stabbing me in the back, which is absolutely dignified,” he teased, moving just a tiny bit closer to her under the pretense of stretching his arms. She watched as his arms flexed and straightened, desire washing over her face before it was quickly snuffed out.
Hermione badly feigned indifference while examining her cuticles, a gesture she learned from him.
“You would’ve had a chance to sense my attack because you always know when I enter the room due to the bond,” she reasoned, still not looking up. “But I could easily slit your throat in your sleep without you ever knowing, since you so stupidly let me into your chambers whenever I wish.”
“Ahhh, makes sense. Too bad it wasn’t me,” he murmured, inching his hand closer to hers on the bed between them until his thumb grazed her palm. She didn’t pull away.
She shuffled then, still keeping her hand next to his, not looking at him as she meekly asked, “Who was it?”
Draco knew this was going to come up. It was likely one of the things that had brought her to his bed this evening. She wanted to hear that it was okay, that she wouldn’t be haunted by her mistake for the rest of her life. His perfect girl was not a ruthless killer, not like him. She needed justification, a strong reason. He would give it to her, even if it was partially a lie. Even if the person she killed was a good man, a good friend, that was just as trapped as Draco and forced to do the wrong things. Perhaps it was better this way, he reasoned. At least Adrian was free now.
But Hermione didn’t need to know those details. His death was going to haunt her enough, and there was simply no way to avoid that one. This one wouldn’t; Draco would make sure of it. He would mourn Adrian alone. “Another Death Eater polyjuiced as me. I guess they’re getting tired of waiting for me to make my move and wanted to try to speed things up, but I think they’ll run away chasing their tails for some time after today.” He said it matter-of-factly, his mask of indifference perfected long ago. He wondered if she’d perfect hers before his passing, though he supposed it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be around to see anyway.
Hermione grabbed his hand then, squeezing it once, then held it tightly as if it were her lifeline. He knew he’d made the right decision when he heard her take several deep breaths, her body relaxing slightly, and she returned her eyes to his.
They stayed that way for a while, him softly stroking his thumb up and down her hand, her breaths synchronizing with his own like they were one, their eyes never leaving each other as he watched so many emotions ebb and flow across her face.
“I haven’t forgiven you for what you’ve put me through, for the things you’ve made me do. I still loathe you.” He was proud of her. Her acting had improved since they’d first met, but not enough to convince him of the lie.
Draco couldn’t help it. He knew it would hurt her. It would hurt them both, but he had to say it. He needed her to hear it again, to know it was still true, even after today. “And I’m still madly in love with you.”
Hermione took in a shaky breath, and a small, sinister part of his mind was happy that she was still so affected by his confession. It gave him hope that she felt the same. He didn’t think she meant to, but she moved closer to him, and he took the opportunity to place his hand on her waist.
“It’s not simple, you see,” she said, her voice unusually high, taking on the diplomatic tone he’d heard whenever foreign dignitaries were in her court, “because I can’t just think about myself. I have to think about my people, my country. It’s not just me you betrayed. It’s not solely up to me.”
There was no room for negotiation in her tone. Her voice was firm. It didn’t shake, even though her hand trembled in his.
“And if it were?”
She wasn’t expecting that question. She thought he would push back more, but they were running out of time. There was no point in bartering with his executioner, even one as benevolent as her, not when he’d already given her everything he had.
“If it were what?” Hermione dazedly asked.
“Simple. Solely up to you.”
“I…” She stopped, her confession halting on her tongue as she shook her head.
Draco tucked a curl that had fallen onto her damp cheek behind her ear, letting his hand linger.
“Would you love me then? Would that be enough?” he asked again. It was a cruel hypothetical to propose when they both knew it could never be true, but he never claimed to be a kind man.
Her breaths turned ragged then. Draco could see her trying to hold her tears back, but she couldn’t stop one from escaping as she let out a small sob.
“Please don’t make me say it,” she begged. He brushed away the tear, letting the silence sit between them. No, Draco was not a kind man.
Finally, she quietly admitted, “I can’t say it and do what I need to do as queen. I can’t be your lover tonight and your killer tomorrow.”
It was good enough.
“Then tell me something else,” he acquiesced. “Something you can say. Something true.”
Hermione placed her small hand on his chest, right over his heart. The wedding ring he’d given her was still securely on her ring finger, gleaming brilliantly in the moonlight. After a moment, she whispered, “If it were simple, I think I could forgive you.”
He took a sharp breath in. That was big. More than she’d ever offered him before. Today must’ve rattled her more than he thought. “After everything? Are you sure, love? I would understand if you couldn’t.” Draco brushed his thumb across her cheek again, catching the new tears that were now falling more quickly.
“You make me happier than I’ve ever been. You see me in a way no one else does.” Her confession came out between sobs, despair written across her face, but his heart soared anyway. He didn’t need a love that was easy or gentle or kind if it meant that she wasn’t his.
“You’re my sun and my moon, darling. My world would be in darkness without you in it.” Her tears streaked harder down her face and he stopped trying to wipe away her tears. It was no use. Instead, he tangled his fingers in her curls, his hand shaking. He couldn’t stop now. She’d cracked him open. “And like the sun, I only wish I could stare at you for just a little longer before I’m burned, but if my burning is what it takes to watch you shine, then I’d gladly turn to dust for one more moment of your affection.”
Hermione clung to his arm, simultaneously pulling him closer and pushing him away, suspending them somewhere in the middle.
“That’s your biggest sin, though. Loving me is the worst thing you’ve done by far, because how can you love me so perfectly and still put me in this position? It’s so selfish!”
His hand tightened in her hair. “I’m a selfish man, Hermione. You know that.”
“But I’m going to break,” Hermione’s voice wobbled, and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. He’d never seen her like this. So vulnerable. So exposed. “Killing you will break me; it’s already breaking me, splitting me open and leaving me in pieces. One way or another, you’re going to destroy me.”
This wouldn’t do. She needed to be strong. She needed to fight. “No, Hermione. Look at me.” His thumb brushed her cheek once, waiting for her to heed his command. Finally, she opened her eyes again. “You are not going to break. I’m not going to destroy you. You’re the queen, and queens don’t bend. They master. They conquer. They triumph.”
He paused, making sure she was still listening, that his words were resonating with her.
“You’ve won my heart, and I’ll have you know I’m not an easy man to win. I fought hard against it. Some might say I even fought valiantly due to the whole magical vow forcing me to try to dethrone you, inherit your kingdom, deplete it of all natural resources, and do whatever else that no-nosed megalomaniac wants. But in the end, you prevailed, my love. I’m yours, body and soul, or at least as much as I can give to you. You’ll succeed again.”
“But what if I don’t want to?” Hermione sniffled, her voice cracking.
Draco thought again about the events of today – about the moment right after she stabbed Adrian, when she thought it was him that had died. She’d wept over his body, crying harder than he even thought possible while holding the man she believed was Draco to her.
He’d never believed in a higher power, but in that moment, he knew she was the closest he’d ever get to divinity, and he vowed to worship him for as long as he could.
“You must.”
She started crying even harder, which wouldn’t do. She needed to rest. So, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him. She tucked her damp face into his chest while he rested his chin on top of her head. Their legs entwined, and he rubbed small circles into her skin as he felt her shake in his hold.
“Shhh. It’s going to be okay,” he soothed, waiting for her shaking to ease. “Go to sleep, love. You have a big day of scheming ahead of you, and I don’t plan on making it easy for you to kill me. I rather like being a thorn in your side.” He felt her sob a few more times as she wrapped an arm around him and pushed even closer, but eventually her breathing slowed.
Draco chanced a look down, moving slowly so he didn’t disturb her, and saw she had finally fallen asleep. He gently kissed the crown of her head before closing his own eyes. After all, he had a big day tomorrow, too. His wife was going to try to kill him again, and, clever witch that she was, he needed to stay two steps ahead so he could have just a bit more time with her.
Just a few more days would be okay, he thought. Then, he’d let her take his life to save her nation. His queen deserved to be revered. She didn’t care about such things, but he did, and he knew they couldn’t delay much longer or her reputation would be ruined and her enemies could use any unrest against her.
There was no use worrying about it now, Draco thought, not with his witch in his arms. Maybe he could convince her to try her assassination attempts by the lake tomorrow. She’d been so cooped up lately with all of her research and plotting. A little sun would do her some good.
With that plan in mind, Draco’s breathing evened out as he drifted off to sleep, hoping Hermione would still be in his bed when he awoke.