The Potters did, in fact, invite them over again. The very next Friday, promptly at 6. Hermione looked at him hopefully as she received the missive on Sunday morning. Draco simply took a sip of his tea and nodded. "I said that I would, Hermione. Didn't I?"
"We'd both been drinking—I wasn't sure—"
"Hermione," he said calmy, setting his tea on the countertop of her kitchen before making his way over to her. "I said I'd do this—I want to do this," he said, clasping her shoulders as she stood over the stove.
Hermione snorted, turning her attention back to the eggs she was cooking. "No, you don't."
Draco pressed a kiss to her cheek. "You're right. I don't. But I will."
Crookshanks darted out of the bedroom where he'd been dozing, and in between their legs, seeming to beg for both of their affections simultaneously. "I'm a little jealous," Hermione muttered.
Draco's fingers left her shoulders as he leaned down to rub Crookshanks affectionately between his ears. "Aww, don't be jealous. Crooks is just happy to have another man in the house." The half-Kneazle closed his eyes in pleasure and tipped his head forward, encouraging Draco's ministrations.
Hermione rolled her eyes before spooning some eggs onto a plate. "Breakfast," she announced, placing a plate on the counter where Draco normally sat, and sat herself in the chair next to his.
Draco placed another kiss to her cheek. "Thank you," he murmured as he took his seat.
Hermione blushed.
"Will you ever stop blushing at me?" he asked, smiling as he took a bite of his breakfast.
Hermione's blush heightened and she shrugged. "Probably not. You still make me nervous sometimes."
Draco stilled for a moment. "A good nervous, I hope."
Hermione's hand found his, and she squeezed it. "The best," she murmured. "Do you have plans for today?"
"I was thinking of visiting Astoria," Draco said with a small shrug. "It's been a while since I've seen her, and she doesn't really have a lot of friends here."
"Oh," Hermione said brightly. "Can I come with you? You're making a herculean effort to be friends with my friends. I want to do the same," she murmured. "Even though I like Astoria—so it's not quite the same. And if she doesn't have a lot of friends—"
"You're rambling, Hermione. Of course you can come with me. I'm sure Astoria would love to see you," Draco replied.
They ate the rest of their breakfast in comfortable silence, and Draco cleaned the kitchen while Hermione took a shower.
Their Sundays were always like this—slow and lazy, filled with hastily cooked meals or takeaway; lazy sex on the couch while Muggle movies played in the background, completely ignored; long, hot showers that more often than not were taken together. If she cooked, the understanding was Draco would clean up the mess—they were partners, two halves of a whole. They complemented each other, his coldness and her warmth, his darkness and her light.
I'm sure you're well aware that the greatest potions were not created by a sole wizard—rather, through a partnership.
You're not suggesting—
Never. Absolutely not.
Draco smirked to himself as he put away a plate.
"What are you smirking about?" Hermione asked, coming up from behind, wrapping her arms around his middle and settling her head against his shoulder blade.
Draco chuckled lowly to himself. "Do you remember that first meeting at the shop? When I was horrified at the idea of us being partners?"
Hermione hummed in response. "Ironic, isn't it?" she said tightening her hold on him.
"Hmm, I don't know," Draco said thoughtfully.
"Think it was fate?" Hermione asked, kissing his shoulder.
"Maybe," he replied. "I thought it was merely coincidence at the time—but now," Draco trailed off.
"Coincidence?" she asked.
Draco nodded. "Yes. Jinxy was the one who put the idea of a potion in my head, and then, my mother—her fugue started—and there you were, on the front page of The Prophet. I was so mad at you at the time, because of course you were the answer. That would be my punishment, wouldn't it?"
"Was I?" she asked quietly. "A punishment?"
Draco turned to face her fully, and she stood before him wrapped in a yellow towel, her curls just beginning to dry. "Never," he said, his fingertips grazing her chin. "Not ever."
Hermione smiled at him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Good. Come on, let's go get ready to see Astoria," she urged.
Draco took a hurried shower and chose a jumper and set of trousers from the small selection he had begun to keep at Hermione's flat, his towel still settled low on his hips. Across the room, Hermione was wrestling with her hair in the mirror, a frown settled on her face. Dressing quickly, Draco crossed the room and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Leave it, I like it this way," he murmured.
Her frown deepened. "It's just so big and crazy," she sighed.
Draco kissed the top of her head. "I love it when it's wild; you look beautiful. Astoria might try to take you from me."
Hermione laughed then, pulling once more at an uncooperative curl, attempting to have it lay flat. Upon its release, it sprang right back up. With a sigh, Hermione nodded. "Fine."
Hand in hand, they apparated to The Leaky Cauldron. Draco rapped lightly at Astoria's door, and she opened it after a few moments, looking surprised to see them. "Draco!"
"Hey, Astoria. Are you busy? Hermione and I thought we'd come by for a visit," Draco said, motioning to Hermione.
Astoria smiled widely. "No, come in! Please!" Astoria ushered them inside and into the small sitting area of her room.
"Apologies, Astoria. I know it's been a while since I last saw you—" Draco began.
"You've been busy, clearly," Astoria interrupted, nodding to Draco and Hermione's clasped hands.
Hermione flushed. "I hope you don't mind that I'm here, Astoria. Draco mentioned you didn't have many friends, and I thought I'd tag along with him," she said, halfway to an apology.
Astoria shook her head. "Nonsense, Granger. I'm happy to see you. And you," she said pointedly to Draco. "And the two of you," Astoria mused, a suggestive smile gracing her lips.
"How's Daphne? Your mother?" Draco asked.
Astoria shrugged. "About the same. Daph works herself to the bone, and my mother remains ignorant. Yours?"
"In St. Mungo's now. I've visited her a few times now—she's the same, which is unfortunate. But she seems happier. That's all I can really ask for."
"I'm glad you made him rethink it, Granger," Astoria said, turning to Hermione. "He looks so much better."
Hermione smiled. "He sleeps now," she replied fondly.
Astoria quirked a brow. "Does he now?" she asked suggestively, her eyes flashing to Draco, who merely rolled his eyes. Astoria rose and made her way to the kitchen. She quickly returned with three beers, placing one in front of both Hermione and Draco. Astoria twisted the cap off her own beer before taking a large swallow. "Tell me, Granger, how's the sex?"
"Astoria—" Draco admonished.
"Fantastic," Hermione replied easily.
Astoria's eyes were alight with glee. "I knew it!" she said triumphantly.
"What is it with you and your interest in my sex life?" Draco asked in disbelief as Hermione giggled beside him.
"You haven't had a girlfriend in years, I am merely invested," Astoria sniffed.
"You're perverted," Draco insisted.
Hermione took a large gulp of her own beer, still laughing. "You're one to talk, Draco, remember that thing on the couch the other day?" she asked with a waggle of her eyebrows.
"Oh, good, now they're ganging up on me," he mused, reaching for his beer.
"Ooh, Granger, tell me more," said Astoria.
"I would, but I'm afraid it would embarrass this one," replied Hermione, knocking her shoulder against Draco's. "I didn't realize you were such a prude."
"I am not a prude," Draco insisted.
"Prude," Astoria agreed.
Hermione chuckled before resting her head on Draco's shoulder. "So what's new with you, Astoria?"
Astoria shrugged, taking another sip of beer. "Nothing much to report. I mostly divide my time between here and The Estate, helping Daph with Mother. Other than that…" she trailed off with another shrug.
Hermione frowned. "That sounds lonely. We'll have to stop by more often. I'm afraid I've been holding him hostage."
Astoria waved Hermione off. "Please. I'm rather used to it. And it's good to see him with a smile on his face."
"I'm right here."
"What? I was saying nice things!" Astoria argued.
"Yes, it rather is, isn't it?" Hermione agreed fondly.
"What are you two doing on Friday? We could get some takeaway and get smashed," Astoria suggested excitedly.
Hermione froze next to Draco and immediately looked to him. "Sorry, Astoria. This Friday is no good. We'll be—" Draco took a deep breath, "having dinner with the Potters."
Astoria was clearly shocked. "The Potters?" she asked.
Draco nodded in affirmation. "Hermione is trying to force us all to be friends."
Astoria scoffed. "How's that going?"
"About as well as can expected. Lots of terse glances, an argument or two over dinner, Harry and Draco drinking sullenly in the parlor," Hermione replied.
"She is dreadfully optimistic," Draco added.
"It will happen," Hermione insisted.
"Or I will perish trying," Draco replied with a nod.
"You two sicken me," Astoria said with a wrinkled nose.
Draco caught a flash of melancholy dart through her eyes for just a moment, and he furrowed his brow, confused.
He did not have much time to think about the look in Astoria's eyes, though, as Vizzy came hurtling through the window, rolling onto the coffee table. "Clumsy little thing," Astoria said affectionately as she untied the letter from her owl's leg. As she read, Astoria visibly paled "I'm sorry, I have to go," she said.
Hermione sat straight up in attention. "Is everything all right, Astoria?"
Astoria nodded, flashing a weak smile at the pair. "Yes, quite." Her manners were back—prim and proper Astoria, the one who flitted through society galas. "I apologize for being so terribly rude, but I must ask you two to leave."
Draco stood, pulling Hermione with him. "Astoria—" he began, his brow furrowed, confused at the sudden change in his friend.
"I assure you everything is all right," she said more firmly, ushering them towards the door of her room. "But I must take my leave."
The door was slammed swiftly behind them, and Draco and Hermione stood awkwardly in the hallway of the inn. "That was…odd," Hermione began.
Draco nodded, his head spinning. "Something's wrong."
"Should we stay?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No, whatever she has to do—it isn't here. Let's go home, we can check in on her later."
Hermione relented, but she was clearly lost in her own thoughts. Draco grabbed her hand and apparated her back to her flat. Arriving there, Hermione turned to him and quietly asked, "Home?"
Draco stilled. Home. He had referred to Hermione's flat as home. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"
She wrapped her arms around his neck, Astoria all but forgotten for the time being. "No, it's okay."
"I didn't—I'm not—" he stuttered.
She raised herself up on her tip toes, kissing him softly, hushing him. "This is your home," she insisted. "With me. Even if you don't live here."
Yet.
It was unspoken, but Draco heard it all the same.
Yet.
I love you
The thought darted through his mind quickly, and he stilled. Love. He considered it for a moment. He'd never been in love before, not really. At the time, he thought he'd been in love with Pansy, but when he looked back, upon the remnants of their relationship, he'd realized with absolute certainty that whatever they had shared hadn't been love. Affection and lust, certainly—but not love. Love, maybe, in the way two people clung to each other; desperate, hungry, and hoping, when there was no one else, and no other hope—not love, but dependency—
It was different with Hermione. He did what made her happy without question, in defiance of his own feelings. He would step in front of a wand for her—and in fact, he had. She challenged him, made him better, made him stronger. As far as he'd go to protect her, he knew she would go the same lengths in order to protect him, fierce and brave as she was. He relished in her affections—a look, a touch, a gasp—just the simple touch of her fingertips to his jaw and he was lost to her—
Love
Her, her, her. Everything was about her. She was his and he was hers—they belonged to each other. They were partners. Draco could tell her about the worst things he'd ever done, and she would only pull him closer, comforting him, telling him that it was okay, that he wasn't tarnished, that he wasn't poison. In turn, Hermione could tell him about her despair, her loneliness, her lack of family, and Draco would dutifully listen, holding her tightly in the dark, knowing that what he could give her would never be enough—
Yes, this was love, it had to be. But it was too soon, much too soon. He couldn't tell her—He couldn't, not yet—
"Draco," Hermione said softly, her fingers ghosting over his jaw. "Come back."
Draco blinked quickly and saw Hermione, staring up at him with concern. "You disappeared."
He pulled her close. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking."
"About what?"
I love you
"Astoria," he said instead. "I'm just worried about her."
Hermione nodded. "I know. Me, too. I'm sure she'll be all right," she said.
"Yes," Draco agreed. "I'm sure."
Friday night came once again, and Draco found himself significantly less nervous than last Friday. Ginny liked him, Hermione had assured him again and again, and Draco remembered the sullen truce that had stretched between him and Potter the last time. Hermione would be by his side, and no one was going to hex him over the dinner table. It would be tense and awkward, he was sure. But he could handle that.
When he met Hermione, she was dressed casually in Muggle denims and a long-sleeved floral blouse. Her curls were big and wild, shining with some unknown product. Her eyelids had been darkened with powder, and her eyes seemed bigger and brighter as they met his. She seemed to bound into his arms, jumping up as she wrapped her arms around him. He caught her and pulled up into his arms, holding her close. "I've missed you," she murmured.
It had been a long week for Hermione. Elixir was doing well, and she had spent most of that week in meeting after endless meeting with suppliers and distributors. At the same time, her customer base was growing, and she had much less free time during her work hours. As such, she'd often bring her work home with her, her research encroaching on the time that they shared with each other.
Draco still stayed most nights, but she often fell into bed beside him late at night, her eyes tense and exhausted. She slept soundly as he held her, and awoke with a groan early in the morning, before she was once more dragging herself away from him. She never asked him to leave, nor did she ever seem surprised to find him in her flat when she arrived home from work, but Draco began to wonder if he was encroaching on her space. So the night before, he told her he'd be staying at the Manor. She hadn't reacted at all, simply nodding at him. He hadn't been sure what to make of it at all, and he had slept poorly.
Fears suddenly pushed aside, Draco laughed and kissed her. "I saw you yesterday," he said softly.
"Too long," she argued. "I've been working too much, I know, I'm sorry." She took his head in her hands and kissed him back soundly.
"No—don't be—silly—want you to succeed," he said, every word interrupted by her kiss.
"I haven't had any time for you," she lamented.
"I'm here now," Draco promised her.
"Will you stay, tonight?" she asked hurriedly, her eyes gleaming.
"Yes, of course," he said with a smile.
Hermione seemed appeased, and she led him over to the fireplace. "Are you ready?" she asked.
"As I'll ever be," Draco replied.
In a flash, they were once more in the fireplace of 12 Grimmauld Place, Hermione dragging him through and into the same parlor as last week. Potter and Ginny seemed to be waiting, both sitting in their respective seats, Potter with a glass of firewhiskey in hand, and Ginny with a glass of wine. "Hermione!" they greeted in unison.
"Hi, guys," she replied, taking a seat on the couch, Draco following dutifully.
"Malfoy," Ginny greeted with a small smile.
Potter merely nodded at him.
"Wine, Hermione? And firewhiskey for Malfoy?" Ginny asked.
Hermione nodded eagerly. "Please," she confirmed, taking Draco's hand and squeezing it lightly.
"How's your week been, Harry?" Hermione asked.
Potter sighed, taking a gulp of his firewhiskey. "Long," he replied with a sigh.
"Same," Hermione said. "Exhausted?" she asked.
"Yes," Potter confirmed.
They seemed to communicate without words, and Draco felt the familiar surge of jealousy well up inside of him.
Ginny returned with their drinks, and Draco thanked her before taking a large gulp.
"So what's been going on, Hermione?" Ginny asked.
Hermione sighed. "A lot. Everything. I've had so many meetings this week, I can't even tell you the precise number. I have a lot more customers now, so I've absolutely no free time at work to do my research. Essentially, I spend every second of every day working. I'm exhausted."
"But the business is doing well?" Ginny asked.
Hermione smiled. "Better than I could have ever imagined in the first year."
"What does Malfoy think about it?"
Draco looked sharply to Ginny, surprised his thoughts were even considered. He thought briefly for a minute. "I think it's fantastic. I've seen her with customers, and she's wonderful—I seem to have been the exception to that rule, though," he said jokingly, looking over to Hermione. "She's brilliant and works much too hard. Of course she's successful."
Potter eyed him intently.
"I'm surprised," Ginny admitted. "I didn't think you were the sort to encourage female employment."
Draco stilled. "I assure you, I am full of surprises," he said quietly.
"I'm beginning to find this out, Malfoy," Ginny replied with a faint smile.
Draco felt his lip quirk.
"How's your mother?" Potter asked, seemingly out of nowhere.
"She's doing well," Draco said politely, not understanding the other man's motives.
Potter nodded and took a thoughtful sip of firewhiskey. "She saved my life, you know."
"I know," Draco said quietly.
"Harry—" Hermione warned.
"Would she remember me?" Potter hurriedly asked.
Suddenly, Draco understood. "No. Not in the way you'd want her to."
"I never got to thank her," Potter mused.
Draco looked to Hermione, unsure of what to say. She looked just as bewildered as he felt.
"If she ever does," Potter spoke again, looking directly to Draco. "Will you tell her I thank her?"
Draco nodded dumbly. "Yeah, I'll tell her, Potter."
The room remained silent for a long time. Ginny and Hermione both staring at Potter, and Draco staring at the floor. It was Ginny who spoke first, clearing her throat loudly. "Hungry?" she asked the whole room. "Shepherd's pie?" she offered when no one answered at first.
Draco also cleared his throat. "Sounds delicious, Ginny."
Ginny's gaze shot to him quickly, before she tilted her head at him in thanks. "Follow me, then," she said, rising.
Draco also rose, taking Hermione's hand. "Come on, Harry," she called softly.
Potter's eyes shot to where Draco had intertwined Hermione's fingers with his and nodded briefly before standing and following them.
Dinner was tense—even tenser than their previous dinner. Hermione seemed confused, glancing at Potter every few seconds. Draco didn't know the other man well, but he seemed pensive, and mildly irritated as he picked at his food and sipped at his firewhiskey.
Draco tried his best to be polite, complimenting Ginny on her shepherd's pie. Ginny smiled blandly back at him.
"Have you two even talked about the War?" Potter asked suddenly.
Ginny blanched. "Harry—" she began.
"No, I'm serious. You were on opposite sides—one side wanting you dead, 'Mione—his side. Have you two even sat down and discussed it? Even thought about it?" Potter continued.
Hermione dropped her fork with a clatter. "We have discussed it, Harry."
"Really?" he asked, bewildered. "The bullying? The name-calling? You've talked about it?"
"Yes," Hermione said forcefully. "We have talked about it."
"Does he know?" Potter looking at Hermione. "Does he know what you gave up?"
In an instant, Draco knew what Potter was talking about. "Hey —" he shouted. "Don't, Potter, don't. I know what she gave up."
Potter considered him for a long moment before he nodded his head. "All right," he said simply, turning his full attention to his dinner.
It was later on, in the parlor where Potter turned to him. "I've never seen her look so happy before—and she deserves it, more than any of us," he began.
Draco nodded, his eyes shifting to the doorway leading to the other room, listening for Hermione's voice.
"I just needed to know that you two have really—and I mean really—thought about this. Because if you hadn't, and she couldn't handle it—it would hurt her, really hurt her. And that is my sister, Malfoy."
"We've talked about it, Potter. Not everything. But we aren't pretending it doesn't exist," Draco confirmed.
Potter nodded in thought. Another swig of firewhiskey. "I like seeing her happy, but I can't figure out how it's you. I always thought she and Ron would end up together—but she was so unhappy with him, and I didn't even realize it until tonight."
"Potter, are you drunk?" Draco asked.
He laughed bitterly. "I suppose I am."
Draco sighed deeply, gulping the rest of his own firewhiskey. Potter immediately handed him the bottle of firewhiskey, and Draco poured himself a generous portion, tipping it back with a grimace. "Didn't you ever see the way he treated her?" Draco asked.
Potter looked up at him with interest. "How do you mean?"
"He never fucking listened to her, and he certainly didn't understand her," Draco continued.
"And you do?" Potter asked doubtfully.
"Yes," Draco replied simply.
Potter sighed once more. "I can't wrap my head around it," he muttered.
"Look, Potter, it's not my responsibility to prove my relationship to you. You can either accept it or not, that's up to you. And I think things will be easier for both of us if you accept it," Draco replied.
"You care about her? You really care about her?" Potter pressed.
"I would do anything for her," Draco answered sincerely.
"Fuck," Potter swore. "Fine."
"Fine?" Draco asked.
"Yes, fine. I will—accept—this," Potter said, gesticulating wildly. "And we'll be best friends, I'm sure."
Draco chuckled into his glass. "She would be so thrilled. She has this idea that we're all going to be the best of friends."
Potter laughed back. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
"Isn't it, though? You know how she thinks, though."
Hearing laughter, Hermione and Ginny poked their heads into the room. "What is going on in here?" Ginny asked cautiously.
Draco could tell instantly that Hermione was intoxicated. She immediately headed for him and perched herself on his lap. She kissed him, and he could taste red wine on her lips. Instantly, he wrapped his arms around her. "Yes," she said, "what are you two laughing about?"
"I was just telling Potter how you expect us to be the best of friends," Draco replied, pulling her into his chest.
Hermione giggled. "I see a friendship blossoming before my eyes!"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Ginny, must you get my girlfriend drunk?" he asked as Ginny took her own place on Potter's lap.
Ginny shrugged. "She's very high-strung, you know. All she does is fret about you until I start plying her with alcohol."
Draco's eyes shot to Hermione's, and she refused to look him in the eye. Draco frowned.
Every minute you're not with me
Ginny missed the moment, but Potter was watching them intensely. Draco saw Potter's lips quirk upwards just a fraction of an inch.
"So, this isn't as disastrous as last time, now, is it?" Ginny said.
"Much better," Hermione agreed with a vigorous nod of her head.
Draco chuckled, pushing a wild curl behind her ear. "I'd watch yourself, Weaslette. She has a tendency towards violence when she's intoxicated."
"Ah, there it is, 'Weaslette.' I've been waiting for that, Ferret."
"Take it back!" cried Hermione.
Ginny furrowed her brow and looked at Hermione oddly.
"It's a joke, Weaslette," Draco offered.
"Yes," Hermione confirmed, smiling affectionately down at Draco.
"See?" Ginny said quietly, looking over at her husband.
Draco watched as Potter nodded curtly. "Yes," he agreed.
I adore you
I love you
Hermione settled into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head against his shoulder, her feet stretching across the arm of his chair. "Are you falling asleep?" he asked her softly.
"Mmm," she murmured.
Draco chuckled. "All right, time to go home then. Weaslette, Potter," he started. "Thank you for dinner. The shepherd's pie was delightful."
"Here, let me—" Ginny began, reaching for Hermione.
Draco shook his head. "I've got her," he assured. Slowly, he rose, one arm supporting Hermione's back, the other holding up her knees. He carried her into the other room, and with a bit of difficulty, managed to grab some Floo powder.
The Floo journey disturbed Hermione a bit, and she looked up at him with wide eyes, as he carried her through her fireplace. "I fell asleep?" she grumbled.
"You did," Draco confirmed with a chuckle.
"Hmm," she muttered, nuzzling into his neck even further. "You always smell so good."
"Oh, you are drunk," he replied, carrying her into the bedroom.
"And so handsome," she continued.
Draco tried to deposit her on the bed, but she refused to let go of him. "Hermione," he said softly.
"You'll stay?" she asked quietly.
"I'm not going anywhere, Hermione," Draco promised.
"You didn't stay last night," she said in a small voice.
"Well, I'm staying tonight." Hermione relinquished her grip on him and curled up on the bed, watching him. Draco stripped down to his boxers quickly, slipping into the bed with her. "See, I'm here," he murmured.
"Why didn't you stay last night?" Hermione whispered.
Draco sighed, pulling her into him. "I wanted to give you some space," he replied.
"I don't want space," Hermione insisted. "If I want space, I'll tell you."
Draco kissed her neck. "Okay," he said simply.
Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she pressed herself against him, curling herself into him. Draco slipped a hand beneath her jumper, touching the bare skin of her stomach. Hermione fell asleep almost instantly. Draco watched her breathing for a few moments before he allowed his own eyes to close. I love you, he thought to himself.
I love you