Hermione rose early the next morning, dressing quietly and in the dark in a clear attempt not to wake him. Draco, however, was awake the moment he felt her leave his arms. Propping himself up on his elbows, he watched her silhouette as she flitted about the room, pulling on a pair of socks even as her toothbrush hung from her mouth. Draco couldn't help but chuckle at her. Her eyes snapped up at the sound, and she removed the toothbrush so she could speak. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Did I wake you?"
Draco shook his head. "No. Come here," he replied, motioning for her.
She hurried to him, dropping swiftly onto the bed. "I'm running a little bit behind," she admitted.
"It's okay," Draco said, leaning up to kiss her on the lips. "I just wanted to say good morning."
"Good morning," Hermione replied, smiling against his lips. "But I've really got to go."
"Okay. I'll see you at 10?" he confirmed.
Hermione nodded. "Don't be late. My other employees have started to notice that I happen to give you preferential treatment."
"Your other employees, huh?" he asked with a grin.
"Mmm," she agreed, pecking another kiss to his lips. "Love you," she said softly, pressing a comforting palm to his cheek.
"Love you, too," Draco replied, lying back down in bed and pulling Hermione's pillow into his face, hoping for a few more moments of sleep. He was able to doze for a bit, but he inevitably had to rise and get himself ready for work. He dressed quickly, eager to see Hermione again, and to hear about his mother's condition—he half-hoped that maybe Hermione would greet him with a smile and tell him that everything was okay—that everything was back to normal. But it was only a half-hope. Gulping, Draco's eyes shot to the kitchen, and to the cupboard where his bottle of firewhiskey was hidden. Draco shook his head at himself. No, he told himself. He had promised Hermione.
5 minutes before 10, Draco used the fireplace to Floo to Elixir, where Hermione was already waiting for him, perched on the purple couch with a book open in her lap. "Hey," he greeted as he stepped through the Floo, heading immediately to the couch. "How was it?"
Hermione looked up from her book, her expression closed and unreadable. "Hmm? Oh, hi," she greeted absently.
"How was it?" Draco repeated.
"It was fine," she finally replied tightly.
Draco sighed, sitting down next to her on the couch. "The same, then?" he guessed.
"Yeah," Hermione said quietly. "I'm sorry."
Draco swallowed. "She's okay, though?" he asked stiffly.
"She's okay," Hermione replied.
"Well, then," he said awkwardly.
"I've decided I'm going to visit her every day until I go to Australia," Hermione stated calmly.
"Why?" Draco asked.
Hermione shrugged, marking a page in her book before closing it and setting it on the coffee table. "I don't know," she admitted. "Partly because I want to, partly because I feel like I have to."
"Hermione—"
"No, Draco. Don't try and talk me out if it," Hermione interrupted with a small shake of her head. "We have to open up in a minute."
Draco nodded, taking one of her hands in his, squeezing gratefully. "The shop is a worry-free zone, then?" he asked.
Hermione chuckled and seemed to think for a moment. "No," she eventually concluded. "The shop is very much a worry zone—but only about shop things."
Draco nodded, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Sounds good," he replied. "Should we open?"
"Yes," Hermione said determinedly, rising from the couch and unlocking the door with a muttered spell.
Draco always enjoyed his mornings with Hermione at the shop. It was usually the quietest then, and Hermione would sit and research, or tinker with potion formulas, or count out all the gold in the Muggle register, groaning about how she really did need to make a deposit. Draco was content to watch her, as always. He'd bring her tea when her eyes began to glaze, pausing on the page, or rub her shoulders when she became particularly frustrated with a certain potion recipe. While Hermione officially called him her assistant, Draco very much felt like his job was making sure Hermione didn't overexert herself.
See? You take care of me, too
Draco stilled where he sat behind the register, his gaze flickering back to Hermione. She had returned to the purple couch, her legs tucked beneath her and her head hunched over the book in her lap. She was completely engrossed, and Draco was certain that her neck and back were going to ache terribly if she remained in that position.
He rose from his seat at the register and made his way towards Hermione, dropping himself onto his knees in front of her. His hand rose, pushing a bunch of her curls past her shoulders so he could see her fully. Her eyes shot from her book to meet his. "What?" she asked, somewhat irritated.
"You're going to be in a lot of pain later tonight if you stay in this position much longer," Draco replied, taking her chin in his fingertips. "And I don't want to hear you complain," he continued, smirking.
Hermione grimaced, raising her head slightly. "Sorry," she murmured. "I just found this section on unlocking memories."
"Maybe just hold the book directly to your face instead?"
"Ha, you're so funny," she retorted.
"Maybe," he said, taking the book from her fingers, and pressing the pages to her face, "just like this?"
"Draco, stop!" she laughed, pushing his arms away from her. "Okay, okay! Point taken! I'll sit up!"
"Good. Do you want anything? Tea?" he asked.
"Draco, I love you, but you make shit tea," she replied.
"You always drink it," Draco questioned.
"Yes, because I love you," she replied.
"Well, now you've just shattered me, Ms. Granger," he teased.
Hermione kissed him, her palms on either side of his face. "I love you so much that I'll drink your disgusting tea any time you bring it to me," she soothed.
"Well, that does make me feel better," he replied, grinning.
They missed the tinkling of the bell.
"Merlin, do you guys always have to be gross?"
Hermione's eye shot upwards, her hands still holding onto Draco's face. Her fingers tightened minutely. "Hi, Harry," she said quietly.
Draco turned around and was met with the form of Harry Potter, who was staring intently at the ground. "Potter," he greeted.
Potter cleared his throat, not looking in their direction. "I just came to check on you, 'Mione," he offered.
"I'm okay, Harry," she said, rising.
"I wasn't aware he'd be here," Potter continued uncomfortably.
"I work here, Potter," Draco replied.
"Sometimes," Potter responded, his eyebrows raised.
"Harry!" Hermione reprimanded.
Potter appeared to grimace. "Apologies," he offered lamely.
"I should be saying the same to you, Potter," Draco replied awkwardly.
Potter's eyes flickered to his briefly, before he tipped his head slightly towards Draco. Draco nodded back. A clear understanding between men.
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Hermione smile smugly.
"Need any more pain potions for those abominable recruits of yours, Potter?" Draco asked after a moment of silence.
Potter merely rolled his eyes. "I have more than enough. And I'll have you know that they're improving."
"Certainly," Draco replied sarcastically.
"Anyways," Potter continued. "I just wanted to check in with you, 'Mione and see how you were—"
"I'm fine—"
"And I wanted to confirm your Portkey," he interrupted, grinning.
Hermione instantly quieted. "You already arranged it?" she asked, glancing at Draco.
"I did," Potter said proudly. "Not too many options with the time constraints given," he continued, shooting a glare in Draco's directions. "So hopefully Friday at 3 p.m. works for you?"
Hermione worried her bottom lip, clearly in thought. "Harry, that's—that's so soon—so early," she said quietly. "The shop—" she began.
Draco settled himself down on the couch beside her, throwing an arm over her shoulders. "Take a half day—it's a Friday," he encouraged.
Hermione grinned at him, her eyes focused on his lips. "Yeah," she agreed quietly. "I guess I could do that. "When do I return?" she asked, looking towards Potter.
"Sunday night. Well, early Monday morning, really."
Inwardly, Draco grimaced. An entire weekend away from Hermione sounded unbearable. But she had cried against him about how terribly she missed her mum, and Draco wanted to make sure that his witch got what she wanted. So instead, he smiled down at her. "Sounds great, Potter. Thanks for making that possible."
Potter gave him an odd look before turning back to Hermione. "Gin said she'd be happy to come with you, by the way. Thought you two could make a girls' weekend out of it."
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione replied softly.
"Anyways, I better head back to the office," Potter said absently. "I'll see you guys later."
Neither Draco nor Hermione spoke until well after Potter had disappeared from the shop. "Are you okay?" Draco asked, entwining his fingers with hers. "You seem quiet."
"Yeah—yeah," she replied with a small smile that Draco didn't quite believe. "I'm fine." She pressed a kiss to his cheek before she rose and made her way towards the counter, rolling her neck as she walked. The register opened with a ding and Hermione was counting out gold on the counter, muttering to herself how she really needed to make a deposit.
Draco watched her for a few moments with his brows furrowed, confused by her change in demeanor. He was interrupted when the bell announced their first real customer of the day, and Draco was snapped from his thoughts when Hermione called out a cheerful, "Hello! Welcome to Elixir!"
She was strangely quiet the rest of the day, disappearing the moment they got home into the second bedroom to work on her future library. Draco sat on the couch, staring absently at the telly before he began to feel useless and told Hermione he was going to the Manor to gather some more of his and his mother's belongings. He returned hours later, and found Hermione already perched in bed, a book between her fingers. Determinedly, he pulled the book from her fingers and laid it on her nightstand before climbing onto the bed, hovering his body over her. She met his eye for only the briefest instant before she tangled her fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth down for a searing kiss.
And Draco could never resist her.
Even afterwards, as they tangled together in bed and Draco played with her fingertips, Hermione remained oddly quiet. Even after a long day together, they always found something to chat about in bed, Hermione's head resting on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her waist. While Draco enjoyed his morning work routine with Hermione, he enjoyed the evening routine far more—this was their time, and their time alone. Tonight, however, she was silent.
"What is going on in that pretty little head of yours?" he finally whispered into the top of her curls as she laid her cheek against his chest, directly over where his heart was. "You've been so quiet all day."
Hermione let out a sigh, her breath tickling his flesh, causing him to shiver. She was silent for a few more moments before she finally spoke: "I was so excited to go see my parents," she began softly. "I can't talk to them—but just seeing them. I was excited. It helps—to see them."
Draco didn't respond, but began to stroke her naked shoulder, encouraging her to continue.
"I shouldn't say was," she continued, shaking her head minutely against his chest. "I am. And I have you to thank for that." Hermione paused, and began to stroke his abdomen lightly with one of her fingertips. "I just—I didn't even think how long I'd be leaving you here by yourself—when your Mother—"
Draco cut her off with a finger to her lips. "Hey," he said softly. "I want you to go see your parents, Hermione."
"I know. But I didn't even realize how many days—I could always cancel, or reschedule—"
"No," Draco replied emphatically.
Hermione looked up at him, and he could see the whites of her eyes even in the darkness of their bedroom. "But—"
"You're going to see your parents, Hermione. This is not an argument we're going to have," Draco interrupted. "You're going to Australia with Weaselette and you will enjoy yourself."
"Okay," she said in small voice, her chin dropping back down to Draco's chest. "Thank you again, Draco. Even if you were an arse about it."
"Say whatever you want, but Malfoy gets things done," Draco replied, squeezing her into him.
In response, Hermione threw her right leg over his left, tangling their ankles together and entwining themselves further. She burrowed her face into his chest and pressed a soft kiss just below a nipple. "That he does," she agreed quietly.
Hermione remained quiet the rest of the week, rising early to see his Mother at St. Mungo's before heading to Elixir, where she would meet Draco with a quick kiss on the lips and then losing herself in yet another book. The shop was busy, especially with the sign hanging from the door that indicated that Elixir would be closing early that Friday, and Draco and Hermione did not have much time to talk during working hours.
She remained quiet through Wednesday evening, and throughout the day on Thursday. But when they Flooed home from Elixir that evening, Hermione immediately pressed him against the wall, her lips seeking his in a bruising kiss, pulling desperately at the hem of his jumper. Startled, Draco didn't immediately kiss her back, his lips still against her own. She paused, then pressed harder, her tongue tracing the seam of his lips. Draco kissed her back, trying to slow her, but she was intent, desperate, and hungry. She groaned against his lips, her hands traveling below his jumper, seeking his naked chest.
"Hermione," he murmured against her against her lips.
"Mmm?" she asked, kissing him again.
"Hermione," Draco said more forcefully, bracing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her away slightly.
Hermione's face crumbled, and she pulled away from him entirely, turning her back and walking away.
Draco frowned, confused at the turn of events—confused by Hermione's disposition the entire week, followed her. "Hermione," he called out softly. "Hermione, wait."
"No," she said, gripping the kitchen counter, her back still to him.
Draco sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder, which she instantly shrugged off. "Hermione," he repeated gently. "What is going on?"
She turned to face him, her hands bracketed on the on either side of her on the counter and her expression wilted. "I'm leaving for Australia tomorrow," she said quietly.
"I know you are," he replied, stroking her cheek, still confused.
"I don't know if I want to go anymore," Hermione admitted weakly, her eyes set on the floor.
Draco cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Is that why you've been so quiet the past few days?" he asked.
She nodded in his palms. "But you want me to go," she said softly.
"Hermione," he said gently, peering into her eyes. "Of course I don't want you to go. Of course I don't. But just the other day you were crying about missing your mum. I asked if you wanted to go to Australia, and you said 'yes.' So I got you a Portkey."
"I know."
"So tell me what the problem is."
"I don't want to leave you," she admitted.
Draco laughed and she flashed her eyes at him. "I don't want you to leave me either, love. But I also don't want you crying when you don't have to, when I can do this one thing for you. And you won't be lonely—you'll be with Ginny."
"And you?" she asked quietly.
Draco grinned. "I'll be lonely," he confirmed. "But it's just for a few days."
"I don't want you lonely," Hermione replied, looping her arms around his neck, seemingly somewhat comforted.
Draco dropped his forehead to hers. "It's just a few days, Hermione," he assured her.
"I know," she relented. "I know."
"I've been worried about you," Draco admitted.
"I'm sorry," Hermione replied. "I know I need to be better about telling you what I'm feeling."
Draco nodded before lifting his head and kissing her forehead. "As long as you're okay."
"I'm okay. I'm sorry."
"Don't," he said softly, pulling her into his arms and holding her close, resting his head on the top of her head and breathing her in. "I'm going to miss you."
"Can we spend the evening together?" she asked quietly.
"Well, I was going to spend it with my other girlfriend—" Draco began, teasing.
She hit him playfully across the chest. "I just meant," she began again, "can we order takeaway and spend the evening in bed?"
"Anything you want, Hermione," he agreed.
Hermione wanted sushi, which Draco was completely unfamiliar with. With the smile returned to her face, Hermione apparated them into a secluded alley of Muggle London before leading him into the bustling streets of London. They walked hand-in-hand the few blocks to Hermione's favorite sushi restaurant. "Pick up for Granger," she told the man at the front desk.
The man smiled at them and left to get their food. When he was out of sight, Draco pulled a bunch of Muggle money from his trouser pockets and pressed it into Hermione's hands. "I don't really know what's what," he admitted. "But dinner is on me."
Hermione grinned up at him, selecting just a few bills and pressing the rest back into his hands. "Since when do you carry Muggle money?" she asked as they left the restaurant, Draco carrying the bag of food in his right hand, and his left hand securely holding Hermione's.
"I started carrying some after that night you took me to that pub," he admitted, squeezing her hand.
"Because you liked me?" she asked, teasing him.
"I was head over heels for you," Draco agreed.
They returned to the flat, where they ate on the floor, Hermione leaning against Draco's shoulder the whole time. When they were finished, Hermione plucked the chopsticks from Draco's fingers and placed them on the coffee table, entwining her fingers with his. "I'd like to go to bed now," she said softly.
Draco nodded. "Okay," he replied, standing and pulling her up with him. "Let's go to bed."
He led her to the bedroom and gently pushed her back onto the bed. He stared down at her for a long moment, taking her in, memorizing her. "What?" Hermione asked, flushing.
Draco smirked. "Memorizing you for when I miss you too much."
Hermione flushed brighter. "Draco," she pleaded.
Draco crawled over her on the bed, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. A kiss to her jaw. A kiss to her neck. Hermione shivered. He returned to her mouth, just as soft. She whimpered against his lips. He slid a hand beneath her jumper, grazing the soft skin of her abdomen, stopping just beneath her right breast. Draco dropped his face, kissing along her clavicle.
"Draco," she repeated breathily. "What are you doing?"
"I'm not going to see you all weekend," Draco replied against her skin. "I have to give you something to remember me by." He nipped lightly at her clavicle and she moaned lowly.
"Like I could forget you," Hermione said, panting.
Beneath his hand, Hermione's bare skin was hot to the touch, and despite his want to take her slowly, he needed to touch more of her skin—he was aching in his trousers. He sat up briefly, pulling her jumper over her head. Reverently, Draco ran his palms down the curve of her waist and back up, before he passed them over the fabric covering her breasts.
"Draco," she begged again.
"We have all night," he promised.
"I want you now," Hermione whined.
Draco unbuttoned Hermione's jeans and slid the zipper down, allowing his hand to slip inside, touching her just over her knickers. Hermione moaned again, wriggling against his hand, asking for more of his touch. "You'll have me," he said softly, kissing her pulse point softly as he her rubbed her through her knickers.
"You're torturing me," she gasped, reaching for the hem of his jumper, which he allowed her to pull off. She ran her hands over his chest, pausing just briefly over his Sectumsempra scars before she ran them down his arms, gripping his forearms as he continued to touch her.
He kissed her lips again, harder this time, his tongue parting her lips. Hermione opened up easily, and took him greedily. "Please," she gasped into his mouth.
Draco removed himself from the bed and began to peel the jeans from her legs. Hermione wriggled on the bed, canting her hips and kicking out her legs to help him. Finally, Draco removed her jeans and tossed them into the corner of the bedroom before removing his own trousers and lowering himself back over her on the bed. She reached for him, pulling his mouth down to hers, just as Draco began to grind his clothed erection over her center, causing them both to groan. "Tell me you're mine," he breathed into her skin.
"I'm yours," she agreed easily, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer, so that their chests were brushing.
Draco grazed the skin of her shoulder with his teeth before taking one of her bra straps in his teeth, pulling it down her arm, before repeating the motion on the other side. Hermione pushed him away slightly, her flesh pebbled with goosebumps, and undid the clasp of her bra, flinging it across the room. Draco smirked, dropping his mouth down to her bared breasts and her pebbled nipples, teasing them with his tongue.
"Draco," she groaned. "Please stop teasing me."
He raised his head, pressing another soft kiss to her mouth, before he stood and kicked away his boxers. Hermione hurriedly pushed her knickers down with her fingers, and then her toes before tossing them aside, too. Smirking, Draco pushed her legs apart and settled himself between him, coating himself in her wetness before he pressed inside of her slowly. Hermione moaned and grasped his shoulders tightly, her nails digging into his skin. Draco stilled when he was buried inside of her, dropping his forehead to hers. "I love you, Hermione," he whispered against her lips, nuzzling his nose against hers.
He moved slowly inside of her, taking her deeply, their bodies pressed up against each so closely that he could feel Hermione on every inch of his skin. With every thrust he made, Hermione tried to pull him closer, pull him deeper—her hips wrapped around his, her feet crossed over his back and her nails digging into his back so deeply he was certain that she would draw blood.
"I love you," she gasped, grabbing his arse as if she could pull him any deeper.
Draco had never been this close—this intimate with anyone before. It had only ever been Hermione, but even then—not quite like this. He dropped his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes, her pupils darkened and blown with lust as she stared back him. And for just the briefest moment, he wondered what she saw in his eyes. But then she began to clench around him, and his mind went blank with pleasure. He began to roll his hips into hers, his pelvis grinding against her clit with every motion, until she was crying out and clinging to him, her legs tightening almost painfully around him. Draco couldn't help his own moan from rising up in his throat as he came, stilling his hips against Hermione's
They panted against each other, their breaths mingling together, as they continued to cling to one another. Hermione's golden eyes stared at up at him filled with such adoration that he nearly forgot to breathe. He dropped his head down back and laughed lightly against her shoulder. Hermione's hands left his back, and she pushed her fingers affectionately through his hair.
His arms still wrapped around Hermione, Draco rolled back against the bed with a great sigh, pulling her with him. Hermione was boneless as she fell against his chest, burrowing her head in the curve of his neck where she let out a shaky breath. "You all right?" he asked her quietly, his own breathing still heavy.
"Yeah," Hermione replied breathlessly. "Yeah." She threw an arm around his waist and settled in against him.
They were silent for a long time afterwards, content just to be in each other's arms. Draco closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair, the scent of the sweat just beginning to dry on her body, and the heady scent of sex that lingered in the air. Finally, Draco sighed and spoke, "So, think you'll remember me?"
Hermione laughed lightly. "Who are you again?" she asked, biting his shoulder gently.
"Ah, well. That is most unfortunate," Draco replied in mock hurt.
"I'll never be able to forget you," Hermione said more seriously, kissing the spot she had just bitten.
"Good," said Draco, turning his head slightly to kiss the top of her head once more.
"You'll be all right—when I'm in Australia?" Hermione asked tentatively.
"I'll be all right, Hermione," he replied, squeezing her shoulders gently. "I promise you."
"What will you do?" she continued quietly.
Draco shrugged. "There's still quite a bit of work I need to do over at the Manor. I'll spend some time over there, I suppose. I'll check in with Astoria, perhaps. You did say we needed to spend more time with her." Something flashed in Hermione's eyes at the mention of Astoria, but she remained silent. Draco furrowed his brow momentarily at the action, but also did not comment. "Hey," he continued. "You've missed several days of brewing visiting St. Mungo's. Make me a list—I can brew some potions for you."
"That would actually be really helpful," Hermione replied, kissing his shoulder again. "Thank you."
"I don't want you worrying about me all weekend, Hermione," he said softly. "That's not what this weekend should be about."
Hermione sighed against him. "I just wish it was you coming with me," she admitted quietly.
"I know. And next time—it will be me. I promise you that," Draco replied.
"Will you go see your mother while I'm gone?" Hermione asked.
"I think I have to. I've stayed away long enough."
Hermione nodded. "You should."
"Then I will," Draco confirmed. "Will you be going tomorrow?"
"Yes, but just briefly. I've packed most of my stuff already, but I'll have to come back here to grab it before work, since Harry will be meeting me there with my Portkey."
Draco didn't necessarily like Hermione's plan. She would be taking a half-day at work, and Draco would have the entire day off. At 2:45, Potter would Floo over with Ginny and the Portkey, and the two would depart from the shop precisely at 3:00. Hermione had made no mention whether she expected Draco to be at the shop to see her off. "Do you want me to be there?" he asked quietly.
"You don't need to be," Hermione replied matter-of-factly. "I imagine you'll be awake by the time I get back from St. Mungo's."
"Mmm," Draco agreed absently.
They made love once more before Hermione drifted off to sleep, curled up in the crook of his arm. Despite being physically sated, Draco found himself in a state of restless discontent. He studied Hermione thoroughly in the dark, as if he hadn't already memorized her hundreds of times over at that point; the light smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose and cheekbones, the thin white scar on her palm—the result of a childhood accident with a piece of broken glass—to the way her lips quirked lightly when she was having a dream, to the wildness of her curls spread across the pillow and his chest, more disheveled than usual.
Draco sighed. He was going to miss her. He scanned her body once more, committing her further to his memory before he curled himself around her and closed his eyes, dreading the moment that she would leave him behind.