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Draco opened his eyes to take in the sight before him.

He was lying flat on his back, with a rapturous Hermione Granger above him. Her soft, creamy thighs bracketed his face. It was her habit to divest herself of her knickers the moment she walked through his bedroom door, which meant he had a perfect, unobstructed view of her cunt.

Her skirt was bunched up around her waist as Draco wrapped his hands around her hips and arse, holding her in place. With the way she writhed as pleasure coursed through her, Draco suspected that his grip on her was the only thing keeping Hermione upright. Her blouse was unbuttoned to reveal pale pink lace pulled down beneath the best tits he ever had the pleasure of seeing. She was twisting one of her nipples between her finger and thumb. The other hand clenched his hair almost painfully as she used his mouth and chased after her orgasm.

A long, throaty groan escaped him when she pushed down more insistently against his face. His tongue was buried inside her and his nose brushed against her clit. Draco was drowning in her, and loving every moment of it. As her hips undulated frantically, he used his hold on her to aid her movements. 

She never screamed or cried out when she came. Rather, she released the smallest of whimpers. Or, maybe it was more of a sigh. Either way, it was the sweetest sound he ever heard. He knew she was getting close as her movements became stuttered and her chest heaved from the exertion of riding his face. Hermione had a habit of pinching her eyes shut and biting her plump bottom lip as she concentrated on using him, on taking everything he had to offer.

Draco could feel his hard cock straining for any sort of release, but he ignored it in favour of her pleasure. She was only barely able to sneak away from the hospital for her thirty minute lunch break. If the entirety of that time was spent taking care of her needs, then Draco would just tend to himself in the shower afterwards. Maybe he could convince her to come back over later that night, once her shift was over, and then she could fuck him into the mattress until he forgot his own name. Gods, he might explode without any contact other than her cunt against his lips, just from the thought of being buried inside her. 

How did she hold such power over him?

As if in answer to his silent musings, a dulcet sigh spilt from her lips. Hermione was frozen above him as the nectar of her release coated his face. He loved the way she felt in his hands, the way she sounded when she came, and the way she tasted. 

Draco was hopelessly, irrevocably addicted to her. He knew that, of course, even if he rarely admitted it to himself. What he refused to acknowledge was the way his heart beat faster when she dismounted him and curled up against his chest. She planted languorous, lazy kisses on his jaw and sent a jolt of pure rapture through his frame. Her tongue flicked out to taste herself on him and Draco could have promised her the world. The way she purred contentedly as she sucked on his lips was enough to make a more careful, self-preserving man fall in love.

Did he love her?

He couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t as if love was a concept taught in the vast and cold Manor, where his own parents sacrificed him to a madman. It wasn’t a sentiment often found in the pit of snakes at Hogwarts, where every connection was about mutual gain. 

What he did know was that he couldn’t live without her. Draco would do anything to keep her, for as long as she would have him. Even if he didn’t deserve her, Draco was a greedy man. So long as she kept answering his owls, and inviting him over, he would take all that she offered him.

Deft fingers stroking along his erection brought his focus back to the present moment.

“I have to go soon, Malfoy, but I get off in a few hours. Do you want me to bring over some takeout and then I can repay the favour?”

Her hand squeezed his cock for emphasis as if the sly smile on her face wasn’t enough indication of her intentions.

“I can’t have dinner with you tonight.” He sighed heavily. Her offer was much more preferable to his plans for the evening. “I need to see my mother. I can come over after, though?”

“Will she keep you long? I have an early start tomorrow so I can’t be up too late.”

“Maybe another time then. I don’t know how long I’ll be with her, but if she’s going to bring up the whole marriage thing again, then it might be a while.”

She coughed. “Marriage?”

In his building annoyance at the predicted topic of conversation, his mother, and by extension his father, was sure to insist upon, Draco failed to notice the way Hermione stiffened against him.

“Yeah. She's been bringing it up since my birthday last month. Most purebloods marry straight out of Hogwarts. So, apparently, to have a twenty-one year old, bachelor of a son is more of a disgrace than father being a convicted criminal.”

“I didn’t realise… Gods, I’m sorry to have been so selfish with your time, but I thought you knew this was a casual affair. I still have another year in my programme and I wasn’t really looking for any sort of committed relationship. I hope you won’t feel I led you on—”

Hermione cut her stumbled, awkward apology short as she leapt from his bed. With a wave of her wand, she righted her skirt, buttoned her blouse, and summoned her Healer robes from the chair over which they were strewn. She mumbled something about being late, but Draco saw the fear in her eyes when she turned to look at him one last time. 

Fuck. 

He shouldn’t have brought up the marriage thing. He could blame his loose tongue on the intoxicated feeling he got whenever he got a taste of her orgasm. If she hadn’t just come on his face, Draco would have been much less open. Hermione was flighty even on her best day. She remained painfully civil to him in public and was insistent that any sort of couple-like behaviour in private still be kept to a minimum. The mere mention of an actual date was enough to send her running, as she was now doing. 

Launching himself out of bed and hastily pulling on his joggers, Draco chased after her.

“Hermione, wait!”

He was too late. 

The sound of her Disapparating rang loudly through his flat, and Draco slumped against the wall in defeat. He hadn’t even had the chance to tell her what he planned to do. The only wife he was remotely interested in having was also one his parents wouldn’t approve of, and who might not even return his affections. As such, he had every intention of telling them to bugger off. 

If his parents wanted to throw a fit and rescind access to the Malfoy vaults, Draco would be fine. His grandparents left him a sizable inheritance in vaults that only he could access, once Draco came of age. He was going to share all of that with Hermione, leaving out the part about him wanting to marry her someday, but he completely screwed up the execution of it. 

Now, she was back at work, probably panicked and reevaluating the entire arrangement.

Settling into his office, Draco wrote her a quick missive, asking her to meet.

The fact of the matter was, even if he wanted more, Draco wasn’t sure where Hermione stood. Almost a year had passed since they’d started their arrangement. For the most part, he knew how he felt about her, but she remained infuriatingly reticent on what she wanted from him beyond regular orgasms.

If someone had told a younger Draco that two years after the war he would reconnect with Hermione, and find that they actually shared a lot in common, Draco would have laughed in their face. It was a pure act of grace that she and Harry testified for Draco and his mother, allowing them both a lighter sentence while so many others were shipped to Azkaban, but he hadn’t even had the chance to thank her immediately afterwards.

As soon as the hearing was over, he was whisked back to Malfoy Manor by a team of Aurors. Draco used his two years under house arrest to study for and take his N.E.W.T.s in a private test session, and begin a mastery programme for Potions.

Before he knew it, his sentence ended, and his mother insisted on hosting a gala to benefit St. Mungo’s as a way to celebrate his return to society. It was a plea for forgiveness, a bid at redemption, and an effort to establish the Malfoys back in the public’s good graces. Draco didn’t expect to see Hermione there, but considering she was a war hero and training to become a Healer, he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Their reunion was everything that anyone who knew them might have anticipated. Terse greetings devolved into a heated argument about some inane topic that they both had strong opinions on. The fact that they ended up in a deserted wing of the Manor with Hermione in his lap, impaling herself on his cock probably wouldn’t have come as a surprise either to anyone but themselves. All their classmates could have readily testified to the turbulent, unresolved sexual tension that constantly surrounded the pair.

However, Draco didn’t think many would have predicted his whispered apologies in the afterglow of their frantic, angry coupling, or that Hermione forgave him with a soft kiss full of absolution and understanding.

They never really talked about the parameters of their arrangement. When they left their little haven that day, Draco wasn’t even sure he would see her again. Yet, somehow, he wasn’t shocked to receive an owl from her not even a week later, asking him to come over. He thanked the Fates that the sex seemed to be half as good for her as it was for him, and was yelling out her address into the fireplace just as soon as he got dressed.

At the start, it was little more than a mutual release. He should have known that as with everything else, Hermione would excel in the bedroom. Draco counted himself fortunate that she chose to bring him to her bed, time and time again. It made sense, in the beginning, for them to keep the dalliance private.

A few of his friends knew, and he assumed she told Harry, but otherwise, no one was the wiser. Even he and Hermione had no idea of what the future held, so why should they bother announcing it to the world? After all, it would only cause problems and ruin a good thing.

Yet, soon late-night meetings turned into dinner beforehand, or a snack in her kitchen afterwards. It was the privacy of one of their homes, but it was a meal shared nonetheless. A few times, Hermione had fallen asleep in his arms, though she always left before he awoke. She never asked anything of him, aside from what his tongue, and fingers, and cock could offer. 

Hermione didn’t ask that they not sleep with others, though Draco hadn’t been with anyone but her since they started up. He suspected she wasn’t seeing anyone else, either. There was simply no time for it, between her busy schedule at work at the amount of time she spent riding him into oblivion.

Unfortunately, in the year since their ‘casual’ relationship began, Draco had caught feelings for his once enemy turned friend, emphasis on the with benefits. Now, he had likely ruined a very satisfying arrangement, all because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

What an idiot he was.

At the sound of bright, tinkling laughter he was all too familiar with, Draco tucked himself into a nook along Diagon Alley. His heart clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to dispel the longing for her from his system through sheer willpower. Yet, like a moth drawn to a flame, he opened his eyes and scanned the crowd for Hermione.

An entire month had passed since she left his apartment in a flurry. The first note he wrote to her was delivered with no response, as were the subsequent ones he sent. When he tried to Apparate into her apartment, he found the wards had been reset to prevent his entry. The Floo posed similar problems. That was when Draco got the hint. Whatever it was that they shared was now clearly over, just as abruptly and unexpectedly as it started. She didn’t owe him a conversation, or a formal declaration. They weren’t breaking up. 

In order for that to happen, they had to be together to begin with, and she had made it abundantly clear that was not the case.

In the weeks that followed her abrupt departure, Draco experienced a maelstrom of emotions: bitterness, resentment, betrayal, and anger were the most common. Still, in the darkest hours of the night, longing, sadness, and all the other feelings he refused to acknowledge in the light of day rose to the surface. He missed her more than words could say, and he hated himself for it.

How had he become so weak?

It didn’t take long for him to find her wild curls among the witches and wizards milling about. She was with Harry and Ron, apparently on a break from the hospital if her robes were any indication. Draco felt a swell of jealousy crash into him at the easy way she interacted with her friends.

Ron must have said something outrageously funny, judging by the way she grinned at him. Harry threw his arm around her and pulled Hermione in for a hug, and Draco had to Occlude just to stop himself from rushing out and hexing the man. The familiarity between them caused an ache to bloom in his chest.

She would never be seen with him in public. It would never be his jokes making her smile like that, or his arm around her in a crowded street. He wasn’t sure how he expected differently. After all, despite his efforts to be a better man, he would always be known for his status as the youngest Death Eater. Even if he hadn’t cast the curse, he played a direct role in the death of Dumbledore.

Draco’s head fell against the wall behind him with a pained sigh. He should just meet the girls his mother kept trying to push on him. He would never be good for someone as perfect as the Golden Girl. She was as bright and brilliant as the sun, and he was a mere cloud, obscuring her natural shine. Draco didn’t think he would ever feel about anyone the way he felt about her, but she would never be his.

Now that he was forced to accept that, he might as well fulfill his duty to his family. 

Narcissa was surprisingly not smug when he finally conceded to her demands. Perhaps she sensed that Draco was already struggling. Though he didn’t realise it at the time, his mother knew exactly what he needed when she arranged a meeting with the best of his options.

Draco hadn’t been well acquainted with Astoria while they attended Hogwarts. She was a few years behind him in school and when her family left the country upon Voldemort’s return, he didn’t think twice about it. He knew little about her, other than the fact that she was someone Narcissa clearly approved of. That alone was off-putting enough. If his mother liked her, the chances that Draco would also like her seemed slim. He was dreading the date so much that he almost considered cancelling a dozen times.

If it weren’t for a photo of Hermione and Harry on the front cover of the Prophet alongside some fluff piece about their latest accomplishments, Draco probably would have called the whole thing with Astoria off. Somehow, he found himself glad that he didn’t. Sharing tea with her was surprisingly less agonising than Draco expected. She was different from the other pureblood girls he knew, despite outward appearances.

Astoria was kind, smart, and beautiful. She was everything he should want in a wife., Despite the pleasant afternoon they shared, he couldn’t stop himself from comparing her to Hermione. It wasn’t fair, Draco knew that. Still, when they happened to disagree, civilised discourse followed, rather than the fiery debate he came to expect from Hermione. It was evident that Astoria was confident in her own opinions, and unafraid to speak her mind. He admired that trait, considering a few other women he knew possessed it. 

However, it didn’t spark the same thrill he felt when Hermione’s hair crackled with magic anytime she told him just how wrong he was. On paper and in person, Astoria was quite literally perfect. His parents approved and even though they’d only just met, she seemed genuinely interested in him. So many women chased after him because of his name and the size of his vaults, but Astoria actually wanted to get to know Draco.

She may not be Hermione, but she was someone that Draco could see himself falling in love with someday. At the very least, he thought they could be friends. It was the best-case scenario in an otherwise unideal situation. If his parents insisted that he marry, then he ought to consider himself fortunate at finding someone he could get along with.

The flash of the camera from outside the window of the shop didn’t phase him. Draco knew that many were interested in his continued bachelor status, and the news of him being seen in public with an eligible, pureblood witch would easily sell papers. He expected that Rita would be all over it, embellishing the facts to make the entire thing more alluring. Any action taken by a reformed Death Eater was interesting, after all. He glanced over at his companion nervously, hoping she wouldn’t be too put off by it.

Astoria took it all in stride. With the grace and elegance only afforded by years of training, she ignored the photographers completely. She maintained perfect poise, even as they exited to a thrall of press. Almost instinctively, Draco placed his hand to her back to guide her, as they both pointedly ignored reporters demanding information.

It was the hottest news for the following week. Photos of them smiling at one another over tea and walking out of the shop dominated all of the major media outlets. The speculation about the Malfoy heir choosing a bride seemed to consume the entire wizarding community. It felt like being a celebrity, or royalty. Everywhere Draco went, people clamoured to speak with him. 

Witches gossiped over lunch and dissected every single move he made in public. Even when it was just him and his mother, the rumours flew that he must be looking for a ring for his future bride. Wizards congratulated him on his impending nuptials, hoping to score an invitation to what was sure to be the biggest social event of the season. Even if they didn’t care for him or for attending a wedding, the most important people in society would all be there.

Through it all, he only cared about one person’s reaction.

He had yet to hear from her, though.

Draco didn’t expect that she would get flustered over the stories that were now published daily on his love life. Thus far, it was all speculation. Hermione knew better than most about how the media over-dramatised any story they could get their hands on.

Still, he wondered if she cared at all. 

Logic told him that she didn’t. His heart tried to argue against it, to offer evidence of every moment they shared over the course of their year-long dalliance. It was a pointless endeavour. How could Hermione care? She discarded him from her life without giving it a single moment of thought, while Draco was left to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart.

Rather than go through the motions of meeting with any other witches, Draco had promptly informed his mother that he would like to see if he and Astoria could develop a deeper connection. The pleased look on Narcissa’s face at the request made him feel sick. 

Would she react as positively, if it were Hermione he decided to court?

For that matter, why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

Forcing his feelings aside, Draco asked whether the formal betrothal contract might be delayed a month. His mother readily agreed, overjoyed that he was showing interest in the process at all. As such, no formal announcement was made by either family. However, as Draco and Astoria began to spend more time together, the press decided that was enough to announce the impending engagement.

The news broke on a Saturday morning.

Draco cancelled brunch with Blaise and Theo, and promptly returned to bed. He planned to sleep the entire day and ignore the media and the public. He didn’t think it was possible to put on the mask of contentment that was expected from him, not when it felt like his entire world was falling apart.

He should be happy. Draco knew that. He was beyond fortunate at making such an excellent match. The friendship with Astoria was already blooming, even though little more than a week had passed. From the way she looked at him, Draco could tell she was interested in more. Yet, the idea that he could feel the same for her seemed to die a little more with every interaction they had.

When her hand brushed against his, he didn’t feel the urge to reach out and twine their fingers together. Sometimes, she leaned further into him and he had to fight the urge to pull away. There was a time he smiled at her and a pretty blush coloured her cheeks. Draco felt no desire to peel off her robes to see if the blush spread down her chest.

All he could think about was Hermione.

The smallest touch from her made his skin feel like it was on fire. He craved contact with her, even if it was just to hold her hand and watch the strange black box in her living room. When their shoulders brushed, he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms or onto his lap and cover her face with kisses. He knew that her blush crawled down her shoulders and chest because he followed it on more than one occasion.

It was absolutely absurd that he had a lovely witch who was interested in him, and still, memories of Hermione haunted his every waking moment. He might have hoped that sleep would bring reprieve, but his dreams had been full of her since shortly after she left him.

His unconscious mind wanted nothing more than to play every encounter they had on repeat. Every night, he was transported back in time to watch as she straddled him and bounced on his cock. He would watch as the sweat dripped down her temple and into her curls. He could feel the way her cunt clenched around him as he came. Her breathy sighs and the scent of her arousal filled his dreams.

Draco swore the taste of her remained on his tongue even after he woke with a painful erection. It happened so often that he began to wonder if he developed a condition. Every time he tended to it to thoughts of her, and though it made him feel sick he couldn’t come to anything else. Hermione didn’t want him anymore, but now, almost a month and a half later, he didn’t want anyone but her. He was pathetic. 

Absolutely pathetic. 

Resigning himself to yet another dream of her, Draco slid back between his sheets and closed his eyes. He was just starting to drift off when the sound of his Floo startled him awake. Annoyance built towards frustration as he marched towards his living room.

“Blaise, I already told you I’m—”

Draco stopped short at finding that it wasn’t his irritating best friend interrupting his lie-in. Instead, the woman that refused to relinquish her hold on Draco now stood before him, in the flesh. Her eyes were red-rimmed and tears streaked her face. Her lower lip wobbled as she fought to maintain composure. All the loathing he felt towards her disappeared in an instant and Draco fought the urge to run to her.

“You never blocked my access.” 

Her voice shook as she took a hesitant step closer to him.

“Unlike you, Granger, I’m not petty,” he replied.

His words were slow and measured as he struggled to control his racing heart.

“Or, did you just forget?”

She smiled at him shyly, teasingly, and it took every ounce of willpower not to pull her into his arms and kiss that silly, stupid, know-it-all grin off of her face. Instead, he built his defences. How dare she come here and joke with him after all she had put him through? She acted like the separation meant nothing, when his every breath since she left felt like a struggle.

“You caught me.” His face twisted into a sneer. “I’ve been otherwise preoccupied.” 

He couldn’t let her know how much she hurt him, or how badly he still wanted her in spite of it all. There was no way he would give her that kind of power over him, again.

“So, it’s true then?”

Hermione held out the Prophet. In bold letters across the front, it read:

SOURCES CONFIRM MALFOY-GREENGRASS BETROTHAL

He took a moment to study it, arms crossed against his chest, before looking back at her. Her eyes were on the photo of him and Astoria. It was taken candidly after their most recent outing. Draco escorted her home afterward, and on the doorstep, she kissed him. The photograph captured that moment in startling detail. Draco watched the pain flicker through Hermione’s eyes as she watched the kiss on a loop.

“I don’t really see how it’s any of your business,” he ground out.

Her eyes flickered up to meet his cold glare.

“You’re right, it’s not. I’m sorry for intruding on you like this.”

She turned to leave, but before she could take a step, Draco closed the distance. A firm hand on her arm spun her around to face him.

“Why are you here?”

What did she want from him?

He needed to know.

“I– I don’t know. I shouldn’t have come.”

Hermione looked at the floor once more. He hated this new, timid version of her. He wanted to see his strong, brave witch. Not whoever this imposter was. Sliding one finger below her chin, he guided her eyes to meet his face. 

“Yes, you do know. So, tell me, Granger. Why are you here?”

“Because I realised that I don’t think I can live without you.”

It was barely more than a whisper, but he heard her as clearly as if she were shouting. How long had he hoped to hear a similar sentiment from her lips? Except, now that she was finally admitting it, it was far too late.

Draco swallowed the bile that built in the back of his throat and scoffed.

“You’re the one who left me. You didn’t even have the courtesy to break things off with me face-to-face. You just ignored me like I was a dirty little secret that you were ashamed to even admit to.”

“I was– I am a coward.”

“Congratulations on the understatement of the year.”

“I was afraid. It’s not an excuse, but I overreacted.”

“An overreaction would have been to not return my owls. You did more than that though, didn’t you? You cut me out of your life with so much ease and precision I wondered whether I dreamt the last year up. Do you know how it felt when your wards wouldn’t let me in? It was as if I was suddenly nothing to you. Though, I suppose I never really was—”

“That’s not true!”

“Liar,” he spat out.

“I’m not lying.” She bristled, her magic crackling through her curls in the way he loved. “I may have been too dense to realise at the time, but you did–” Her eyes fluttered shut. “You do mean everything to me.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it, Granger. If that’s how you treat people you care about, then maybe I should thank Merlin to be free of you.”

Suddenly, the fire left her eyes. “I deserved that.”

“You deserve far worse, you cruel, callous witch. You never even gave me the chance to explain myself. I was ready to tell my parents to go fuck themselves. I didn’t want to get married, yet, and I sure as hell didn’t want any of the witches they chose for me.”

“I’m so, so sorry. I should have—”

“You should have done a lot differently. After everything you put me through, you show up making your empty proclamations. As if you haven’t ruined my life enough, you’ve come to get one final kick in, is that it?”

She began to cry again.

“Astoria wants me. She likes me. She appreciates my company, regardless of my past and the whispers that follow me everywhere I go. She doesn’t care that I’m a former Death Eater, she accepts me as just Draco.”

“I didn’t care either,” Hermione said.

“Oh, come off it. You never wanted to take the next step, to be seen in public with me. You never showed any interest in treating me as anything other than a fuck toy.”

“Malfoy, that’s not true—”

Draco hovered over her menacingly.

“Don’t you dare insult me by trying to disagree. I’m not one of your dull friends, who you can easily manipulate.” He found himself growing heated as he recalled how she pushed into him the shadows. “How many times did I try to take you out on a date, only for you to come up with some half-arsed excuse?”

“You know my programme keeps me busy! I was clear about that from the start!”

“All I wanted was to meet you for coffee on one of your breaks, or take you out to dinner after a long shift at the hospital! I know you do both those things with Potter and Weasley, so don’t give me that bullshite!”

She exhaled heavily. “You’re right.”

“Did it hurt you to admit that? Does it physically pain the great Hermione Granger to acknowledge that for once in her life, she’s wrong?”

“Not as much as it hurts to know I’ve royally screwed up any chance with you.”

“Oh, fucking save it. Tell me, Granger, if you don’t care about my past, why did you insist on hiding me away? If you wanted a future with me so badly, why didn’t you take the chance when you had it?”

“Because I’m a coward.”

“You already said that, try again.”

Hermione kept her gaze glued to her shoes for a minute longer, as if contemplating her options, before she raised her eyes to meet his.

“I was hurt. Several times actually, in a short span before we started up...”

An irrational anger and desire to protect her swelled in his chest, but Draco forced it down and waited for her to continue.

“After Voldemort was defeated, I thought Ron and I would finally be together.”

He bit back a particularly mean retort. A surge of jealousy coursed through him at the idea of her with Ron. As two parts of the Golden Trio, the public would love them. They would be the ideal couple, everything she and Draco could never be.

“Well wouldn’t you two just be the perfect pair—”

“Please, let me finish. We tried for a bit, but Ron thought we were better off as friends. He, ah, well, he wanted someone who wasn’t so damaged by the war—”

“How are you still friends with that worthless loathsome sack of—”

“It’s for Harry’s sake, really,” Hermione said.

“That’s absurd, if anything, Potter owes you—”

A small hand came to rest on his bicep.

“Malfoy, kindly shut up, and just listen to me.”

With a terse nod in agreement, Draco clenched his jaw to keep himself from ranting more about her garbage friends that she was so attached to.

“I was hurt at first, but then Viktor came back to the country. I thought I could keep it casual with him, use it as a rebound, of sorts. I didn’t feel guilty since he made it clear that was all he wanted. But, of course, being the stupid witch I am, I developed feelings for him. After I admitted it, he broke things off. He said it was for the best.”

Draco bit down on his lip even harder, though the flare of his nostrils and his dark look probably tipped her off to how he was feeling. Hermione dropped her hand from his arm and wrapped it around herself.

“About six months before you and I reconnected, I started seeing Cormac McClaggen—”

“That tosser? Merlin, you can’t be serious! He's an absolute bastard!”

“Yes, I know that now. At the time, though, he was very convincing. He’d been after me for so long and I guess I just liked the attention.” She laughed, but it was entirely devoid of mirth. “We were supposed to be exclusive, but I found out the hard way that he was still seeing other witches.”

He took a deep breath to steel himself. “What happened?”

“He was running late for a date, so I figured I would go to his office and see what was holding him up. I walked in on him screwing his secretary. I guess the allure of dating the Golden Girl didn’t quite match up to the reality”

She smiled sadly.

“Granger, you can’t think his infidelity is your fault—”

“I’d rather not discuss it. Regardless, when I met you I was fragile, to say the least. I knew I shouldn’t get involved with you, but it wasn’t because of your past. It was because I’m broken. I can’t make a relationship work. Cormac implied as much, when he called me a frigid, heartless bitch. And, I meant it when I forgave you, that first night. If you choose not to believe anything else I tell you, please believe that.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, waiting for her to continue. He refused to cave to his baser urges now. He wanted to hug her tightly to his chest and wrap himself around her petite frame. He would shield her from the world, and kill any person or creature that dared to try hurt her.

Yet, she wasn’t his to protect.

“You were, you are, well, you...” she continued softly.

“Wonderful, Granger. Bravo. That clears everything up.”

“What I mean to say is that you’re far out of my league. You’re handsome, intelligent, and charismatic. Ever since Hogwarts, you’ve had gorgeous witches clamouring to be seen by your side for even one night! I could never in a million years hope to land someone like you for a boyfriend. I’m just...a plain Muggleborn witch. I’m bossy and headstrong and I work too much. Who would want that kind of partner? Besides all of that, you’re not only a pureblood, you’re also a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I know what’s expected of you, what your future holds.”

At one point, Draco would have said she was his future. Now, he was less certain.

“You never even bothered to ask me.”

“I know. I was scared. I didn’t think I could handle another rejection.”

“When did I give you any indication that I would behave like those other men did?”

“You didn’t, but—”

“But, you still punished me for their mistakes.”

“I did,” she whispered.

“I wanted you, Granger. Fuck leagues and all that other shite you said. I could never deserve you. All I wanted was for you to want more from me than sex and—”

“I did. I do. I just– I took too long to figure it out.”

“Yes, you did. The paper isn’t accurate. I honestly thought you were smarter than to believe the drivel written in the Prophet—”

Draco watched as the answer to her initial question caused a spark of hope to glimmer in her eyes. Before, during all the times he cursed her existence, he might have felt a smug, sick sense of satisfaction from the knowledge of what he was about to say. Now, he felt empty.

“However, Astoria and I are discussing marriage. The contract hasn’t been signed yet, but we are officially courting. So, you should probably go.”

A pained look crossed her expression before she slid it behind an impenetrable mask of cool, calm collectedness. It was the same look she used to don before a large exam. He imagined she must have appeared similarly whilst guiding her two idiot, best friends through the mission that brought about Voldemort’s downfall.

“I see. Well, thank you for hearing me out, Malfoy. I apologise again: for the pain I’ve caused you, for misjudging you, and for single-handedly ruining what we had. Oh, and for intruding on your day. I should have owled first. I wish you and Astoria all the best.”

Hermione turned and was through the Floo before Draco could say another word.

Her scent still lingered in the room around him. The sweet, vibrant notes of orange, jasmine, and rose brought back a flood of memories. Draco fell to his knees with a choked sob at the image of her face above him with a curtain of her beautiful hair blocking out the rest of the world. The place her hand touched him still tingled from the contact, like she had seared her brand into his skin.

How had he not known her history? 

It would have changed so much. 

That wasn't to say he no longer blamed her for what happened. The anger he felt towards her still thrummed through his veins. However, it now mixed with pain for her heartbreak, a longing to be able to go back in time and press her for honesty from the start. If all her fears and anxieties had been bared to him from the beginning, Draco would have done everything in his power to show her how much he valued her, how he was devoted to her and her alone.

Even if he couldn’t go back, Draco knew what he needed to do moving forward. He sent an owl to Astoria, asking if she could meet. While he waited for her response, he got ready for the unfortunate task before him.

Almost as if the universe were balancing the scales for all the misery it put him through, Astoria took the news for better than he anticipated. She was gracious and understanding when he told that he could not, in good conscience, enter into an arrangement with her. His heart belonged to someone else. With a final, lingering kiss on the cheek, Astoria bade him well. She hoped they could remain friends. So did he.

Despite the way in which the conversation with Astoria went, it still took most of the afternoon. By the time he got to Hermione’s apartment, the sun was already sinking in the sky. He didn’t think about it until he was pounding on her door, but he hoped she wasn’t working an evening shift.

For a brief moment, relief flooded through him when she cracked the door open to see who was there. However, when she smiled at him timidly, all he felt was irritation. Did she think he had come to fix things? She owed him more than a tearful apology and explanation to get back into his good graces.

“Are you going to let me in, or should I just stand in the cold?”

The door swung open wider and Draco stalked into the familiar room. Everything was just as he remembered it, almost as if the past month and a half hadn’t even happened. 

The sharp ache in his chest reminded him that it had.

“Is there something I can help you with, Malfoy?”

“You had no right,” he said, desperately trying to keep his voice from shaking. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you came to me.” 

“And what was that?” 

She raised her chin defiantly, and stepped closer to him. Before he could stop her, she was in his personal space. Draco could count the freckles on her face. The breeze from the open window flitted through her hair, causing it to tickle his skin. She was glaring at him, but it did little to diminish the beautiful flecks of gold in her irises.

“Don’t play dumb,” he spat.

“Did you just come here to insult and berate me? A howler would have worked just as well.”

Hermione crossed her arms, the movement causing her to brush up against his chest. She was slowly gaining control of the conversation. All because he couldn’t stop admiring her like a lovesick fool. Draco was desperate to regain the upper hand. Yet, as soon as he saw her plump lip pulled between her teeth, he lost all sense and reason.

Pushing Hermione up against the wall, his mouth descended on hers in a furious, demanding kiss. She melted instantly into his touch, and when she moaned, his tongue plunged into her mouth. When Hermione tried to dip her tongue into his, he nipped it sharply before moulding his lips to hers once more. Draco was intent on consuming her, and Hermione seemed ready to give him everything he wanted.

He gripped her hip roughly while his other hand came to rest around her throat. The pressure was gentle enough that she could easily break out of his hold, but still firmly held her chin in place as he kissed her the way he wanted to.

For the entirety of their arrangement, she called all the shots. Hermione decided when and where they met, and how they fucked. Inevitably, no matter how it started, she was always on top. For the better part of a year, the only decision she afforded him was where they got to order food from. Now, if she would allow it, Draco was determined to take complete control. 

If Hermione really wanted him the way she said she did, Draco needed her to show him that she trusted him. There would be no more games, no more running, no more hiding. Either Hermione would accept all of him, or she could have none of him.

From the moment he saw her eyes full of tears in his apartment, Draco’s resentment dissipated. Still, that did nothing to lessen his fury. He was a walking contradiction. The fact of the matter was that she only came crawling back to him the moment he resigned himself to moving on. It made everything so confusing. He would still give her the world, even after everything she put him through.

Tears were streaming down her face as she pushed herself further into his embrace. He kissed her wet cheeks, dragged his lips along her jaw, and bit her neck. She cried out as he dug teeth into the soft, supple skin and marked her. The sound went straight to his cock. There was nothing that Draco wanted more than for her to lose the composure and restraint she brought to every aspect of her life.

He ground his hips against her as one hand snaked between them to palm her breast. Hermione wrapped her arms around his back as he continued to leave marks along the column of her neck. Her body felt like it made for him, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms. The way her supple curves felt pressed against him made it easy to forget all the anger and pain of the last month and a half.

Then, she broke the spell.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Hermione said it over and over and over again, much to his chagrin.

“For the love of Merlin, stop talking.”

He bit the juncture of her neck and shoulder in warning.

“Why don’t you make me?”

Draco looked up to find his fiery, obstinate, beautiful Hermione staring back at him defiantly.

“Don’t test me, witch. I’m already furious enough with you as it is.”

She jutted her lip out in a belligerent pout. “Then don’t make demands.”

With a low growl, he descended on her mouth once more.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he said, after he made sure to steal her breath.

“I wouldn’t have to, if you just took what you wanted.”

He arched his brow in question.

Was she actually giving him permission? 

She nodded in response. 

Draco grasped her jaw in one hand and tilted her head back to meet his gaze. Looming over her, Draco pressed an insistent kiss before pulling her lip between his teeth.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“You haven’t actually asked.”

“Fuck, you’re absolutely, impossibly infuriating. You drive me fucking insane.”

“Why are you here, then?”

“Because I... I just am.”

“You called it off with Astoria.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“You wouldn’t have come if you hadn’t. You’re an honourable man.”

A wry laugh escaped him. Where was her faith in him all those long months?

“Glad you finally figured that out. For being such a bright witch, it certainly took you long enough.”

“At least I did.” She shrugged. “You know what else I figured out?”

“I know you’re going to tell me, regardless, so get on with it.”

She leaned up, further into the hold his hand had on her, and kissed him. It felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. He was sure she could hear it, and it only served to fuel his ire.

“You still want me—” 

“Was it my cock against your stomach that gave it away?”

“You also want to forgive me.”

He already had.

“I’m considering it.”

“Make me earn it.”

Draco nearly choked. “How?”

“However, you want. This is me saying it. Like you wanted.”

“You drive me fucking mad.”

“You already said that. Do something about it,” she challenged.

“Get on your knees.”

Without another word, Hermione dropped down. Her eyes never left him. Draco groaned throatily as he undid his button and zipper. 

When she lifted her hands to help him, he snapped, “Don’t touch me. Open your mouth.”

Her mouth parted and she stuck her little pink tongue out, waiting for him. Draco rubbed the tip of his cock against her lips and she hummed in satisfaction. He stifled the sound as he pushed himself into her mouth.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you. Blink once if you understand.”

She did. With a sigh, Draco buried his hands in her curls and thrust further until he bumped the back of her throat. Hermione’s eyes never left his, though her fingers started to creep along his thighs. He wanted nothing more than to feel her hands caress him, but he refused to relinquish even an ounce of power to her.

“I said don’t touch me. You haven’t earned that right. You can touch me when I allow it and not a minute before.”

She blinked once. With a wave of his wand, Draco rid her of her clothes and bound her hands behind her back. She blinked again in approval. Draco slowly withdrew from her mouth, savouring the way her tongue dragged along the underside of his erection. 

“You shouldn’t look this good with your mouth stuffed full of my cock. It’s not fucking fair. How am I supposed to resist you when you’re on your knees for me, taking my cock like it’s what you were born to do?”

With a sharp inhale, Hermione pushed herself further onto his length.

“Gods, Granger, you can’t really don’t know how to give up control, do you? Or, are you that hungry for me? It doesn’t matter. Just be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth.”

She settled back onto her haunches, and raised her brow at him. He could almost hear the reproach, that she wouldn’t have to move, if he would do what he said. Tangling his fingers further in the hair at the back of her head, Draco began to thrust shallowly.

Her eyes remained steadily on his, even as he buried himself further down her throat. Tears leaked down her cheeks and saliva trickled from the corner of her mouth down her chin, and onto her chest. She never once tried to pull away. She let him use her, even as his cock filled her mouth again and again. 

In that moment, Hermione surrendered herself to him completely. 

“You’re so sexy like this.” He stroked her jaw. “So good for me, Granger.”

She blinked in acknowledgment, and hollowed her cheeks to make her mouth impossibly tight. Draco felt weak in the knees. This was how he was going to die, with his cock shoved down Hermione’s throat. She maintained the position and suction, even as he began to thrust more forcefully. Soon, he could feel the pressure building in his groin, but he refused to come in her mouth. 

With a pained groan, he slid his cock from between her lips, ignoring her disgruntled mewl at the loss. He hauled her to her feet, released the binding on her wrists, and threw her over his shoulder. When Hermione tried to protest, he smacked her arse and elicited a squeal instead.

He tossed her onto the couch and flipped her so that she was on her knees facing away from him. Her arms rested on the back of the seat, and her back arched enticingly. Not bothering to take off the rest of his clothes, Draco grabbed the base of his cock and rubbed the tip against her wet folds.

“Fuck. You’re soaking.”

Hermione stifled a moan as he rubbed the head against her clit.

“All this just from me fucking your mouth?”

Nudging her thighs shut, Draco slid his cock between them to slide it against her hot core as he draped his body over her. One hand gripped her hip possessively, while the other grabbed a handful of her hair to bring her ear to his mouth. Pulling her earlobe between his lips he sucked and nipped it until she quivered.

“Have you missed my cock?”

She whimpered in response.

“Answer me.”

The hand in her hair tightened and he bit down on the fleshy lobe.

“Yes! Gods, yes. Draco, please, fuck me.”

The sound of his name in her dulcet tones was almost enough to make him lose his resolve. Instead, he buried his face in her neck and continued to tease her.

“You sound so pretty when you beg. Let me hear it again.”

“Please, Draco. Please, fuck me.”

He groaned and his hips stuttered, pushing the head of his cock into her cunt, and she tried to back up onto him. Both hands wrapped around her hips to firmly hold her in place as Draco pressed a trail of kisses down her spine.

“Trying to take control again, little minx? You really must be desperate.”

Another whine escaped her. He was half-tempted to continue torturing her, but seeing as he felt about ready to combust, Draco elected to put her out of her misery. He sheathed himself in her slowly, taking his time to appreciate the way her velvet walls stretched around him.

“Gods, how is your cunt always so tight? It’s absolutely perfect, like it was made for me.”

“It’s yours,” she whispered.

Draco froze. “What did you say?”

“I said, it’s yours,” she repeated.

“Fuck, don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

Twisting her shoulders to face him, Hermione met his stare. Her eyes were dark with lust as they roved across the planes of his chest, arms, and shoulders. He was still dressed, but the shirt did little to hide his physique. Hermione greedily drank him in, as if she were memorising what he looked like. A rosy blush had spread across her cheeks and down her neck. Her hair was a wild, riotous mess. Her lips were slick with her spit, but her tongue dipped out to run across her lower lip anyway.

“I do mean it. It’s yours. If you still want it, that is.”

Draco thrust into her punishingly, causing her head to fall forward and her chest to push further against the couch. When he slid a hand from her hip to the apex of her thighs to tease her sensitive bundle of nerves, Draco felt her cunt clench down on him in response.

“You’re not allowed to come until I say so.”

Her head whipped around and she flashed him an incredulous look.

“Your sweet, perfect little cunt is mine. So, you come when I give you permission.”

She turned a sobbing mess as he mercilessly pushed her closer and closer to orgasm. His fingers rubbed her clit in the way she liked, but every time she was about to plummet over the edge, he pulled away. There were several instances in which Draco felt her walls pulse and flutter around him, but she focused all her energy on following his instructions. 

Good.

His hips pistoned against her relentlessly as he chased his own release. His eyes were glued to the spot where their bodies joined. He was hypnotised by the way he disappeared into her entirely, over and over again as her wet, tight heat sucked him in. Draco slid his gaze to appreciate the round globes of her arse and his hands followed suit as he squeezed her cheeks. Using the new hold on her to thrust even harder, a small smirk spread across his lips as she wailed his name.

He studied the taut muscles of her back before his eyes landed on her curls, bouncing and writhing with every pump of his hips against her. When his fingers returned to her clit, Hermione turned once more and shot him a pleading look.

“Ask me.”

“Please.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Please, can I come, Draco?”

“Yes.”

With a shriek, she fell apart around him, and the rhythmic clenching of her cunt against his cock pulled him into the abyss with her. He collapsed onto her as he filled her with his seed. A low groan erupted from the back of his throat as he pressed his forehead to her shoulder. Without pulling from her, Draco gathered Hermione in his arms and spun them so that he was sitting on the couch and she was perched atop him.

She twisted in his hold and laid her head against his chest.

“Did I earn it?”

It took a moment for his brain to sort through the rush of endorphins it was flooded with to understand her question. She wanted to know if she deserved his forgiveness. Though it was left unspoken, he knew she was asking if he was prepared to give her another chance. On instinct his arms tightened around her.

“Do you want it?”

“More than anything.”

“Say it.”

She turned her face towards his.

“Draco, please forgive me. I want to make it up to you. Give me another chance to show you how strongly I feel about you, how much I care about you.”

He leaned down to capture her lips.

“This was a good start.”

The sunlight streamed through the window of his bedroom, rousing Draco from sleep. A warm, supple body burrowed further into his hold as Hermione pressed her bottom against his pelvis and drew the blankets above her head.

Draco followed suit, but only so that he could kiss her shoulder and neck. His hand tightened around her stomach and pulled her closer to him.

“It’s time to wake up, Granger.”

“Not yet,” she mumbled.

Her sleepy, thick voice sent a shiver down his spine.

Three months had passed since they decided to give things between them another shot, and Draco still couldn’t get enough of her. Even the most innocent of glances and touches made him ravenous with desire. Now, with her arse settled snugly against his cock, it was near impossible to ignore the hunger he felt anytime he was around her.

“Come on, love. If you wake up now, I’ll have just enough time to fuck you before we need to get ready for brunch.”

He mouthed at the skin of her neck lightly as he waited for his words to sink in. Twenty seconds later, Hermione twisted to look over her shoulder and capture his lips with hers.

“I can’t think of a better way to start the morning.” 

Her breath ghosted over his wet lips before she pressed her mouth against his once more. Slow, sensuous kisses sent the blood rushing straight to his cock as Hermione took her time in exploring him. Her lips pillowed against his in a lazy dance before her tongue darted out to sample him. She licked along his lower lip before she sought entrance. When he parted his lips, she pushed her tongue in and brushed it against his. Draco greedily stole the sigh that slipped from her when his tongue met hers.

He trailed his hand to her breast and delicately traced his finger across the soft skin, before running his palm across her already stiff nipples. He tweaked the pert bud, just how she liked to be teased, and was rewarded with a soft moan. Hermione pushed her arse back into him more insistently, rubbing it against his cock in a way that drove him wild. Intent on returning the favour, his fingers danced back down towards her knickers and dipped below the waistband.

Draco was met by the slick evidence of her arousal as he ran his fingers teasingly against her folds. When he dipped his fingers into her cunt, Hermione shuddered. He began to slide in and out of her, his palm firm against her clit. She buried her hand in his hair to hold his head in place while she kissed him deeply.

“I need your cock.” 

Her face was flushed, her eyes were hazy, and her lips were swollen from his attention. With a final, soft kiss, he withdrew his hand and pushed it against her lips. Hermione opened her mouth for him and sucked her juices from his fingers. The way that her tongue ran along the length of his digits made his cock twitch in anticipation. She felt it and hummed around his fingers as she slid her bum against his length.

“If you keep that up, I’ll have nothing left to give you.”

His voice was a low growl and when Hermione opened her eyes to meet his, Draco was pleased to see it had the desired effect on her.

“That’s a lie.” She smirked cheekily. “I’ve seen your encore performances before.”

“Stop teasing and let me fuck you already, witch.”

Hermione laughed. “What’s stopping you?”

“Your wicked little mouth won’t stop distracting me.” 

“Do something about it then.”

Draco tore her knickers from her and hastily shrugged his pyjamas off. With her back still pressed to his chest and her body slotted perfectly against him, Hermione threw her leg over his and opened herself to him. He dragged his cock along her folds before thrusting into her until he fully sheathed himself in her cunt. Her leg fell back and made the fit impossibly tighter. 

“Gods, Draco, I fucking love your cock.”

“Don’t say things like that unless you want me to come instantly.”

Hermione turned towards him and grinned. “You would never.”

Burying his face in her hair, he wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her steadily to him as he began to thrust in earnest. She was right. Despite the pressure that seemed to build from the moment he was inside her, Draco always tended to her pleasure first. Still, when she said filthy things like that, it was hard to maintain a sense of self-control.

A whimper escaped her as he shifted the angle to brush against the spot that always pushed her over the edge. The way she mewled and keened with every thrust of his hips was enough to drive him wild, but Draco focused on maintaining the pace and pressure she needed.

“How’s that, love? Do you like it when I fuck you like this?”

Hermione hummed in agreement and began to push her bum back to meet his every thrust.

“Good, because there are few things I love more than making you fall apart around my cock.”

As if on cue, her cunt clenched around him as her orgasm drew near. Draco wrapped his body around her and slotted his hips to her arse to grind against her. His mouth fell to her jaw and he planted hot, wet kisses against her skin, then descended to her neck. He found the sensitive spot just below her ear and scraped his teeth against it before his tongue gently soothed the marks. He teased the skin between his lips and sucked at it relentlessly until she shattered in his embrace with a scream of his name.

After several more frantic thrusts, Draco felt a fire spread through his veins as pleasure coursed through him in waves. His sweaty frame was stuck to hers and Hermione’s hair threatened to suffocate him, but Draco didn’t care. He was never as happy as when he was with her. She was the one who gently broke the embrace, after his cock had softened and slid from her cunt.

Hermione rolled onto her other side to face him, and he sighed contentedly as her fingers gently stroked the outline of his jaw before trailing to his lips, nose, and brow. He leaned further into her touch and her lips soon followed the path as she brushed soft kisses all across his face.

“We should probably get up. I imagine Lady Narcissa Malfoy doesn’t take well to tardiness.”

“You don’t have to meet her, yet. If you’re not ready, I’ll send her an owl and cancel.”

“Nonsense. This is important to you, which means it’s important to me, too. Unless she’s expecting us to get engaged tomorrow, I think meeting your mother is a good step.”

“She might,” he grumbled. “That woman is downright scary when she gets fixated.”

Hermione smiled against his lips.

“Honestly, I’m just pleased that she agreed to meet me.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” 

Draco pushed himself more insistently into her fingers, which were now stroking the hair that framed his face.

“You know, Draco.”

“The blood thing?”

“What else?”

When he opened his eyes to look at her, she dropped her gaze to the scar on his chest. Her finger traced the puckered skin lightly as the silence stretched on.

“I won’t lie to you and say it’s not an issue for her at all,” Draco said.

“I wouldn’t want you to spare my feelings.”

“That being said, so long as I’m happy, my mother will be, too.”

“What about your father?”

“I don’t care about him. He’s in Azkaban, but I can still tell him to take his galleons and shove them up his—”

Her lips pressed to his more insistently as Hermione surged forward and pushed him onto his back. She draped herself across his chest and twined her fingers into his hair as she deepened the kiss.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” he said, once she pulled away.

“I just want her to like me.”

“I know, love. I want that, too. But, if she doesn’t, just know that I like you very much.”

Draco kissed her nose for emphasis and ran his fingers along her ribs until he found her ticklish spot. The joyous shriek that escaped her made his pulse quicken. He was so distracted by studying the way her face looked when she was happy that he missed the mischievous grin she flashed him before tickling him back.

Rolling them over so that his body covered hers, Draco regained the advantage. He pinned both of her hands above her head with one of his own, and then ran his fingers up and down her sides until she was howling for mercy.

“Draco!” She giggled. “Please!” A deep inhale for breath. “STOP!”

He did as she asked, but couldn’t help but smirk smugly at his victory.

“Tell me I’m the best,” he said.

Hermione huffed playfully and rolled her eyes.

“Granger.”

“The best at what?”

“Everything.”

“I’m not feeding into your already inflated ego.”

“Granger, you wound me.”

She nudged his shoulder and he fell to his side, pulling her close so that her chest brushed against his with his hand firmly planted on her lower back. She smiled when she leaned in for another kiss.

“Somehow, I expect you’ll survive,” she said.

“Is that your professional opinion, Healer?”

“Oh, stop your teasing.” Her teeth nipped at his lip in playful reproach. “You’re ruining a perfectly good day off with your reminders of what awaits me.”

“What else should we do with this rare opportunity you’ve been gifted, then?”

“Well, Harry and Ron wanted to meet up for dinner—”

Draco stiffened against her and pulled back, but Hermione merely followed and crowded his side of the bed.

“Let me finish before you start making your wild assumptions. Harry wants to bring Theo along, and Ron will be bringing Pansy. So, I was thinking we could all have a nice meal.”

Since they reconciled, Draco found that Hermione was doing her utmost to make him feel included in her life. They met twice during her work-week for lunch, even if it meant grabbing a bite to eat from the hospital cafeteria. Every time they were in public, she eagerly slipped her fingers through his, or wrapped herself around one of his arms.

The press was rabid for news of them, but shockingly, it was mostly positive. Apparently the idea of star-crossed lovers finding their way to one another was a story that the public found romantic. The only truly negative article was written by Rita, of course. The woman made the preposterous, contradictory claim that Draco must he blackmailing Hermione, but also that Hermione was a social climbing wretch who was exploiting the Malfoy family name.

However, a terse letter to the Prophet and an illuminating visit between himself, Hermione, and Rita solved the issue entirely. Hermione was at her coldest, most callous and threatening self as she defended the both of them to the insipid reporter. 

That was the moment Draco knew that he loved her. He had yet to tell her. There hadn’t yet been a right moment. Though, maybe there never would be. Or, perhaps that moment was now, as Hermione watched him and nervously teased her bottom lip.

Draco had become reacquainted with Harry and Ron over dinner at Hermione’s apartment a month prior, but this would be the first time that all of them would be out in public. It was a big step.

Although the press freely speculated about the nature of his and Hermione’s relationship Draco knew that this seemingly innocent meal would change everything. It would be the evidence that legitimised his position in Hermione’s life.

He was ready.

“A nice meal sounds lovely. I even promise to behave.”

She kissed the impish smirk off his face.

“Draco?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

He pulled her into a heated kiss, pouring all of his devotion into their embrace. When she whimpered and wriggled against his hardening erection, Draco met her hips eagerly.

Brunch could wait.