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It was unusually quiet in the halls tonight. It had understandably become more subdued when they returned. Ghosts—literal and figurative—haunted the grounds of Hogwarts in the wake of the war. Even after reconstruction, after everything had been set back to “normal,” there was still a pall of loss that hung in the air.
The students slowly began to come alive again as the months rolled along, especially once the excitement of Halloween grew nearer. It seemed almost everyone was on an upswing. Good for them, she supposed.
Now it was December and the weather seemed colder this year, somehow. Hermione had opted to take patrol alone. She often preferred it, roaming the corridors by herself, nodding to the portraits and running her fingers along the familiar stone. It grounded her in a way. Made her feel connected to all those they had lost in battle.
Harry and Ron were off in Auror training, which she didn’t fault them for. The Ministry had offered her a position as well, but Hermione declined. She’d always dreamed of taking her NEWTs, and getting Outstandings in all subjects. Besides, she hadn’t yet decided what she wanted to do after school. McGonagall had understood that and offered her Head Girl upon her return. She took it without hesitation—the idea of her own private dorm more appealing than anything else. Besides, the extra responsibility would keep her busy. Busy was good.
Neville had been selected for Head Boy, but was also busy apprenticing with Professor Sprout and cultivating a myriad of plants Hermione had never seen before. He was often down in the greenhouse, and never questioned her when she insisted on doing the rounds alone. She thought he must have understood why she needed this time to herself.
As the winter holidays approached, Hermione thought about her plans for the break. She had been exchanging letters with Viktor Krum regularly, and he had invited her to Durmstrang to visit for Christmas. He had stayed on after finishing his education to help coach the Quidditch team when he wasn’t touring. Supposedly the campus was beautifully decorated for the season and since the majority of students returned home, it would be relatively peaceful.
It sounded nice, a bit of time away. The only thing holding her back was imagining Harry’s disappointment that she wouldn’t be spending the holiday with him and the Weasleys—though he couldn’t blame her for wanting to avoid any awkward talk about her and Ron’s breakup.
A change of scenery could be good, she thought, as she rounded the corner back to her dorm. And it would definitely help distract her from thoughts of her parents celebrating Christmas in Australia, unaware they even had a daughter who was missing them. She frowned slightly as she muttered the password to get back into her room.
It was settled then. She’d go to Durmstrang for winter break.
Viktor was the same as ever. She enjoyed his company, but there was only so much she could take of reading by the fire in silence while he sat nearby and asked her a question once every twenty minutes. It had been relaxing the first couple nights, but she was starting to get a little bored.
“I think I might take a walk,” she announced.
Viktor looked up from his own book—something on Quidditch flying techniques if she had to guess from the cover—and quirked his eyebrow. “Did you want some company?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.” She took off from his quarters, remembering the way back to the main hall from when he had given her the quick tour the other day.
Most of her time had been spent in his private residence, which was practically a wing of the Durmstrang castle. There were two other professors that had quarters in the wing, but they had both left to visit family for the holidays.
As Hermione wandered, it wasn’t lost on her what a big deal it was that she had even been allowed on the grounds. However, in the wake of the war, many wizarding institutions had scrambled to do away with their harmful anti-Muggle and Muggle-born policies. Surprisingly, Durmstrang had been one of the leaders of this movement, deposing their current headmaster and hiring a half-blood witch to take over. Headmistress Starkov had done a lot for the school’s image and reportedly was delighted when Viktor had told her of his plans to have Hermione there for a visit.
She came to the walkway between two separate parts of the castle. It was covered—archways cut out of the stone at regular intervals—yet still exposed to the elements. She looked down at her simple dress, remembering that she took her cardigan off in the glow of the fire and left it on the arm of the chair. Did she dare brave the cold?
Then she spotted someone sitting under one of the archways, crimson and fur Durmstrang cape wrapped around them for warmth. Her curiosity won out. She braced for the chill and pushed open the door. As she approached the figure, she noticed the platinum hair and rigid posture.
“Draco?”
He turned, and her breath caught in her chest for a moment. He looked better than he’d done at the last battle. He had gained back some weight and possibly even grew another couple centimeters in height. She had privately always thought he could be handsome if not for his attitude. Seeing him in red stirred something inside her.
“Granger?” He looked startled to see her, though there was no animosity in his expression.
“I—uh, I didn’t realize you had transferred.” When he hadn’t returned, she just assumed he was continuing his lessons privately. She walked closer, and he scooted over on the expanse of stone. She sat down beside him, a little chuffed to see a familiar face, even if it was his pointy one. She kicked her feet out, feeling the brisk air on her skin.
“Mother thought it might be best for me to finish my education somewhere with less… baggage. She preferred Beauxbatons, but they refused my application. Something about not wanting to be associated with the child of a convicted Death Eater.” Lucius Malfoy was currently serving a ten-year term in Azkaban, and a lot of people thought even that was getting off easy.
“But they—that’s—your trial…” she trailed off helplessly.
He shrugged. “Despite your and Potter’s best efforts, not everyone was able to forgive us as easily.” He paused, rubbing his left arm. “I don’t blame them.”
Hermione nodded her understanding, deciding to move on. She couldn’t apologize to him, or say he didn’t bring it on himself. But she also didn’t want to make it worse. She suspected he was just as lonely as she was. “Was it better here?”
“Not always,” he replied. No further elaboration.
A chill ran down her spine. “Colder though.” She tried to huff a little laugh, but all she saw was the cloud of her breath in the frigid air.
Suddenly, warmth enveloped Hermione and she looked up to see Draco wrapping his fur-lined cape around her. It smelled of amber and spice. She nestled deeper into it. “Thanks.” She felt her cheeks burn from more than just the temperature.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” His look was one of genuine curiosity.
The cape was so long it covered her feet. He definitely had gotten taller. She smiled. “Viktor invited me.”
“Oh right, Krum. One of the more decent people here, though I rarely have cause to interact with him as I’m not playing Quidditch.”
“Oh no?”
Another shrug. His eyebrow rose. “So you and Krum, eh?”
“It’s not like that. We’re friends. And—it would’ve been too awkward if I’d gone to the Weasleys.”
At this, Draco smirked. “Trouble in paradise?”
Hermione scoffed. “Ronald and I barely made it through the summer. I thought things had changed, but I was wrong.”
“Well, I know all about that—being wrong.” The shame on his face was evident. “I feel like you being here is kismet, in a way. So I can apologize.”
“That’s not necess—”
He cut her off. “It is. Things have changed here, but there’s still a lot of anti-Muggle sentiment. Some of the other students have asked me for details about the Dark Lord, like they’re in awe. It sickens me to think anyone would want that after seeing… after what he—”
“Draco, you don’t have to talk about it. It’s okay.” She reached her hand out to rest on his arm. “I forgive you.” She had a long time ago, even speaking up for him at his trial. But she had never told him to his face.
His shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank you. I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”
She turned to him, meeting his silver gaze. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”
“You really believe that?”
Hermione nodded. “I do.”
For perhaps the first time ever, she witnessed a true smile from Draco Malfoy. “Would you like me to walk you back to the east wing?”
She nodded and hopped off the stone ledge, back onto the walkway, keeping his cape around her. They walked in comfortable silence, his arm brushing her shoulder now and again. She took in the brightly colored lights and garland that elegantly dressed the hallways. A wreath with massive holly berries fluttered as fairies flitted about it.
Then, as they passed an open room that looked to be for some kind of music class, Hermione happened to look up. A sprig of mistletoe jutted out from the beam she was under. Draco seemed to spot it at the same time.
They looked at each other and laughed nervously.
“A silly, antiquated tradition,” Hermione said, tilting her chin up ever so slightly.
“Outdated, really.” He stepped a bit closer.
“I hope it’s not charmed.” She rose up on her toes just a bit.
“That would be unfortunate,” he agreed, bending forward slightly.
Her eyes traveled to his mouth—how had she never realized before that his lips looked utterly inviting? Before she could contemplate how stupid of a mistake it might be, they were kissing. It should’ve been a chaste little peck, something to appease the mistletoe gods, yet…
Hermione found herself pushed up against the castle wall, her fist tightening in Draco’s shirt and toes curling in her shoes as he melded his lips to hers with a fiery passion. It was wild and furious, years of frustration and animosity being unleashed into something deeper . It ended all too soon and left her gasping for air, staring up at him in amazement.
She licked her lips and tried not to notice how he watched the action, like he was a predator waiting for the kill. “That was—”
“Yeah.” He promptly turned on his foot and started walking away.
She stared after him, dumbfounded. “Draco, your cape!”
“Keep it!” He waved his hand and turned his head briefly, but didn’t stop his stride. Almost like he was trying to escape.
Hermione made her way back to Viktor’s quarters still wrapped in Draco’s cape, a finger lightly trailing her bottom lip.
Over the next few months, Hermione picked up her quill to write to Draco more times than she could count. The crumpled pieces of parchment in the bin spoke to why he never received an owl. She wondered if it was the same for him. Why did he just walk away after kissing her like that? She’d spent many a night since she returned thinking about that kiss, sometimes with her hand down her knickers, if she were being honest.
His cape still sat neatly folded in the bottom of her trunk, and she had started to question whether there might actually be something there. She shook her head. It was stupid. They were from different worlds—it could never work. It was just that they had both been relieved to see someone familiar and got caught up in the moment, that’s all. She balled up her newest attempt at a letter and tossed it in the bin before heading to class.
Spring break was fast approaching, and Hermione hadn’t made any plans. Harry and Ron didn’t earn time off until they were official Aurors, and no one else had mentioned anything fun. Neville was off to the beach with a mystery lady. She didn’t ask for further details. That left her alone in the Head dorm to most likely catch up on her reading for pleasure, since she was caught up on her schoolwork. It wasn’t a terrible way to spend two weeks, but it would be rather lonely.
The campus was quiet after everyone had left for their respective destinations. Only a handful of students stayed behind, off studying in the library or practicing their Quidditch moves—overachievers, the lot of them. Just like Hermione. She smiled watching a fifth year scramble towards a free table, her stack of books nearly as tall as herself.
A walk on the grounds seemed like just the thing.
She donned her favorite sundress—a yellow muslin shift with delicate blue flowers—and flats along with a cardigan for the slight chill still in the air. Then she grabbed the novel she’d been dying to crack into before heading out into the sunshine. There was nary a soul in sight and after a little wandering, she figured a spot near the lake would be a good place to sit and start her book.
But as she drew closer to the shore, she noticed someone standing at the water’s edge. A pale blonde head clad in dark blue oxford and grey linen trousers. She didn’t dare think it, but then he turned around. It was Draco, a sheepish look on his face.
Hermione found her feet moving towards him, her book all but forgotten.
“I was going to write… but I wasn’t sure what to say.” His hands were shoved into his pockets.
She stood a safe distance away and moved her hands to her hips. “So you show up unannounced instead?”
“I know, it’s a bit much. But I wasn’t sure if you’d agree to see me otherwise.”
She crossed her arms. “And why should I?”
“Right, that’s fair.” He let a breath out that it seemed he’d been holding in. “I’m sorry I ran, Hermione. It’s just—I don’t know how to behave in this new world. The truth is, I’ve thought about kissing you for a long time. Long before I would’ve been allowed to. And I know—” he stepped a bit closer. “There’s no reality in which I’d deserve to.”
“Draco—”
“So when you didn’t push me away, I kind of lost it. I just had to get away before it got out of hand.”
She smiled. “How out of hand are we talking?”
The pained expression on his face morphed into something decidedly more feral. “Are you—teasing me, Granger?”
“Maybe,” she said, closing the distance between them. “Or maybe I’ve thought about that kiss every night since it happened. Maybe I’ve picked up my quill to write to you so many times. Maybe I—”
He cut her off with his mouth, an arm snaking tightly around her waist. She lost herself to the feeling, a heady moan escaping her lips as she melted into him. Merlin help her, it just felt right . His tongue traced the inside of her mouth as she opened to him, deepening the kiss.
Draco suddenly pulled back. “Are you sure about this?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes. I—I want you.” She felt a shiver run down her spine at the admission, tired of trying to be rational about it. It was the most alive she’d felt in months.
“Fuck.” He muttered the word like he couldn’t believe what she was saying. His lips ghosted along her jaw, up to her ear and down her neck.
“You know, I am Head Girl now. I have my own room.” And a full supply of contraceptive potion that she hadn’t stopped taking since the summer.
His answering smirk was all the response she needed before grabbing his hand and practically sprinting back to the castle.
“How did you get in, anyway?”
“I wrote to Headmistress McGonagall. Told her I wanted to make amends, and she surprisingly approved my visit.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” She pulled him inside the main room and lit a fire in the fireplace.
Draco paused with his hands on her shoulders. “You know I meant everything I said in December, right?”
Hermione paused, seeing the depth of feeling in his eyes. The lingering pain and trepidation, probably a fair amount of guilt. “I know… all we can do is move forward, Draco.”
With that, his features softened and he leaned in to kiss her again—slow and reverent this time. She pulled back just a little to peel off her cardigan and toss it onto the couch. Apparently the sight of her bare tan arms was enough to push him over the edge, because he pulled her into him and began kissing down her neck to her collarbone.
“I don’t think I can make it to your room, Granger.” His breath was hot on her skin.
“Mmm, that’s fine.” She pulled her wand out. “ Accio cape.”
Draco’s cape came flying out of her room and landed neatly in front of the fireplace. “You still have it,” he said.
“You told me to keep it.”
“That I did.” The gleam in his eye let her know he was pleased that she had.
With that, Draco picked her up, eliciting a squeal before gently laying her down on top of the cape. He placed kisses over her still clothed breasts, on her abdomen, and finally her upper thigh where her dress had ridden up slightly. “I think this is even better than I had imagined it.”
Hermione let out a happy sigh, unable to think of something witty to say for perhaps the first time in her life.
He pushed her dress up, little by little, kissing her newly exposed skin along the way. “I can’t wait to see how you taste.”
Her dress was above her navel now and before she could process what he meant, Draco was already pulling her knickers down and spreading her legs. “You don’t have to…” She trailed off. No one had done this before—it hadn’t even occurred to her that he might want to.
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s just—well, no one’s ever tried it before.”
The sight of his smirk between her legs was enough to quell any lingering trepidation. “Then you’re very lucky I’m the first.”
Before she could even reach for a comeback, his mouth was on her. He started with slow, exploratory licks, as if he were mapping her out with his tongue. Her hips bucked of their own volition, and his palm came up to her stomach as if to hold her in place.
“Patience, love. You taste divine.”
Hermione writhed on the floor, the crackling of the fire the only sound she could hear as he feasted on her. The way he teased and taunted with his words was nothing compared to the other talents of his tongue. By the time he sucked on her clit, she could barely remember her own name. Just as she thought she had crested higher than was possible, he slipped one of his long, elegant fingers inside her opening.
“Fuck,” was all she could get out as he started to thrust.
Draco paused. “Ooh what a dirty mouth, Granger. I think we can find another use for it later.”
“Oh, shut up and get back to it.” She smiled as she pushed on his head, fingers tangling in his hair.
She could practically feel him smiling as he continued, adding another finger inside her and crooking them slightly to touch her inner wall. Hermione crashed into her orgasm with a string of curses so strong they’d make a dark wizard run.
He took his time letting her ride it out, with gentle little kisses to her center as she came down. “If that’s all it takes to get you talking like that, I ought to try it more often.”
She was blushing, heat suffusing her cheeks. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“I do.” He crawled up her body a little and pulled her to a sitting position. “This needs to come off.”
She lifted her arms, still a bit in a daze, as he pulled her dress off the rest of the way. Then Hermione unclasped her bra and bared herself to him. “Your turn,” she said.
She hadn’t known it was possible to undress smugly, but leave it to Draco Malfoy to do so. He unbuttoned his shirt at an agonizing pace before shucking off his trousers.
Her eyes widened when she took in the sight of his cock. “Oh.”
“Something wrong?”
“Not at all.” Her cheeks started to warm again. “You’re just a bit… larger than I’m used to.” He certainly didn’t need to hear that for his ego, but she was a bit nervous.
“Good thing I warmed you up then.”
She fell back onto the cape as he hovered over her. The look in his eyes was enough to set her aflame all over again. He slotted himself against her and ran his length through her folds several times, getting coated in her wetness and teasing her clit for good measure.
“Ready, love?”
She nodded, and he pushed inside. Bit by bit he filled her, letting her acclimate to his size. The stretch stung a little at first, but the pleasure far outweighed any pain. Soon he was fully inside her, and it was exquisite. “Please,” she said, not even sure what she was asking for.
He started to move. Slowly at first, his eyes traveling from her face down to where they were joined. “I never thought I’d get to have this—have you.”
His eyes closed as he picked up the pace, and all she could do was take it, moaning with the delicious friction. “Draco,” she panted, nails digging into his back.
“Fuck, Hermione. Say it again.” He grunted, sweat beading on his forehead.
“Draco, Draco, Draco.” She’d say it a thousand times if he kept fucking her like this.
His head dropped to hers, their sweat intermingling as he thrusted. His hand wandered down, playing with her nipple, before moving down to her clit. “I want to feel it when you come on my cock, Granger.”
“Yes,” she breathed. His finger stroked her harder exactly where she needed it, and she fell over the edge, mouth open in a silent scream.
“Fucking hell,” he swore, hand crashing down beside her as his hips slammed into hers again and again. His release followed, lips finding her neck as he stilled and pumped her full of his spend.
Hermione couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of her, the afterglow of two mind-blowing orgasms too much to bear. “It is ridiculous how good you are at that.”
He smiled against her skin, giving her another quick peck before looking her in the eyes. “Or maybe we’re just amazing together.”
She found that answer acceptable and snuggled into him as he gradually pulled out, tucking her into his chest.
When she awoke, she wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep. Only that her back was killing her from sleeping on the stone floor. “Draco?” She nudged him gently with her chin.
“What?”
“Next time, let’s use the bed.”
“Excellent idea, Granger. How about we do that now?”
Hermione grinned as he stood and picked her up, carrying her the short distance to her room. The crimson of his rumpled cape seemed to glow in the firelight. She didn’t put much stock in things like destiny, but that cape now held a special place in her heart.