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“They can be a bit overwhelming, can’t they?”
The soft voice startled Draco, and he turned to see Hermione Granger standing behind him in the Burrow’s small kitchen. He was unsurprised to find that the ever-present bags under her eyes were darker, and her unruly hair was pulled back into a plait. It seemed, even two years after the war, he wasn’t the only one still struggling.
“The Weasleys, I mean.”
“In many ways,” he replied, before turning his head to continue staring out the window, his arms crossed over his chest.
He was overly aware of her proximity, and felt it immediately when she moved closer, watching over his shoulder as the scene played out in front of them. Teddy Lupin sat in Harry’s lap, giggling as he gripped a stuffed snitch in one hand and a handful of cake in the other. Blue icing was smeared across his face and everyone was watching them with smiles on their faces. It was the kind of wholesome family scene you’d expect from the Weasleys, and the same kind you’d wish for - but never see - growing up in Malfoy Manor.
A part of him was extremely jealous at the happiness they all exuded. How he wished to be that happy, for even just one day in his life. The other part of him was thankful that being invited to parties like this wasn’t an often occurrence. Granger was right; they were very overwhelming. The happiness, the noise, the sheer number of redheads.
A raucous laugh floated in through the window and he gave a slight shake of his head.
“Do you think there’s something wrong with us?” she asked softly.
Her voice was barely audible over the laughter and the tone scared him. It was too real - too painful - because he’d been asking himself the very same question.
So he deflected.
“Of course there’s something wrong with you, Granger. That bush on top of your head for starters.”
“I’m serious,” she said, rolling her eyes at the admittedly overused insult. She turned to face him, but he remained aloof and continued looking out the window. “I am quite intuitive. And I happen to know that you’re not faring nearly as well as you’d like everyone else to think.”
“You’re one to talk,” he sniped. “If those bags under your eyes get any darker, people are going to think you’re turning into a raccoon.”
“At least I’m not hiding it,” she replied, tilting her chin up as she crossed her arms.
“And what, may I ask, am I supposed to be hiding?” he challenged, finally turning to glare at her.
“Malnutrition. Loneliness. Fear. And I’d wager that nightmares are a problem, too.”
Her chocolate eyes burned through him, as though she was attempting to read his thoughts. She was right, of course, and if he wasn’t a skilled Occlumens, he might think she was reading his thoughts. Her assessment made him angry, not only because of its accuracy, but because he prided himself on being stoic and unreadable, yet she read him as easily as one of her books. It unnerved him that she understood him so well and he wished for the hundredth time that he could show her just how well he understood her, too. But no matter how much he yearned to, he couldn’t. She wasn’t his to covet. He wasn’t good enough for her yet, so once again, he deflected.
“I also hide my annoyance, though you’re making that terribly difficult right now.”
“You never answered my question,” she stated, ignoring his comment.
He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to intimidate her into leaving him be. Instead, she laughed. It was a sound rarely heard, but a beautiful one, and he suddenly found himself fighting off a smile in return.
“You don’t scare me, Draco.”
He struggled to keep the glare on his face as he stepped forward, ignoring the way his heart sped up at their proximity.
“And now?”
Still smiling, she shook her head, though he caught her take a slight step backwards only to be stopped by the counter behind her. He moved closer to her, holding her eyes with his own. Their chests were touching, and he could feel the rapid rise and fall of her own as the smile faded from her face. He knew he had her.
“Are you scared now, Granger?” he asked softly, placing his hands on the counter on either side of her, watching as her eyes flickered down to his lips.
She shook her head, before placing her hands on his chest and allowing her eyes to fall shut, waiting for their lips to meet. A sense of guilt began to settle in his stomach as he watched her and several things occurred to him within a single breath. He craved her in an overwhelming way. One of his greatest desires was to feel their breaths mingle as he pressed his lips against hers, but no matter how much he wanted this, it wasn’t fair to her. He was still so unworthy of it. Of her. She deserved so much better than a washed-up Death Eater who failed at everything. He couldn’t - wouldn’t - stain her with his darkness. So he deflected again , pulling away, and quickly turning his back on her so he couldn't see whatever emotion resided on her face.
She cleared her throat before speaking. “I’m sorry, Draco. I should have realized that wasn’t your intention.”
“It’s fine,” he quickly replied, staring out the window once more.
A tense silence washed over them, but it didn’t last more than a few minutes before she spoke again.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she whispered. “Do you think there’s something wrong with us?”
“Yes, Granger,” Draco sighed heavily as he leaned over the sink, looking down at his reflection in the shiny metal basin. “There is most definitely something wrong with me.”
“But not me?”
“Doubtful. You’re just healing. Merlin knows you’re the one who carried everyone else through the war. You have much more to heal from than they do.”
“And you don’t?” Hermione asked, stepping forward and placing a hand on his shoulder.
He quickly stood upright, forcing her hand to fall as he moved away, putting more distance between them.
“Let's just say that if I were you, I’d have let me rot in Azkaban, which is where I should be. Not at a birthday party for my orphaned cousin whose parents died in a war I assisted in starting.”
“Don’t say that!” She snapped, her hands curling into tiny fists at her sides. “You were manipulated, coerced, and threatened into doing all those things. I wouldn’t have testified for you and your mother if none of that was true.”
“Maybe that’s just what I wanted you to think. Have you considered that? Maybe I simply used you for your testimony to avoid Azkaban.”
She scoffed before stepping forward, slowly moving closer to him as she spoke.
“Do you know what I think? I think you’re a coward . I think you don’t want to heal because healing would be ten times more difficult than wallowing in self-pity and hatred. I think you’re taking the easy way out, as always , because being vulnerable and talking to someone about the hurt and pain that was inflicted on you would shatter that icy facade you're so desperate for everyone to believe.”
Hermione was in his face now, her finger stabbing sharply at his chest.
“Don’t talk about things you know nothing about, Granger,” he growled, his voice dangerously low as he gently gripped her wrist, pulling her hand away from his chest.
“I know you, Draco. As much as you hate it, I know you.”
Before he could say anything, her lips met his in a fierce kiss. For a moment, he stood there, shocked that she kissed him and unsure what to do. But then, his magic seemed to vibrate within him before mingling with hers in an explosive way. The kiss deepened with the swell of magic and both of them vied for dominance. Her hands slid up his chest, gripping tightly at the expensive vest he wore, but he paid it no mind. He was far more distracted by her tongue swiping across his bottom lip.
He pulled her tightly against him, letting out a groan of approval. It was certainly a messy kiss, full of impatience and inexperience on both of their parts, but it was also perfect and passionate and somehow everything he’d hoped for.
The tightening of his trousers brought Draco to his senses and he realized if he didn’t stop this now, one of two things were going to happen: either they’d continue and end up fornicating in the rather unclean kitchen of the Burrow, or Hermione would realize what a mistake she’d made and run away screaming. So he slowed the kiss, trying to memorize the feeling of their lips together before she pulled away.
He immediately felt the loss when she took a step back, but successfully ignored it as he smoothed down the wrinkles in his vest. The quiet in the kitchen seemed awkward and loud, but just as Draco opened his mouth to fill it, the door to the kitchen opened to reveal Harry, who seemed to think nothing of Draco and Hermione - both flushed and standing just a few feet apart - alone in the kitchen.
“Hey, ‘Mione, it’s time for presents.”
“Okay,” she answered with a half-smile before glancing at Draco. “Nice talking to you, Draco.”
Hermione moved to follow Harry, who had already left, but Draco reached out, gently taking hold of her wrist as she passed. He waited until she met his gaze before he spoke.
“I know you, too, Granger.”
Her eyes widened slightly, and she opened her mouth, only to be interrupted by Harry calling her name once more.
“Perhaps you should go. Before he begins asking questions,” he said, releasing his grip on her as she nodded.
“Goodbye, Draco,” she replied softly.
He inclined his head before turning away, allowing her to escape out the back door.
Later that evening, he was startled awake by a nightmare, his head filled with the sound of Hermione Granger’s screams. As he clenched his fists and breathed through his nose, her earlier words struck him:
“I’d wager nightmares are a problem, too.”
He shook as he let out a ragged breath, attempting to slow his heart rate. Perhaps he wasn’t as skilled in the art of deception as he thought.