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Draco shuffled on the steps outside of an old townhouse in London. He smoothed down the deep maroon jumper he begrudgingly admitted looked very good on him and wiped his clammy hand down the side of the fitted pants a muggle saleswoman coerced him into buying. After buying an entire wardrobe’s worth of muggle clothes, he practiced wearing them around his flat. Even with the practice and coat he currently wore, Draco felt uncomfortably exposed compared to the loose, flowing wizard robes he had known his whole life.
With a deep breath to calm himself he knocked on the door, a bouquet of flowers gripped nervously in his other hand. The door swung open to reveal, confoundingly, a house elf.
“Who is visiting the residence Grimmauld Place of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black?” The house elf rattled, his voice gravely with age and disdain.
“Draco Malfoy, I was invited here by Hermione Granger.”
Instantly the old elf’s face lit up. “Ah, a Malfoy. Come right in, sir, please. These halls have been filled with those who would bring shame upon the House of Black. Blood traitors and-”
“Kreacher!” Her voice rang out, as bright and authoritative as it was in Hogwarts. Draco’s heart raced faster just from hearing it, then she turned the corner and he worried that she would hear how hard his heart pounded. She wore tight muggle denims with a blouse cut low enough to thoroughly distract Draco. “Enough of that before I tell Harry to release you from your services and you know you should have told me someone was at the door, we would prefer to answer it ourselves.”
“Yes of course Mistress.” Kreacher replied and it was like Draco was dunked into the black lake.
It didn’t make any sense for the house elf who was just complaining about blood traitors to call Hermione his mistress. He knew her better than to believe it was because she had bought the right to familial contract, Draco looked between the house elf and Hermione in confusion.
There were very few reasons for Kreacher to refer to as such, the only one Draco could believe was that she was not in fact a single witch and that her relationship with Potter truly was beyond platonic. All those times Potter had held her close when she’d had too much to drink, the one time Hermione drunkenly complained about her hair when she was growing it out and Harry expertly wrangled her curls into a bun, Hermione being the first to run into his arms when he returned from missions.
“Thank you,” she replied with a nod, allowing the house elf to pass. Then she turned to Draco, a bright smile on her perfect lips and he forgot himself all over again at being the focus of her joy. Hermione closed the distance between them, “Are those for me?”
Shaking his head to break out of his trance, “Yes, I wasn’t sure what flowers you’d like. So I got a bit of everything.”
Hermione smiled at that, still so charmed by this new Draco who sought her out in the hallways of Hogwarts in their final year to make amends after the war. In the past year, he slowly worked his way into their friend group, now able to sit with them at the Leaky Cauldron without anyone looking to pick a fight after a few drinks.
“Thank you very much, I’ll just go put this in a vase and then we can go.” She turned on her heel, disappearing into the kitchen. Hermione returned a moment later with a jacket thrown over one arm, “left it in the kitchen last night, was looking for it everywhere too.”
“Bit scatterbrained are we now? You have to protect that brain of yours.” Draco insisted, tapping at her temple as he stepped into her space, letting his hand trail down to rest below her chin.
“Caring for others? How un-Slytherin of you Draco.” Hermione shot back not aware of the trill he got at her calling him by his first name even now.
He smirked, stepping so close their chests brushed and she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. “On the contrary, you’re the brightest witch of our age after all. That brilliant, beautiful brain is for the best of magical beings everywhere.”
Hermione’s eyes widened at the praise, lowering her head bashfully, brushing her lips against Draco’s finger that had still been pressed gently to her chin. His breath caught in his throat at the contact, so to distract himself he snatched the jacket out of her arms.
She lifted an eyebrow at him when he lifted a hand to make a twirling motion. “I’m perfectly capable of putting on my own clothes, you know.” Yet still, allowing him to slide the jacket over her arms, he gathered her large braids in one hand to pull them out from under the jacket.
Draco smoothed the jacket down, giving him an excuse to rest his hands on her shoulders as he leaned in close to speak directly into her ear. “Yes and you’re perfectly capable of paying for lunch too but I won’t be letting you do that today either.”
Hermione whirled around at that hair flaring out behind her, smacking against his chest as she turned. “You will not!”
“I will.” Draco countered, “you’ve agreed to come out with me around muggle London, it’s the least I can do to repay the favor.”
Hermione grumbled her consent, though still looking unhappy with the trade. Draco couldn’t stop his lips from tugging up at her pout which seemed to infuriate her more.
“Fine, that just means I’m paying next time.” Draco smiled widely over her already speaking on meeting another time. The good mood came crashing down when she turned back to yell into the home, “Kreacher we’ll be leaving now. Please let Harry know not to wait for dinner, I’ll be home late I think.”
Draco tensed at that, the reminder that she was not available. More so than he ever felt before when it was just their pasts separating them. She turned back to Draco with a shy smile, taking his arm to lead him out onto the streets of London.
They went first to a small florist where Hermione told him, quite aggressively, to wait outside because she’d be buying him a flower too. His heart almost fell out of his chest when she held up a red tulip, surely she didn’t know the meaning of flowers. The meaning of flowers was commonly known in pureblood circles for courting most halfbloods didn’t even bother these days.
“I thought it was fitting, the start of spring and all.” Draco went through a concerning series of emotions that she apparently did not know what the tulip represented. Hermione flushed when he didn’t immediately take it. “Sorry I know you have lunch plans and you must be so annoyed at having your schedule thrown off. I just saw the shop and wanted to get it right away.”
Draco’s large hand came up to wrap around hers, gently pulling the flower up and out of her grasp. Her breath caught when their fingers touched and he convinced himself it was just because his hands were cold trying to ignore how his hand felt against hers.
“I love it, thank you.” His voice was rasped as he forced the words out, wishing she knew what she was doing to his heart. She still looked uncertain, big brown eyes flicking across his face so he gave her the best smile he could muster, “Really, I do. The restaurant will hold our reservation even if we are a bit late which we won’t be because I already planned for us to get there ten minutes before as I know you have an incessant need to be early to everything. Speaking of though, we really should keep moving, best not to push our luck.”
“It’s not a need, I just like to be prepared! And anyway you’re just mad that it means I get to the Leaky first so you can’t get your favorite seat.” Hermione shot back, as they walked on the street, her arms crossed petulantly.
“Now that’s not true at all.” Draco countered, looking carefully forward.
“Isn’t it? You always make such a fuss about being near the end of the table.”
“It has nothing to do with the table. My favorite seat is the one next to you.” Draco admitted, a delicate pink returning to his cheeks. He felt some guilt at betraying Potter, who he could begrudgingly admit to being friends with, but her proximity was intoxicating. She had the ability of coaxing all his secrets just by being near, Merlin save him if she ever figured out the power she held over him. “I’m not above playing dirty if it means I get to sit with the only tolerable person in that place.”
“Oh.” Hermione looked down again, a smile just barely visible. She eyed the flower he held carefully as if it was the most delicate thing in the world. “Still you’ll have to carry it around with us everywhere.”
“I’ll have you know that I do work out, part of being a professional quidditch player and all that rot.” Draco grinned at her. “I’m sure I can muster up enough strength to carry around a tulip given to me by the most brilliant witch of our age.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but she did loop her arm through his as they made their way to the restaurant so Draco took it as a win in his book. Draco’s focus narrowed onto the witch at his side and the way her hand nestled perfectly into the crook of his arm. In the end they still made it to the restaurant with time to spare.
“This is the place you’ve chosen for lunch?” Hermione asked, eyes wide. Coming around to stand in front of him, the hand that was on his arm trailing down to hold lightly at his hand.
“Yes, you’ve mentioned liking French food.” Draco replied. Wondering if he had perhaps misheard all those months ago, worried that she wouldn’t want this at all, and trying to rapidly make alternative plans in a city he rarely finds himself in.
“No I did. I do.” Hermione squeezed his hand in assurance. “It’s just I’ve been wanting to try this place since I moved into Grimmauld Place, but they book so far out and the Ministry salary doesn’t leave much room for fine dining.”
The reminder of her residence was a shot of ice through his veins. Draco quickly stepped back, pulling his hand out of hers as he went, reluctant to move from her warmth but finding that he needed the distance to clear his head. Hermione looked confused at his change in demeanor so Draco tried to hide it by masking the movement as him going to open the door for her but he could tell she wasn’t buying it.
Together they went to the hostess stand, where the woman raised an eyebrow at Hermione before pointedly ignoring her to look at Draco. “Do you have a reservation with us today?”
“Draco Malfoy, we’re a bit early.” Draco asked once they were outside.
On hearing his name the woman straightened up. “Mr. Malfoy! Yes, of course. Your table is ready now please follow me.” She led them to a booth far in the back of the restaurant tucked into a corner. Hermione hesitated and Draco worried that he overstepped in requesting such an intimate table.
When the hostess had gone Hermione turned to him, “Mr. Malfoy? Are you a regular?”
“Not me, but the Malfoy name does hold weight even in muggle London.” Draco explained. “My father doesn’t believe muggleborns should be welcome in wizarding society but is more than happy to continue business with muggles so long as it turns a profit.”
Draco scoffed as he said it, able to recognize how hypocritical his father was. “Imagine my surprise when I started managing the family estate to find out that for all the pureblood sycophantics in my lineage, the Malfoys have centuries worth of business dealings with muggles.”
“I haven’t found that many of those arguments are based in any type of logic anyway. It’s hollow people with hollow goals, who unfortunately are quite powerful just for the luck of having been born a certain way.” Hermione responded, her voice was soft but edged in steel.
Draco hesitantly reached out to put his hand on hers. His thumb brushed down her knuckles that were white with tension. “I’m sorry. For the way the wizarding world treated you.” He added on much more quietly. “For how I treated you.”
Hermione flipped her hand below his, lacing their fingers together. “Draco you’ve already apologized and I’ve already forgiven you. You’re different from them.” When he tried to pull away she grabbed his hand harder, “You are. We wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. You said I was the brightest witch of our age earlier right? Trust me on this then, I tend to be right quite a bit.”
Draco blinked tears from his eyes, “I thought you hated being called that”
“I do. However, if it helps to get my point across, I’ll use it to my advantage.” He laughed, eyes still shining.
“I’m sorry for how the hostess treated you also. I’ve no idea why she was so rude.”
Hermione snorted at that. “Really, Draco. It’s ok, I should have expected.”
“What do you mean?” Draco asked, brow crinkled in confusion.
Hermione lifted her other hand to rub the crease away, something she’d seen her mother do for her father since she was little. “It’s just you’re you and I’m just me.”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean just you?” Draco spoke slowly as if they were speaking two languages entirely.
“Draco honestly your outfit is probably worth more than my paycheck. You’re a professional athlete, with the muscles and bone structure to match. Your family is old and important enough for a standing reservation at some posh French place where you probably know the chef. I’m just swotty little Hermione Granger who hides behind her books and hair.” She replied self consciously. “I’m wearing denims! They probably think I’m just some uncultured idiot hanging off your arm for your money.”
“Hermione please understand me when I say that you are without a doubt the most beautiful witch I have ever met.” Draco said sincerely, looking only at her. “Allow me another apology. I’m sorry if you ever felt like I didn’t think so. While it’s true that your mind amazes me, you somehow get more beautiful every time I see you. Your hair is so gorgeous. It’s like the curls are magic, they practically crackle with it when you’re angry, did you know?” He reached up to hook a finger around a braid that had fallen over her shoulder as if he could feel the magic coiled within it.
The moment broke when the waiter came over to ask for their orders. Draco pulled his hand away only realizing then that they had leaned so close to each other that he had to shuffle along the bench to get back to his spot. Not able to pay attention to what the waiter said, Draco ordered the daily special hoping it was good and an extraordinarily expensive wine to go with their food that Hermione huffed at but knew she’d enjoy.
For the rest of the meal Draco had to continually remind himself to stay put, to keep his hands to himself, to not get distracted by how the midday warmed her dark skin. Draco was one giggle away from occluding his way through lunch.
As it was he could tell Hermione was off put by the wall he put up. At one point she reached to touch his arm only for him to move it away. It agonized him to see a flicker of hurt flash across her face, but there was no way around it if he wanted to leave this lunch with his heart and their friendship intact. By the end of the meal he was sullen and she was shuttered against him.
Draco paid for their meal without any resistance from her, missing the usual banter that followed him buying anything for her. They left the restaurant in an awkward silence, finding their way to a nearby park.
“Where’s this bookshop you’ve been meaning to go to?”
“I think I should go home, I suddenly don’t feel so well.”
They both spoke at the same time, falling silent as they processed what the other had said. Then Hermione looked up and Draco was dismayed to see her eyes filled with frustrated tears.
“Hermione, are you okay? What’s wrong? Do we need to go to a muggle healer? I’m not sure how to get to Mungo’s from here but I bet they have those telly phones inside we can call for help.” Draco asked frantically, cupping her face in his hands so he could tilt it up to see her better.
To his confusion that seemed to make her angry as well as cause the tears to come down faster. “That! Why are you doing that, being so sweet?” Hermione demanded.
“Because you’re crying and I don’t know how to make you feel better.” Draco replied lamely not sure why she was crying in the first place.
Hermione threw her hands up in frustration. “I’m crying because of you, you oaf!”
“What?” Draco asked stupidly.
“God I’ve been trying to get you to ask me on a date for months! I tried not to push too hard since I knew you were still uncomfortable when we’d all go to the Leaky. I had just been about to give up, I thought you knew and just ignored all my flirting to politely reject me. Then you go and ask me out with these wonderful plans to do all my favorite things in muggle London of all places.” Hermione had worked herself up into yelling fairly loud as she paced back and forth. “The flowers! You show up with just about every flower in season that has any remote association with romance. So I buy you a flower and you blush and we get here and nothing. You move away from me like you suddenly can’t stand my touch.”
She looked back at Draco who now was lit up like a Christmas tree, his ears a bright red. He was kicking the ground with the toe of his shoe, “I didn’t think you knew the meaning of flowers.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, “I hate to use this card twice in a day but brightest witch of our age Draco. I bought you a tulip!”
“I thought it was a seasonal coincidence or misunderstanding with the florist about who it was for.” Draco explained, “just a friend who happens to be a bloke not your, uh, husband.”
At this, Hermione stopped her pacing, whipping around to look at him. “My what?”
“Potter.” Draco replied slowly, “your husband.”
“He’s not…Draco I’m not…” Hermione stuttered, “What?”
“You live in Grimmauld Place, a historic property presumably passed down to him by Sirius Black. That means he is head of house within the family so all the magic of the property, beings included, answer to him and to whoever is his betrothed.”
Hermione’s eyes widened in disbelief, “so when you heard Kreacher refer to me as Mistress you thought.”
“Well yes,” Draco answered hotly, now embarrassed on more levels than he was comfortable with. “Should I have thought differently?”
Hermione chewed her plump lip which was unfairly distracting. “No I suppose if you put it like that.”
“What other way could one put it?” Draco practically begged.
“It was during the war, when we were still in school. The summer before fifth year Dumbledore had me stay at Grimmauld Place, at the time it was the safest building in the whole Order, because he didn’t think it would be safe for me to stay with my parents for the whole break.” Hermione blinked tears out of her eyes for an entirely different reason now, “That’s actually where I found out the meanings of the flowers, there was a library there, I practically lived in that room. It’s also where I learned more about memory charms.”
Her voice caught. Draco knew vaguely that she was no longer connected to her parents anymore, but never knew exactly what had happened to them beyond them no longer being in Britain. “I decided that if things got worse I would wipe myself from their memories entirely. A modified obliviate alongside a charm to make them decide to fulfill their longtime dream of moving to Australia.”
Hermione took a moment to compose herself though at this point nothing was going to stop the tears. Her arms clutched at her stomach as if that was all that was keeping her together. For all Draco knew, it was. The war was still so fresh for both of them.
“When I told Sirius about it he supported the decision assuring me I would always have a home and family. Sirius had created a will that Kingsely helped make official to ensure that Grimmauld Place went to Harry in case something happened to him. As his godson Harry should inherit everything but there were concerns that your right might overrule his, compromising the location of our headquarters, so they wanted to solidify the claim by having Sirius legally adopt him as well. After we left for school he changed it, naming me his legal child as well and making me a co-inheritor of the property. I hadn’t known until after his death, apparently you don’t need the consent of the child which I find appalling but they also don’t need a living parent for adoption since inheritance is about magical lineage. In every way but blood, Harry’s my brother.”
“So you’re single?”
“Honestly Draco, all of this and that’s what you got from it?” Hermione demanded.
“I’m processing it still but I wanted to make sure I got the most immediately relevant part.” Draco assured her, taking a step closer to wipe the tears that had tracked down her face. “You see there’s this marvelous witch I’ve had a crush on since she let me study with her in the library a couple years ago. Probably earlier if my interesting reaction to her right hook was any indication.”
Hermione pinched his side at this but was now smiling so Draco took the pain in stride. “I didn’t think I was worthy of her attention even as her friend, then more time passed and we graduated and she just wouldn’t leave me alone. Thank Merlin for that by the way but it only served to highlight just how beneath her I was, so undeserving of her attention, how could I want more? But I suppose I’m greedy because I worked up enough courage to finally ask if we could go on a date and to my surprise she said yes.”
“And I don’t regret it for a second.” She replied, bringing her hands up to wrap around his where they still cupped her face.
“Not one second?” Draco asked with a playful smirk, head dipping towards her.
Hermione lifted onto her toes, pressing her body close to Draco’s as she lifted her face up. “It was touch and go there for a bit but I think we’ll get through it just fine.” Her breath tingled on his lips. “Those trousers certainly help matters.”
“The woman in the shop was quite insistent that I buy these, she said they brought out my ‘athletic assets’ I believe the term was.” Draco smirked, grey eyes glinting in amusement, “She asked if I played with rugs, not sure what that has to do with anything but I could hardly tell her I ride broomsticks for a living.”
Hermione snickered at that, “I’m sure she would have had a very different perception of your, ah, assets had you said that.”
“Yes, well yours is the only perception that truly matters to me at present.” Draco shot back the smirk transforming into an honest smile.
Not able to wait a moment longer, Hermione pushed forward to kiss him. She had intended for just the one kiss, but the moment their lips connected Draco was like a man possessed, he kept going for more and more. His hands dropped to grab her by the waist, long fingers brushing dangerously low on her back. In turn Hermione ran her fingers up his neck to tangle in his hair holding tight to the short strands in the back, eliciting a growl from Draco. His tongue ran along her lip and she’d have let him in if it weren’t for a pointed cough from an older couple walking down the lane followed by their good natured laughing about being young again.
Draco huffed a laugh as Hermione dropped back to her heels, tugging his head down with her to stay connected.
“Earlier, I said my name.” Hermione said heavily, out of breath from what was surely the best kiss of her life up to this point. She felt more than saw Draco’s eyebrow scrunch in confusion. “I said Hermione Granger. Didn’t you think it odd I didn’t say Potter?”
Without thinking Draco answered, “I couldn’t blame him for wanting to take your name.” He froze at the damning confession that betrayed how deep his affection went, afraid it would be too much too quick.
Instead Hermione surprised him, as she had always so excelled at doing. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”
Draco sucked in air harshly, pulling his head away so he could look at her properly but moving closer as he looped his arms around her waist. “I have a feeling I’m about to.”
“I’d like for you to come home with me now.” Her Gryffindor bravery showing itself.
“Before we go, I just have to ask.” Draco trailed off, biting his lip hesitantly. Hermione pushed up to press a quick kiss on his lips, a trill going through her at finally being able to do so. “You know what the tulip means right?”
“Honestly Draco I’m not sure how this will work if you continue to insult my intelligence.” Hermione said, pressing too close for Draco to properly focus.
“Humor me.” He recognized her teasing but his nerves were too frayed to even give her a half hearted laugh. “Please I need you to– I have to hear you say it.”
Hermione’s smile melted as she looked at him seriously, eyes swirling with intent. “New beginnings, passion, wisdom.” She paused to gather herself but the hopeful look in Draco’s eyes urged her on. The final meaning rushing out of her in a soft breath, “Perfect love.”
“I would like to think that we could have that. I feel it already in the way you aren’t afraid to challenge me, the feeling of your arms as you hug me in greeting, the look in your eyes as you pull away far too soon for my liking by the way.” Draco admitted, tucking an errant curl behind her ear, leaving his hand pressed against her to stroke his thumb softly over her cheek. “At the risk of insulting your intelligence again, did you know– do you know what the flowers I gave you represent?”
Hermione huffed a laugh at this, “You gave me so many one could write a book for everything those flowers represent.”
Draco lifted a pale eyebrow in challenge, his usual playful smirk returning to his face. Hermione’s breath caught as it struck her how handsome he is, how much more beautiful he becomes with the gentle eyes and teasing grin that he reserves for her.
“Apology.” The answer was hesitant as she recalled all the flowers stuffed into the bouquet, “grief, new beginnings, friendship, admiration, devotion, longing, humility, gratitude, fidelity, and love. So much love.” Tears spilled from Hermione’s eyes the further down the list she got.
“Love that’s secret.” Draco brought her hand to his lips.
“Unequalled.” A kiss to the crown of her head.
“Loyal.” He moved down to the space under her eye.
“True.” Her eyes flutter open to see him kiss the tip of her nose.
“Everlasting.” The words whispered, as he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. Hermione shuddered with anticipation, relishing in the feel of his breath breaking over her lips.
Draco’s eyes pressed shut now as he nestled his nose against hers, holding her close, unwilling to move away after finally being able to hold her close.
“And the rose?”
Grey eyes opened to reveal that they were glistening with tears of his own. “I– I want you to be ready. I want you to believe me when I say it.”
“I’m ready.” Hermione insisted, fingers tangling in his hair, “I’ll believe you. Please.”
The final word broke his resolve. He leaned forward, lips brushing her ear. “I love you.”
She twisted in his grip, crashing ferociously into him, stealing the breath from his lungs as she kissed him. His hands trailing up and down her body, coasting over her sides with enough pressure to set her nerves on fire.
When they broke apart both were gasping for breath, laughing as they saw the disheveled mess they’d left each other. “I really think we should go home now.”
Draco leaned down to kiss her, softly cushioning her lips in a sweet kiss that left them both grinning like lovesick idiots. “Best tell your dear brother to bugger off.” Draco mumbled into her mouth as they pulled apart.
Hermione threw her head back and laughed, the sound ringing through the park and as she reached back to grab one of his hands, tugging him out the park.
“What about the bookstore?” Draco asked, knowing that she had wanted to go today specifically for the release of a book in her favorite series.
She looked over her shoulder, magic dancing along her skin, “Next time.”