Chapter Text
For the next week, Draco went over to Hermione’s. She had learned a lot about Malfoy in that short amount of time.
They hadn’t done much more than snog, but Hermione knew he loved to be told how to best please her. He needed the praise, needed to know he was doing something right.
She discovered that he had a spot on his collarbone that made him groan if she scraped her teeth over it. She knew that one of his favorite things was when she raked her nails down his back, or lightly tugged at his hair. He had told her he liked when she was a bit rough with him.
And Draco was diligent in learning as much as he could about Hermione’s preferences. It’s as if he catalogued every soft sigh, every sound she made. How the spot on her neck caused her to whimper if he lightly sucked on it. He exploited it during each session.
And she swore, she felt the magic in her veins crackle like a flame. When they were entwined in each other, she could feel a pulse in the air between them, alive and electric.
Tonight, Draco had pulled Hermione into his lap, which she found she really enjoyed. It gave her a sense of control she never got to experience much when she was with Ron.
She could set the pace; if she wanted deeper access to his mouth, she could. If she wanted to lean back and tease him, trace her fingers down his chest, she could. The sharp intake of his breath and the way his grip on her would tighten, only encouraged her more.
Not to mention the friction she could create, grinding against him that way. He was always holding back, like he was scared she would regret it if things progressed any further.
But Hermione was tired of him skimping out.
She was sure he could feel the heat ground between her thighs through her leggings. She could surely feel the evidence of his arousal, stiff against her center. Hermione rocked against him again and again until she was breathless, her climax on the horizon.
“You’re enjoying yourself,” Draco had murmured, voice raspy against the shell of her ear. She rolled her hips more, feeling him buck up against her involuntary.
Hermione hummed in response, her breath coming in quick bursts. “I am,” she gasped. “Are you not?”
His laugh was low, almost a growl. “If I were enjoying myself any more, I’d be dead,” he said, as he licked up her throat.
She felt the tension deep in her core wind tighter and tighter as he continued kissing her. He pushed her hips down, setting a faster pace as he grunted. She felt his hand slide up the front of her shirt, almost experimentally. At the touch of his thumb gliding against her nipple, she cried out his name.
“Draco!” She screamed as her orgasm hit its peak. She threw her head back, eyes squeezing shut as he stared at her through heavy lids.
As she came down, she rested against his chest for a moment, boneless. Not wanting to break any of their established boundaries, she started to sit up, starting to crawl out of his lap when he stopped her.
He ran a hand down her back, gently. “Shhh, stay here. Please, just for a moment.
Hermione couldn’t stop the smile that graced her lips. She could blame it on how good he made her feel, how she had needed every minute of it.
She sighed. “This is… comfortable,” she joked weakly.
He brushed her hair over her shoulder, giving her gentle caresses. “Good. I want you to be comfortable with me.”
She basked in his touch for a moment longer before shifting again, crawling out of his lap.
She blushed slightly at how she assumed she looked. She attempted to smooth down her hair before looking up at him as he stared at her with unguarded intensity.
“Not fair,” she said lightly. “I should return the favor.”
Draco’s eyes darkened slightly, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe next time. Besides, I think I enjoy getting to just make you come,” he said with sincerity in his voice that sent a shiver down her spine.
Hermione rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “Still, that’s being unfair.”
“Is it?” he asked, standing and reaching for his wand to straighten his clothes. “I think I’m being quite generous. You can use me whenever you want, Granger.”
Her heart flipped at his words. She laughed softly, watching him walk towards the floo.
“Wait!” She blurted out. Draco turned back around quickly. “You don’t have to leave yet. I mean, if you were someone I brought home—you could stay. We could just talk? If you’re not busy.”
She knew she shouldn’t ask for more, not when she knew how easy it could be for her to get attached. It was one of their rules, and she could feel her heart begin to throw caution to the wind.
Draco tilted his head, studying her. Under his gaze she began to feel embarrassed, believing him to say no, that’s not part of the arrangement.
“Alright,” he said softly. “What would you and this hypothetical suitor talk about?”
“I don’t know,” she brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them to prevent herself from reaching out to touch him. “Maybe we could just talk—no hypotheticals. Just friends.”
“Okay,” he said throwing his arm across the back of her sofa, leaning back.
Hermione rested her chin on her knees, observing Draco’s face in the dim light. His straight nose, strong jaw, and the openness she found in his silver eyes.
“What is your type?” The question slipped out before she realized what she was asking.
Draco raised a brow, clearly amused by her bluntness. “My type?”
She shrugged, trying to appear aloof. “You know, the type of witch you’d go for. I would imagine Draco Malfoy has a type.”
He smirked, shifting towards her slightly. “Hmm,” he said, drawing out the sound as if considering. “Well, I have always been drawn to someone intelligent. Someone to keep me on my toes, to challenge me.”
Hermione smiled. “I could see that.”
“Passionate,” he added, gaze sliding to her. “And fiercely so. Someone who stands for what they believe in, no matter the obstacles.”
Her cheeks heated under his scrutiny. “Admirable.”
“And of course, she must be stunningly beautiful,” he said, though his tone was light and teasing.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Of course. Merlin forbid Malfoy doesn’t find someone who couldn’t also pass as a model.”
“Well, I have recently raised my standards,” he shot back with a grin. “It doesn’t help that my practice partner is so… disarmingly attractive.”
Hermione’s lips parted, and for a second she just stared at him, at a loss for words.
Draco’s grin faltered slightly, as if worried he had crossed some invisible line. He looked down at his lap, and once he spoke again, his tone was softer. “There’s, uh, something I have been wanting to ask you,” he said a bit bashfully.
Hermione nodded and smiled at him, encouraging him to continue.
He turned to her, expression serious, his jaw tight with tension. “Why did you testify for me, Granger? After everything I put you through? How can you even stand to be so close to me now?”
Hermione felt her chest tighten, the unexpected question hanging heavily between them. She wasn’t prepared for it, had been expecting more light hearted teasing, maybe some slight flirtation.
She shifted, lowering her legs to sit criss-cross, her knees almost touching his thigh. She could see the flecks of light blue around his iris, breaking up the storm cloud grey. “Draco,” she began, her voice steady. “You were just a child, like the rest of us. You were born into something you never really chose. At least, it seemed like you had no options. We all know what Voldemort would have done to you if you stepped out of line. I saw that. And then when you refused to defend yourself… it was like you found yourself undeserving of mercy.”
He flinched slightly at her words, gaze darting away, but she continued.
“I haven’t forgotten the past,” she said gently. “I do remember how cruel you were to us in school—to me. But I also can’t forget how Harry described the terrified boy in the astronomy tower, or the one who didn’t hand us over to Voldemort when you had the chance.”
Draco’s jaw tightened, his shoulders tense. “You’re much kinder than I deserve,” he muttered, as if the words were bitter. “I still can’t quite comprehend it.”
Hermione’s brows knit together. “You don’t think you deserve kindness? We have all been marked, Draco,” she said her hand flinching toward her left arm. “We all have our skeletons.”
His eyes flicked down to her arm, where he knew the words were carved into her. He suddenly turned to face her, an intensity in his gaze as he looked into her eyes. “Where do we stand now?”
Hermione tried not to show her confusion at his insistent question, at the change in his demeanor. He held onto her movements, her reaction and answer, as if her words would single handedly offer his salvation.
“Friends,” she said softly, reaching out and taking his hand in hers.
Draco stilled at her touch, fingers stiffening before curling around her own. The warmth of his hand brought her comfort, even as the air around them shifted, growing heavier, and charged with something deeper.
His eyes landed on her arm once more, where her sleeve had risen slightly, revealing the faint, jagged scar that begun at her wrist. His eyes darkened, and with an almost reverent hesitance, he reached out with his other hand to gently push the fabric back further to expose the word in its entirety.
Hermione’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. She stayed as still as she could as he stared down at the ugly word, his thumb skimming lightly just below the scarred letters as if he was scared to touch them directly.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. When he looked up at her, his eyes were gleaming, filled with unspoken regret. “For every cruel thing I said, for being too much of a coward to stop it.”
“Draco—“ she started, but he cut off her words by leaning down and placing a soft, lingering kiss to the scar.
It was unexpected, leaving her breathless at his intimate gesture. Perhaps even more intimate than the acts they had engaged in every night for the last week. She inhaled sharply, her heart pounding in her chest.
Draco froze, his lips hovering over her skin for a moment before pulling back abruptly. The emotion that had been evident in his eyes was quickly replaced by panic. “I’m sorry,” he rushed out, standing up quickly. “I don’t know why I did that.”
“Draco wait—“ Hermione began, reading for him.
“I need to go,” he said, rushing towards the fireplace. His steps were quick, as though staying for even a moment longer would completely unravel him.
Before she could protest, he turned and disappeared in the green flames of the Floo.
The following morning, Hermione remained distracted by the events of the previous evening.
Every time Cara brought up the events of her weekend or when a customer walked in, Hermione was only half-engaged. She couldn’t stop thinking about hidden meanings behind Draco’s actions, behind his flirtations with her.
Could the lines be starting to blur for him too?
They had just fallen into a comfortable routine the past week. Him coming over, them talking about anything and nothing. His complicated grief for Astoria—her strained relationship with Ron, what she knows to look out for in the future.
And then the abundant physical chemistry they had.
Granted, it never got too far—Draco always made sure to stop once it got to a certain point—last night excluded. But she could tell he found her attractive—even said so himself. She knew he wanted her, and she wanted him for as much as she wished she wouldn’t. For as much as she wished this was casual.
By late morning, her mood had shifted from distracted to irritated. She had grown frustrated with herself for suggesting the whole thing, for letting the lines blur so easily between what was meant to be helping her, and what felt far more personal.
Why does this feel so much more complicated than it should be? she thought as she packaged up another order.
The bell above her shop door jingled, breaking a Hermione from her thoughts as Ginny bounded in, arms full of shopping bags.
“Finally! I have been trying to catch you all week! Where have you been hiding?” Ginny greeted, setting her bags down by the counter.
“Oh you know, just been busy shopping for everyone! And this time of year is always busiest for the shop,” Hermione explained, hoping Ginny bought her excuse.
“You’re a terrible liar, but I’ll excuse it this time because you’re about to hex me.”
“Why?” Hermione asked slowly.
“Why don’t we talk about it over lunch? My treat? I’ve been shopping for James and Lily all morning and am famished,” Ginny said with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.
Hermione sighed but relented. “This better not be another setup.”
Ginny winced a bit and gave Hermione a guilty smile. “Last time, I promise!”
Hermione sent her a glare and crossed her arms.
“Really, Mione, this is the last time. Come on, just have lunch with me and hear me out.”
“Fine,” Hermione huffed and proceeded to notify Cara that she would be taking her lunch and would return in an hour.
She and Ginny made their way to a new cozy cafe that opened on a corner of Diagon Alley. The smell of coffee and freshly baked scones wrapped around them like a warm blanket.
Hermione went to grab them a table while Ginny rushed to the counter to order their lunch. Once settled in, Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Alright, who did you haggle into meeting me this time?”
Ginny grinned with pride in her matchmaking as she told Hermione all the details. “Charlie and one of his co-workers from the dragon reserve are in town for some conservation symposium or something. Very fit, very smart, just your type.”
Hermione huffed a laugh at Ginny’s eagerness to get to the point. “And?”
“And, I finally convinced him to finally tell me whether or not he’s single. Well, guess what. He is! But, he’s only free tonight—they’re heading back to Romania tomorrow.”
Hermione hesitated, her mind drifting to Draco. Though he had left in a rush last night, surely they would still be meeting this evening. “Tonight? I don’t know, Gin…”
“Please?” Ginny leaned forward, her expression softening. “If it works out, maybe he could come back for Christmas to see you. I mean his family lives here as well, so it wouldn’t be too unusual,” her brown eyes flickered between Hermione’s. “I just don’t want you to be alone for Christmas, Hermione.”
That struck a nerve. Hermione looked down at her barely-touched sandwich. Ginny had a fair point. This would be Hermione’s first Christmas alone in years. She would always celebrate with the Weasleys. And while she had been spending most of her time with Draco recently, she doubted that they would be spending Christmas together. Sure, they established their friendship, but he was bound to be spending the holiday with his mother or friends. It was too presumptuous to assume anything else.
What would be the harm in one date? Things with Draco had become muddled anyway. This could be good for her—put what she had been building with him to the test. Wasn’t this why she had suggested this arrangement in the first place?
“Fine,” she said at last, though she tried not to sound too enthusiastic. “I’ll go. But if this turns out to be as disastrous as the pub—“
Ginny cut her off with an excited squeal, bouncing in her seat. “It won’t! I promise! You’re going to love him! His name is Emmett.”
“We’ll see,” Hermione muttered, though a small smile tugged at her lips.
The conversation took a more lighthearted turn after that, and they settled into a rhythm as Ginny talked about her Christmas plans. She rattled on about the Weasley gathering, about what new toys she bought the kids—all of it sounding equally chaotic and wonderful. Hermione caught herself feeling wistful as she listened, though she masked it well. She had always loved Christmas with the Weasleys.
Once she and Ginny said their good-byes, Hermione made her way back to the shop. The moment she stepped inside, Cara’s head popped up from behind a shelf.
“An owl dropped off a parchment for you,” she called, brushing dust off her hands. “I left it on your desk.”
“Thank you, Cara,” she called over her shoulder as she made her way to her office in the back of the shop.
The unopened parchment sat on top of a pile of order forms, the familiar green seal beckoning to her.
Hermione fumbled with the letter, hurriedly opening it, eyes scanning over the words.
Granger,
I just wanted to apologize again for last night. I should have been more careful, more respectful of the boundaries we agreed on.
I understand if you want to call off our arrangement.
For what it’s worth, I’ve enjoyed our little routine more than I expected to—more than I should.
DLM
Hermione stared at the letter for a long moment, her chest tightening. Her fingers tightened on the parchment as she reread his words.
Was that really what he wanted? Or was he giving her an out because he thought she wanted it?
She groaned softly, setting the letter down and burying her face in her hands. Now if she wrote him back about the date Ginny had set up for her, he would likely think she was trying to end things—that she was ready to move on. Which wasn’t true. Was it?
Why was everything so bloody complicated?
With a frustrated sigh, she reached in her desk for a fresh sheet of parchment, her quill hovering uncertainly over the page before she forced herself to write.
Malfoy,
I read your letter, and I would like to say that I don’t want to call off our arrangement. I think this has been good for me. For both of us, I hope.
That being said, I do have a date tonight. Ginny set it up, and I agreed. It will be a good chance to test out what we’ve been working on, don’t you think?
If you’d like, we could still meet tomorrow night if you’re free. We can see how well this suitor fares in comparison to my practice partner.
Hermione
She leaned back staring at her reply. She hoped that Draco would catch her light teasing, and would be understanding of the whole situation without reading too deeply into it. She folded and sealed the letter, sending it off with her owl before she could second guess herself.
She waited the rest of the afternoon for his reply, the day crawling by in a haze. By the time evening fell, Hermione found herself glancing out the window of her room, waiting for an owl to appear.
But none came. Draco didn’t write back