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Tales of The Dragon and The Bookworm	By : cpetnm Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 58350 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
A.N. Thank you for reading and for the kind readers who reviewed! Consider your review a holiday gift for a fanfiction writer. ;)

@General Crow: Hallelujah, I finally got the GoT/Dramione thread started. It is here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/61722-got-inspired-dramione/

I’ll start checking it in the next few days. And thank you for the review last story. You rule!

@ Missus_G: Writing these stories has been fun and a great place to let out my creativity. Little Tristan was a bit of sweetness amongst some very unhappy adults. Thank you for the sweet review!

Title: No One’s Going To Love You More Than I Do (Based on the Band of Horses song of a similar name. Go listen to it!)

Words: ~2,900
Summary: Sometimes the signs of abuse are subtle.
Warning: Psychological abuse

They’d been seeing each other for a few weeks when he suggested they move in together.

“You’re always at my flat. Why waste your Galleons on rent when you’re usually here?”

“It seems a little fast, don’t you think?” Hermione said gently.

“No, I don’t think so. I know where I want this relationship to go, Hermione. There’s no reason we should wait to move in together.”

Draco had swept her off her feet when he’d moved back to England after several years in America. She’d never had a man show such a passionate interest in her and it was a heady thing to know he listened to every word she said and did his damndest to please her. A small voice in the back of her head told her it was too much, too soon, while another voice that had spent years as a fifth wheel with her friends and had too many lukewarm experiences with dating yelled at her to seize the opportunity to be with Draco in any way he wanted her. It was the loud, excited voice that won out.

“We could do a trial. Maybe I could stay here for a few days—“

He gave her a look that was almost mocking. She could not believe this handsome man showed this intense passion for her. At times, it didn’t seem real.

“Love, come on. We both know a trial is unnecessary. I’ll have my solicitor speak to the manager of your building about letting you out of your lease.”

The thing was, Hermione loved her little flat. It had been home for the past six years and she had made it into what she thought of as a beautiful space with plants, bookshelves, lovely prints, and carefully chosen furniture. She had been spending a lot of time at Draco’s flat, but mostly because he preferred to be in his own space. And it wasn’t that his penthouse wasn’t amazing, because it was, but it didn’t feel like home to her. He had a minimalist aesthetic and he liked spaces free of photos and knickknacks. The cool greys and black accents of the space made her feel cold, but he said they soothed him after spending his working hours running the behemoth company Malfoy Incorporated. She hoped he would appreciate a woman’s touch in his space.

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck in a possessive gesture that forced her gaze to his piercing grey eyes. How could she say no to this man?

She nodded in agreement. The beaming smile he gave her made her heart stutter, yet she felt a bit of uneasiness as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

“We belong together,” he murmured into her hair.

Though she didn’t make much money, Hermione adored her job as an editor at a small publishing house. She’d been there for eight years when she found out they were closing their doors. That evening, Draco found her sitting on the sleek black sofa wrapped in a blanket and muffling sobs.

“What happened?” he said, his authoritative voice causing her to feel as if she had done something wrong.

She sat up and wiped her face as best she could.

“The publishing house isn’t making it and they’ve decided to close shop.”

He nodded as if he’d been expecting this day to come for a while now. “Your days were there were numbered anyway. Now you’ll have more time to plan the wedding with Mother.”

She stared at him after his matter-of-fact statement about her job. He knew how she felt about her work.

“I suppose I can spend some more time on planning the wedding, but I need to find a new job.”

He sat next her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Pet, Malfoy wives don’t work. I thought you understood that.”

She gave him a sharp look. “You can’t be serious.”

“You’re marrying into the wealthiest house in Great Britain. You’ll be so busy with our social calendar, volunteer work, and eventually managing our family that you won’t have time for a job.” With a tender brush of his hand along her cheek, he said, “Let me take care of you.”

After getting to see how Narcissa Malfoy spent her days, Hermione imagined her days dragging by in dress fittings and ladies’ socials, where she would be the squarest peg trying to fit into a tiny, round hole. It was unfathomable.

As if he could read her mind, Draco pressed a kiss to her temple. “There’s nothing that would make me happier than to bring you into my world. You’ll be able to do so much for the poor and unfortunate souls of the wizarding world with the Malfoy fortune at your disposal. Think of all the good you’ll be able to do, my love.”

He was right, of course. Draco always seemed to know how to present what he wanted as what she should do. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as bad as what she had imagined.

“What’s this?” he said, gesturing to the Christmas tree she had set up in their expansive blue sitting room.

“I brought out some of my parents’ ornaments and thought it would be nice to decorate our tree with them.”

Draco made an expression of distaste. “Bit morose, don’t you think?”

Actually, since they’d moved into Malfoy Manor, she hadn’t felt comfortable adding her things to the ancient and priceless artifacts in the house. She’d thought the temporary tree would be a good way to honor her parents’ memories without displacing what was already in the manor.

“We’re married now. Don’t you think it’s time for you to start looking forward? I know you miss your parents, but what about us? What about the memories we’re building together?”

She gazed at him with confusion. “It’s just that these ornaments remind me of my childhood and it helps me remember those times with fondness. It doesn’t detract from us.”

He sat in an armchair and placed his elbows on his knees. “I suppose I’ve felt that my life really began after I fell in love with you. Perhaps you don’t feel the same way.”

“Of course I do!”

Sometimes the littlest things upset him, and she hated to let him down. The ornaments weren’t important. She had memories of her parents she carried in her heart and that was the way to truly honor their memories, not through a Christmas tree.

She knelt before him, taking his face into her hands. Gods, he was so handsome, hard-working, and loyal. She really didn’t deserve him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I’ll have the elves bring out the traditional decorations for this room.”

He nodded and let his forehead rest against hers. “It’s okay, love. I’m glad we worked it out.”

She let out a tiny sigh of relief. Sometimes she wondered if his concerns were unreasonable, but…well, really, what was the use in fighting over something as trivial as a Christmas tree?

Hermione was picking up a book in Diagon Alley when she ran into Ginny. At first, she thought Ginny hadn’t seen her. Waving to her old friend and running to catch up with her, Hermione finally realized Ginny didn’t seem to want to speak with her.

“Oh, Gin, it’s been too long!” Hermione said with a big smile. Whatever was bothering the red head must be bad, since she usually greeted Hermione with a hug. It had been almost six months since she’d seen her old friends.

“Well, we know how busy you are, with your volunteering and social obligations,” Ginny said with a sniff.

“I’m never too busy for my friends. It’s been ages since I’ve heard from anyone.”

With a scoff, Ginny said, “You don’t respond to owls, Hermione, and the Floo to Malfoy Manor is closed to us.”

Hermione couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I don’t know what to say. You have to believe me when I say we haven’t received anything from any of my friends in months.”

Ginny Potter sighed in sadness for her friend. “I believe you, Hermione. We’ve been worried about you. Would you like to come over for a cuppa? It’s been forever since we’ve visited.”

With only an hour until Draco was due home from the office, Hermione knew he would be upset if she wasn’t waiting for him when he got home.

She shook her head. “I can’t. Draco’s expecting me to be home for dinner.”

Ginny nodded. “It’s okay, Hermione. I understand.”

And she did. It was well known that Draco Malfoy was a controlling man with a horrid temper. She didn’t know why Hermione had gotten sucked into a life with him, but her friend wasn’t the same woman she used to be. Her humor and lightness had been replaced with caution and timidity. She was dressed well, but during her time with Malfoy she had grown thin like the pure-blood socialites she was expected to entertain on a regular basis. Even her raucous curls had been straightened and hung down her back in a silky sheet. Ginny just didn’t know this version of Hermione and wasn’t sure how to deal with her.

The next morning when Draco had gone to work, Hermione went to the owlery to figure out what had been the cause of her lack of letters. She checked the space for spells and found the owls had been forced to take all outgoing and incoming communications to her husband. Why would he do something like this? Normally, she let Draco’s wishes take precedence in their lives, but cutting her off from her friends seemed ridiculous. She’d missed the company of her friends and didn’t see how contact with them would be problematic for her husband. They’d never openly objected to their relationship, although most of them still had reservations about her husband.

That evening, as they were getting ready for bed, Hermione broached the subject with him.

“I saw Ginny in Diagon Alley yesterday and she told me the strangest thing.”

He settled himself against the headboard and raised his eyebrows expectantly at his wife.

“Well, she said she’s been trying to contact me, but I know I haven’t received anything from them in months. She also said the Floo connection is closed to them, so I couldn’t answer her calls either.”

“On too many occasions since we’ve gotten together, I’ve heard your friends badmouth me and our relationship. I know you won’t confront them about their meddling, so I chose to limit your interaction with them.”

Mouth gaping, Hermione finally spluttered, “Why? Why would you do that? They never said anything to me about you or our relationship.”

“You know that’s not true. You yourself told me Potter and Weasley discouraged you from moving in with me.”

It was one thing for Draco to want Hermione home for family dinner, but it was a whole different issue to cut her off from her friends and loved ones.

“That was years ago, Draco! And we did move quickly. They’ve not said a word against you since then.”

His sneer caught her off guard, changing his face into something sinister. “The jabs are always subtle and you give those people the benefit of the doubt more often than not. If it was up to them, we’d have gone our separate ways long ago.”

Knowing her husband was jealous of even the smallest things, she changed her approach.

“After my parents died, they provided me support. I will always put you above everyone else in my life, but our shared history makes them important to me. I don’t want to lose their friendships.”

Draco shoved off the covers and threw his book on the nightstand, causing Hermione to shrink back. “One bloody meeting with Potter’s wife and you want to attack me! I think you can understand exactly why I don’t want you around that lot.”

He left the room, slamming the door behind him. Draco was her husband and she loved him, but she didn’t understand why he was so threatened by her old friends. On most days, she barely spoke to anyone, save the house elves and Draco, when he wasn’t too tired from his long days of working. She hadn’t realized how lonely and isolated she’d become.

When they found our Hermione was pregnant, Draco gifted her with a Galleon-sized emerald pendant surrounded by three-carat diamonds. It was like something out of a museum exhibit and far too ostentatious for someone like Hermione. However, she knew the gift came from a place of love and excitement and vowed to wear it as often as she could.

At a ladies’ lunch at the home of the Greengrass family, Hermione found herself in the powder room with the feisty youngest Greengrass, Astoria.

“Did Draco ever tell you we were engaged? For about a year, right after I finished Hogwarts.”

The beautiful blonde shrewdly examined Hermione’s pendant and the early pregnancy bump barely visible to all but the most observant.

“No, he didn’t.”

Actually, Hermione didn’t know much about Draco’s previous love life. He didn’t like to talk about it and talking about her past boyfriends made him angry and jealous. When they’d first started dating, she was worried about other women wanting Draco for themselves, but most witches seemed to avoid him.

“I don’t suppose you ever got to spend time with his father in a social situation?” Astoria asked.

“He died before Draco and I started dating.”

“Draco’s very much like Lucius Malfoy, wanting everyone in his life to answer to him and obey his orders. I might be from the same set, but I realized I wouldn’t be happy with a man who controlled my every move.”

“It’s not like that,” Hermione protested, although even to her own ears it sounded weak.

The sympathetic smile the younger woman gave Hermione made her want to bury her face in her hands.

“You’re smart…brilliant, I hear. You’ve an active life of the mind. I’m sure you’ve made the best of the situation, right?”

Hermione nodded. “No marriage is perfect.”

Astoria nodded in agreement. “True. Nothing is perfect.”

Hermione held two year old Scorpius by the hand as they made their way to Draco’s office for lunch. As they walked down the hall, Hermione was met with nervous glances and hushed whispers. As they approached Draco’s huge office, she heard him screaming.

“Worthless!...have to do everything myself?…”

Since his secretary wasn’t at her desk, Hermione could only assume he was berating the young witch he’d recently hired. Not wanting their son to hear his father, Hermione cast a silencing spell. A minute later, the teary witch came out of the office, her head down, and ran for what Hermione could only assume was the loo.

“Sorry you two had to hear that,” Draco said, picking up Scorpius. “Some people have no pride in their work.”

Not knowing what to say, Hermione nodded and followed her husband into his office, where lunch had been set up on the conference desk. It was laid out beautifully, with crystal goblets of ice water and a small child’s cup for Scorpius. Linen napkins displayed shiny silverware and a vase of vibrant roses adorned the center of the table.

This wasn’t the first time Hermione had come to Draco’s office to find him ranting at an employee. He seemed to go through secretaries quickly, with the toughest lasting just under a year. At first, she’d worried that perhaps he was conducting affairs with the witches seated just outside his office, but the identical nervous, pleading looks each offered her and the disgusted way he regarded even the most competent of witches convinced her otherwise. Besides, Draco, for all his faults, was incredibly loyal to her in his own way. In social situations, he was polite, but aloof with other witches, finding fault with even the most beautiful, brilliant women.

Hermione smiled at her husband and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Nothing to worry about, love,” she said in a soothing voice. “We’re just glad you could spend some time with us today.”

The way Draco’s face relaxed with her words made her every doubt about this tempestuous man ebb away. He pulled her into a one-armed hug, his other arm still around the little boy he adored. He inhaled the comforting smell of her shiny chestnut hair and kissed the crown of her head.

“No one will ever love you more than I do,” he said, looking into her dark eyes.

Watching her resist Bellatrix’s Cruciatus as an eighteen-year-old had inspired something in him for this witch born of dirty blood. As an adult, he’d realized he would need a wife that could weather the storm of his will and emotions. He’d molded her into the woman he wanted and needed. On occasion, he worried he’d pushed her too far, but she always learned to adapt to his desires. She was the most resilient witch he knew. Draco had tied her to him in every way he could and he was willing to do whatever he had to do to keep her.

“I know,” she said with a small smile.

With Hermione, Draco’s love knew no bounds.
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- 11
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Tales of The Dragon and The Bookworm