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Beauty and the Beast	By : Nocturne Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 14407 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. I do not own the Harry Potter fandom, nor do I make any money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
Six Months Later
A slow rhythm of music played in the background, whilst hundreds of guests swayed back and forth on the dance floor. There was a full moon in the night sky, surrounded by thousands of glittering stars. The wedding had been gorgeous and the night equally so. It was still young and full of possibilities, but for some reason Hermione just couldn’t focus.
“Something on your mind?” asked Ron, taking a seat beside her.
She forced a smile. “Nothing. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
“It’s been a long year,” he regarded, taking a sip of Elvish Wine. “Would you like some? I brought you one.”
Normally, Hermione wasn’t much of a drinker but there was no way she would pass up an opportunity to dull her senses. She took the glass of wine and drank. “This is good.”
“I think it’s from France,” he shrugged, examining the liquid.
“Do we have anything stronger?”
Ron arched an eyebrow, flashing her one of those looks. “You sure there’s nothing on your mind?”
Hermione finished off her wine. “There may be something.”
“These days I’m much better at listening. Harry says so all the time.”
She couldn’t help but smile – for real this time. “It – It’s stupid but – I – I can’t stop –”
“It’s about him, isn’t it?” asked Ron, sounding rather sympathetic.
Hermione sighed. She had prevented herself from speaking about him since their return. “I can’t stop thinking about him. You don’t have to say a word. I already know it’s pathetic of me.”
“Pathetic? Not a chance.” Ron took another sip. “I mean, I won’t deny the fact that I felt a little jealous when I realized what had happened but…” His eyes shifted to hers. “I trust your judgment.”
That was more than she could have ever asked from Ron. Perhaps he had grown. “Do – Do you think he used me?”
“For?”
Hermione gave him an obvious look. “Sex.”
“Oh.” A strange, borderline awkward expression tugged at Ron’s facial features. “I hadn’t realized it had gone that – Erm – no.” He exhaled. “I don’t think he used you.”
“What makes you say that?”
Ron set down his glass. “Back in the Manor, when Harry and I had found him, he told us something. He told us he loved you.”
Hermione pressed her back against the chair, beyond surprised. “That makes no sense,” she thought aloud. “Why would he say that and then prevent me from visiting him?”
“Maybe he wants space to heal,” suggested Ron. “I’m not a fan of the bloke but he has been through a lot. I spoke to a Healer recently and they said the adjustment period for such extreme transfiguration can take months – sometimes years.”
Years. That didn’t sound good. Hermione sighed. “I suppose I’m being selfish.”
“You’re worried. It’s normal.”
“Since when did you become such an expert on romance?”
Ron played it off. “I’ve learned a few things since we broke up.”
Hermione laughed. “Better late than never.”
“Hey, now. I was a damn good boyfriend.”
“You had your moments,” she smiled, thinking back. “I’m sorry we couldn’t make it work, but I’m glad we’re friends.”
“Me too,” he agreed, rather quickly. “That was the most difficult part about before. I just didn’t see you – for months. It was strange.”
Hermione shared that sentiment. “Thank you, by the way. Thank you for everything you did that night and continue to do.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he started. “How have you been?”
“Me? Erm. Fine.”
“Fine?” Ron repeated. “I know we’re not nearly as close as we were before but you know I’m here if you ever need to talk about what happened.”
She knew what he was speaking of, and had barely spent a moment thinking about it on her own. It was more painful than she could bear. “I’m safe and I’m healthy, and that’s good enough for me.”
Several moments passed and Ron seemed to accept her dismissal, as he pointedly fixed his attention on the music and dance floor. “What do you say? Up for a dance?”
Hermione bit her lip. “I…I don’t know.”
“Come on. You’ve been sitting around all night. Get up and show some moves.”
She smiled. “Fine, but you can’t step on my toes this time.”
“I’ve been practicing since Bill and Fleur’s,” he furthered. “I promise.”
The pair of them made their way to the dance floor, alongside the newlywed couple and danced to the up-tempo music. It was a track off the Weird Sisters’ latest album, and the wedding guests positively loved it.
Ron had gotten better at dancing. He learned to keep a beat and went so far as to give Hermione a dip. She erupted in a fit of giggles, having been taken by surprise, and felt her cheeks burn with an amused sort of embarrassment as the guests formed a circle around them and clapped.
It felt like old times, for a fleeting moment, and she felt light and free and unbound. Hermione closed her eyes as Ron twirled her around the dance floor, opening them the moment the music changed.
It went from fast to slow and sensuous.
“Was that fun?” he asked, offering her his arm.
She nodded, unaware that he had led her away from the party until they stepped out onto a balcony in Harry and Ginny’s home at Godric’s Hollow. They had a large home and the wedding was in their backyard – mirroring that of Bill and Fleur’s.
Hermione glanced around. “Why are we here?”
“I have a surprise for you,” explained Ron. “Close your eyes.”
She reluctantly did so, wondering if Ron had gotten the wrong message by their conversation and subsequent dance. It definitely wasn’t a situation she wanted to deal with, but Hermione had no time to speak. She opened her mouth and instantly felt a pair of lips meet with her own.
They were soft, yet firm, and carried the scent of someone very, very familiar. The young woman pulled away and opened her eyes to find a pair of silvery grey orbs staring back at her. She didn’t know what to think. “Why – How are you here?”
Draco took her hand in his and held it to his lips. “I came to see you.” He was dressed in elegant black dress robes and had his hair placed neat – but not too neat – to the side. He looked mind numbingly handsome, standing there with the moonlight cascading over his shoulders and his eyes so deep and full of vigor. “By the looks of it, you don’t want to see me…”
“No, no, no.” Hermione’s heart bounced in her chest. “I’m just – I’m confused. Shouldn’t you be in St. Mungo’s?”
“I was released from St. Mungo’s this morning,” he explained. “Ron arranged for me to meet you here. I believe he had to bribe his sister for an invitation.”
“Wait. Are you telling me you’re Ron’s plus-one?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Well, if you want to put it that way…”
Hermione giggled. “I’m teasing,” she said, pulling him in for another kiss, as if to convince herself the moment was real. “So…what’s going to happen?”
He held her in his arms, as tight as was comfortable. “Tonight is my last night as a free man. I’m being tried tomorrow, in front of the entire Wizengamot, and I’ll inevitably find myself a one-way ticket to Azkaban.” His arms quivered during the last bit. “I know I’ve been distant from you these past several months, but I just had to see you before – before they send me off.”
Hermione wanted nothing more than to convince him he wouldn’t go anywhere near Azkaban prison. She wanted to hold him and bring him to her flat and take him to all her favourites places – but that sort of romance had never been in their cards. It had always been an all or nothing situation, and leaving the Manor meant the latter.
“I’ll work on your case day and night,” she promised, blinking away the tears. “I won’t stop until you’re free.”
“Please, don’t do that to yourself.” There was a hitch in Draco’s voice. “I want you to forget about me. I want you to put the past behind you. I want you to move on from what happened, and I want you to be happy.”
She brushed his words off. “Rubbish. You’re innocent. You had no control over –”
“I killed thirty-six innocent people, Hermione. That doesn’t sound very innocent to me.”
The young woman fell silent. She had heard that number come from Harry’s lips, months ago. It left her in the same limbo she had felt in the Manor, that first day. “It was Nott’s doing. You wouldn’t have touched a soul had he not cursed you.”
“But they don’t know that. Nott’s dead, remember?”
She remembered, clear as day. “Good riddance.”
“Without his confession, the truth is useless.”
“What about the pensieve? What about your memories?”
“I know what they’ll say,” he assured her. “Memories can be altered. Blah. Blah. Blah.”
Hermione sighed with frustration. “You’re not trying.”
“Why should I try?” he asked, pulling away. “This is what I deserve.”
“I don’t care what you think you deserve,” she said sharply. “I’m not going to sit here and allow you to rot away in Azkaban. I will do something and I will see to it that you’re freed.”
Draco knew it was a pointless argument. Once Hermione made her mind up about something, it was game over. He held her, swaying to the background music, trying his best to preserve the moment. “You’re a real fighter. Has anyone told you that?”
“Probably,” she mumbled, burying her face into his chest. “But I only fight for the right causes.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Hermione smiled weakly. “This is so bittersweet.”
“I know,” he agreed, running his hands through her hair. “We may not have the future, but at least we have this moment.” Draco cupped her cheeks and tilted her face towards his. They kissed, in a melody of heartache and desire. A Muggle song played in the background. It was unfamiliar to Hermione but the rhythm and the words fell in perfect step with their movements.
They swayed together, kissing and hoping and breathing for a chance. It was the most she had ever felt in such a short period of time – but the way her mind and body gravitated to this man spoke words even she didn’t know. Hermione parted from the kiss, breathing back the tears and grabbing at his dress robes.
Draco responded by running his hands along her sides and the small of her back. He couldn’t keep his eyes off. She was breathtaking. Her dress was long and light, made of chiffon in multiple shades of blue, and she wore her hair up in a sleek knot.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he breathed slowly, swaying with her.
“Stay,” she pled. “Please.”
Draco released a heavy sigh. “I – I can’t run anymore. I need to be the type of man who is worthy of a woman like you, Hermione – and even then, even after I get sent to Azkaban for my wrongdoings, I still won’t deserve you.”
She thought back to what Ron had told her, feeling the sting of reality. “You are that man. You have nothing to prove to me, Draco. Please don’t think you have to go to Azkaban for me.”
“I am doing it for you,” he started. “For you, my mother, my father and myself.” There was a change in his voice when he mentioned his parents. He missed them more than words could describe. “I need to do this. I need to.”
Hermione didn’t like the idea of giving up. She was a fighter from the beginning and she would fight for this. She would fight for Draco and his family. “I’ll visit you whenever possible.”
“I would love that,” he whispered. “But I can’t be selfish anymore.”
“I’m the one who’s being selfish.” She looked up at him. “Just say the words and I’ll run with you. I know where the Ministry can’t find us.”
Draco held her tight. “I’m sorry.”
They kept dancing, fading into the music and stars. Hermione knew it would be the last time she’d feel his body against hers and hear his voice speak her name. It didn’t matter how many hours she spent fighting for his freedom. Facts are facts, and that fact is he killed innocent people. Azkaban was his only future.
“Come,” she said, breaking away. “Let’s go somewhere else.”
“Hermione, you know I –”
“I mean let’s go to a different room.”
Draco silenced, following her as she held his hand and led them away from the balcony, away from the celebrations, and up the stairs. They entered one of the guest rooms, with Hermione’s things placed on the desk and near the bed. She had been staying with Harry and Ginny for the duration of their wedding festivities, with the rest of the family.
They fell onto the bed, Draco on top, in slow motion. He held his weight with both arms and bent down; placing feather light kisses on her lips, nose and forehead.
“I want to do this right,” he spoke softly.
Hermione breathed slowly, arching her back to give him room as he unzipped her dress. It loosened, but remained on, and they kissed some more. Amidst their newfound exploration, she unbuttoned his dress robes and pushed them from his shoulders, to reveal a physicality she had never seen. There was nothing wrong with the way he had looked before, but to see the real Draco for the first time was more than she thought it would be.
He was beautiful.
His skin, the colour of ivory, was soft yet tough around the curvature of his muscles. He had a swimmer’s body and she realized, looking at him, that, that was a very, very good thing.
Draco had a slight smirk on his face when she began to blush, and pulled her upright, across from him, to allow her dress the room to fall. It rested around her waist and as they continued to kiss, his hands rubbed along the small of her back, up her sides and to her bare breasts.
She shivered, releasing a gentle moan. He had never touched her so delicately – and even as his movements were tender and sweet, they carried the same undeniable passion as their previous intimacies. Draco glanced down as she touched the rim of the trousers.
Hermione gave him a look as to confirm her truest desires, and without further communication, Draco pushed his trousers down and slowly met with her in a dance of the purest devotion.
Her moans echoed in the space between them, caught in between his deep expulsions of air. He made love to her, with long, drawn out thrusts between her parted legs. Her dress remained around her waist, where he grabbed hands full of the fabric, trying desperately to contain the animal within.
She panted for breath, feeling her body give in to the inevitable. It was the most she had felt since their last time together, and it was a moment she would look back on forever. Hermione tilted her head back in ecstasy and called out his name – feeling the rapturous chills of just one second with Draco Malfoy.
Her chest rose and fell, uncontrollably, as she gasped for air. It was happening.
His thrusts grew quicker and with a loss of control, harder than either of them had anticipated.
Draco went low for a kiss and felt his body shake as his final thrust drove both of them into a permanent state of complete and utter abandonment.
The End.
Sequel: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9709404/1/Beauty-and-the-Beast-II-Requiem
- 11
- 12
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Beauty and the Beast