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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
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Author's Note: Hello, friends! I hope everyone is doing well and a big thank you to those who commented on my last chapter (HarryGinny4eva, General Crow, T-W-O)! The past few months I've been looking for employment after many years of being home with the littles (if you wondered why I'd dropped off the face of the earth). I've found a great job and I feel like I can finally pick up a bit with my writing. This short piece was written for DramioneLove Mini Fest 2016 and betaed by the talented SilverSecrets.

Summary: After Hermione cuts off contact with Draco, he seeks her out with a peace offering of tea.

Hermione watched the four year-old girl play on the jungle gym, swinging her tiny body from one bar to another. Her eyes never left her charge, even as a paper cup filled with tea was pressed into her hand.

“Good afternoon,” Draco murmured, taking a seat next to the silent witch.

She didn’t speak to him, keeping her eyes on the playground. Words were never exchanged, at least not on Hermione’s part. Draco’s words were tentative and he was always careful not to say something which would further alienate him from the witch he sat beside.

The day was grey and cold and Hermione shivered as a gust of wind blew against the back of her exposed neck. She hadn’t been prepared for the change in weather and her long-sleeved shirt did little to keep her warm. Taking off his coat, Draco draped it across her shoulders. His warmth seeped into her chilled body for a few moments before she stood, letting the black coat fall to the park bench.

“Come, Toula,” Hermione called to the girl, and she walked away without a backward glance at the blond.

His fingers played an imaginary rhythm on her bare back as she sighed.

“Do you like this?”

“Mmm,” she hummed, letting her thin frame relax into his naked body.

“You’re not going to see your parents for the winter hols?”

Hermione shrugged and went back to her book.

“Do you…do you need to borrow—“

She stood abruptly and grabbed her bag. Draco would have been angry at her reaction, had he not seen the tears threatening to spill from her dark eyes as she rushed out of his quarters.

“Are you going to open the owls the Ministry’s sent you?”

She threw another parchment on her littered desk. “No.”

“Why ever not?”

Rolling her eyes, she began to Vanish the scrolls bearing the Ministry of Magic’s wax seal.

“I don’t trust the Ministry and I certainly don’t want to work there.”

“What do you plan to do after you graduate?”

Finally, after several long moments, she turned to him as if considering what to say. In the end, she said nothing.

“Hermione,” he called through the thick wooden door of her quarters. “Granger, open the bloody door!”

He offered every password he could think of to the painting guarding her room, but the Medieval figure would only sniff at Draco and shake his head.

“Did you need to speak with me, Mr. Malfoy?”

It was an unspoken rule for the students of Hogwarts to sort out their personal issues without the aid of their teachers, but Draco had spent the day with visions of Hermione wasting away in her bed, perhaps hurt by her own hand. He confessed to McGonagall that he’d not seen Hermione in over two days.

He stood in the hallway and watched as Professors McGonagall and Sinistra entered Hermione’s room, leading out a bedraggled, wild-haired woman who glared at him with an expression of utter betrayal. Later, McGonagall thanked Draco for noticing Hermione’s predicament and informed him she would be in good hands at St. Mungo’s.

The hospital wouldn’t let him see her since he wasn’t considered family. Hogwarts graduation came and went. Draco went home.

It was by accident that Draco discovered Hermione was a childminder for a wealthy Muggle family with a magical child. His aunt, Andromeda, had mentioned it in passing as she spoke to Narcissa about how she had put Hermione in contact with the family, who Andromeda knew through her late husband, Ted. From there, it had been easy to find the house where Hermione resided with the family.

Each day, without fail, Hermione would Apparate her charge to a park in a magical neighborhood, so the girl might meet others like herself. And every afternoon, Draco would take his lunch break from his work at Gringotts to grab two cups of tea and offer one to the witch who still wouldn’t look at him, but at least allowed him to sit beside her.

“Earl Grey with cream and one sugar,” Draco said, handing the cup to Hermione. It had been three months and she had yet to utter one word to him. At least she appeared healthier than she had months before.

Unable to take her quiet for one more minute, he bit out, “I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m so bloody sorry.”

When she turned her head towards him, the warm scent of her hair reminded him of the nights when she would let him brush her tangled locks after a bath. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d thrown his arms around her, breathing in her distinctive smell.

One last time, he told himself.

He was about to let go when he felt an arm wrap around his back and a face buried itself in his neck. Draco let himself absorb her fragile essence, willing her to understand his love for her would wait until she was ready to let him in.

“Just…give me time while I put myself back together,” Hermione whispered.

“I’ll be here,” he murmured into her temple.

“With tea?” she asked with a watery laugh.

“With tea,” he assured
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- 14
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Tales of The Dragon and The Bookworm