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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
- 15
- 16
Title: Family Magic

Words: 4,300

Summary: ~ A Dramione Christmas story ~ When Draco finds Hermione unable to sleep, he offers her peace and comfort in his arms.

A.N.- Thanks to elettra21, General_Crow, and MotekElm for your reviews on my last story in Tales of the Dragon and the Bookworm!

On the second day of his repeated seventh year, her hoarse yells woke Draco. He bolted into the hallway and followed the desperate sounds, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t see yet another horrible act of violence.

What he found was Hermione Granger, on the common room sofa, curled into herself and sobbing.

He knelt and gently asked, “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head and tried to calm herself. She took deep, stuttering breaths while Draco quietly murmured for her to breathe. After a few minutes, Draco stood.

“I’m going back to bed. You should try to get some sleep, as well.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, standing and meeting his eyes.

She was thin and tiny, a full head shorter than him. He hadn’t realized she was so petite, having always thought of her as larger than life. Her skin was practically translucent and her dark eyes looked so wary. They walked side-by-side and when they reached her room, she stopped.

“I can’t…”

Draco wasn’t really thinking clearly when he took her hand.

“I know,” he murmured. “You can stay with me tonight if it helps.”

He led her into his room and she let him tuck her under his covers.

“Thank you, Malfoy,” she whispered into the darkened room.

For the first time in three months, Hermione slept until the sun began to rise.

She tapped on his door with her fingertips before letting herself into his bedroom.

“I can’t sleep.”

Her voice reminded him of a scared little girl, he mused to himself. He motioned Hermione towards the bed. Her lithe frame felt cool as she accidentally touched his bare chest. She moved about until her body spooned against his and he wrapped an arm about her waist, his hand splayed over her belly.

“G’night,” she murmured, her body relaxing in his warmth.

He nuzzled her hair and tightened his hold before blessedly falling back to sleep. In the morning she was gone, her warm scent the only reminder that she had, indeed, been in his bed last night.

He flung a hand over his eyes and groaned. He was on thin ice this school year, having been placed at Hogwarts for a repeated seventh year instead of in Azkaban. He was pretty sure he’d be a dead man if anyone ever found the Golden Girl in his bed, wearing that flimsy shite she called a nightgown.

Draco watched his bed partner listen to her fellow Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom, while she ate breakfast. She ignored him during the day, refusing to meet his eyes when he passed her in the hall or saw her in the library. Hermione never sat near him during classes, although to be fair, nobody else did, either, so he worked alone when everyone else paired up.

He knew he was considered “trouble” and not in the sexy, exciting way. He was trouble in the way that made people think that they’d be associated with his bad choices and deeds by mere proximity to him. The horrors of the Final Battle had killed off any notion that his brand of “bad boy” was desirable in any way.

He wasn’t sure why she came to him when she’d be welcome to share any number of beds in their “repeater” dorm. Although he wanted to ask her, he didn’t, fearing their odd night time ritual would end if he began to question it. And though she came to him in the night, he wondered if perhaps he got more comfort from her than she did from him.

Some nights she kissed him tentatively, her full lips pressed against his as Draco let her lead. Her tongue would lick at the seam of his lips, until he opened for her, feeling electrified by her kisses. Instinctually, he’d begin to pull her closer, but she’d break the kiss, hiding her face in his neck. They’d fall asleep this way, under a cocoon of downy covers.

On days when he got a letter from his father in Azkaban or his childhood friend, Greg, he’d lock his door and ignore her gentle tapping. He slept poorly, feeling guilty for having escaped imprisonment and for ignoring Hermione’s need for what little he could offer her.

A week before the Yule holiday, Draco received an owl from his mother, letting him know she planned on taking an extended holiday throughout Asia. Though he hadn’t been looking forward to going back to Malfoy Manor, he’d yearned to see his mum and enjoy some of the comforts of home.

He was a ghost at Hogwarts, having less interaction with other students than the actual specters that haunted the campus. No one acknowledged his presence, save Hermione Granger in the dead of night. She didn’t bestow a smile or nod at him in the hall or in classes. She sat in the front of the room, never seeming to notice his predicament of lacking a partner during projects.

He sighed and put the letter into his book, feeling disappointed and slightly betrayed. His mother was one of the few people who seemed to still believe in him and she was leaving him during his first break from school in months. He knew the isolation he felt was what he’d earned for serving the Dark Lord, but it was psychologically challenging to be alone in the midst of others.

This feeling persisted as he made his way to bed. He was sick of this place, sick of feeling like he couldn’t say a fucking word, sick of people refusing to meet his eyes. And he was especially tired of letting Granger interrupt his sleep on an almost nightly basis when she didn’t even have the bloody courtesy of acting like they were something to each other. Maybe they weren’t exactly friends, but they were more than mere acquaintances.

It was close to one in the morning when her light tapping against his door woke him. She opened the unlocked door and closed it behind her, slowly making her way towards Draco’s bed.

He sat up, letting the blankets pool around his waist.

“I can’t sleep,” she whispered as she normally did when she entered Draco’s room.

He looked at her for a moment, noticing her shivering in the frigid December air of the drafty castle, before shifting so she could have his warm spot under the covers. She turned towards him and put a hand against his chest.

“Why do you come here, Granger?” he asked with irritation. “You have friends. Why come here?”

She began to move her hand, but he grabbed it, holding it against his chest. He waited for several moments, but she didn’t say anything.

“You see, I can’t quite fathom how someone you can’t bring yourself to look at during the day becomes the person you turn to at night.”

“What do you mean?” she said feebly.

“You’re too smart to act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he sneered, pushing away from her and onto his back.

“I don’t—”

“Get out.”

“Wh-what?”

He got out of bed and walked to his door.

“You don’t get to do this anymore, Granger. Leave.”

She scrambled out of his bed and rushed through the open door. A second later, he heard her door shut with a definitive click.

He thought he’d feel better for confronting her, but instead he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

Hermione crawled back into her bed and immediately felt the press of tears on her eyes. She didn’t cry out of fear or anger, but because Draco had been right to confront her. She knew it was wrong to ignore him, but she hadn’t known if he actually wanted to be her friend. She cried because she’d hurt him, the person her body had realized would comfort her before her mind had finally come to the same conclusion. He’d accepted her, letting her take from him, and she’d treated him like a pariah during school hours.

Her feelings for the Slytherin had evolved over the course of the school year. Yes, she was comforted by him, but she worried that he felt pity for her. She didn’t want that from him. She was attracted to his silky hair and straight, white teeth, his lean build and his intoxicating scent. But, her feelings both confused and scared her. He’d not said anything to indicate he reciprocated her feelings, had he? A voice in her head scoffed. Did he really have to say he reciprocates your feelings? Aren’t his actions obvious?

He felt guilty seeing the dark circles under her eyes over the next few days. The castle had emptied of students and only a small handful remained. Draco caught Hermione looking at him, a sadness in her eyes he hardly expected. He studied her Muggle clothes, worn and faded, and began to wonder how this formerly fastidious girl was getting along. He’d heard rumors that her parents had somehow perished during the war, although to his knowledge the Death Eaters had nothing to do with it. He dearly hoped that was the case.

Christmas Eve was traditionally when Hermione would celebrate with her parents. They’d attend evening mass to enjoy the peace and beauty of the choir and the church. Her mum would make a rich hot chocolate and buttery biscuits and they’d sit in front of the fire and enjoy a movie on the telly. Hermione’s parents would even let her open a gift before bed. It was those memories where she felt incredibly cared for and accepted that had both sustained her over the war and haunted her when she realized she’d never be able to reverse the Obliviation she’d done on her parents before she left with Ron and Harry.

Shockingly, she’d felt that same sense of care and acceptance with Draco Malfoy, cocooned in his warm bed, pressed against his solid form. He had grown to be quite serious over the course of the last few years, but she felt drawn to him in a way she didn’t really understand. She missed him terribly and hadn’t had a decent sleep since he kicked her out of his room. She wondered if he would forgive her callousness.

Draco pulled out a little velvet bag from his dresser and removed the protection amulet he’d ordered for Hermione. It was a Goblin-wrought platinum chain with three round, green tourmaline stones in a row at its center. He knew green tourmaline was used to aid sleep, but he’d wanted to buy Hermione something fine for Christmas. He wondered if she’d accept his gift.

In an effort to salvage her depressing Christmas Eve, she Transfigured items in her room to recreate her childhood home’s living room, complete with a twinkling Christmas tree. She’d borrowed Dean Thomas’ telly before he left for the holidays, amazed that Dean had figured out how to use magic to power the device. He’d lent her a small collection of movies and old shows and she planned on watching most of them over the break and gorging herself on treats she’d nick from the dining hall.

Hermione consoled herself by contrasting her holiday this year and the previous year, where she’d been on the run with Harry and cold, hungry, and scared most of the time. At least now she was safe, warm, and well-fed. But she mourned the loss of her parents and she desperately missed Draco. She’d slept poorly for days, but worse, she felt as if she’d lost both a friend and a lover. She shook her head, knowing she was blowing this out of proportion, as they’d never done more than kiss, however their closeness over the past few months had felt just as intimate.

She snuggled into couch cushions, wrapping a blanket about her body and used her wand to “turn on” the telly. She’d make the best of it by watching some old episodes of Black Adder.

It was close to eleven at night when Draco gathered the courage to go to Hermione’s room. He knocked quietly, but when she didn’t answer, he opened the door to find not a Hogwarts bedroom, but a modest sitting room with a television, if he remembered the name of the Muggle object correctly. A Christmas tree lit with white lights glimmered in the corner. An empty mug of tea sat on a small table in front of the couch. A plate of simply iced biscuits sat beside the mug. Hermione was asleep, her face burrowed in a blanket.

He knew she must have been homesick to have Transfigured her room into a room from a Muggle house. Draco didn’t want Hermione to long for another place when he knew he could provide some comfort for her. Very gently, he used his wand to enlarge the couch so he could lay beside her. She stirred and he shifted next to her, wrapping his arms around her.

“Draco?” she asked sleepily.

“Go back to sleep, Hermione. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Not mad anymore?”

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he shook his head.

“I can’t stay mad at you.”

Two fragrant mugs of chocolate and a plate of beautifully iced cinnamon scones sat on a small table in front of the couches. The howling wind of the previous evening had given way to a peaceful snowfall. Draco sat up and looked around for Hermione.

She came into the room a moment later, her face freshly washed.

“Happy Christmas,” she said.

“Happy Christmas,” Draco murmured.

He made room for her on the enlarged couch and she sat and took a steaming mug in her hands.

“When I was a girl, after we went to church, my mum would make hot chocolate and biscuits and we’d watch movies on the telly. It’s one of my fondest memories as a child.”

She offered Draco one of the steaming mugs and took a sip of her own drink. Draco knew she was trying to tell him something meaningful, and though he wanted to ask her questions, he waited patiently.

She put down her drink and looked at her hands. Out tumbled the story of her life, beginning with the Obliviation of her parents and her inability to reverse the Obliviation. She’d talked to everyone she knew who might be able to help them and found confirmation time and again that every day that passed changed their brain structures to truly believe what it did after the act of Obliviation. She risked permanently damaging the brains of her brilliant, wonderful parents with a reversal of the spell at this point and she found herself without a family.

Harry and Ron were supportive, but were wrapped up in their Auror training and enjoying the fruits of their hard work and bravery. She received letters from them often, but she knew their paths had diverged. She wanted to work in academia, not government. The idea of being surrounded by all the Ministry officials who had stood by and let Voldemort and his ilk take over the government showed her the low level of integrity that group as a whole had. And frankly, she needed to nourish her mind, rather than learn to walk the line of politics.

Finally, she stopped talking and looked at Draco, who had quietly listened to her this entire time. Without thinking, she had taken his hand, holding onto it tightly as she told him her story.

“How, exactly, do I fit into this?” he asked.

She looked at him, knowing the future of this thing between them was dependent upon her answer. He had been accepting of her and her issues, never asking her for more than she could offer. She owed him the truth.

“That first night, when you comforted me after my nightmare, I felt safe for the first time in months. I had this intense sense of familiarity and belonging when you held me.”

“Family magic,” Draco murmured, realizing why he felt so upset she had ignored him all semester. Family magic was some of the most powerful magic in the wizarding world. Blood family had it, but married couples, who were together for love, had it as well. Family members who betrayed broke the bond of familial magic. His father had broken the bond with him and his mother by failing to protect them from the Dark Lord.

“Oh,” Hermione breathed. “Oh, my goodness. My parents are Muggles, so I didn’t grow up with it. Harry had mentioned feeling that kind of love from the Weasleys, but I thought he was just grateful for their kindness. It never occurred to me that there was a magical bond between them. I…I never felt that with them.”

Draco cleared his throat. “My mother and I have the bond.”

Hermione nodded, understanding why Draco didn’t share the magical bond with Lucius.

“What does…why do you think we have that bond? Or is it one-sided?” she asked with wide eyes.

“No, it’s not one sided,” Draco said, stroking her wrist with his thumb. “I don’t know exactly. The situations…in the war…I wanted to help you and I couldn’t. I wish there was more I could have done for you. I wish there was more I could do for you now.”

“You have helped me these past months and I didn’t act with consideration of your feelings. I’m ashamed of my behavior,” Hermione acknowledged, her throat beginning to tighten as she fought off tears.

“No one wants to associate with me. I know I deserve it, but…I don’t know. I thought there was more to what was happening between us.”

The tears she had been holding back trailed down her face. She opened her mouth to say something, then wiped at her face, trying to calm herself.

“This is difficult,” she finally got out.

He was taken completely by surprise when she put her arms around his neck and hid her face in his chest. Quite naturally, he began stroking her back and nuzzling her hair. A strain he’d felt in his chest for the past few weeks eased as she accepted comfort from him.

“You smell good,” she murmured.

He chuckled. “You smell good, too, love.”

“I’ve missed you. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He looked at her, in her worn Muggle nightshirt and knew he would do anything for her, if given the chance. He wanted the bond they had to strengthen and grow.

“That day,” Draco said, referring to the day he kicked her out of his room, “my mother had sent me a letter telling me she was leaving the country for an extended holiday. She’s one of the few people I actually care for and I was angry. I acted hastily that day.”

Hermione sat up and looked into Draco’s eyes. “You didn’t act hastily, you acted honestly. I just…don’t know what exactly we are to each other. We were never friends before, so I wasn’t sure you wanted me to acknowledge you outside of these rooms. But I know you’ve changed.”

“It’s probably in your best interest to ignore me in public. Your friends would think you were barmy if we became friends.”

“Maybe,” she conceded. “What about your friends or your mum?”

He laughed sharply. “What friends? As for my mother, she wants what I want. She wants me to be happy.”

She looked at their entwined hands and took a deep breath.

“Do you think I would make you happy?”

For the first time, he pulled her towards him and kissed her. It was slow and sensuous and Hermione found she couldn’t get enough of him. He pulled away from the kiss and looked into her eyes before cupping her face and stroking his thumb over her cheek.

“You make me happy. I guess the real question is whether you want the bond we have to develop.”

“I’m…I’m me. Muggle-born. If this develops…?”

He nodded, having accepted, even desiring, what she was so nervously asking.

“We can be together without marriage, although I’d prefer us to be a family in the legal as well as the magical sense.”

“Oh…wow. Are you sure? Are you not nervous about this?”

He chuckled. “I’m bloody terrified! I don’t want you to regret this, but for the first time in a long time, I feel like this is the right decision. After the first night you stayed with me, I felt a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in years.”

“You did?”

He nodded and smiled at her, the loving way he looked at her showing in his grey eyes.

“I have a Christmas gift for you,” he said, taking the velvet bag out of his trousers.

She took the bag and opened it, pulling out the three-stone necklace and admiring the beauty of it.

“The stone is tourmaline, which is used to aid sleep. I had a goblin jeweler make it for you.”

“Put it on me.”

She turned away from him and lifted her long hair away from her neck. He gently guided the chain around her neck and fastened the clasp before pressing a kiss to her nape. He felt her shiver in response.

Hermione turned and he felt a very male sense of pride at his witch wearing a necklace he had gifted her.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.”

She blushed and looked down.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a gift for you,” she admitted.

“I’m with the most brilliant, brave, and enticing witch in the world. That’s worth more to me than any gift.”

Her answering smile was open and accepting.

“Show me how this telly works.”

They spent the day in each other’s arms, using the movies on the television as an excuse to be close. Draco rather liked this tradition and found himself hoping he could do this every Christmas day.

As in most families, traditions are taken from both sides of the family and made into new rituals.

Narcissa insists the young couple have Christmas Eve dinner with her on their second holiday as a couple. Draco watches in awe as his mother gifts Hermione one of the precious Black family diamond bracelets, which is imbued with spells to protect and strengthen the mind of the wearer. Hermione looks at Draco, who nods at her to accept the gift. The gift is Narcissa’s show of acceptance of her son’s choice of mate. She recognizes the bond they share and will work to help her son strengthen it. Hermione Granger might be Muggle-born, but she’s as powerful a witch as any from the ancient and noble Black family.

On their fifth Christmas together, instead of gorging themselves on holiday goodies and watching movies in their most comfy clothes, they find themselves making their way to Azkaban to escort Lucius Malfoy home. He is thin with shorn hair and dark circles under his eyes. Draco can’t seem to move as he stares at his father, so it is Hermione, in her aubergine cashmere robes, who takes an exhausted Lucius by the arm and discreetly casts a warming charm on him.

“Who are you?” he whispers.

“I’m Draco’s wife,” the petite brunette says with an encouraging smile. “Narcissa is waiting at Malfoy Manor for you, but we thought you might want to come to our home to shower and change before you saw her.”

“I…yes, I’d appreciate that,” he says with a squeeze to her arm.

He is grateful for the thoughtfulness of this unknown witch who is married to his son.

Seven year into their relationship, they are new parents with a two-month old boy. He is beautiful and healthy, but he doesn’t sleep through the night. That year, the young Malfoy family stays at Malfoy Manor at Draco’s parents urging so they can get some rest and enjoy the services of the obliging elves. When Lucius hears the baby stir at five in the morning, he takes the child and walks him up and down the halls of the vast house. He loves the baby, Orion, and has a great affection for the child’s Muggle-born mother. Hermione is intelligent, well-spoken, and eased into life as a Malfoy with aplomb, but more than that, he finds the young witch compassionate and kind. She has been a bridge between himself and Draco after their years of estrangement and for that, Lucius could not be more grateful.

Their tenth Christmas together is an anniversary of sorts and they decide to spend a few days away to celebrate. Draco’s parents have Orion, who will be spoiled rotten by the time they get back from their trip.

Draco watches Hermione read her book as they lay on the Caribbean beach. In the ten years they’ve been together, he has watched her grow into herself as an intellectual, a wife, and a mother. She is still thin, although her body is more curvaceous than it was before. Her thick hair curls about her face in the ocean breeze and he marvels at how she seems to get more beautiful as the years go by. He thought she would resist some of the advantages of being married to one of the richest wizards in Great Britain, but he quickly learns she loves life’s pleasures.

Hermione put her book down and smiles at Draco. “What are you thinking about, love?”

He leans over and kisses her, letting one hand linger on her waist.

“Do you remember when you asked me that first Christmas if I thought you would make me happy?”

She nods, remembering how scary, but exhilarating it was to admit to her feelings for Draco and how her heart had felt like it would burst when he admitted that he felt the same way.

“I do.”

“I’m so much happier than I could have ever imagined.”

Hermione places a hand over his heart. “I am, too, Draco.”

“Merry Christmas, love.”

“Merry Christmas.”
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Tales of The Dragon and The Bookworm