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What You Love Is What You'll Receive	By : margaritama Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 9597 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Part 1
- 2-Part 2
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On the last evening of their trip, Hermione took a breather from the cocktail event preceding their formal dinner. Feeling overwhelmed, she sought some fresh air and slipped outside to the veranda overlooking Paris and the Seine.

Her quiet reverie didn’t last very long.

“Are you trying to lose me, Princess?”

“Hardly, Malfoy. You’re like a rapidly spreading plague with no cure.” She kept her back to him.

“You know with an attitude like that, I would swear that you’re trying to send me a message but for the life of me, I just don’t get it.”

Feathers clearly ruffled and ire poked, the brunette witch rounded ready to blast him with a scathing remark. Only she hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten. In her haste, she turned right into his arms, which tightened and held her fast.

Hermione felt her pulse speed up and her body shivered at the contact. “Let go.”*

“Shhh.”* Draco stared at her with an odd expression of amusement and an emotion she couldn’t place.

“Let go . . . please,”* she whispered.

Draco smiled slightly. “Don’t get excited.”*

“Auror Malfoy, being held by you isn't quite enough to get me excited,”* Hermione answered stiffly.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I haven't got time for anything else.”*

“I’m not your sweetheart. Now, please let me go.”

“That's a good story. But you know what I think, Princess? I think you just can't bear to let a gorgeous guy like me out of your sight.”*

“I don’t know where you get your delusions.” She fought against him weakly but it did very little good when she could barely move. Worse, she felt as if her head was full of cotton and her body was suddenly afire. Merlin, this man distracted and aroused her. How was that possible?

Hermione stared at him as he bent his head. Dear goodness, he was going to kiss her. Trembling, she closed her eyes and leaned towards him, giving in to the emotions washing over her. It was inevitable, she thought. She was attracted to him and just bloody tired of fighting it. A good snog was what she needed and, by god, she was going to let him.

A deafening blast suddenly sounded from the cocktail reception area. Hermione felt Draco loosen his hold as her eyes flew open. Both turned toward the sound. Another explosion burst the door to splinters. Draco wrapped himself around her and pushed her down to cover her from any wreckage. Voices were calling Draco’s name.

“Draco . . . sir . . .”

His wand suddenly in his hand, Draco pulled up Hermione. “Stay behind me.”

Hermione saw the rest of her detail emerge, with wands at the ready, from the hole that was once a door. All were coughing and covered in soot but no one seemed badly injured. “Malfoy . . .”

“Not now, Granger!”

That caught Hermione’s attention. He rarely used her surname. It was always ‘Princess’ or some derivative.

“Is everyone alright, men?”

A burly and hairy with ginger-tinged hair man named Chubaka spoke. “Yes, sir. We’ve got to go. One of the guests began attacking the attendees. He’s been taken down but there might be others. We should get Ms. Granger to safety, sir.”

Draco nodded. “Right. Everyone, get your brooms, we fly in formation.”

At the mention of flying, Hermione could feel her hands become clammy. “Oh, no. I’m not getting on a broom.” Pulling out her wand, she walked from behind Draco and towards the interior of the building.

“What the hell . . . get back here, Granger!” Draco bit in anger. His men gave the couple wide berth, unsure of what might happen.

In a matter of moments, a shrill cry of ‘Mudblood’ resounded as a man in black came storming towards Hermione. Draco yelled but in a flash of red, the assailant was down. He looked towards Hermione who was in a fighting stance, her wand held high and pointed at the perpetrator.

“What the hell are you doing?”* Draco shouted.

Shaking, Hermione swallowed thickly. “Well, somebody had to save our skins.”*

Draco grabbed her arm and ordered his men to enlarge the items from their pockets, which it turned out to be their brooms. Holding his aloft, he held out his hand. “Let’s go, Princess.”

“I can’t . . .”

“You can and you will. Come on, I won’t let anything happen to you. This is the state of the art Millennium Falcon 3000.” There was another rumble in the building. “Let’s go. Now, or so help me . . .”

“Alright . . .” Hermione jumped on behind him and held on for dear life. “If I die, I’m going to come back and haunt your dreams.”

“You already do.” Draco turned to his men. “We’ll fly in formation and then break off, as we’d planned.”

Hermione piped in. “Wait, shouldn’t we stay together?”

“We don’t have time to discuss this in a committee.”* He barked. “Now, hold on.”

“I’m not a committeeeee. . . .”* At that moment, Draco took off at what felt like hyper-drive speed. Hermione clutched her arms tighter around his torso, closed her eyes and held on with a vise-like grip.

Afraid to open her eyes, she could feel the wind whipping her hair and dress as the broom dipped, turned and dove through the air. She had no idea how long they’d flown or how far when she realized they were going down. She felt Draco touch the ground and come to a halt.

“You can let go and open your eyes now, Princess.” An amused chuckle escaped his throat.

Trembling, Hermione slowly unclasped her hands and pulled back from him. She took a moment to catch her breath before hopping off the broom. “Where are we?”

“A safehouse. Come on then.” Draco walked away towards a large cottage. “Not a bad bit of rescuing, huh? You know, sometimes I amaze even myself. “*

“That doesn't sound too hard.”* Hermione took a moment to survey her surroundings. For miles she saw lush trees and above her green skies. “This is a winery,” she called out.

Not stopping, Draco didn’t look back. “Ever the clever one, Princess. Now move your sweet arse.”

Tripping slightly, Hermione paused to remove her shoes and started after Draco.

***************************************************************

It had been several days since they’d arrive at the cottage, which turned out to be one of the Malfoy properties named Alderaan. They were still in France but, as far as Hermione could gather, no one knew where they were. The winery was farther from the main house and was run by local families. The house was well-equipped with food and supplies. With four bedrooms, five bathrooms, library, study, sitting room, kitchen, dining room and outdoor garden; the home was spacious and airy. The bedroom Draco showed her was full of women’s clothes in her size. When she’d questioned him, Draco had merely shrugged and noted that he’d made the arrangements when he’d been assigned to her.

On the eve of the fourth evening, Draco was writing letters in the cottage study, which he would then tie to one of the half a dozen owls waiting for his scrolls. She interrupted him to try and gain information on the attack and the rest of the guests. He had explained that he had no information and until he could confirm that all was safe, they would remain where they were. He assured her that Harry knew she was alive and well, and his men were currently working to uncover clues about who had tried to kill them.

“How much longer do we need to be here?”

“I told you, until I can confirm there’s no danger.”

Hermione huffed in annoyance. “Really, I don’t see how this is an issue. Danger or not, I have to get back to work. I need to ensure my colleagues were not hurt. Not to mention the likelihood of another attack is slim.”

Standing, Draco stared back grimly. “Just who is the Auror here? Potter trusted me to keep you safe and that’s what I’m doing. You don’t know if you were the target or not. Or did you forget the madman who came running at you yelling ‘Mudblood?’ Now, I suggest you go find something to occupy your time. Better yet, make yourself useful while I try to do my fucking job!”

Draco sat down to go back to his writing leaving Hermione standing there. She turned on her heel and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

Two days later found Hermione in the outdoor garden. Dressed in a light cotton blue sundress, she had decided to do a bit of weeding and cleaning up of the charming little garden that had a treasure trove of herbs, spices and exotic flowers. The beautiful weather lured her away from the lovely library, nearly every day. She was trying her best to not think of the Draco Malfoy or the effect he had on her temper and libido.

So lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear footsteps but cried out when she noticed a pair of feet crushing the chives she’d only just replanted.

“Oh, Malfoy, you oaf! Move away, you’re stomping on the chives.”

Jumping back, he lost his footing and fell on the ground. He landed right on top of the edible flowers she had rescued from strangling weeds.

Covered in dirt and annoyed, she punched his shoulder. “You’re ruining all my hard work.”

He caught her hands before she could strike him again. “Hey, Your Worship, I'm only trying to help.”*

“Would you please stop calling me that?”* She tugged against his hold.

Grinning and gripping her hands even tighter, he replied, “Sure . . . Hermione.”

She stilled her movements and whispered in shock that he had used her first name. “You make it so difficult sometimes.”*

“I do, I really do. You could be a little nicer, though. Come on, admit it. Sometimes you think I'm all right.”*

“Occasionally, maybe . . . when you aren't acting like a scoundrel.”*

Draco started to massage her hand. “Scoundrel? Scoundrel? I like the sound of that.”*

“Stop that.”* His actions were making her shiver and causing a warmth in her belly she didn’t want to feel.

“Stop what?”*

Her voice was low. “Stop that. My hands are dirty.”*

“My hands are dirty, too.” He slowly pulled her towards him. “What are you afraid of?”*

“Afraid?”*

“You’re trembling.”*

“I'm not trembling.”* He’d positioned her down on the ground next to him, and she weakly struggled against him.

“You like me because I'm a scoundrel. There aren't enough scoundrels in your life.”* He gently kissed her nose, then cheek.

Hermione’s breathing hitched. “I happen to like nice men.”*

Draco kissed the side of her mouth. “I’m nice men.”*

She moaned. “No, you're not. You're . . .”*

Suddenly his mouth sealed over hers cutting off her words and all thoughts, as well. He kissed her gently, at first. Soft, insistent nips and licks against her own coaxed tiny mewls from her throat. Then he bit her lower lip making her quiver. The kiss grew more passionate and Draco more dominant. His hands roamed over her body, pulling her flush against him.

Hermione wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back. She let him touch her, every inch felt hot and tingly. Wrapping a leg around his, she felt a hand trail down under her dress and cup her bottom. Merlin, could the man kiss.

Tearing his mouth away from hers, he groaned aloud. “Fuck, little love, if we don’t stop now; I’m going to take you right here and this is not how I envisioned our first time.”

He peppered her face with tiny kisses and slowly removed the hand under her dress then tugged her leg from him. He carefully unwound them from each other while trying to even out his breathing.

Hermione was too embarrassed to say a word. She couldn’t fathom how this man made her lose all propriety and sense.

“Princess, are you alright?” His voice was tinged with concern. “Come on now, look at me.” With a strong finger, he lifted her chin.

“I’m s-sorry; I don’t know what came over me.”

“I think I tripped over you, actually,” he joked.

Smiling, she buried her face in his chest. “You did.”

“Well, I think we should get up. I’ve got news for you. Potter wants us back at the Ministry. He said everything is safe.”

Hermione looked up. “Really? We have to leave?” Her disappointment was clear.

“We can always come back, don’t worry.”

Rising and dusting off the dirt, he helped her up. They walked to the house hand in hand.

***************************************************************

It turned out the attack was planned by a group of rogue pureblood supremacists who called themselves Storm Troopers. They had been hoping to make a point and pave the way to a reign of terror against organizations that would align themselves with Muggleborns or Muggles.

Luckily, Harry and Draco’s team had caught their leader, a madman who wore a long robe with hood covering most of his face and thought himself a ‘dark emperor’. In truth, he was the worst pseudo-villain they’d come across yet. Catching him and putting a stop to his plans had been almost laughably simple.

“So, as you can see, everything is fine. You’re safe, Hermione.” Harry sat back and stared at Hermione and Draco.

“Well, thank you, Harry. I do feel safer, already.” She smiled in a teasing way.

Draco smirked. “Right, Potter. Good job. Now, if you’ll excuse us, the Princess and I have a date.”

Harry rose as the couple in front of him stood. “A date? With each other? But, you hate each other.”

“Oh, Harry, really. Draco doesn’t hate me.” She winked and leaned over to kiss Harry’s cheek. “He’s just . . . complicated.”

Offering his arm to the Muggleborn witch, Draco frowned in mock offense. “Hey, now. I’m not that bad, am I?”

“You have your moments. Not many of them, but you do have them.”* Hermione took his arm and pulled him down for a light kiss before gracing him with a loving smile.

“I’ll show you moments, Princess. Potter, I’ll be taking a few days off, if you don’t mind.”

With that parting quip, the couple exited his office leaving a somewhat surprised Harry Potter shaking his head. “Wait until Ginny hears this! I don’t think she’ll believe me.”

FIN
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What You Love Is What You'll Receive