Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Forgiven	By : Tassanaburrfoot Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 18105 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned Harry Potter or the books or contents. This work is purely for my own pleasure, no profit to be made.

Chapter List
- 23
- 24
- 25
They had Apparated right in the middle of a luscious bedroom. Hermione closed her eyes and held her stomach as Draco steadied her. “Are you alright, love?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
She nodded her head, but didn’t trust herself to speak right away. Taking several deep breaths, she righted herself and opened her eyes. Her eyes widened as she gazed about the room. It wasn’t anything like she had expected. The dark, gloomy décor from the Manor was non-existent in this bright, pastel room. A large white four poster bed sat between two large bay windows. Hermione could see the sky blue sheets of the bed peeking out from under several large, fluffy pillows. The white duvet that covered the bed had large sky blue flowers trailing down the left side and curling upwards towards the right, almost like a large “J”. This pattern was duplicated on several of the white pillows while a few of the pillows were sky blue as well.
On either side of the bed, the bay windows had translucent curtains that were pulled back to give a clear view of the ocean. Gasping, the Muggle born touched her fingers to her lips, unaware that she was stepping out of Draco’s arms to look more fully around the room. The bedroom was quite spacious, which did not surprise Hermione in the slightest. On the wall to the left of the bed sat the luxurious white marble fireplace surrounded by identical white armchairs. Each chair had a single pillow resting against the back. The pillows had the same blue flower pattern as the bed.
Taking a slow step, Hermione turned to look at the rest of the room. Next to the fireplace was a large bookshelf filled with books and her hands began to itch with the desire to touch them, but she restrained herself, if only for a moment longer. Continuing, she saw a door across from the bed that was opened and clearly led to the rest of the house. Opposite the fireplace wall were two more doors. Instinctively, Hermione knew these led to the bathroom and closet.
She glanced at Draco and asked, hopefully, “May I?” waving her hand to indicate the doors.
He gave her a warm smile and nodded. “Of course, love. Ma maison est ta maison”
She giggled and responded, “Merci!” She then lifted up her skirts and walked towards the first door. “If you don’t mind, mon amour, I think I might change out of this dress.”
“It’s a bit late to go anywhere,” he said, though he was amused by her use of the French language. “I thought tomorrow we would go and see the sights. Paris is but two Apparations away and Normandy is less than an hour away by carriage, shorter if we take a car.”
Her hand was on the handle of the door when her head whipped around to stare at him. “Do you know how to drive?” she asked.
His face widened into a smirk as he folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not without skill, love,” he commented with a short chuckle. “After Father was incarcerated, Mother insisted. You’ll have to remind me to show you the Malfoy garage some time. I own a car or two…”
The idea of the Malfoys owning anything Muggle floored the witch. “Any other dirty little secrets I should know about?” she teased.
“Perhaps,” he responded, his smirk still plastered on his face, “but those are things you’ll learn of in time, beautiful.”
“Of that, I do not doubt,” she laughed. Turning the knob of the door, she continued, “You said we were near Normandy. Do you think we could visit… the…” She lost her words as she turned and looked around the new room she had entered.
She remembered visiting the Prefects bath a few times in Hogwarts. This was nothing in comparison. White porcelain and marble tile covered virtually everything. The tub wasn’t a tub, but a swimming pool in the shape of a large seashell. Several faucets lined the pool. There was a shower in the far corner, but no sign of a shower curtain or even lip. She saw the drain underneath the shower and assumed it was expected that the water would stay there.
In all her years, Hermione had never seen a marble toilet, but, alas, there it was standing proudly next to the marble sink. The toothbrush holder, soap dish, wastebasket, and tissue holder were actually of a black marble. A plush, white towel hung meticulously from a marble bar mounted on the wall. The vanity, which sat next to the sink, had an oval mirror, a silver tray full of perfumes and a silver brush along with a makeup caddy. Upon opening the small drawers, Hermione discovered that it was fully stocked with all the cosmetics she used, including a bottle of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion.
Bending down, she turned on the first valve for the pool. As hot, pink bubbled water sprouted from the faucet, she smiled. Going to each nozzle, she soon had them all turned on, filling the room with fragrant scents and bubbles. Standing up, she reached behind herself and began working on the string. She tugged and pulled, but she couldn’t get it undone.
Frustrated, Hermione returned to the bedroom and found Draco lounging in one of the chairs reading a book. “Draco? Could you help me?”
“What is it, love?” he asked as he glanced up.
She approached him and turned around so he could see the cord. “I think it’s knotted,” she told him.
Draco’s eyes lit up in unexpected surprise. “And you would like me to help you undo it?” he surmised, his voice husky. He felt his mouth grow dry and licked his lips in anticipation as he attempted to swallow the lump he suddenly felt in his throat.
Draco was no blushing virgin, unlike his bride. He had been with a witch or two, but this was different. Those girls meant little to him, just a mean to an ends. But Hermione? He felt his heart beating hard in his chest as he lifted a hand up and brushed his fingertips over the knot. He had dreamt of this moment for as long as he could remember.
Licking his lips again, he lifted his other hand and began picking at the knot. He didn’t say anything as he worked the knot, knowing if he did he was liable to fuck up this moment.
For her part, Hermione stood silently, a hand at her chest and then at her abdomen. She could feel everything he was doing, the gentle pulls and yanks. When he had first touched the string, she had felt a flock of butterflies pool in the pit of her stomach. Her own mouth had gone dry and she found herself sucking her bottom lip into her mouth to wet it and pressing her lips together. When she felt the garment finally loosen, she reached back and grabbed it to hold the corset closed, her fingers brushing against Draco’s.
Once finished, Draco gently took her waist and turned her around to face him. He stood and, resting his hands on her waist, he stared down into her big, beautiful eyes. He could see her shaking and knew she was scared.
She met his silver eyes and she saw something in them that she had never seen before. Sure she had seen lust and easily identified it in his gaze. She knew it, too, having seen the look before, first from Viktor Krum and then later on from Ron. But there was something else in the way Draco looked at her in this moment that was far different from any boy in school. It was then that she realized she was no longer looking at a boy, but a man who was deeply in love with her.
She gave him a nervous, uncertain smile as he dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers. She parted her lips slightly and he pressed his more firmly, deepening the kiss. He pulled her closer to him as she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck. His hands played with the loose opening of her dress and slipped underneath the silky material.
Gasping, Hermione broke the kiss and bowed her head a bit, panting. Draco rested his forehead against hers, but didn’t remove his hand. Her skin was soft and smooth and he wanted more of it. “You should get out of these clothes,” he whispered.
She pulled away from him and looked scandalized. “I beg your pardon?” she scoffed.
He chuckled as they broke apart and he returned to his seat. “Weren’t you about to shower?” he asked.
She grabbed the corset to prevent it from falling and folded her arms to keep it there. Frowning, she replied, “I’m drawing a bath right now.”
He nodded as he leaned back in the chair. “You’ll need to get out of those clothes to get into the pool, love,” he told her. “Unless you want to ruin that gown? If that’s the case, then I’m sure we could have found more entertaining ways to do that.”
“No,” she said. “I’m not interested in ruining the gown… Thank you for helping me with the strings,” she added as an afterthought.
He gave a single nod and said, “You are quite welcome.” He watched her while she stood there, unmoving. Finally, he asked, “Would you like me to join you?”
That snapped her out of her daze. “Oh! Um… Well, I don’t… I mean,” she stammered. Closing her eyes she shook her head and took a deep breath. “I’ve never bathed with anyone before,” she said as she opened her eyes and blushed.
He raised an eyebrow. “I would hope not,” he commented. At the startled look on her face, he smirked. “Though I will admit I’ve never done it either, we are married now.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You just want to see me in the nude,” she accused.
He laughed, “Well, of course. You’re a beautiful woman, love.”
She stood straight and held the gown tighter around her body. Turning, she made her way to the bathroom. Mustering her Gryffindor courage, she spoke to the door, “Give me a moment and you may join me if you wish.” With that, she disappeared into the bathroom, but left the door open a crack.
Draco sat there stunned. Her offer shot straight to his groin and, quite suddenly, his trousers were far too tight for him. He had just been teasing, knowing she would never agree to it, at least not so soon. And yet…
He jumped up from the chair and flew to the bookshelf, slamming his book into its spot. Running to the bed, he kicked off his shoes and placed them under the bed. He fiddled with his tie as he entered the bathroom and began unbuttoning his oxford.
Hermione sat on the steps of the pool, hiding her body beneath layers of pink and blue bubbles and steam. When she saw him, she immediately averted her gaze while he undressed and jumped into the deep end of the water. He broke the water again as he resurfaced and swam to the side so he could look at her. Once the Muggle born knew he was in, she lifted her eyes to him and blushed even more.
He smirked. “Come now, love, you look embarrassed.”
She rolled her eyes. “This is new for me, Draco,” she told him. “All of it. Being married, sharing a bath, being around a naked man,…”
“It’s new to me, too,” he said. “I’ve never done any of those things either. Well, minus the naked man part. I’ve seen my own body loads of times, though I can’t say the same about girls.”
She looked at him curiously. “I thought you said you have had sex before?”
He nodded. “That doesn’t mean I actually got to see anything, though,” he told her truthfully. “Hogwarts broom closets don’t really give much in the way of light and even if we managed to snag an abandoned room, well… There is really only one part of the anatomy that needs to be exposed, isn’t there? When you’re on a time limit, you don’t really have a chance to explore.”
She frowned. “So, you’re almost as much of a virgin as I am?” she asked, curious.
He chuckled. “I have had sex, love. Just… never much more.” He looked at her thoughtfully before swimming over to her and sitting on the step next to her. “How about this,” he suggested. “I’ll stand on these steps so you can see me if you do the same.” Seeing her eyes widen, he rolled his own. “Honestly, princess, we’re married now. We’re going to see each other naked at some point, might as well get it over with.”
“But…”
“I’m nervous, too,” he admitted.
“What’ve you to be nervous about?” she asked curiously. “Unless you’re suffering from a Napoleon syndrome.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I think you’ll find, rather soon I might add, that I suffer no such thing,” he told her with a smirk. “However, as I’ve said, I’ve never seen a woman before in less than a dressing gown.”
“Didn’t your parents ever bring you to the beach?” she asked.
He frowned at that and tilted his head. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Swimsuits,” she answered simply.
“Why in Merlin’s name would we wear swimsuits to the beach?” he asked, his brow furrowing in his confusion.
She had to bite her bottom lip to keep from bursting out in laughter. “Most people go swimming in the ocean,” she explained. “Or at least sunbathe on the beach. Haven’t the three of you ever…”
Draco lifted his arm to show her the pale skin. “Do I look as though I spend my time sunbathing on the beach, princess?” he questioned.
“Then why the beach front chalet?” she asked.
He shrugged as he sat back on the steps. “Because we can?” he offered. “Mother used to take me here when I was a lad for a bit of culture. Sometimes it’s easier to study when you aren’t within easy reach of your mates. Not to mention, reading boring history books is much easier when you can hear and smell the ocean. And you’re stalling,” he added with a smirk.
As he stood, Draco stepped off of the steps so that he was waist deep in the water and turned to look at her. He held his hand out to her and began leading her further into the water until it came up to his chest. As he pivoted on the ball of his foot, he yanked her so that she fell into his arms. His eyes closed at the feel of her breasts against his chest.
“Draco,” she whispered.
Opening his eyes slightly, the Slytherin Prince gazed down at his princess. Her hair was splayed all around her, giving her the look of a water nymph. Cupping her cheek, he kissed her gently on the lips.
When he deepened the kiss, she wrapped her arms around his neck again and allowed his tongue to slide into her mouth. He may have been thin, but she could feel the lean muscle under his skin and ran her hands over his hard back. He walked her to the side of the pool and used the wall for leverage as he reached down and pulled her legs up to hook around his waist. She could feel his hardened length press against her core and broke the kiss to gasp.
“Draco!” she hissed breathlessly. “Wait!”
He trailed kisses down her cheek and to her neck. “It’ll be alright, love,” he whispered against a particularly sensitive spot. He laved that spot with his tongue when he heard her unwittingly release a giggle. His cock rubbed against her clit and he could feel her shudder.
“I’m scared,” she confessed softly.
He lifted his head and smirked at her. “Hermione Granger who fought a war and won, who could brave being amongst Slytherins, a Miss Know-it-all and Gryffindor princess?” He continued to rub against her, allowing the head of his penis to tease her entrance. “What’ve you to be afraid of?”
Her eyelids drooped as she let her head fall back. He continued rubbing against her, not entering, just letting her feel. He knew he couldn’t have sex with her here in the pool. Even now, all he really felt was friction, the waters and soaps having stripped away the natural lubricants that come with arousal. But he could enjoy touching her, kissing her, and even exciting her. However, he couldn’t do this much longer. It had been a couple years since he had been with a girl and it was difficult keeping himself in check, especially when she would shudder, moan, or squirm.
When he thought he couldn’t take much more of it, he wrapped his arms around her waist and, pressing her to him, he began walking out of the water. He didn’t bother with towels or robes, just walked her into the bedroom, kissing her mouth and nipping at her bottom lip. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew they were both soaking wet and covered in soap suds, but at that moment he didn’t much care.
Turning slightly to the side, he fell backwards onto the bed, taking her with him. The fireplace lit without a thought as he continued attacking her mouth. He twisted again, causing the pair to roll over so he was on top. Lifting his hand, he brushed his fingers over a breast before cupping it and giving it an experimental squeeze. He groaned at how soft and firm the flesh felt and flicked his thumb over the nipple.
Hermione gasped and threw her head into the duvet as her back arched towards him. Encouraged, he trailed kissed down her collar bone. He pulled away slightly to look at her breasts, then, closing his eyes, he dipped his head and sucked a teat into his mouth. “Oh!” she shouted, her nails digging into his back.
He smiled with the nipple still in his mouth as he let his hand slip further down and between their bodies. Despite the fact that they had just been in the bath, his eyes widened at the feel of a very wet Hermione. He teased her clit between his thumb and forefinger.
“Oh, God, Draco!” she hissed when he let his finger wander to her entrance.
He aligned his cock to her entrance and released her breast so he could kiss her lips. As they kissed, he continued to prod the entrance until he was able to get his head inside. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers as he whispered against her lips, “I love you, Hermione. I promised I would never hurt you and I stand by that promise.”
She smiled up at him. “I love you, too,” she whispered.
His eyes met hers and he simply stared. Hermione gazed into his silver orbs amazed by how dilated they were. Then, he pushed himself into her with one, swift movement. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a small “o” in surprise, but to his amazement, she didn’t scream. He continued pushing into her until he was completely seated. Then, he stopped, allowing her to get used to the feel of him.
As a hormonal teenager, Draco had had his fair share of witches, mostly within Slytherin, with the occasional Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. However, he made it a point to never sleep with a virgin. This ensured that the girl couldn’t run to her parents about the coupling and force him into something he didn’t want.
He waited a bit longer, until he could feel her heartbeat slow. Once he was certain she was alright, he slowly began pulling out. She glanced up at him, opening her mouth, when he thrust back into her. Her eyes widened.
His pace was excruciatingly slow, but he wanted to give her the chance to get used to it. He had heard by several of his mates in the past that the first time for a witch hurt a lot. Soon, however, he stopped thinking as he continued to thrust into her. It felt so good and it had been such a long time since he felt a witch that the moment she shouted her released, he shot his load deep inside of her.
He moved slightly to the side as he collapsed, not wanting to put his weight on top of her. They both were panting and after a moment, he turned slightly and drew her into his arms. At some point during the night, the couple managed to slip under the covers and more towards the middle of the bed. They never released each other, however, finding comfort and warmth in their embrace.
A dark hooded figure slipped into the room. For a moment, he watched as the couple slept peacefully, his eyes narrowed. He did not draw his wand, however. He simply lifted a hand and the duvet flew to him. He waved his other hand and a new, clean duvet appeared hovering above the couple. He was careful as he lowered the duvet upon them.
Once he was certain that neither the witch nor wizard had been disturbed, he folded the soiled blanket in his arms and stepped towards the door. Upon reaching it, he gave the couple one last look, then he was gone.
Deep asleep, Draco reached for the duvet and pulled it over him and his wife.
(II)(II)
Draco’s arm was draped over her tightly beneath the covers as he spooned her from behind. Hermione’s eyes fluttered open and she glanced around the room, though she did not move. She really needed to go to the bathroom, but he was so warm and the bed so comfortable. That was when she felt his penis pressed into her back. Surprised, she turned in his embrace and looked into his sleeping face.
She just stared at him. He looked so peaceful, so young. Did he even know his penis was hard? She doubted he did. Or perhaps he just ignored it, preferring his slumber. She pulled her arm out from between them very careful, not wanting to wake him, and gently pushed a few strands of white blonde hair out of his eyes.
His eyelids flickered and he scrunched his nose. Pulling her closer to him, he sighed and moaned softly, “Ten more minutes.”
For some reason, this amused the Muggle born. She buried her head into his chest to keep herself from laughing, but her giggles caused her upper body to shake with laughter and short, tiny giggles escaped, muffled by her position.
The sounds she made were new to Draco, causing him to frown and open his eyes. He looked down at her in concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling away slightly so he could look at her.
Knowing he was awake now, she threw her head back and released her laughter, earning for herself a stare of confusion. She stopped suddenly and forced herself out of his arms.
“Hermione…”
She waved at him as she ran into the bathroom and shut the door. Draco pulled himself up so that he could sit up against the pillows. That was when he noticed the duvet had been cleaned and he tilted his head in thought. The elves knew not to disturb them, but at the same time he didn’t remember anyone even coming into the room.
Draco had never been a light sleeper until the war. As a child, it was a constant struggle of his parents to have him awake and ready. When the Dark Lord moved into their home, however, the young Slytherin prince found he had a hard time, not only falling asleep, but staying asleep. His fear of being murdered in his sleep forced him to constantly watch his surroundings. In his dreams, he often relived the tortures and murders that had occurred in his own home. Most of those dreams he had managed to tuck away into a safe within the depths of his mind, however, there was one that he could never force out of his mind. And every night he saw it. He saw her. She was lying on the hard stone floor, screaming as his aunt carved into her flesh.
When Hermione came out of the bathroom, she was wearing a light translucent pink dressing gown with a silk sash tied at the waist. The sleeves were long and had pink fur at the ends. It left little to the imagination and, as Draco gazed at her, his morning wood became, if possible, even harder. He watched her with amusement as she tried to cover herself up.
“Someone has a perverted sense of humour,” she commented sourly as she climbed back on the bed. “Did you know there aren’t any proper sleeping garments in the closet?”
“Your gown doesn’t look so bad,” he pointed out.
She gave him a bored look. “Yes, I was lucky to find this,” she said sarcastically. “The actual night dress consists of nothing but lace for the bodice and silk for the skirt.”
He frowned. “Well, we are on our honeymoon, love,” he commented. “I doubt we’ll be wearing many clothes anyway.”
She stared at him for a moment. “I thought you said we were going to Normandy and Paris?”
“If that’s what you want to do,” he said, waving his hand. “How are you feeling?”
She sighed. “I’m a little sore, but I’ll be alright,” she admitted. “Ginny said the pain would go away after the first couple times.”
He grimaced. “Perhaps we shouldn’t mention your friends when talking about sex,” he suggested.
She sighed as she curled up against him. “So, where are we going?” she asked with a yawn.
He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him. “Anywhere you want.”
(III)(III)
If Draco had his way about it, they would’ve stay in France for a month. However, by the end of the week, Hermione was ready to go home. There were things she needed to get done that she couldn’t do in France.
That wasn’t to say that she didn’t enjoy herself. After that first morning, she found that she enjoyed being with Draco. They didn’t fight like she thought they would. In fact, he was a very pleasant, considerate husband who put her needs before his own. The irony wasn’t lost on the Muggle born.
The chalet was incredible. Hermione discovered a vast library, a beautiful drawing room, and a welcoming sitting room. The bar and kitchen had been well-equipped and she soon learned that Maisey was staying with them as well. Of course, Hermione insisted on making a meal or two, but mostly she let the house elf take care of the cooking, knowing it made Maisey happy.
The Gryffindor found the décor of the chalet very odd. Everything was white, or variations of white. Even the piano in the drawing room was white! The drawing room was one of her favourite rooms, too. It was styled much in the same way as the one in Malfoy Manor, minus one difference.
The first time Hermione entered the drawing room, the first thing that stuck out to her were the photographs on the shelves where books should be. And not just there, either. There was a huge family painting right above the mantle that had surprised her the most. It was the first time she had seen such a painting, as the one she assumed was meant to be in the Manor was missing. As she stared at the painting, she took a few steps towards it.
Both Lucius and Narcissa were much younger and the small babe in Narcissa’s arms was obviously Draco. They looked happy, if the twinkle in Lucius’s eyes were anything to go by. Narcissa lifted Draco up so he could face outward and, cooing, the baby stuck his fist in his mouth. It was apparent that Draco had a full head of hair, but it was such a pale blond that the witch could barely make it out until he dug the same fist he had had in his mouth into his hair and started pulling at it. Hermione watched as Lucius gently pried Draco’s hand out of his hair. The family didn’t seem to notice the young Muggle born and she was alright with that. It was fascinating to her to witness that tender moment.
She drew her attention away from the portrait and wandered about the room, glancing at the framed pictures on the shelves. There was one of Draco’s first broom and him flying it around the room. There was another of Lucius and a much younger Draco sitting on top of a large Abraxan horse. Lucius held onto the reins with one hand and had an arm around his son as Draco giggled, giving the camera a shit-eating smile. Hermione laughed and turned her attention to another picture. Draco’s fifth birthday. He was blowing out his candles and the Muggle born saw two other boys with him, one on either side. She immediately recognized them as Blaise and Theodore, though they looked nothing like the men they would become. Blaise’s skin was so dark, he looked almost as black as a baby panther. Theodore was scrawny, even as a child. They were both adorable. Another photo was of Draco clutching a letter in his small hands and looking excited. This was the Draco she remembered from her first year and knew he was holding his Hogwarts letter. Hermione’s smile was soft as she reached up and took another picture from the shelf to get a better look at it. It must have been his first picture. He was so tiny. Baby Draco yawned and looked sleepily at her before letting his eyes close again in sleep. She stared lovingly at the photo.
The past month had been insane. Her mind was still whirling at the way Ron had treated her that day. How could he think she would cheat on him? It was wrong for Draco to have sent her flowers without her knowledge and a part of her felt that anger for the way he had manipulated the situation. That moment, however, as she stared at that baby picture, was when it all hit her.
She backed up quietly to a chair and sat down. He had told her that he’d sent her the flowers with the purpose of making Ron angry. He knew what would happen, was counting on it, even. She had believed that him being there had been a coincidence, but the truth was, it hadn’t. He must have been hiding somewhere, waiting for the right moment.
Placing the frame gently on a side table, the Muggle born reached into her robes and pulled out an old photograph of them together. It had been that night at the Yule Ball. He had been there by the lake and comforted her, even danced with her. Then, without warning, he had kissed her. Her first kiss and it belonged to Draco. No boy ever gave her that same spark. Not Viktor. Not Ron. It just wasn’t the same.
Then she thought about the war. All of sixth year, Harry knew Draco had been up to something and Hermione fervently denied it only to learn that her friend had been right the entire time. Draco was a Death Eater. However, the more she thought about it, even when they were running from the Death Eaters, the more she began to doubt whether Draco truly wanted to be one.
That hellish night in Malfoy Manor would forever burn in her nightmares. That cursed dagger left a scar on her arm that she would never be able to get rid of. But even in her fear and pain, she had caught the look in Draco’s eyes. The sheer terror in his glance told her that he didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to see what was happening to her. At the time she thought he was just developing a conscience, but what if it was more than that? Was he in love with her even then? Or had he been in love with her when they were by the lake? And who had taken this picture and why?
She had spoken to Blaise and Theodore a lot when they had returned for their final year. Sure she had Ginny and Luna, but, honestly, those two Slytherins were the ones she had spent the most time with. Life was a lot calmer around them. She didn’t have to worry about either of them breaking down into a sobbing mess or spouting about nonsensical things. It was selfish, but Hermione enjoyed the solace she had found with the pair. And if she broke down? They were there to listen or lend a shoulder.
It was part of why she and Pansy had started getting along as well. The Slytherins never really judged her. Or, at least, if they did, they never said anything. Pansy didn’t tease the Gryffindor and Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she had heard the term “Mudblood” directed at her. Well, no, that was a lie. Goyle had recently called her that, but he didn’t return to school.
All those conversations. Blaise and Theodore had often spoken of Draco. At the time, Hermione assumed it was just because they missed their friend. Now, as she glanced up at the birthday picture, she wondered if it was more than that. What if they were setting her up? They never said anything negative about him and often told her stories of their childhood and the bits of mischief they had gotten into together.
Was it all just an elaborate set-up by Draco? The friendships, the comradery? How much had she told those boys that they, in turn, told Draco? Had they all been in on it?
She was even starting to question Pansy’s role in this. It was no secret that the girl didn’t like her. All through their school years, Pansy had tormented Hermione far worse than Draco or any other Slytherin had ever done. She had even been worse than Millicent. And yet, that year that Hermione had returned, it seemed like Pansy had changed dramatically and suddenly.
She was still sitting in the drawing room when Draco walked in. He had a towel draped around his shoulders and his hair was still dripping from his shower. She watched as he sauntered towards her with such a regal gait. It was then that she saw it.
Hermione had often heard the term “Slytherin Prince” in regards to Draco, Blaise, or Theodore. She had laughed it off, however, thinking the term some pompous invention to stroke their egos. The Muggle born felt her mouth grow dry. Draco wasn’t a Prince of Slytherin. He was the Prince of Slytherin. Blaise and Theodore were just his friends.
He gave her a lazy smirk and tilted his head slightly. “What’ve you been up to, love?” he asked in his typical drawl.
She held out the picture of their dance to hand to him. “Who took this photo?” she asked, not bothering to answer his question. He was smart enough that she knew he’d figure it out.
He took the photo from her to look at it. She saw his eyes flicker, but couldn’t interpret the meaning. “There was this little Gryffindor kid running around, snapping shots,” he explained as he plopped into the chair across from her. He lifted a trouser covered leg and crossed it over the other one as he seemed to think about it. “Some little bloke that used to follow Potter around all the time. Muggle born, like yourself, with curly blond hair, if I remember right.”
“Collin,” Hermione said. “Collin Creevey took this photo?”
Draco lifted a single eyebrow. He could see the cogs in her mind turning, but didn’t quite know why yet. “I believe that was his name, yes. Honestly, love, I didn’t much care to learn his name.”
“How did you get the photo?” she asked, filing the information he gave for a later date.
Dropping his leg, he leaned forward. “Think for a moment, my dear. I saw him snap the shot from a bush. What do you think would have happened if that photo leaked? I wasn’t about to let him keep it.”
“Don’t call me ‘dear’,” she hissed. “Your father uses that term and it creeps me out. And what do you mean you ‘wasn’t about to let him keep it’? Did you bully him into giving it to you?”
He scoffed and leaned back in his seat. “No, love, I bought it,” he admitted. “And at a decent enough price that he couldn’t refuse.”
“What did he get for it?”
Draco frowned. “What?”
“You heard me. How much was it? What was I worth?” she asked, then shook her head. “Actually, I’m not sure I want to know. All of these years and I had no idea. Are the friendships even real or were Blaise and Theodore just working on me so I would learn to like you more? I lost my family and I wager that played perfectly into your hands, didn’t it? You took advantage of your father being in prison, too. You knew you could pursue me and there was nothing he could bloody well do about it. All you needed was to convince your mother. How did you manage that one? She turned her own sister away for marrying a Muggle born.”
He gave no emotion as she spoke. The only indication of his thoughts was the raise of a single eyebrow when she mentioned his friends. “Are you finished?” he asked.
She glared at him. “You’re not going to deny it?” She stood up and began pacing. “You had planned the entire fight between Ron and I, too, didn’t you? Oh, I know you had admitted it before, but I didn’t realize then just how far you had gone. How far did you go, Draco?” she asked as she rounded on him. “You were in self-exile for two years. What did you do during those years? Were you prepping your mother up? Me? Giving your friends ideas and suggestions on how to treat me? You know Pansy never liked me, but now she treats me like we’ve been friends since we were in our nappies. Why is that? What did you tell her?”
“Why are you assuming I had anything to do with her?”
“Because I know you!” she snarled, staring at him. “You are the Slytherin Prince. Every person in that House, especially those in our year, was under your thumb. They do everything you tell them to. Vincent and Gregory followed you around like bulldogs to protect you. Not because they really had to, but because they wanted to be part of your little group of followers.” She waved a hand in his face and turned away. “Pansy… Pansy was your girlfriend, but you only dated her for one of two reasons, either to try and make me jealous or to convince your father you were interested in keeping the line pure. The moment he was incarcerated, you broke up with her. Gave her some sob story about how you had too many responsibilities and didn’t have time to be with her.” She barked a laugh, “Bet that was a quick way to get rid of her without leaving her bitter. How did you do that one? Because she’s still your friend. She, Millicent, and Daphne always sung your praises in the dormitory. And Blaise and Theodore never spoke ill of you.”
“You think I had something to do with that?” he asked.
“I know you did, Draco, so don’t lie to me!”
He sneered at her and snarled, “In case you’ve forgotten, I can’t lie to you, princess. That was part of the Unbreakable Vow that I agreed to.”
Her eyes widened in realization and she pointed a finger at him. “You can’t. Not anymore. So, tell me the truth. All of it. I want to know. I need to know.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “You think you have it all figured out,” he mused. He stood up and approached her, slipping the towel from around his neck and ripping it into two pieces. He tossed one piece away and began twisting the other as she started backing up.
Hermione saw the dangerous look in his eyes and realized she had left her wand on the nightstand by the bed. “What are you doing?” she asked fearfully as he backed her into a corner.
Without a word, he grabbed her arms and pressed her against the wall. He dipped his head and, moving her head to the side, gently kissed her neck before whispering into her ear, “A Slytherin never reveals all of his secrets. Ever since I first saw you, I knew you were the girl I would marry. We belong together, Granger. We always have.”
He released her and she jerked away from him. His eyes flashed at her movement and narrowed angrily. “Careful, love,” he warned. He walked back to the armchair and sat back down. “I wouldn’t say I planned all of it,” he drawled. “Most of the time, I wanted to push you away. You were this little Muggle born who bested me at everything. I both admired you and hated you for it.” He raised a hand to stop her before she could protest. “You said your piece. Now it’s my turn, love. Don’t be rude.” He watched as she snapped her mouth shut and gave him a dirty glare.
Sighing, he called out, “Maisey!”
The little elf popped into the room and, before Draco could say anything, Hermione shot, “You don’t even support the idea of treating elves like equals. You even said that you didn’t like the idea of freeing them!”
“Hermione, I won’t ask you again,” he told her before glancing at the elf. “Maisey, would you bring Mrs. Malfoy and me some tea and crumpets?”
Maisey nodded eagerly. “Right away, Master Draco,” she replied as she popped out of the room with a loud crack.
“I will say this much, though,” he said to his wife as he stared at her with unblinking eyes. “I never said anything to Pansy. At least nothing that would make her treat you any more civilly, however, she’s a clever little snake and I wouldn’t put it past her to figure out how I felt about you. I never told anyone while we were in school, or even after the war,” he admitted as a tray appeared on the coffee table before them. The tray had a pot of tea and two cups on it. Another tray of sconces appeared next to it and Draco reached forward to pour the tea. He held the cup out for Hermione and she took it, watching him as he poured one for himself and snatched a sconce.
She continued to watch him, remembering what Andromeda had said. She waited until he took a sip of his drink before doing the same. “So it was jealousy?” she ventured as he leaned back in his chair again and propped one foot up and over his other foot. “The way Pansy treated me. She did it out of jealousy?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. From what Nott told me, most of them knew my feelings towards you. It could have prompted them to speak to you of me of their own accord,” he said as he bit into the sconce. He quietly chewed and swallowed before continuing, “Merlin knows I never told them anything. Father would have killed me if he had found out, and I’m not saying that lightly.”
“But he did know,” she interrupted again. He lifted an eyebrow and she continued, “He told me when he was in prison. The moment he realized you liked me, he began learning all he could about my family and me. He even visited with them. What I don’t understand is why you never told me. All those years in Hogwarts, not once…”
“I did tell you,” he snapped and she looked at him incredulously. He held up the picture. “Did you think I was only joking this night? It was sheer luck that I spotted you storming out of the castle. I was already frustrated because I didn’t attend the ball with the girl I wanted.” He scoffed. “I hated dancing with Pansy, but even more, I hated watching you dance with Krum. It looked awful. You looked as though you were having fun enough, but it should have been me. You should have been in my arms, not his. And when I saw the opportunity by the lake, I took it.”
“And then you bullied Collin into giving you that photo.”
“I didn’t bully him, love,” he said, growing more irritated with her. “I told you. I paid for this photo, fair and square. Gave him five Galleons and another five to keep his ugly trap shut.” He made a face. “I knew if Father learned about our little tryst he would flip out. He would probably have even gone after you. I didn’t want you in danger, so I took the photograph and stowed it away.”
“And your mum?” she asked.
He shrugged. “She’s always been easier than Father. When it comes to me, she’s a bit of a pushover. Anything I’ve ever wanted, she’s made sure I had,” he admitted. “Again, it was chance and luck. The Malfoys had chosen the wrong side of the war. The moment we realized this, we did what we could to pull out. We gave the Dark Lord the bare minimum of our services and the moment the opportunity presented itself, we switched. However, Father’s incarceration left our family in ruins.” He glanced at her. “It was the perfect time to plant the idea of you into Mother’s head. All I had to do was let her catch me looking at this photograph and she would put the pieces together herself. Do you know she actually ordered me to pursue you? And like a dutiful son, I pretended to be reluctant of the idea, even going so far as to lead her to believe I didn’t even think I could actually pull it off.”
“So what convinced you that you could? You knew Ron and I were engaged.”
“And there you are,” he said with a wave of his hand as though it were obvious.
Her eyes widened. “You knew Ron would react harshly if you sent me those flowers.”
“He is the jealous sort, love,” he told her. “And he knew he was teetering on the edge with you. Don’t know how he managed to cheat without you finding out, though. He’s not exactly the world’s greatest at… well, anything.” He shook his head. “That was another thing that played right into my hands. All I needed to do was give him a little push and he would be off.”
“Did you not think I would figure it all out?”
“No,” he answered. “In fact, I was actually worried you would figure it out a lot sooner. You are the brightest witch in our age. But then, you’ve been really depressed since the war and I couldn’t figure out why.” He stared at her and sipped his drink. “Nott was the one who clued me in on your parents. Well, him and Zabini.”
“So they do act as your informants,” she immediately accused.
He glared at her distastefully. “Would you stop that? And no, they don’t act as my informants,” he stated. “At least not as much as you seem to think. I had no idea either of them had returned to school and I certainly did not know the three of you would become all chummy.”
“But it worked in your favour.”
He shrugged. “It’s all about opportunity, love. When it presents itself, one must take it.” He sighed again and put his cup back on the tray. “And so, there you have it. Yes, I have liked, and even been in love, with you for about half of my life. Why wouldn’t I? We’re perfect for one another, even a fool could see that. As I said, I knew from the beginning that I would marry you some day. It was just figuring out how. After the Dark Lord returned, I thought for sure I had lost entirely,” he told her. His face became solemn as he cast his eyes down. “The worst night of my life was the night you came to Malfoy Manor. You will never know how badly I wanted to curse my aunt for doing what she did to you, but I knew the consequences if I tried. It was all I could do to pray for a miracle. Then that little upstart Dobby popped in. Merlin, I hated that elf, but I was thankful he saved you.”
“He was a good elf,” she stated, lifting her brow, daring him to say otherwise.
Surprisingly, he didn’t, but he did give her a look that told her what he thought of the comment. “I still didn’t think I had a chance,” he said to her. “I believe that’s why I put myself in a sort of house arrest. I needed time to think, to figure out what happened and what I could do. Father was in prison, Mother was starving herself to death, and the Malfoy fortune was being depleted. Our production levels were dangerously low thanks to the Dark Lord and his minions and we were constantly sending Galleons to Hogwarts and Mungo’s to aid in reconstruction and recovery. I actually ended up having to close one of the vaults because of it.”
Hermione frowned. “How many vaults do you have?” she asked. “I thought it all would have been in one vault.”
He stared at her. “I’m sure most people have only one vault, but those vaults can only hold so much. We originally had three and, right before the Dark Lord arrived, Father had spoken of opening a fourth. Thank Merlin he didn’t.”
“Three…” she breathed in shock. “Merlin. You could open a school in every country with that kind of money.”
He actually laughed. “I think opening the little primary school is enough for now,” he told her. “Now that Father has returned, I do believe production will start to climb again and, hopefully, we’ll get back to the way things were before the war. At least as far as our finances are concerned.”
“Something tells me we’ll be alright.”
He gave her a smile and nodded. Glancing at the mantle, he sighed. “Are you ready to go home, love?” he asked her.
“Yes!” she answered as she stood. “Where is this new home your Mother gave us? There’s so much that I need to do.”
His smile widened. “Right outside of Hogsmeade,” he told her.

Author's Note: Ok, that was a hell of a lot longer than I had intended. Oops. Lol! But with Christmas coming up, I don't know how long it's going to take me to get the next chapter out. I write every day, but I try to make the chapters no less than 5k words.
Moxie Mayhem: Don't worry. Hermione's parents are coming up soon. Promise. That one should be very interesting, too.
Trelweny: Omg, I love the long review! Please, do that again. Lol! (Seriously, though, that review was awesome!) As for Hermione's rose-coloured eyes, the Malfoys will be working on that, guaranteed. The war opened her eyes to a lot of things, including how corrupt people can be, but she still has a hard time accepting that someone like Dumbledore could be so flawed to warrant something other than her respect. As I've said in the past, I don't see Lucius as someone who hates his family. He loves his wife and child and would do anything for them. (Even taking up the Mark in hopes of building for them what he thinks would be a better world.) Rowling had this way about her words and treatment of the Slytherins that consistently made them out to be thuggish villains. As a Slytherin myself, I resent that. Like with Gryffindor and the other Houses, Slytherin has a variety of people in it. Yes, you have your Crabbes and Goyles, but you also have those that are intelligent. Misguided, but intelligent, like Lucius and Draco. And then there are people like Snape and Andromeda who are good people. (Maybe a little dark, but still good.) And I do see Lucius as a smart man and I see it in the way Draco performs in school. Do you honestly think Draco wouldn't perform well in school? His father expected the best, much like his father before him. (And there's the hook. Lucius had to learn it from somewhere. So why couldn't Abraxas want the best out of his son? Headcanon.) You have one kid. It's important this kid is the best kid.
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