Secondhand Robes: Epilogue

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write...are dominated by gay themes and characters. That’s how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.

A/N: This is the third part of a special epilogue for Secondhand Robes, the final part will be uploaded over a week or so, when I have cleared my work slate.


Secondhand Robes: Epilogue (part 3) by Samayel


Draco had made up his mind. Time had run too short, Harry was showing the faint signs of panicky desperation, and a plan of action was needed…immediately!

He’d been rebuffed in his attempts to gain access to the restricted section of the library, as Madam Pince was a more thorough guardian to Hogwart’s books than ever Cerberus had guarded than the Gates of Hell. It was a humiliating failure, given that his charms had rarely failed him, but that reality had to be dealt with and moved on from.

Harry had invited Draco to the Room of Requirement. On Saturday. One week ago. There were only two days left. He’d put Harry off for long enough, and it pained him just to do that.

This didn’t mean that there hadn’t been sex. It just meant that he hadn’t surrendered to Harry’s desire for full on, loss of virginity, real, adult relationship sex.

Oh, but he had wanted to! Harry had been pulling out all the stops, and tempted Draco at every turn with those thoroughly wicked green eyes that shone brightly with determined hunger every time they crossed paths.

Draco had almost broken down and given in more than once this past week. Every fiber of his being ached to unite with Harry in a final and irrevocable way that would bind them as lovers. Only his implacable pride had sustained him. Harry would have a first night with Draco that would linger in his memory for the rest of his life, and that was all there was to it.

Draco hated saying sentimental things. Call it Slytherin cynicism, but he never felt comfortable using words when actions could speak for him. Harry deserved something that would prove he was loved. Something that words couldn’t display.

It was nerve wracking to admit how common his feelings really were, but Draco knew that he was in love. Desperately, deeply, spectacularly in love. Harry deserved the best a Malfoy could give. Nothing less would do, and so, Draco suffered for his cause in silence.

He couldn’t dodge the invitation. It would have hurt Harry terribly, and caused no end of damage to the growing trust between them. That consent to meet Saturday night had made Harry giddy…and pleasantly horny, but it had narrowed Draco’s options enormously. Now he had to act, or come Saturday, he would face Harry’s need alone and unprepared, and some pathetic night of teenage fumbling would forever mar Harry’s first night with Draco as a lover. Any fate would be better than that.

He needed advice…or access to knowledge. Who could provide that safely? Advice required friends. Draco’s ‘friends’ were like hyenas, waiting for the chance to move in on easy prey. So advice was out of the question. Access to knowledge, however, held possibilities.

The notion of asking Snape for a special writ permitting him into the restricted section was feasible, but a bit nerve wracking. Severus Snape was bloody brilliant, and facing his scorn when he learned that Draco’s goal was ‘How to shag Harry Potter into a complete stupor in one easy lesson’ would be unbearable.

Draco mulled through his mental list of people who had full library access. Dumbledore? Oh, Merlin no! The man was only slightly younger than God, and possessed an insight that was bloody frightening at the best of times. Admitting that he needed sex tips to guarantee that the Boy Who Lived had a memorable first time was out of the question!

Granger? Hmm. She had possibilities. She still seemed intent on carrying a grudge in that insufferable Gryffindor way of hers, but she‘d do anything for Harry. There was hope there, and the possibility of bridging the huge divide between Harry’s friends and himself. The thought bore further looking into.

It would take just the right approach, and thanks to Harry, Draco had some experience dealing with Gryffindor sensibilities. There was a lot to be gained, little to be risked except rejection and the chance to make Harry happy in more ways than one. If she didn’t agree to get Draco the books he wanted, at least he could count on Gryffindor honor to keep her silence. This had all the markings of a win win situation.

Draco penned a hasty note and grabbed his cloak. Time was of the essence. He would see that Granger got his request for a meeting before the night was through, and let the chips fall where they may!

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‘Granger, meet me in the library at six. It’s about Harry, and it’s important. If you really care about him, you’ll be there. Please, DM

The note had been sent, and Draco languished in tense contemplation in the library. It was almost six. Classes had been over for almost two hours, and if Granger was coming at all, she’d have to come soon. If she was too stubborn to even come, a trip to Snape’s offices might be necessary, and that was a horrifying notion that Draco would rather not face.

The heavy doors of the library creaked, and Granger slid through them with a look of exasperated irritation on her face. Great. He knew it would be a tough sell, but he’d hoped that she would be in a slightly better mood than this.

She walked directly to Draco’s table and sat down across from him. Given that there were very few students in the library, this was acceptable, but it was a bit disconcerting to say the least. Gryffindor directness was still unnerving for Draco, and it seemed unlikely that he would ever be completely comfortable with their blunt and honest ways.

“So…what is it that’s so important for Harry that I should see you alone? And don’t waste my time, it had better be good or I’m out of here. I’d sooner kiss a basilisk than trust you!” Her tone was waspish, and her eyes were cold and flinty.

Draco took a deep breath and sighed. He’d rehearsed this all afternoon in his mind.

“I’m sorry.”

Granger’s composure collapsed.

“W-what…did you say?”

“I said…I’m sorry.”

Her face played through a whirlwind of emotions. Draco maintained the same quiet, straightforward demeanor that had gotten him this far with her. Eventually, Hermione recovered from complete speechlessness.

“What…exactly, are you sorry for?” There was a hint of acid suspicion in her voice, but there was genuine curiosity there as well.

“I’m sorry for the things I said and did that hurt you. If I could take them away, I would. I can’t. All I can do is tell you that it won’t happen again. I hope that’s enough.”

Granger had the stunned look of a pole-axed steer, and that was reward enough.

”I’m not saying that your apology is unaccepted…but…why now? Why here?”

“Harry misses his friends. I don’t want to be the reason he’s without them. I need your help, and you need to learn that I won’t do anything that would hurt Harry. The reason I’m here has to do with all of those things.”

Granger’s slack jawed surprise shifted to hard eyed cynicism.

“You want something…so now you want to play nice. I knew you were up to something. When Harry finds…”

“Stop right there! Everything I’ve said has been true! Don’t walk away until you’ve at least given me the chance to ask for the help I want. You can decide whether you want to help or not after I ask, but don’t you dare write me off that quick! If this wasn’t for Harry, I wouldn’t be here talking to you now. Okay?”

Granger settled into her seat, flushing a bit and obviously biting her tongue.

“Okay. I’ll bite. Tell me what you want, and we’ll see. This better be for Harry.”

Draco smiled. He hoped it was a disarming smile. Granger needed all the extras if this was going to work.

“Let me preface this a little, but bear with me, the point is coming. I trust you. Don’t say anything yet, I’m still working my way to the point, so lets not get off track. You may not trust me, but I trust you. At least when it comes to Harry.

You care about him…a lot. I know that we haven’t gotten along, and I know we can’t fix that in one little chat. This is just one little step towards giving my boyfriend his friends back, and if I can accomplish a second goal at the same time, where’s the harm? Especially if this all benefits Harry.

I want to do something special for Harry. To do this, I’ll need help that only you can give. I’m asking now because I need this help as soon as possible, and because I know you still care about him. If that weren’t true, you wouldn’t still be pissed about him seeing me.

The question is this: If you knew that Harry would be very happy, and not in any danger, and you knew that, after the fact, he’d be grateful for your helping me, and all you had to do was assist me in acquiring a few books and then keep silent for a few days…would you do it?” The ball was in Granger’s court. Draco fought the urge to hold his breath while she processed this information.

“More.” Her eyes narrowed, but Draco could tell that wheels were turning in her mind as they spoke. “I need more than that. What books, and what are they for? I won’t be party to anything that violates school rules, especially for restricted spell books.”

“Not those kind of books, Hermione. I don’t need Dark magic. I could go home if I wanted those. It’s…well…it’s complicated.” She was going to make him tell it all. How utterly humiliating! He could feel his cheeks pinking…a blushing Malfoy…how pathetic.

“Then make it less complicated. Either I know what I’m getting into, or nothing doing. Spill! And it’s Granger. Not Hermione, not to you.”

Draco cast his eyes downward. Looking at her directly was impossible for this. He kept his voice to a conspiratorial whisper that wouldn’t carry more than a foot or two.

“Saturday night. Harry wants it to be our…our…Merlin, I can’t believe I’m saying this to you. Our first time. I want you to get me books that will help me…you know…make it perfect. Harry deserves that, doesn’t he?”

The look on Hermione Granger’s face was priceless. Gobsmacked didn’t even start to cover it.

“You…you want me…to help you get books…about sex…so you can…?

“Yes. In a nutshell.”

“You mean you haven’t actually…?”

“No. Don’t make me belabor the obvious. It’s rude and unnecessary. I want Harry to have the best night of his life. If that means asking for help from you, I’ll do that, too. Are you getting the picture? There’s only one person I’d go through this much trouble for, and it’s Harry. Will you help?”

“Why? I mean…why all the extra ‘trouble’? I want to hear it.” Her eyes were boring into him, hot and unrelenting.

‘Bitch! She’s going to make me say it!’Draco took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“I love him. I want him to remember this forever. Nothing else is good enough for him. I’ll do anything to make him happy, even telling you things are that only his business and mine.” Draco’s eyes were faintly wet when he looked up, and they held an accusing anger that was aimed at the person who had just forced him to share more than he had wanted to.

Granger’s eyes softened suddenly, and a mixture of guilt and embarrassment flickered across her features.

“I’ll do it. Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll get them. I…I believe you. Never thought I’d say that, but I do.” Her voice was as much a whisper as Draco’s had been, and there was just a touch of awe in it.

‘Yes!’“I don’t even know what books to ask for, I didn’t worry about these things until after Harry was in the picture. I just need books that are explicit about what I should do to please a lover. If you find them, I’ll read them and have them back before the weekend is over. You have my word on it.”

“Okay. You’ll have them by tonight. I have access to the restricted section until a quarter to curfew. I can have them waiting in the old Prefect’s suite left of the main stairway on the third floor by nine o’clock. Is that good?” Relief flooded through Draco’s being.

“That’s perfect! Thank you! I mean that, Granger. Right now, you’re my hero, and if you give me a chance, you won’t regret it. It doesn’t have to be like it was last year, and I really want Harry to have his friends back. You‘ll see. I promise.”

Granger stood up, still looking shaken from the evening’s revelations. She looked pensive and restless, then spoke calmly.

“Draco. He loves you, too. At least he says he does. I suppose I believe it now. You ought to know…no matter what happens, Harry will remember everything as special just because it was with you. You don’t have to do all that.”

“I don’t HAVE to do anything, Granger, but I want to just the same. I’d do this for him…and a lot more if I had to, trust me on that one.”

“Oddly enough, I do.” Granger smiled and started toward the desk of Madam Pince. She paused a second and looked over her shoulder. “And Draco…you can call me Hermione.”

Less than two hours later, Draco Malfoy was laden down with books and headed for the privacy of his room. He’d bundled them the best he could, but it was obvious that he was up to something. Slytherin stared as one at the overloaded master of the Malfoy estate, as he quickly walked to his room and locked the door behind him. It was study time!

Some of the things Draco read were of no use whatsoever, and others were fairly obvious things by anyone’s standards, but there were also things that made his palms damp, made his breath catch in his throat, and made his eyes bulge until they ached. Obviously the wizards who wrote some of this had had a lot of time on their hands!

Draco read, and Draco learned. Long into the night, and right through breakfast, he stayed at his task, buried in musty tomes that covered every minute detail about intercourse between men. It was as much a lesson in anatomy as a lesson in style. The gland known as the prostate made frequent appearances, and though Draco had never heard of it before, it featured prominently in his plans for Saturday night.

Friday’s classes swept by in a sleepy haze, and Draco returned to his studies, his only significant memory of the day the time he spent with Harry during and after lunch. By silent agreement, there’d been no sex between them, since they were content to snog and wait until the next night, when curfew would be lax and the Room of Requirement would be theirs.

Draco drifted to sleep early that night, his mind awhirl with an ocean of new insights. For all that he’d been absorbed in reading this past day and a half, his sleep was only interrupted by the gentlest of dreams. Green eyes, lambent with desire, and lean limbs, dark against his own, holding him close in a way that was infinitely more innocent and magical than the acts described in the books scattered about his room.


TBC