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Drinking Buddies	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 25654 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the world of Harry Potter. I am not making profit off of this story. I am writing it for fun only.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
The funeral took place three days later on the Malfoy estate in the tombs, where all Malfoys go once taken from this world. Lucius had a special mausoleum built overnight in his wife’s honor. It stood tall, made of marble and glass, and had taken six workers to craft it brick by brick. Narcissa’s viewing took time; pure blood families from many of the Sacred Twenty Eight came to pay their respects, leaving Draco to shake hand after hand. In the evening, when his mother had been put to rest, Lucius had pulled him aside and asked him to stay for the evening to discuss inheritance. Hermione felt so very much out of place through the entire funeral, and even more so when they sat in the sizeable living quarters of the Malfoy Manor, still in their black dress clothes, silent as the grave to which Draco’s mother now slept.

He sat across from her in a large armchair, the cuffs of his black dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. One of his legs draped over the side of the armrest, and he had a sizeable glass of scotch tucked away in his right hand. He said not a word as he nursed from his liquor every few moments or so, leaving Hermione to sit quietly on the loveseat facing the fire. She watched the flames dance along the burning embers and thought about all that Draco must be feeling. It made her want to reach out, to hold him, to console him, but any time she had tried the last three days had been met with shrugs and quips. He had refused to open up to her in the slightest from the moment he read his father’s letter.

As if aware he was being thought of, Lucius’s feet clacked against the marble floor as he entered the room. His funeral robes made a swish across the floor. He took a seat in the largest armchair adjacent to Draco and unclasped the top of his robes. Hermione had never seen Lucius look so disheveled before; his eyes were sunken and carried dark circles, and his robes were wrinkled. He looked about ten years older than he was as he put his head in his hands and rubbed his swollen eyes. As his head rose, he found Hermione staring at him, and then his façade was up once again. He raised a superior eyebrow and looked over to his son. “I am glad to see you home, Draco. Even if it is under unfortunate circumstances.”

Draco made a scoff under his breath and took another swig of his drink. “That’s the understatement of the century. Mother just died –could you not make it sound as if we just lost the family pet?”

Lucius’s lip twitched, but he kept his composure. “Miss Granger,” He said, putting his glare towards her, “I understand the muggle community refers to it as cancer?”

Hermione’s breath caught, and she had to remind herself to breath as she spoke. “Y-Yes. That’s right.”

He nodded in response then said, “I understand even muggles have no cure for it. You would think, that out of the two, wizard or muggle would have surely come up with a cure by now?”

“If you hadn’t been so arrogant, a muggle doctor could have saved her,” Sneered Draco, “And she’d be alive right now.”

“Draco.” Hermione scolded, “That’s uncalled for.”

“Is it?” Draco pried his eyes away from his drink long enough to give her a vicious glare. “I was only pointing out the obvious Boggart in the room. –Wasn’t I, Father? That if your pure blood narcissism hadn’t been so potent, you might have reached out to a muggle for help. They have therapies for things like this. But we all know how much you detest anything non-magic…”

“Enough.” Lucius didn’t yell, but his voice was firm. He rubbed the stubble under his chin. “You have made your point, Draco. I would advise you to quit while you’re ahead.”

Hermione wasn’t sure if she should say anything, but the guilt written over Lucius’s face forced it out of her. “It was brain cancer. Even in the muggle world, that is very hard to overcome. I’m not sure she would have survived, even if she received the proper treatment…”

“Don’t do that.” Draco snapped.

“Do what?”

“Ease his mind. Don’t you do it. Let him stew in his guilt until it consumes him.”

“So that I might resemble you?” Retorted Lucius. “Tell me, what were the last words you said to your mother? I can’t remember… perhaps it has to do with the fact that it was so long ago.”

Draco’s eyes shifted angrily at his father, and in a fit he threw his glass across the room. It hit the wall and shattered, echoes of broken glass bouncing across the room. He stood from his chair and said venomously, “It should have been you. You should have been the one to-!”

“Stop it!” Hermione stood as well and stomped an angry, heeled shoe into the floor. “Now I know this is a family affair and quite frankly none of my business, but I won’t sit here and watch the two of you destroy each other.” She looked back at the dripping wall and then to Draco. “You’re better than this. Don’t let him turn you into someone like him.”

Draco’s hands shook as he brought them up to his face, then brought them back down. He flexed them into fists, closed his eyes, and then inhaled deeply. When he was done, he opened his eyes and crossed the room in seconds to pull her into his arms. He buried his face in her curls and squeezed her. Hermione, shocked at the sudden affection, smiled meekly and patted his back. Lucius made a sound –something between a scoff and a growl – and Draco pulled away. He looked as if he were about to speak, but something behind Hermione caught his eye and all the color drained from his handsome face.

“Gwen?” He whispered.

Hermione turned around to see a very tiny woman standing in the archway, with cheeks as pink as pastry icing and the most captivating green eyes she had ever seen. Around her face spilled chestnut curls that hit just below her shoulders. She was so petite and beautiful that she looked quite like a little China doll. She wore a simple black dress that fell just above her knees and long black heels. Even in her shoes, she barely came up to Hermione’s shoulder. Gwen tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and smiled shyly.

“Hello, Draco.” She said.

Hermione looked from the gorgeous woman to Draco, then the cogs in her mind began to turn. “Gwen. As in… Gwenevere Abbot? Your ex?”

He didn’t answer, but how could he when his mouth was wide open? He was obviously in shocked, and it took his father rising from his chair to snap him out of it. Draco closed his mouth quickly, shaking his head from the fog of his mind. “What?” He looked inquisitively to Hermione. “Did you say something?”

“Miss Abbot…” Lucius sneered, resting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “To what do we have the… I wouldn’t quite say pleasure – of your visit?”

“I heard about Narcissa’s passing. I would have come sooner, but I thought my presence might not be welcome at the funeral.” She wrung her hands together timidly, looking over to Draco. “I’m so sorry. Your mother was a wonderful woman. She truly was.”

Draco’s hands went defensively to Hermione’s sides, snaking around her with a vice grip. Hermione blushed at the sudden claim as he said, “You say that as if you really cared about anything but the money she paid you.”

“Draco…” Gwen gasped, putting her hands over her mouth. A tear swelled up in her eye. “You… did you think I took that money? Have you thought that all this time?”

Hermione felt as if she really didn’t belong here, in this moment, sandwiched between the Malfoys and Gwen Abbot. Her insides felt as if they were being churned with razor blades. She looked up and saw Draco’s resolve falter. Shakily, he said, “Of course you did. Why else would you have left?” Gwen’s green eyes glistened against the pale illumination of the fireplace. She took a step closer, hesitated, and then took another. Draco’s hands fell from Hermione’s sides and he recoiled, stepping backwards. Gwen noticed and sighed. “Your mother offered me that money, but I didn’t take it. I swear I never did. It was only after she told me that you planned to marry me that I… Oh, Draco. You must think the worst of me.”

Lucius stood most awkwardly next to Hermione, both of them caught in the crossfire of the ex-lovers. Lucius coughed, then to Hermione’s amazement put a hand on the small of her back and said, “Miss Granger, I don’t believe you’ve ever had a full tour of the Manor. Would you like to accompany me?” Though it was asked as a request, it was most certainly a demand. He ushered her out of the room post-haste, leaving Draco staring into the fireplace and Gwen standing nervously behind him.

When they were in the hall, Lucius removed his hand from Hermione’s back and sneered. “Of all nights, Miss Abbot certainly has the worst timing.”

Hermione choked back tears. She wasn’t sure when she had become so flustered. Maybe it was when she had seen Gwenevere for herself. Maybe it was in the way Draco had said her name. Or the way he had looked at her, as if he were staring at all of the world’s prettiest flowers all at once. She blotted her eyes with the back of her hands and whispered, “She’s beautiful.”

Lucius looked as if he were in annoyed pain, but humored her in conversation. “She’s as shifty as she is elegant, Miss Granger. As you are firmly aware, my son and I do not share the same opinions about muggles or muggle-born wizards. Even so, I would much rather put up with your existence than to ever let that minx back into his life.”

She took the moot compliment at face value and pocketed it before she played over the last of his words in her head. “You knew she didn’t take the money, didn’t you?”

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Of course I knew she didn’t take the money. But to tell my son the truth would be to shatter his world. That little cur in that room got cold feet at the responsibilities that would come with being a Malfoy.”

“Responsibilities, Mr. Malfoy?”

He sighed, exasperated, but muttered, “Narcissa was a wonderful wife. And a glorious mother. We left our son wanting for nothing, and yet he still found rebellion to be his first action as he grew older. To be a Malfoy, Miss Granger, is to uphold a legacy of tradition and respect. It means pure blood. It means status. Gwenevere wanted all of the glamour but could not take the weight of being the first muggle-born in the family. When my wife revealed Draco’s intentions, she offered Gwenever a substantial compensation to leave Draco and never come back. But she refused. She stated that she simply couldn’t imagine a life without him. And that’s when Narcissa reminded her of our lineage. Take away my distain for your kind, Miss Granger, and simply imagine being on the cover of every tabloid for breaking the Malfoy tradition of pure blood. Imagine what that would do to a small, country girl such as Miss Abbot, who shies away from any and all spotlight. Being a Malfoy means being at the center of any and all things Wizard. It means having your hand in politics, business, even in the funding of the schools. It’s power. And it comes with a sullied name. Death Eaters. Followers of You-Know-Who. Our name is now synonymous with darkness. To be with a Malfoy means to put your own reputation at risk. Miss Abbot couldn’t take the heat of the kitchen, so to speak. So she abandoned Draco and never told him why. Because, to put it simply, she wanted all of the luxury of being with a Malfoy without any of the price.”

Hermione took in his words, but couldn’t make sense of them. “But… Draco and I are together. I’ve never once worried what other people would think of me for being with him. Quite frankly, Mr. Malfoy, I dislike you with a passion, but that has never made me ashamed to be with Draco. He’s not like you.”

Malfoy senior gave a heinous smirk. “Isn’t that the truth, when you get down to it?” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “For your own sake, I hope you remember everything that was said here. You claim to love Draco? Yes? Put yourself in dear Gwen’s shoes. Could you stand to be taunted –hated even, for loving him? Because that’s what you’ll bring on yourself. Our world is nothing glamourous anymore.”

Hermione straightened her back and gave Lucius a contemptible glare. “We’ve been doing just fine so far. All of my friends are his now. And we have quite a wonderful life, without you or your reputations to hold us back. You think he’s weak, but he’s stronger than you know. And if he knew that you tried to pull one over on me the way your wife did to Gwenevere, he would never speak to you again.”

The smirk fell from Lucius’s lips. “I see why you were placed in Gryffindor, Miss Granger. Quite the brave one, aren’t you?” He stepped back away from her and brushed imaginary specks of dust from his robes. “No matter. I dare say you won’t be on Draco’s mind much longer anyways. What with Miss Abbot staying the night as well?” He chuckled as Hermione’s cheeks reddened. “One day he will open his eyes and see the both of you for what you are: filth at the bottom of our shoes. But until then, have fun fighting over who might be the prettiest bit of dirt. I can assure you, mudblood, it is not you.”

He turned on his heels and climbed the staircase to their left, leaving Hermione alone in the hall. Tears streamed down her cheeks when she was sure he could no longer see her face, and she began to sob into the sleeves of her dress. She slipped her heels off of her feet and looked back towards the arched way leading to Draco and Gwen, but thought better of it and left out the front door instead. She padded her way barefoot down the stone steps and out to the gardens, where she found solitude next to the lily pond in the center of a bed of tulips. Under the light of the moon, Hermione cried.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. All she knew was that the hidden insecurity of Gwen had risen to the surface like lava erupting from a volcano. She had told herself time and time again that Draco’s anger towards his mother was justified, but it had always bothered her that he couldn’t forgive Narcissa. Why couldn’t he, she had wondered, when Narcissa’s actions had brought them so close together? But one look at Gwen had confirmed her suspicions – that Draco could never have forgiven his mother, because he was still so desperately in love with Gwenevere. God, Hermione thought to herself, how stupid could she have been?

She sobbed big, fat tears that stung the back of her eyes. Mucus lined the back of her sleeves. She was suddenly aware how cold it was just before she heard the cracking of twigs behind her, and Draco’s voice say, “There you are.” She curled in on herself against the weight of her knees and tried to hush herself. Draco came around in front of her, at the edge of the pond, his hands in his pockets. “What do you think you’re doing down there, Granger?”

She rubbed her nose and peered up at him. “So I’m Granger, am I?”

His eyebrows knitted together. “I always call you Granger.”

“Yes, I’m quite aware.” She snapped. “Tell me, does Gwen have a pet name too? Do you just call her Abbot? Does it get under her skin, too?”

“…What’s got you like this? This isn’t you.”

“I don’t belong here.” She heard herself whisper, and she gripped her knees tighter. “I want to be here for you, but all I am is in the way. You don’t talk to me –you hardly will look at me, and then when Gwen showed up you just…”

He laughed at her. “Are you really jealous right now?”

“And if I am?”

Draco slumped down next to her, pulling her close so that his legs closed her in like a frame. He leaned his head against one of her knees, rubbing his hands down her thighs methodically. “If you were, I’d tell you you’re being an idiot.” She stared off at the water to her right, so he continued. “I’ll admit, it was a surprise to hear she didn’t take the money. But that doesn’t mean that all of a sudden my feelings just magically apparated back.”

“That’s because they never left,” She muttered, “And I saw the way you looked at her. You’ve never looked at me that way.”

He smirked. “That’s because I’ve never wanted to punch a woman before. That look, Hermione, wasn’t because I was happy to see her. Far from it.” He kissed the side of her knee and drew lazy circles down her legs.

“Did… did she say why she left?”

He nodded, and followed her stare out to the still water. The moon glimmered their reflections back at them. “I suppose the reminder of being associated with a Death Eater family had its drawbacks.” She saw his mouth pull down in an attempt to control his facial expressions. “My mother lied to protect my feelings.” He laughed, hollow. “You were right. I should have heard her out. And now…” He tore his eyes away from the pond and grabbed Hermione up in a vice hug, pulling her up in his lap. “Now, I’ll never get the chance to tell her I’m sorry.” He pressed his forehead into her neck and suddenly she felt tears spill down his cheeks and onto her collar bone. “Merlin, I’m such a fuck up. You kept telling me to talk to her, and I just couldn’t do it. Fuck’s sake… I didn’t get the chance to forgive her. She died, thinking I hated her.”

Hermione fisted a bit of his hair in her hand while the other rubbed along his spine up and down. “No, Draco. She loved you. She knew you loved her. She didn’t fault you.”

“How would you know?” He scoffed.

“Because she told me.” She whispered. “She told me to take care of you, and that she knew she had made mistakes. That night at the Ministry. And somehow, she knew we loved each other. She was proud of you, Draco. She really was.” He struggled to gain composure as he sat up and brushed his tears away with the back of his fist. Hermione brushed her thumb against the edge of his eyelid and smiled.

He leaned into her hand and calmed himself. Then he said, “Would this be a proper time to tell you Gwen tried to kiss me?”

“No, Draco. It most certainly wouldn’t.”

“Tomorrow, then.” He smirked, tears still staining the sides of his cheeks. He rubbed his face with the back of his arm and coughed. “ You won’t have to worry about Gwen. I told her that in the morning she was to leave and never speak to my family again. -Why… er… why are you still crying?”

Hermione reached up and touched her cheeks to find she still was, indeed, crying. In the back of her mind, Lucius’s words taunted her. She wiped her tears away, but they just kept coming back. She found herself beginning to sob all over again and said, “Oh bollocks.” Draco reached out and pulled her to his chest, resting her ear along the beat of his heart.

“Easy now, Granger. Can’t have you crying more than me. Funeral procedure says so.”

“Your father,” Hermione said between sniffles, “Is a terrible man. Just awful.”

“I could have told you that.” He patted her head thoughtfully. “What did he say to you?”

Hermione couldn’t find the courage to say ‘mudblood’, so she settled on, “Only that I’ll never be good enough for you. That the Malfoy name is sullied, and you being with any muggle born would only foul it up more.”

“Said all that, did he?” Draco didn’t sound a bit surprised. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s the one who sullied the family name. If anything, being with you has only helped my reputation.”

“Aren’t you worried?” Hermione peered up through her hair at him. “That the pure blood community would come after you?”

“Hermione.” He rolled his eyes. “Have they come after us yet?”

“No…”

“Has this ever bothered you before tonight?”

“No…”

“Then do shut up. My father’s a bitter, old man who lost his wife three days ago. Anything that comes out of his mouth is to be ignored as arrogant fodder. You hear me?”

She nodded into his chest, focusing on his heart beat as it went boom-boom, boom-boom. Loud and soft. Constant, like his love for her. He scooped his arms under her and stood up, carrying her like a child as he took a step towards the pond. “Draco, what are you…?” But she didn’t get to finish, because he suddenly tossed her in, dress and all, to the icy water. He laughed as she screamed, and when she found herself soppy wet in the muck, she noticed him jumping in after her. He landed awkwardly on top of her, and she splashed water in his perfect hair to make a point. “You git.”

“Woman.” He grabbed at her, but she wriggled out from underneath him and swam out a bit, to the middle of the pond. “Aww, what’s the matter, Granger? Can’t take a joke?”

“On the contrary,” She smirked, “I just don’t want to upset the bowtruckles. I hear they like to bathe in ponds.”

“Seriously?” His eyes widened as he backed up towards the center of the pond with Hermione. She laughed, and he narrowed his eyes. “Oh, ha ha. Very funny.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” She swam to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, Draco. And I am so sorry about your mother.”

“Me too.” He kissed her gingerly on her forehead, basking in the moonlight. “Me too…”

- - -

The sun was just peeking its rays through the curtains when Hermione found herself being stirred awake by an anxious Draco, who was creaking the bed up and down as he attempted to put on his socks. Her hair stuck up at odd angles, and when he caught sight of her, he chuckled and tossed her shirt at her. “Morning, sleepy head.”

“Morning…?” She yawned, “We just went to bed.”

“Hardly. But with all we did in the shower, I can see why you’d still be tired.” He gave her a wink and pulled his own shirt over his head. Hermione glanced this way and that, then sat up further in the bed. The room was decorated in bits of green and silver. There were little moving figurines of Quidditch players on the nightstand next to them, and the entire back wall was covered in one giant bookshelf filled to the brim. A trunk sat in the corner closest to the door, filled with fine shoes.

“This is your room…” She said.

“Yeah, it was my room last night as well. But we were busy, so I can see why you didn’t take the time to look about.” He rolled over onto the bed and shuffled in next to her. “They left it pretty much the same way I used to keep it when I went off to Hogwarts. I didn’t much care to redecorate as I got older. Wasn’t here most of the time anyways.”

“So many books…”

“And to think, when I left I only took my favorites with me. –Get dressed. I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to. Just going to go over Mum’s will and then back home.”

And so she did as requested, flopping out of bed to find her spare clothes she had brought to the Manor and quickly put them on. She went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and attempted to fix her hair but gave up. When she emerged a time later, Draco was holding a framed photo of him and Narcissa eating icecream together. He couldn’t have been older than five, and the icecream was dripping down his chin as Narcissa giggled hopelessly at her messy child. Draco smiled at the picture, removed it from the frame, and tucked it into his back pocket. They stowed everything else they had brought away in Hermione’s night bag and trudged down the East wing to the circular staircase that led into the grand hall. They found Lucius in his study, a box atop his desk and a calculating smirk on his face.

“Draco,” He greeted his son, “Sleep well?”

“As good as I could.” Draco rubbed his hands together. “So, let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“As soon as the lawyer is present –ah, speak of the devil. Greengrass, how are you?”

A short, plump fellow emerged through the door carrying a bit of paperwork and a leather bound briefcase. His hair was combed over and slicked back, and his mustache was primped to the nines. Followed close behind him was a pretty girl who Hermione recognized from back in Hogwarts, but couldn’t place a name. She had hair the color of dark maple and carried herself with a dignified grace.

“Lucius, I’m so terribly sorry to hear about Narcissa’s passing. Let me say from all of my family, our deepest condolences. –Ah, this strapping young lad must be young Draco. Haven’t seen you since you were a knee high. How are you holding up, boy?”

Draco bowed curtly, as was custom between pure blood families, and said, “As best I as I can.”

“Quite right, quite right.” Agreed Greengrass. “Oh, perhaps you remember my youngest daughter, Astoria? Her eldest sister, Daphne, was in your year, I believe.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

Astoria held out her hand to be kissed, but Draco ignored it and said instead, “This is Hermione Granger. She was in my year as well.”

“Oh yes, yes.” Greengrass nodded. “Helped take down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It is ever a pleasure, Miss Granger.” He extended a hand, to which Hermione took, but there was a hint of contempt in his voice that she could only chalk up to siding with the wrong side of the war. “I’m afraid this is a- er – family affair, Miss Granger. I will have to ask you to step outside these doors while we go over it all. Astoria can keep you company, can’t you, my sweet child?”

Astoria nodded, and took Hermione’s arm to lead her out. When they had made it to the hall, and the door was shut, she let go immediately and sighed. “I don’t know why father insisted on bringing me to this. I told him I wanted to stay home. –Who dragged you along?”

“Draco,” Replied Hermione, “He’s my… my boyfriend.”

Astoria raised an eyebrow, but did not scoff the way Hermione had anticipated. Instead, she shrugged and said, “Bout time the pure blood families filtered out a little. We’re starting to resemble the Lords and Ladies of old. I’m surprised one of us isn’t walking around with a gimp leg or extra arm.”

Both women giggled.

“He’s a handsome fellow, that Draco,” Said Astoria, “I’m a bit jealous that you took him off the market. I remember at one point in our lives, we were betrothed to each other.”

“Wh-What?” Hermione nearly collapsed her lungs from gasping. “I… Draco never said-”

“Probably didn’t know about it.” Astoria shrugged. “It was when we were little. But both our mothers found out and put a stop to it. Imagine if they hadn’t? I might be married to him right now.” She saw Hermione’s wide eyes and added, “Of course, that was so long ago. I only remembered because I heard Mum bring it up to tease Dad recently.”

“So… you’re alright with the idea of Draco and I?”

“If you’re asking if I’m a pure blood who believes in nothing else, then I’m pleased to tell you I don’t fall into that sort of thing. When I raise my child, I won’t teach him to be cruel to muggles, as my father did to me.”

“That’s… surprising.” Hermione smiled. “And a breath of fresh air.”

“In this stuffy place, you’d need it.”

The door cracked open, and Draco emerged carrying a box and a few rolls of parchment. “My Mum really let the old bastard have it, even in death.”

“What happened?” Asked Hermione.

“Well, it all goes back to dear old father taking a side with the Dark Lord. During the war, he put the Manor in my mother’s name, in case something were to happen to him. They never took it out of her name, and well… you’re looking at the proud new owner of Malfoy Manor.”

“What?”

“Oh, don’t worry. All of the money still is in my father’s name. But his house, well… Let’s just say, I let him have it for a few conditions.”

“Such as?” Astoria piped in.

Draco beamed. “I told the ol’ git he could keep it, so long as he made a sizeable contribution to S.P.E.W. and gave me a rather generous renter’s fee once a month.”

Hermione bit her bottom lip, astounded. “And he agreed to it?”

“Of course he did. Could you imagine the gossip on the front page if he were escorted out of his own home?- Needless to say, once a month I’ll be receiving quite a big sum into my vault. So large, in fact, I dare say I’m rich again.”

Hermione felt her eyes go wide. “How rich?”

“Rich enough to buy us a private island and a boat to get us there.” He set the box down and rummaged through it. When he found what he wanted, he hoisted it up to show both girls. At the bottom of a silver chain hung an emerald pendent in the shape of a tear drop. “Not to mention she left me this little beauty. It was my grandmother’s. Been in the family for quite some time.” His eyes fell on Hermione and he outstretched the necklace to her. She gasped and took a step back.

“Oh, Draco… I couldn’t possibly…”

“I’m not asking.” He crossed the hall and Astoria watched on as he slipped the chain around her head and settled it in place. Hermione gasped at the weight of it, and of the sheer beauty. “What do you think? Doesn’t she look stunning?”

“Quite.” Astoria nodded.

“I… Draco, this is too much.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s not. Granger, you cared about me when I was poorer than a Weasley at Christmas. Let me give this to you.” He kissed her hand. “Let me take care of you, for a change. And before you argue with me, just know I’ll keep my job at the Ministry if you keep the necklace.”

“Well…” She looked on to Astoria for help, but she shrugged as if to say that sounded like the best deal she was going to get. Hermione nodded, trailing her fingers over the green jewel and felt heat radiate over her body. “Alright. If you promise to keep your job.”

“Have to have something to do during the day when you’re not around.”

The door opened again, and Mr. Greengrass led, followed by Lucius. Greengrass had a bit more weight to his coin purse around the side of his belt, no doubt hush money for Draco’s stipulations. Lucius caught sight of Hermione wearing Narcissa’s necklace and if looks could kill, Hermione would be joining Draco’s mother in the family plot. “Must you insist on tarnishing every bit of the Malfoy name, Draco?”

Draco ignored him and picked up the box from the floor. He smirked at his father, then nudged to Hermione for them to leave. Hermione gave a courteous curtsy to Mr. Greengrass and his daughter, then followed Draco around the corner of the hall and out of earshot. When they left the double doors of the front entrance, he began to slow. She followed suit and said, “Are you alright?”

His face was scrunched in a mix of emotions, each more complex than the last. He set the box down again on the front steps and took a seat next to it, pulling Hermione down to sit with him. “Quite frankly, Hermione, I’m far from it.” He slipped his hand in hers and stared over the front courtyard, taking in the scenery of the fountains and live peacocks that scattered around the grass, picking at earth worms. “I keep trying to grieve my mother, but keeping up with my father’s antics proves to be taking up most of my time here.”

“Then let’s go home.” She patted the back of his hand. “You own the Manor. You can come visit her on your own time. These last few days have been… taxing on the soul. Let’s just go back to my house and I’ll run you a hot bath and make you cupcakes and forget that your father is an ignorant toe-rag.”

Draco raised his head and said, “What kind of cupcakes?”

“Chocolate.”

“With sprinkles?”

“Of course.”

“I hate sprinkles.”

“No you don’t.”

A smile broke out across his delicate features, and in the light of the sun he looked like some magical creature that Hermione had never read about. Some fantastic beast that was captivating beyond all doubt. And he was hers. And she was his. And any prejudices that anyone had towards them could just wait in the back of her mind with her insecurities. In this moment, with bright white teeth reflecting off of the sun beams and his head fallen back in a laugh, he had never looked more glorious.

That night, they sat in the bathtub at Hermione’s house, holding cupcakes above the bubbles and sipping on red wine.

Short Extra: An Unexpected Guest

Draco Malfoy couldn’t be bothered at one o’clock in the morning. He was busy sleeping next to Hermione, thank you very much, and didn’t want to be interrupted. In hopes that the knocking on the door was just some figment of his imagination, he rolled over and muttered, “You hear that?”

Hermione was sound asleep, mouth parted and a strand of hair draped over her nose. She looked so peaceful like that, that he couldn’t find it in his deep, dark heart to wake her. Instead he brushed the hair back out of her face, kissed her on the forehead, and slipped out of the bed. Quiet as possible, he padded his way out of the bedroom and shut the door behind him just in time to hear another firm knock. He rolled his eyes, grabbed up his wand that had been sitting on the kitchen counter, and approached the front door. When he unlocked it, he found a rain soaked Ron Weasley standing there, still in his work uniform, hair clinging to the sides of his face like a soppy mop. Had it been raining all night? Draco raised a curious eyebrow and said, “Whatever it is your selling, I’m not buying.”

“Shut up.” Ron wiped a bit of water out of his eyes and rubbed his nose on the back of his sleeve. “Hermione around?”

“She’s sleeping.” Draco leaned against the doorway, flaunting his half naked body that was only covered up by a pair of blue silk pajama bottoms. Ron wasn’t one to miss the connotation. The way Draco stood possessively in the doorway was enough to make him shift uneasily on the front steps and trail his eyes elsewhere.

“I see.” He nodded. “Well, I… I suppose I’ll just come back tomorrow.” He turned to leave, and any other moment in Draco Malfoy’s life, he would have gladly let him do it. He would have waived him off with vigorous glee and then celebrated with a glass of scotch. But something in the way Weasley stood, all huddled and defenseless… Hermione would have let him through in a heartbeat. In a frustrated huff, Draco flung the door open and gestured inside.

“Come on, Weasley. You’ll let all the hot air out.”

Ron looked to the door as if it were booby-trapped, but must have decided it was safe because he stepped inside, wet clothes and all, and began to drip onto the carpet. Draco went over to the laundry hamper, dug out a wrinkled towel, and tossed it at him. Ron gave a meek nod of thanks and began to towel himself dry. “Thanks. –Oh, um… Sorry about your Mum. Harry told me last week. How are you?”

Draco shrugged. “As best as one can be.” Both men stood awkwardly, unsure of how to interact with each other. “You want me to get Hermione?”

“Nah. No. I… don’t wake her up, if she’s sleeping.” Ron toweled the back of his head. “I don’t know why I even thought to…” He watched as Draco strolled over into the kitchen, waved his wand, and spelled two glasses to fill themselves with a brown liquid. “What are you doing?”

“Pouring you a glass of whiskey. I’d say you look like you need it.” He levitated the glass over to Ron and picked up his own. “Well, you’re here. Might as well say what’s on your mind. Did you come to beg Hermione back into your arms?”

Ron scowled. “I bet you think you’re quite the laugh.”

“Most days.” Draco smirked as he watched Ron stroll up the counter opposite of him and fiddle with the sand hourglass Hermione used as an egg timer. He turned it upside down, watching the sand drip down. “So, Weasley. What’s on your mind?”

“Like you care.” Ron huffed and glared up at Draco, who only sipped his drink and made no motion to confirm or deny. When Ron settled, he said, “I just didn’t know who to talk to about it. Harry’s on assignment, and Ginny’s on tour with the Harpies, and I… She’s still my best friend, you know?”

Draco nodded. Indeed he did. From the very first time he had ever placed his hand atop Granger’s knees that night in the office, he knew he would never fully be rid of Weasley. Back then, he had been sure that the tides would turn a different way, and he would have been nothing more than a regretted one night stand. So it was amusing, seeing Weasley stand in Hermione’s kitchen, covered in rain and not in a pair of pajama bottoms asleep with her. He had really lucked out on this one. It was hard to enjoy it, however, with Weasley looking so forlorn and broken.

“I’m only going to ask this one more time, and if you don’t answer you’re just shite out of luck for the evening. What’s got you eating your jock strap, Weasley?”

Ron sipped his drink, trying to find the words. “Well… I can’t believe I’m telling you this. –Ever since Harry purposed to Ginny a week ago, Lavender’s done nothing but talk about us getting married.” He watched carefully as Draco listened, and when there wasn’t a quip or a jab, he continued, more relaxed. “And I don’t want to get married right now, you know? Merlin, I’ve only ever been with Hermione and Lavender and I hardly feel that I’m adequate in experiences. You know what I mean?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Of course you don’t,” Ron grumbled, “Because the prideful Draco Malfoy would never admit if he came up short in anything.”

“I can assure you, Weasley, I’ve never ‘come up short’.” He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Ron made a gagging noise. “But if you feel you haven’t lived enough, Merlin’s beard! Just tell the woman you don’t want to get married and be done with it.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting love advice from you. And terrible love advice, I might add. Have you ever had to tell a woman something like that? I don’t think it ever goes well.”

“Weasley, I’ve been told that.” Draco made a point to lean forward and lower his voice. “It’s painful. It’s insulting. But she can recover from it. I did.”

Ron’s face scrunched up. “Hermione’s turned down a marriage proposal from you?”

“What? No. No, no, no.” Draco recoiled. “I –I haven’t asked her… It’s only been a year… No, you dolt. I’m talking about the time I almost got married to someone else. Another muggle born, much like our dear Granger.”

Eyes widening beyond compare, Ron grabbed at his glass and swigged the whole thing down. “Holy Hell. I think I’m going to need some more alcohol for this.”

Draco smirked and poured them both another glass. “Do you love the stupid witch?”

“Lavender?” Ron nodded. “I think so.”

It was Draco’s turn to scrunch his face, as if he were smelling very bad cabbage. “No. No that won’t do. You either love the woman or you don’t. It’s not a guessing game. If you have to ask yourself if you love them, you don’t. Simple as that.”

“And you would know?”

“I’m sleeping in the same bed as a book loving, toothpaste hoarding Gryffindor who, despite being the size of a small doll, manages to take up most of the bed space. You think I would do that if I weren’t in love? Do you think I’d be talking to you now?”

Ron thought it over, and then nodded. “I suppose not. –She does like to take up bed space, doesn’t she? And the covers.”

“A blanket whore, I think we can both agree.” They laughed and threw back their second glasses each. Draco gave a long stretch, yawned, and set his glass in the sink. “Sofa is yours for the night, if you want it. It’s what she’d offer you if she was awake.”

“Erm –Thanks. Right kind of you.”

“Just make sure to throw your clothes in the drier before you collect mold.”

“That’s more like it.”

“Just do yourself a favor?” Said Draco as he started towards the bedroom. “If you love the woman, don’t let her go. You’ll regret it. And if you don’t love her, don’t waste her time. She’ll never forgive you for it.”

Ron looked past Draco, towards the bedroom where Hermione was surely sleeping, and a sullen expression fell across his face. “You’re right… I think I’ve just been clinging to the idea that Lavender and I could work because she’s the reason Hermione and I didn’t…” He shifted his feet and began to unclasp his work robes. “Merlin knows Hell’s frozen over the day a Malfoy gives good advice. –Shows how much even a git like you can change.” He loosened his tie. “I’ll figure it all out tomorrow, I guess…”

Draco nodded in agreement and turned the handle to the bedroom. He stopped himself last moment, though, and turned to take in the spectacle that was Ronald Weasley attempting to wring out a water-logged tie. “Weasley.” He looked up. “I’m sure Hermione will be glad to talk to you about all of this in the morning.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure she will.” Ron smiled softly and rubbed the back of his head. “Er… thanks, I guess. For listening.”

“Oh, don’t get sentimental on me. I am going to go into this bedroom, after all, and shag Hermione senseless until she screams my name.” His smirk couldn’t have been wider as he left a very disgruntled, haunted Ronald Weasley standing in Hermione’s living room looking as if he were going to become violently ill.

Alright. I hope you liked the little short at the end. It takes place about a week after Harry’s birthday party, as stated above, but just to be clear, it was a few days after Draco and Hermione got back from Malfoy Manor, not the same night. That would have just been too much all at once going on in their lives.

There’s going to be about 2 more chapters, and then this story will finish. The next chapter is focusing on Draco meeting Hermione’s parents, and some other fun stuff to go along with it.

If you’re a fanatic of Harry Potter like myself, you’ll see Astoria (Draco’s wife from the epilogue of the Harry Potter books) makes an appearance! It’s believed cannon to the series that Astoria isn’t prejudice against muggle borns, so I wanted to keep that spirit alive within her. Hope you enjoyed the Easter Egg.

See you soon! You know that sign that says ‘don’t feed the author’s ego?’ Ignore it. Please feed the author. I live off of reviews and coke zero. Also, thank you to everyone who congratulated me on my marriage! My husband is very much a Harry in the streets, Draco in the sheets type of man. Oh my. Maybe I’ve said too much?

Have a pleasant (whatever time of day you read this) and best wishes! I will update after the weekend, most likely. On to moving!
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Drinking Buddies