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She was going to kill Ginny and Lavender when she got the chance.
Well, maybe not outright murder them – but hex them to oblivion, for sure.
If it wasn’t for them and their ridiculous obsession with Hermione’s lovelife (or lack thereof), she wouldn’t be here in the first place – stuck at a posh restaurant she couldn’t even pronounce the name of, wearing the most uncomfortable heels and the flimsiest black dress in existence – while listening to a random guy complaining for almost an hour straight about a past ‘crazy ex-girlfriend’ that got on his nerves.
(Honestly, she couldn’t blame this poor girl. Dating someone like him would make anyone go barmy too).
Why she was even humouring this idea of a piss-poor date was beyond her, even! It wasn’t as if she was looking forward to committing herself to a man again so soon after her first serious relationship had ended so badly in the first place.
But her friends had insisted that it had been forever since she had a proper date (and a proper shag) and her continued ‘single status’ was something that needed to be changed as fast as possible, according to them. So they set her up with one of Lavender’s coworkers that was allegedly also looking for more than just a quick fling.
Too bad she couldn’t even remember the bloke’s name at that point… So it was safe to say that she wasn’t really going to be sticking around for a second date.
“You know – I also play a lot of Quidditch in my spare time,” the guy beamed at her as if he had just dropped the most mind-blowing detail about his life. When she merely arched a brow at him, he continued with a cocky grin. “I heard that the Golden Girl has quite a taste for Quidditch players, doesn’t she?”
Oh, that absolute tosser.
Not only was he a fucking idiot to assume something so crude about her (and a total lie, since she couldn’t give a rat’s arse over Quidditch players anyway), he also had the audacity to call her by a moniker she absolutely despised.
Good Godric, someone save her from this horrible date! She’d rather be anywhere else but there!
As if the Universe itself was listening to her silent pleas, a sudden flash of pale-blue light burst through the restaurant doors and zoomed wildly into the air until it reached her table – shocking her date into silence.
She was almost thankful for the distraction – if it wasn’t for the fact that she recognized the shape of the otter Patronus that was glaring at her.
And just like that, she felt her throat constrict with worry, considering that there was no reason for him to send her a Patronus message – unless something bad had happened.
The otter clicked its tongue (doing nothing to ease her nerves) as that low baritone voice that she tried so hard to forget echoed through the air – making her blood run colder inside her veins with every word.
“Scorpius has a fever.”
Without a second thought, Hermione leapt off her seat and rushed through the restaurant to find the nearest floo she could use – leaving her disgruntled date behind without as much of a word of goodbye while he was stuck asking ‘who the hell was Scorpius?’ over and over again.
She had better things to do than just listen to someone with the personality of a wet rag talking non-stop about things she didn’t care about.
Namely, looking after her sickly son, for one. And cursing the Universe for its cruel humour, too.
Merlin! That wasn’t what she meant when she asked to be saved from that date!
She found the floo inside the owner's private office and thankfully, the old man seemed to be too delighted to help a famous war-hero get away from a bad date to actually care about how she barely acknowledged his presence.
Soon enough, she got a handful of the powder, trying her best to control her wavering voice as she bellowed the name of the place she absolutely dreaded to visit.
“Malfoy Manor!”
— — —
And just like that, Hermione was stepping inside that old fancy drawing room (no… Not that one, but another just as lavish) after spending so much time doing her best to avoid going back to that place – staring at the extravagant persian rugs, mahogany furniture and priceless heirlooms that she never dared to even look at for too long.
Her lips pressed to a worried line as she looked around the empty room, hoping that someone would come to greet her, but she was only met with silence.
To be fair, she was already expecting something like that to happen.
Looking out the tall glass windows, she could see the elaborate gardens still blooming full of life with their prized rose bushes and wondrous oak trees standing strong despite the fact that it was already early October – with the clouds closing in the greying sky, with a clear threat of a rainstorm about to pour down soon enough.
The Manor was as cold and uninviting as she remembered it – the rooms were still far too spacious and imposing for her tastes. The fancy, over the top decorations did nothing to make the place feel lived in. Even the air itself carried a certain sombre tension to it that made her feel like she was being suffocated all the time.
The several portraits of Malfoy’s ancestors all over the walls stared at the unwanted visitor with hatred in their eyes – and even though they had long been silenced by heavy charms, she could still tell what they were thinking: How dare a mudblood like her still visit this place, even when she knew she wasn’t welcome there? Couldn’t she just turn around and go back to her shoddy flat in muggle London?
How did she ever believe she’d one day belong to that place? That this could ever be her home? What a ridiculous idea!
She had half a mind to leave that place for good… If it wasn’t for the fact that her precious son was somewhere inside, waiting for her – needing her.
One of the portraits – depicting a man she believed to be Malfoy’s great-grandfather – huffed in a dramatic sigh and pointed towards the door, as if giving her the permission to venture further into the Manor. The annoyance in his eyes was so vividly painted that she could practically hear the insults as she crossed the archway.
Without a House Elf nor Lord Malfoy himself appearing there to guide her, Hermione opted to just trust the memories she still had of that place to follow the path towards her son’s room in a hurried step – with her heels clicking on the lavish marble flooring and her heart hammering away against her eardrums.
“Malfoy!?” She called in between breathless gasps. Honestly, that Manor was far too big for it to have anti-apparition charms set in place! “Where are you?”
Finally, she heard him calling back down the hallway. “Granger! I’m over here.”
She bit her tongue to avoid snapping at him, though the annoyance of having to wander aimlessly through the Manor started to get tpo her nerves – but as she turned the corner, her breath hitched at her throat as she took a good look at her ex-husband.
There was Draco Malfoy, towering over their son’s bedroom door as he waited for her approach with that usual haughty air emanating from him – though she didn’t expect to see him looking so… Tired.
He had heavy dark patches underneath his mercurial eyes, his fine blond hair stuck out from every direction and his skin looked paler than usual (if that was even possible). His broad shoulders were a little slumped as his tall frame rested against the wall as if he was about to collapse from exhaustion. There was a bit of a stubble growing in his chin and the Oxford shirt he was wearing looked terribly rumpled – as if he had barely enough time to look after himself lately.
And yet... He still looked as handsome as ever.
Against her better judgement, her eyes followed the line of his rolled up sleeves – taking in the sight of the regal blue veins running on his forearms and the several tattoos covering his left arm – and upwards to the undone buttons at his collar that revealed only a hint of the scars that littered his chest.
It was ridiculous how she couldn't get over his sharp features and strong jawline, even after almost an entire year after her divorce.
Their eyes met for a brief second and she felt a shiver run down her spine as the cold silver clashed with her warm amber gaze.
It was clear that he wasn’t exactly pleased with her presence there (judging by the way his jaw tensed as she came into his view, like a dragon sizing up his prey), but she wouldn’t allow herself to be bothered by it.
“Good evening, Malfoy –” She hoped she wouldn’t flush like the silly young girl she once had been as she held her head up high to appear more confident than what she actually felt. “How’s Scorpius?”
He straightened his shoulders up, looking down at her with a grimace that was quickly subdued to make way to his aloof face.
“Well, as I said… He’s just a bit under the weather,” he sighed. By the looks of it, there wasn’t going to be any quips or taunts coming from him that day – and somehow the thought of Malfoy not having a bite to him made her feel a little disappointed. “He’s got a fever – the temperature is not that high, but I feel like you should know.”
“I see,” she peeked through the ajar door behind him, searching for her son. “And is he up?”
“Unfortunately,” he scoffed, sounding unimpressed – though there was a little more warmth to his tone as he started to talk about Scorpius playing all afternoon. “I’ve been trying to get him to rest all day, but the boy’s too stubborn for his own good.”
“Oh?” Her lips tugged upwards against her will. “I wonder where he got his stubbornness from.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” he raised an eyebrow. “If anything, he’s gotten that from you!”
Knowing how high-spirited and headstrong Scorpius was, Malfoy was probably right – she couldn’t imagine she couldn’t imagine her ex-husband (the perfect Pureblood heir that he grew up as) acting up and opposing his parent’s orders like their son often did.
And as if suddenly reminded of why she was back in the Manor in the first place, she trudged forward without another word, eager to see her son.
Scorpius’ room was far more inviting than the rest of the Manor – the space itself was full of life with the burgundy-red hues spanning the walls, along with red tapestry with golden detailings and stuffed lions covering every square-inch of the place – bringing a smile to her face as she basked in the child-like and innocent atmosphere that surrounded her.
All of it had been by Scorpius’ own demands, of course. The boy was a Gryffindor at heart and it showed.
There were some muggle toys strewn around the room, showing that he had been playing with them earlier in the afternoon, but they were clearly abandoned by the boy as he grew more and more poorly over the day. The velvet curtains were pulled over the windows to stop any lighting from entering the room, giving a subdued air to the usually cheerful room.
And right on top of the large four-poster bed, buried underneath several silken blankets but still tossing and turning uncomfortably, laid her precious six year-old son.
Her smile quickly died down, being replaced by a grimace of concern as she walked over to press a kiss to his sweaty forehead, hating the way his pale skin burned under her lips.
“Hey there, my little lion,” she cooed to him, settling on the edge of his bed and reaching a hand to softly caress the blond strands off his eyes. Her heart broke a little when she heard a tiny whimper coming from him so her voice grew much softer as she continued. “How are you feeling?”
“Mum!” Her son sniffled a reddened nose, sounding terribly hoarse as he did his best to keep his silvery-blue eyes open. Hermione could see he was struggling to get up – probably wishing to jump off the bed and run around the run like he usually did – but he lacked the strength to do much else other than shuffle around a little bit. “My throat hurts. And my head – I don’t like being sick!”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she muttered, taking her wand and putting on a charm to his forehead to check for his temperature and grimacing a little when she saw that it was a little over 38ºC – it wasn’t that high, but that didn’t stop her worrying heart, either. “You’ll get well soon, I promise.”
“But I want to get better right now!”
“I know, my lion – But to get better you need to rest first.”
“That sounds boring!” He whined, rubbing his eyes with a pout to his lips and a demanding tone that reminded her of his father.
And speak of the Devil…
“I tried giving him some Pepper-Up, but it didn’t really help,” she heard Malfoy from across the room – with his arms crossed to his front and brows knitted into a scowl. For some reason, he was still lingering in the doorway – as if he was wary of being too close to her at all. “And I also made some chicken noodle soup, but he wasn’t feeling like eating, either – so that is under the stasis charm in the kitchen until he feels like eating.”
She blinked with his words, trying to picture the epitome of the aristocratic man down in the common kitchen stumbling his way into his best attempt at cooking – which she knew very well he hated, despite the fact that he was quite brilliant with potions. But instead of finding it quite humorous (as she probably would’ve in the past) she only found it incredibly heartwarming.
“I’m not hungry,” Scorpius complained out loud after a fit of coughs that hacked through his little body. “Can’t I just play some more?”
“You still have to eat, sweetheart,” Hermione tilted her head, looking back at her boy. “How about I make you a nice ginger cuppa for your throat – And then you can have your dinner?”
He considered his options, giving a bit of a show as he pursed his little chapped lips and hummed out loud until he finally nodded. “Okay mum – But only if I get to watch the telly ‘till past eight!”
Gods – Cheeky just like his father!
“We’ll see about that, my lion,” Hermione laughed, pressing another kiss to his brow. “I’ll be right back. I love you.”
She heard him mutter an ‘I love you’ back before another coughing fit took over his poor throat, but soon enough she was heading back to the vast empty hallways of the Manor to head her way over to one of the many Manor’s kitchens.
Malfoy trailed right behind her – like a tall, broody shadow – without saying much of anything, but always guiding her through her path with small grunts and shakes of his head whenever she was about to make a wrong turn… Which was quite often, given how gigantic his home was.
If she didn't know better, she'd say that the whole structure changed the many archways, doorways and overall layout just to confuse her further and make her feel even more unwelcome. But for some reason, instead of being annoyed with the fact that she could get easily lost inside his home (as she should), her traitorous brain decided to haunt her with a sense of nostalgia that came with the good memories she had accumulated over the years she spent living at the Manor.
Memories of her and Malfoy – back when they were much younger, right after the end of the war, fresh out of Hogwarts and with their whole lives still ahead of them.
Memories of their relationship blooming to life on that very same Estate – with Malfoy whispering to her ears sweet empty promises about how that was her home now and fighting off snarky family portraits in her defence.
Memories of their first date – one that happened right on the Manor’s Gardens.
Hermione could still remember it well: After an entire year sharing the Head dorms in their last year of school and building a strong (if not unexpected) sense of friendship with Malfoy, she finally gathered enough courage to all but beg him to visit the Manor once again.
She wasn’t even sure why she had asked for it in the first place, though she suspected that it was a desire borne out of the need to feel some sort of closure from the war.
And though he had looked downright nauseous from her request back then, he eventually agreed – on the condition that her visit entailed a picnic with him on the Manor’s grounds (far away from that nightmarish room that started it all).
She didn't even need to think for a second before she accepted it – something that she'd forever consider a good decision, as the visit to the Manor (as painful as it had been) was what she needed to move on with her life.
And their first date had been a wonderful experience that soon led to many other dates that she'd forever cherish, of course – even if they hadn’t worked out in the end. And really, how could she resent a marriage that came to an end if it resulted in the most important person of her life being born?
Gods – she should probably stop dwelling on the past now. Nothing good can come out of this, right?
"Here we are," Malfoy cleared his throat, suddenly breaking her from her line of thoughts. "I believe I still have some fresh ginger lying around in the cupboards – Let me get it for you."
“Right," she suppressed a sigh, watching him bustle through the kitchen with an elegance that only a Pureblood like him could have – too bad that this only made the awkward silence between them that much more noticeable.
Which also led her to notice that he had barely uttered a word since she had arrived at the Manor. And as he grabbed the supplies she needed to make the tea, she watched the way his face was morphed into a perfectly blank expression – almost as if he was lost inside his own world.
And he probably was, anyway.
Malfoy was Occluding – something that she had grown painfully familiar with, over the years.
No wonder why he hadn't even bothered to greet her at the floo! He was too busy getting his bloody mental brick walls ready for her, as always!
And perhaps the anxiousness of having a sick child waiting for her, or the annoyance of her earlier bad date or even the anger closed off by him once again, made her blurt out with a bit of a short-tempered scoff. "A penny for your thoughts?"
Her tone alone must have been curt enough to make him stop and turn with narrowed eyes. "Muggle currency is useless to me. And I have more than enough galleons in my vaults to be tempted by whatever you offer."
What a complete arsehole.
"There's something bothering you, though,” she pressed, just for the sake of not backing down. “I can see it."
"No you can't," he started, sounding surprisingly unsure. But he soon continued, with that sickly monotone that she despised so much. "I'm fine, Granger."
"And I'm calling bullshite on that!"
“Oh, don’t start –”
“Well, you’re Occluding, aren’t you?” She scoffed, with her hands on her hips and her chin held up high as Malfoy stalked his way over to her – looming over her with darkened eyes while her own burned with a bright fire in them.
“And if I am?” He spat, looking down at her. “This is none of your business!”
Her eyes narrowed in response and she crossed her arms with the indignation burning inside her. Why the hell was he being such a prick today anyway? Hadn’t they agreed to be at least civil to one another for Scorpius’ sake?
"Is it…” Her voice suddenly dropped to a quiet whisper, forcing him to come even closer to her just so that he could listen – and with that, she took in the cedarwood scent of his cologne and suddenly she couldn’t take her eyes off his lips anymore. “Because I'm here?"
"What?” He seemed so shocked at the accusation, even his occlumency walls broke down a little as his eyes widened. “Of course not!"
"Then tell me what’s wrong! Please, Malfoy – Stop pushing me away!" Like you always did – was left untold, but heavily implied.
A stark silence settled between them once again and for a second, Hermione almost believed that he’d be closed off to her once again – but just as she was about to give up, he suddenly deflated in a defeated sigh.
“I… No, I’m not fine – It’s Scorpius, okay?”
“What –”
“I’m just... I'm worried about him. He’s – Well, I don’t like to see him sick.”
She didn’t like it either, obviously – and she knew well how stressed he must’ve felt, watching their poor little lion looking so down – but she also knew that there was still something else in his mind to elicit the need to Occlude for her.
“Fuck – You won’t let this go, will you?”
“I thought you promised me to never use Legilimency on me again,” she huffed with her arm crossed while he let out a wry laugh.
“I don’t need to read your mind, Granger – You’re like an open book!”
She chose not to be offended by the comment.
“And well –” he continued, stuttering through every word that came out of his mouth in a rare display of anxiousness. “I can’t help but fear for the worse. My Mother – The blood curse.”
She felt her hands shaking in response to his words, and she played with the hem of her dress to make it less noticeable – not that Malfoy would care… He was shaking even more than Hermione was at that moment.
“It’s just a cold! Scorpius doesn’t have a… A blood curse.”
“We thought that Mother had just a cold too – And look what happened.”
Yes – She remembered it well.
A couple of years ago, back when they were still together, his mother’s health had started to weaken – in a slow, but still deadly process – as a blood curse hidden deep within the Black’s family line came alive and took hold of her body before anyone could even fully understand what was happening.
It had started as simple colds (or at least… It looked like simple colds back then).
Some attacks of persistent coughing and a fever that never quite went away every now and again – something that neither she, Malfoy or even the Healers really paid attention to. But as these episodes of sickness started to become more and more frequent, they soon learned the harsh truth of her condition. In the end, the curse had been something incurable, that not even the great amounts of Galleons and influence that were still attached to Malfoy’s name could have done anything to change her fate.
Not even a year after her diagnosis, Narcissa passed away.
And with her death, Malfoy had completely broken down with the grief – shutting himself down and not letting anyone (not even his wife) help him like he probably should’ve been helped.
His mood had grown to be constantly irritated with everything (even his own family) – and he often snapped at even the smallest inconveniences in his daily life. Not only that, he had resorted to Occluding through every waking second, never allowing himself to reveal any of his actual emotions.
He took his mother’s death even worse than anything else that had happened in his life. Not even getting constantly bested by a muggleborn girl back in Hogwarts made him so angry. Not even going through an entire war and living with Voldemort under his roof made him so closed off. Not even losing his Father to a Dementor’s Kiss made him so grief-stricken.
Looking back now, she felt a little guilty for not being more patient with him – For ending things too quickly between them.
Back then, she thought she was doing the best thing she could for both of them and for their son.
Malfoy needed space, she needed to be away from someone that couldn’t even look her in the eye and Scorpius needed parents that weren’t constantly snapping at one another.
To this day she asked herself if it had been the right decision.
“I can’t keep losing people I care about, Hermione –” his raspy voice broke down to a quiet sob, calling for her attention again and making her feel like molten lead just sank down her stomach. “I just – I can’t.”
“Malfoy, Scorpius is fine! It’s just a cold!” She approached him just as he swayed as if he lost the strength to stand up. “There’s no need to be worried.”
“You don’t know that,” he muttered, feeling so tired that he didn’t even realise his forehead was now resting on Hermione’s.
“I do,” she insisted, taking his hand to give him a reassuring squeeze. “And we are now going to give him his cuppa and his dinner and he’ll get his strength back before you know it.”
She could feel the tension of his shoulders melting away along with the heavy sigh he breathed out and she instinctively reached to cup his face with her hands. His skin was warm and soft under her touch – and frankly, she felt a little silly to think that it’d feel cold at all.
Her eyes fluttered shut and the sensation of his breath mingling with hers only heightened as their lips slowly pressed against one another in a tentative, almost shy kiss.
She could taste the coffee and honey on his lips that he probably had earlier in the evening. His stubble scratched against her chin, but she soon found she didn’t mind at all, considering that she was too busy basking at the way he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her like he did so many times in the past.
It felt so natural to have him so close to her – like they were always meant to be connected like this.
And yet, she also knew how much of a mistake this was.
Malfoy leaned forward to deepen the kiss, but her senses had finally returned to her and she quickly stopped him by placing her hands to his chest to pull them apart, doing her best to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape her throat.
“Drat,” he cursed under his breath. “Granger, I –”
“Don’t,” she bowed her head, fixing her gaze down to the floor. “Let’s just take care of Scorpius for now.”
“Right –” his gaze was fixed on her even as she moved around the kitchen to start prepping their son’s cuppa.
By the looks of it, this was going to be a very long night for both of them.
— — —
“Here we go, my little lion,” Hermione re-entered the room carrying a tray with his cuppa, the soup, a glass of water and some aspirin. “Try to eat a little bit for me. And don’t forget to take your medicine.”
By her side, Malfoy decided to join her in his room this time – though he went back to his taciturn mood – patting Scorpius on the back as he started to gulp down on the tea.
There was still an air of awkwardness that lingered between them after the kiss, though neither of them had enough courage in them to acknowledge it out loud.
Instead, he used his wand to cast a silent spell to check for their son’s temperature again – and they both sighed when they saw that there had been no change in his fever.
(Well… At least it didn’t get any worse, so there was that).
“And then we’ll watch films?” Scorpius leaned towards his mother, looking over the steamy bowl with a small scrunch to his nose, but at least he didn’t outright refuse the food.
“Yes – And you even get to choose what we’ll watch!”
“I wanna watch Lion King!” He clamoured with the vigour of someone in their top health – trust Disney to bring out the utmost excitement off little kids, even when they were sick.
“What a surprise,” she couldn’t help but laugh.
They had seen Lion King so much at that point, Hermione could probably recite the entire film script by heart – but if that got her boy excited enough to eat without much of a fuss and take his medicine, she couldn’t complain.
“I’ll go set it up,” Malfoy spoke up, looking as if he just wanted to distract himself with anything that wasn’t her presence in his home. “Would you like for me to make some popcorn, little lion?”
“Of course!” He sniffled with a roll of his eyes and a bright smile. “You can’t watch a film without popcorn! Right, mum?”
“Obviously!” She laughed, following Scorpius out of the room as the kid readily jumped off the bed to run off towards the smaller sitting room right next to his bedroom – the only one that had the most muggle technologies out of the whole Manor (something that Hermione had to put up quite a fight to be able to have it, back when she lived there).
From outside, she could hear the faint tappings of raindrops hitting the windowsill in a show that the rainstorm that had threatened to pour down all day had finally started – matching her overall mood for the night. But at least she could find some solace in the happy smile of her son as he got himself cosy on the sofa.
“Granger –” she suddenly heard Malfoy re-entering the room, with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and one of his older shirts and sweatpants around his arm. He looked a little sheepish when he continued with a clenched jaw and a stifled tone. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable if you… Erhm… Changed.”
Shite.
She had completely forgotten how she was still wearing some flimsy – and quite revealing – black dress and heels all night.
“Oh… Yeah! Thank you,” she choked on her own tongue as she accepted his clothes, feeling her cheeks heating up embarrassment and a little guilt that she knew was completely uncalled for.
Why should she feel guilty for going out on a date anyway? It wasn’t as if she and Malfoy were married anymore!
Still, her ex-husband looked at her a bit strangely (with a downwards tug to his lip and fighting off a scowl) as she scurried off to change to something more comfortable while he set up the DVD player. (And she did her best to ignore the fact that the most comfortable thing about his clothes was the fact that the smell of his cologne still lingered on them).
But soon enough, the Manor was quiet with the exception of the film playing in the background and Scorpius excitedly singing along with young Simba, as he snuggled on the sofa in his mother’s lap with his father sitting right beside him, caressing his blond hair.
The scene was so domestic, it almost hurt – especially when she remembered the many ‘film nights’ that the three of them used to have in the past.
Halfway through the film, Hermione felt a small weight settling on her shoulder, along with the sound of soft snores coming from Scorpius as the exhaustion of the day finally caught up to him. And for the first time in hours, she could finally breathe a little more easily as she watched her son getting the rest he so desperately needed.
She pressed a kiss to his forehead, delighted to note that his temperature was already going back to normal and finally, she looked up to the man watching by their side – with the film now completely ignored by them.
"He's out," she whispered – bringing Scorpius a little closer to her in a tight hug, not quite ready to let him go just yet.
“I’ll take him to his room,” Malfoy announced, easily lifting the boy in his arms – making him look so small in comparison – and getting off the sofa. “He’s getting heavier and heavier these days.”
Her lips pressed to a thin line in agreement as she followed them back to his bedroom.
He was right, of course – their boy was already the tallest one in his class and his growth showed no signs of stopping anytime soon, according to the Healers (thanks to his father’s own height, she supposed).
But that also meant that her little boy would soon stop being ‘little’ anymore.
The thought of Scorpius growing into an adult made her feel nostalgic and sentimental already. And from Malfoy’s own lost look on his face, she could guess that he was coming to the same conclusions as she was.
— — —
“I should… Probably go home now.”
They were standing at the edge of Scorpius’ doorway, watching as their son peacefully slept buried between his covers and his lions – and now there was just him and her, alone again.
And just like that, her traitorous brain decided that now was the perfect time to remind her how much she loved when she got those private moments with him in the past – when their son was asleep and they had the Manor all to themselves to enjoy together.
Not to mention that kiss they shared earlier in the kitchen –
Suddenly, it felt as if the temperature of the room dropped considerably as the cold storm outside poured on and she couldn’t help but feel the need to be closer to Malfoy again just to have a bit of his warmth into her soul.
“Stay,” he blurted out, with his shoulders tensing up. But not even a second later, he cleared his throat in an amendment. “I mean… It’s late. The weather is horrendous right now and you know how the floo can act up during a storm.”
“Malfoy –”
“There are plenty of spare rooms here at the Manor. Or if you’d like, you can have my room – It’s right next to Scorpius’. He’ll be thrilled to wake up the next morning and see you here… And if anything happens during the night, you’ll know right away.”
“I… I wouldn't want to banish you from your room.”
“Nonsense – it’s fine. I don’t mind staying in one of the spare rooms.”
The thought of spending the night at the Manor was a tempting one – if not a little terrifying. And she couldn’t deny how sound his reasoning was, either.
Still… Would it be a mistake if she stayed?
More than likely… But Gods, did she want to.
Whoever said that distance made the heart grow fonder might have been onto something, after all.
She met his eyes again and in a second her heart started to hammer against her ribcage as a sense of boldness grew inside of her.
“Or – We could…” she started, biting down on her bottom lip. She didn’t allow herself to think too much as she continued to speak. “We could share.”
“Share?” He arched a brow, looking almost shell-shocked with the suggestion. After a minute of silence, he swallowed a lump in his throat, with his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “You want to share my room, you mean?”
“Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Hermione –” his voice dropped a pitch or two in a way that sent shivers down her spine as he croaked. “Do you have any idea of what you’re implying?”
She licked her lips, with her eyes darkening at the silent promise lingering between them. “I do know.”
“And you’re sure you want this?”
Truth be told, she wasn’t sure.
Her mind was a complete mess ever since she moved her few belongings out of the Manor almost a year ago and she didn’t even know what she wanted to do anymore. But she missed Malfoy. She missed his touch – his lips – his hands. She missed his humour and snark and all the banter that they used to have. She missed him.
And she was tired of pretending that she was over him already.
“Take me to bed, Draco.”
He didn’t need to be told twice – it was as if he, too, had been holding back all of this time.
In a swift movement, he swept her off her feet and carried her over to the familiar king sized bed that still remained in the Master bedroom and suddenly she was being engulfed by the soft silk blankets once again – after so long.
She could help but laugh with elation taking over her senses as she saw him fumbling with his wand to silence the room with a refined spell that would allow them to hear if anything happened in Scorpius’ room, but wouldn’t let any sound bleed out of theirs.
Finally, with his attention back to her, Draco hovered over her on the bed, pinning her down to the mattress whilst his large frame trapped her from all sides and engulfed her into his solid chest.
Her hands tangled in his hair and she tugged and forced him to lean down just so that she could capture his lips for a brief, yet still hungry kiss – tasting him at the same time as she took in the comforting scent that was entirely his – with her legs encircling his waist to hold him securely.
From her spot underneath him, she could already feel a considerable bulge nudging her inner thigh as they tangled themselves in his bed. That wasn’t to say she was faring any better – she could feel herself getting wetter and wetter and she couldn’t wait any longer.
“Take off my clothes,” she demanded with a small moan, while he was too busy marking down the column of her neck with adoring butterfly kisses.
“Fuck, Hermione,” he growled into her skin, sliding one hand down to palm at her arse just before working on the hem of the sweatpants to pull them free. “I just love how desperate you are for me.”
A whimper fell out of her lips in a melody that accompanied the sound of his ragged breathing as he went on to press his thumb through the fabric of her soaked knickers, only to then tear it off from her with a hasty promise of giving her a new pair later on.
She sighed, watching through hooded eyes the way he slowly descended to the edge of the bed – kneeling on the floor and propping her legs up to his shoulders in preparation for what was about to come.
With a fire now consuming her very core, Hermione quickly removed the shirt (his shirt) and bra that were suffocating her by now and settled her hands over her own pert nipples, circling them to bring out the shockwaves she was already experiencing through his hot breath tickling her folds.
She could feel him smirking a second before he pounced to the soft flesh of her thigh, biting down and marking her. It was exactly what she had been craving for all this time.
“Please,” her hips rolled, trying to force his mouth into the places she ached the most, but he merely laughed it off and held her down in place with one of his large hands. “Fuck me already!”
“Impatient as always –” he chuckled, sending vibrations down her very soul that almost made her lose her mind. “You know I have to stretch you out first – I don’t want to hurt you.”
She knew he was right. She hadn’t shagged anyone ever since she divorced him and she knew that Draco was far bigger than the average bloke anyway – but that didn’t make her any less desperate for some sort of release.
Instead of giving her what she begged for, he placed a soft kiss to the bitemark he had just left on her thigh, moving to the other leg and doing the same unbearable teasing. By the time his sinful lips finally hovered over her slick cunt, she was already squirming and moaning out his name.
And then, she cried out louder as he used his long fingers to prod at her sensitive folds, coating them with her juices only to plunge inside her walls. The muscles of her legs tensed up in response, shaking as he added his tongue and swirled around her swollen clit.
“Oh! Merlin!” Hermione moaned, with her eyes rolling to the back of her skull and her hips bucking upwards to force his fingers deeper into her.
With each thrust of his fingers, there was a sharp burn spanning all over her walls that made her toes curl up and her vision go blurry as she neared her release – and as if he sensed this, Draco sped up his tempo, adding in vibrations to her soaking core as he hummed in pleasure.
She looked down on him for a second, meeting mercurial eyes that looked almost black from how wide his pupils were, filled with lust and desire – the sight alone was enough to make her arch her back in a breathless moan, tumbling over the edge of her ecstasy.
Without even waiting for her to recover, Draco surged forward to kiss her once more, swallowing her moans while her chest heaved as she regained her breath.
“Enjoying yourself, love?” He asked in a raspy whisper and a cocky smirk – and yet her chest warmed in longing.
Love.
Just like that, she felt her heart threatening to jump off her ribcage.
“Call me that again…”
“What?” He tilted his head – with his grin growing softer in understanding. “Love? Do you like it when I call you that?”
“Yes –” her eyes welled up in unshed tears as she whispered in response. Her skin flushed as she averted her eyes from him, but Draco pressed on and forced her to look at him by placing his finger to her chin and guiding her back to his eyes. "I do."
“I love you, Hermione. I never stopped loving you even after everything that happened.”
Just like that, the illusion was broken and she was reminded with a stark dread sinking to her guts that they weren’t really anything – nothing but exes at this point.
Fuck – She could feel the tears threatening to spill already.
But then she felt the softness of his lips kissing them away as his hands caressed the underside of her breasts, drawing her closer to his solid chest.
Her fingertips traced the deep Sectumsempra scars that she knew he carried underneath the rumpled shirt and she marvelled at the feeling of his powerful heartbeat under her touch. With a shy admission, she continued. “I never stopped loving you either, Draco.”
He kissed her on the lips, coaxing her into giving permission to deepen it. Her breath hitched as she felt his hips suddenly jerked towards her still-sensitive core – his erection was now begging for her attention even through the fabric of his trousers.
“Hermione... We don’t need to –”
“Please, don’t stop –” Hermione all but begged. “You can feel how much I want you.”
With swift, trembling hands, she worked through the buttons of his shirt while he scrambled to remove his bottoms. Her eyes devoured every inch of his skin as he shed the layers – she admired the scars on his chest and the tattoos of flowers and lions on his left arm making up for a beautiful composition.
And when his cock sprang free from his trousers, she could help but reach out to him – feeling the velvety-warm skin and pumping up and down to coathis length with his own precum.
“You’ll be the death of me, witch,” his hips buckled again and suddenly she could see that all the exhaustion that she had seen in handsome face earlier in the evening had been gone and replaced by raw lust.
He held her down with one hand and with the other he grabbed the base of his cock to nudge the head against her slick entrance – until he finally plunged inside, inch by glorious inch.
Merlin! She had forgotten how large he was – and how much she loved the delicious pain that came with being completely stretched out by his length.
“Oh – Fuck! Draco –”
“You okay?” He grunted, looking as if he’s doing his damn hardest not to embarass himself at the moment.
She was in heaven right now.
“Perfect,” she smiled, just before reaching over to one of his incredibly soft pillows to put it under her back. “Just give me a second.”
He leaned close, pressing their foreheads together, waiting for her to give permission for him to move – and after what felt like an eternity, she finally nodded at him.
Without wasting a single second, Draco set into a slow and tender pace – drawing out the pressure on her tight walls. He brushed their noses and lips together, kissing her softly in a silent admission of love – sending tingles throughout her entire body.
It was exactly what she needed.
“Sweet Circe –” she heard him rasp through a laboured breath. “You’re perfect, Hermione – My love. My darling.”
“Oh! Don’t stop! Just like that –”
Her hands wrapped around his back to give herself some support, feeling the strong muscles ripple and work together with each thrust to drive him deeper and deeper within her. With the angle, his pubic bone provided a pressure to her bundle of nerves that made her arch her back and gasp at every little rocking movement he made.
Soon, the electric shocks of another orgasm approaching overtook her senses again – at the same time that the man above her groaned and rasped out her name as if it was the most sacred of prayers, spilling inside her with only a rushed warning.
And with a bit of an unceremonious huff, Draco rolled off to the side to avoid crushing her under his weight and he slipped out of her with a small whimper – pulling her to an embrace and burying his nose in her hair.
“Gods – How I missed these curls.”
His chest heaved from the effort and his eyes fluttered shut for a second while Hermione merely snuggled closer to the crook of his neck, feeling completely boneless and satisfied in his arms.
One of his hands was lazily drawing patterns on her soft skin and the feeling was so soothing, she was sure she had fallen asleep just like that. But then, she heard a small humming coming from him, calling for her attention.
“Hermione?”
“Hmm?”
“Marry me.”
Her eyes widened as her mouth fell slightly agape – she couldn’t even tell if she was breathing or not as she looked at him.
Did he just say what she thought he had said?
He looked a little tense (despite the still dopey glint that lingered in his eyes) and his shoulders tensed up a little as he waited for an answer.
“Draco –”
“Hermione, please – Listen to me,” the hold he had of her waist grew tighter as he propped himself up in the bed. “I love you too much to be away from you. Please… Just give me another chance.”
His words sounded sincere, but she still felt as if she had just imagined it all.
“And what if…” She licked her lips – and though she had been dreaming to hear those words out of his mouth ever since she walked away a year ago, she still felt the need to ask. “What if we don’t work out? Just like the first time?”
She didn’t know what she expected him to say for sure – but she certainly wasn’t expecting him to just chuckle at her words.
Before she could ask why he was laughing, however, he kissed her hair and caressed her naked skin as he continued.
“Then we’ll both go our separate ways again. Maybe even get together again – I just need you back in my life, Hermione.”
“And Scorpius –”
“Would be thrilled to find that his parents are together again –” he pointed out. And truthfully, she couldn’t argue against his logic – she felt the subtle looks her son gave them all evening, with questions swimming in his mind that not even he dared to voice them. “Come on. We both know that I was the one that messed up. Please let me try to fix this.”
“You didn’t mess up anything,” her brows knitted together, with her hands flying to cradle his jaw. “I should have been more patient with you. You were grieving.”
“I miss waking up next to you,” he continued, playing with one of her stray curls. “I miss having you in my life. I love you.”
“I love you too, Draco.”
“So? What do you say? Will you marry me again?”
Her response came in the form of a kiss – straddling his waist and consuming him all over again.
— — —
The next morning, Scorpius woke earlier than usual – running up and down the entire Manor with a skip to his step and the energetic vigour that only a healthy little boy could have. And when he ran up to the kitchen (probably led by the smell of toast, eggs and bacon), he let out an overjoyed squeal as both of his parents greeted him with a hug and a kiss to his forehead.
“Look!” Their son pointed towards a large bird that had just invaded the kitchen through the window as they enjoyed their breakfast together. “An owl!”
“I see that,” Draco chuckled as the elegant-looking barn owl landed right next to Hermione – giving her a small note and quickly flying out of the Manor again. A smile grew on her face as she read the words. “What does it say?”
Her grin grew wider, even as she discarded the note to the side. “It's just Ginny and Lavender asking how my date night went.”
“Oh?” A cocky smirk made its way to his lips as he leaned closer to her. “And how will you respond?”
“Considering everything that happened – It was definitely better than what I expected.”