Their peaceful sleep was interrupted early the next morning by a loud banging on the door of Hermione's flat. Draco's eyes flew open, and he glanced at the Muggle clock on the far side of Hermione's bedroom. It was just past 6 a.m. Beside him, Hermione was still asleep. Another bang at the door. He nudged at Hermione's sleeping form. "Hermione," he murmured.
Hermione grumbled at him.
Another bang. "Hermione, someone is at your door."
Instantly, her eyes opened. "What?" she asked, clearly confused.
"There's someone banging at your door. Were you expecting anyone?"
Dazedly, Hermione sat up, pushing her wild, tangled curls behind her ears. "No, no one," she said, brow furrowed.
Draco's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I'll get it, then," he said, standing to rise.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. I'll get the door, it's probably nothing. You stay in bed," she said, rising from the bed and finding a robe hanging from the door of her closet. "I'll be right back," she said, tying the belt of the robe tightly across her waist.
Dread creeped up Draco's spine. He didn't like this one bit, and Hermione seemed so unconcerned. Disobeying Hermione, he rose from the bed and pulled on his boxers, which had been hastily discarded the previous night. Grabbing his wand from where it rested next to Hermione's on her nightstand, Draco stepped into the hallway.
"Ron, you're drunk," came Hermione's soft voice.
Of course it was Weasley. Of course.
"I can't stop thinking about you, 'Mione, I want you back," Weasley pleaded.
"Ron, please go home. You shouldn't even be here."
"Not without you," Weasley said harshly.
Hermione sighed loudly. "Ron, I told you I was seeing someone else."
"Who, Malfoy?" Weasley spat.
"It doesn't matter who it is, Ron. The point is I've moved on and I need you to do the same. Please," Hermione pleaded with him, her voice quiet, clearly not wanting to alert Draco to her unexpected visitor.
"Just let me in, we can talk," Weasley said, ignoring her requests.
Draco seethed.
"Ron, no—I can't do that."
"What? Is he here?"
A long pause.
"He's here then," Weasley concluded. There was a gasp, and then Weasley was pushing the door open. "Oi! Malfoy! Come out here!"
Having heard Hermione gasp, Draco was already moving down the hall and into the living room. "I'm right here, Weasley," he said calmly.
Weasley froze as he saw Draco, quickly taking in his state—clad only in boxers, his chest bare, a faint crescent of teeth marks on his shoulder—and his face turned a violent shade of red. "You're fucking him?" he said in disbelief, turning to Hermione, his face flushed.
"Weasley, you need to leave," Draco said quietly.
"I'm going to call Harry. He's drunk," Hermione said anxiously, moving towards her fireplace.
"I can't believe you're fucking him," Weasley said, to no one in particular.
Hermione's head disappeared into the Floo, and Weasley took advantage of Hermione's absence, and punched Draco, hard, in the face. There was a loud crack and Draco was spluttering, falling backwards and bracing his fall with his hands. "Fuck, Weasley," Draco cried, pain radiating up his face.
Moments later, Potter was tumbling through the Floo, Hermione in tow. Seeing him on the floor, nursing the right side of his face, Hermione immediately rushed to him, dropping to her knees and prying his hands away from his face so she could get a better look at it.
"Mate, come on, we should leave," said Potter, walking over to Weasley.
"She's fucking him," Weasley repeated once more.
Potter audibly sighed. "Ron, she asked you to leave multiple times and you're visibly intoxicated, please do not make this harder for yourself. You could lose your job," Potter reasoned.
Hermione's fingers ghosted over his face. She made light contact with his cheekbone, and Draco hissed in pain.
"Can't believe—" Weasley began.
"Ron, we have to leave. Right now. Or I will be forced to take you into custody."
This snapped Weasley to attention, his eyes narrowing as he watched as Hermione lean over Draco, assessing his injuries. "Fine," he said coldly, his gaze shifting to Draco, his eyes narrowing further.
Potter's arm locked around Weasley's, pulling him towards the Floo, "Come on, mate," he said, "We'll go to my house, we can sober you up. Hermione, I'll call you later, all right?"
Hermione ignored him as she frowned down at Draco.
In a flash of green, Potter and Weasley were gone.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she began, tears welling in her eyes.
"Hermione, It's okay. Look, I'm fine," Draco reassured.
"He fractured your cheek bone. You're not fine!" Hermione cried, clearly hysterical.
"Hey, hey," he said softly, tugging gently at her fingers. "I'll be all right, Hermione. I'll be all right. You'll fix me, right?"
Hermione stilled, her eyes focusing on his. Biting her lip lightly, she nodded. "I'll fix you," she said quietly. "Stay here." She rose and made her way towards the kitchen. She returned shortly with a bag full of ice. Gently, she pressed it to the cheekbone directly beneath his right eye, Draco hissed with pain again, and immediately Hermione burst into tears.
Draco pulled her hand and the ice away from his face and pulled her into his arms. "I'm all right, Hermione, I promise you I'm all right. I've had much worse."
She sobbed harder.
"Hermione," he murmured, resting his chin atop her head, where she had leaned against his shoulder, burying her face in his neck. "It's okay. Sweetheart, It's okay."
Her sobs subsided a bit, and she hiccupped. "I'm sorry—I'm just—I'm tired of this—"
"It's okay," Draco said soothingly, stroking her back lightly.
Seeming to remember her task, Hermione pulled away from him and grabbed the bag, which had been discarded on the floor. Gingerly, she placed it against his cheekbone once more. Draco swallowed back a groan, unwilling to set her off again. Above him, her face was red and puffy, her eyelids swollen. "This will help with the swelling, so I can see better."
"It feels better already," Draco assured her. A lie.
Her lip quirked slightly, realizing the lie. "I don't like you hurt. I didn't like it when you cut your Mark, and I don't like it now."
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
Hermione's eyes flickered to his. "Why are you sorry? He hurt you," she said fiercely.
"I'm okay," Draco reminded her.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You worry about me. I get to worry about you, too."
"You worry about me?" Draco asked.
"Every minute you're not with me," she said quietly. "I worry that someone will spit on you in the street again, or worse—hurt you. I worry about what you hear people say about you on the street when you're minding your own business. I worry that Ron will threaten you in an alleyway—" At this Draco averted his eyes, and Hermione gave him an odd look. "He has, hasn't he?"
Draco sighed. There was no point in lying. "Yes. When we were new, before I knew what was happening with us. I didn't want to mention it to you. I didn't want to upset you."
"That's why you're so worried about the accounts."
"Yes," Draco replied.
Hermione froze above him, inadvertently pressing the ice into his skin with more force. Draco groaned in pain, and Hermione pulled away slightly, staring down at him. "What did he say?" she asked heatedly.
Draco gulped. "He told me to stay away from you, or he could make my life very difficult."
"I'm going to kick his arse," Hermione seethed.
Draco grabbed her wrist, pulling the ice away from his face. "No. I don't want you anywhere near him," he said harshly.
Hermione narrowed her eyes in defiance.
Draco sighed, pushing an errant curl behind her ear. "I am not trying to control you, Hermione. Nor will I ever tell you what to do. But I don't like how he treats you; how he disrespects you. I think about you being hurt, and it makes me sick to my stomach. I don't like him near you," he said softly.
"He hurt you," she insisted.
"And you'll fix me," he reminded her.
She smiled at him, and he warmed. "I think the swelling has gone down enough for me to fix this, where's my wand?"
"Your nightstand," Draco murmured.
"Right," Hermione said, rising to her feet. Moments later, she reappeared, wand in hand. "This will hurt," she said, pointing it at his face.
"I'll be all right," Draco affirmed.
"Episkey," Hermione muttered, her wand pressed to his cheekbone.
Draco felt the bones in his face shift, and then slam together. He gasped, and reached for Hermione's hand, squeezing tightly. It was over in an instant, and the pain in his cheek subsided. "Fuck," he groaned.
"The bruising around your eye will last for a few days. You can glamour it if you want, but it's completely harmless," she murmured, running a hand over his damaged cheek. Hermione glanced absently at the clock, and she visibly wilted. "I have to get ready for work soon."
Draco remained quiet. As much as he wanted to her to stay, he couldn't disrupt Hermione's life like that. He reached for her. "I'll be okay. Give me a pain potion and I'll sleep all day."
"Here?" she asked, somewhat hopefully.
"If you'll let me. I sleep better in your bed," he admitted.
Hermione nodded. "Stay, sleep. I'll get you a pain potion before I leave."
Standing upright, Hermione offered her hand to him and he gratefully took it. She pulled him up until he was once more towering above her. Offering her a small smile despite the residual ache in his cheek, he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "Thank you," he murmured.
"Come on, back to bed." She led him back to her bedroom, pushing him down onto the bed before rushing off to bathroom. When she returned, she was carrying two vials of potions. "A pain potion, and a sleeping draught," she said, pushing the vials into his hands.
Draco took the pain potion as she watched, but then placed the sleeping draught on her bedside table. Hermione's eyes flashed to his warningly. "I'll take it after you leave," he said quietly.
With a sigh, Hermione returned to her bathroom to get ready for work.
The pain potion hit Draco within seconds, and he curled up gratefully on Hermione's side of the bed, waiting for her to leave. When she had finished in her bathroom, Hermione removed her robe and Draco appreciated the delectable curve of her arse as she searched her drawers for a bra and a set of knickers, which she hurriedly pulled on before she pulled on a burgundy jumper and a pair of leggings.
Dressed and ready, Hermione crawled over to where Draco was lying on the bed. With nimble fingers, Hermione pushed a strand of blond hair from his forehead fondly. Her eyes dropped to the bruising on his cheek, and she frowned faintly. "Promise you'll take the sleeping draught after I leave," she said softly.
Draco nodded against her fingers. "I promise."
"All right," she said, dropping a gentle kiss to his lips. "I'll see you later."
Draco heard the roar of her Floo as she left. With a sigh, Draco reached over to the nightstand to take the sleeping draught. He was just about to uncork the vial when he suddenly felt eyes on him. Looking around, Draco spotted a massive, fluffy cat with bright orange fur. Right, Hermione had a cat.
Why was this the first time Draco was seeing him?
"Hello," Draco said tentatively to the cat.
Crookshanks.
Crookshanks tilted his head, as if understanding Draco, and took a few steps forward, clearly curious.
"Come to keep me company, have you?" Draco asked the cat.
With surprising nimbleness, Crookshanks bounded onto the bed and walked towards Draco. He sat a few feet away from Draco, seemingly studying him.
"You're smart, aren't you?" Draco mused. "Of course her cat would be smart." Tentatively, Draco reached out a hand to pet him. Crookshanks eyed him warily for a moment before accepting the head scratch, and the cat closed his eyes in pleasure. "I'm going to take a nap; you're welcome to join me." Uncorking the vial, Draco drained the contents of the sleeping draught and curled back up on the bed. The effects of the sleeping draught were almost instant, and Draco's eyelids grew so heavy he could no longer keep them open. The last thing Draco remembered before he fell asleep was a massive orange cat curling up next to him.
When Draco woke hours later, he found himself curled up with Crookshanks, an arm thrown over the cat. Crookshanks had his eyes closed and was purring lightly, asleep.
"I see you met Crooks," came Hermione's bemused voice.
Draco looked up, and found Hermione sitting cross-legged against the headboard, a book in her lap. "Hi," he said, feeling an affectionate smile curl at his lips.
"Hi," she murmured back with a smile matching his own.
"How have I never seen him before? I had forgotten you even had a cat."
Hermione shrugged lightly. "Crooks comes and goes as he pleases," she said simply.
Draco furrowed his brow in confusion. "Hermione, you live on the fourth floor."
She shrugged again. "He's part Kneazle. I stopped trying to figure out how he does what he does years ago. I'm pretty sure he can apparate, or something."
Draco looked back down at the dozing Crookshanks. "Huh," he said curiously.
"You know, I've never seen him take to someone so quickly," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Or to anyone but me, for that matter."
Draco sat up, his bones feeling long and loose from sleep, and shrugged. "He was watching me. I told him he could join me if he liked."
Hermione brightened. "He can understand you, you know. Nobody seems to understand how smart he is."
Leaning over, Draco pressed a kiss to Hermione's cheek in greeting. "So I wasn't imagining that, then."
Hermione shook her head. "No, he understands you perfectly."
Draco chuckled lightly against her cheek. "Of course you'd have a genius cat."
"Half-Kneazle," she reminded him.
"Half-Kneazle," Draco amended.
Hermione pulled away from him, her eyes instantly going to his cheek. Her fingers ghosted over his skin. "How does your cheek feel? Your eye?" she asked softly.
Draco pulled her fingers from his cheek and brought them to his mouth, kissing the tips. "It aches a bit. But I'm certain with your care that I'll pull through," he said teasingly.
Hermione laughed and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him on the lips soundly. "Foolish," she murmured against his lips before diving in for another kiss.
In the living room, Draco heard the tell-tale signs of someone trying to Floo over. "Hermione!" came Potter's disembodied voice.
Hermione sighed. "That'll be Harry, then," she confirmed before rising from the bed and taking Draco's hand, pulling him with her.
Obediently, Draco followed Hermione into the living room, where she hastily unlocked her Floo. "You can come through now, Harry," she called into the fireplace.
Potter arrived in a bright flash of green, and his eyes immediately flicked to Hermione. "How are you?" he asked quietly, walking over to her and slinging an arm around her shoulders.
Draco's spine prickled with jealousy.
Hermione sighed and wrapped her arms around Potter's midsection. "I'm all right. But I'm tired of this, Harry. I really am. He broke Draco's cheekbone," she said, motioning towards Draco.
"Finding Malfoy in your flat probably wasn't the best way for him to learn about you two," Potter replied.
"He was the one who showed up at my door, at 6 a.m., drunk. He wasn't supposed to find out this way," Hermione said indignantly, pulling away from Potter.
Harry waved his hands in surrender. "I'm not blaming you, I'm really not. I've—I've just never seen him like this," Potter said tiredly.
Hermione shook her head. "I'm not responsible for him anymore. I can't be."
Potter sighed, absently pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I know, Hermione. I know. I just wanted to check on you, make sure you were all right, and—" Potter paused and bit his bottom lip.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked.
Potter's lips quirked. "Ginny wants you over for dinner Friday night."
Hermione smiled slightly. "Oh, okay. That sounds lovely. Tell her I'll be there."
Potter sighed again. "No," he said through gritted teeth. "She wants you…and Malfoy—over for dinner on Friday."
"What?" Hermione asked, surprised.
"Her exact words were: 'Invite Hermione and Malfoy over for dinner on Friday night.' My wife is insane," Potter replied with a shake of his head.
Hermione looked to Draco, who was completely bewildered. Catching his eye, Hermione subtly nodded her head before looking back to Potter. "Harry, that's very kind of Ginny. We'll let you know by tomorrow evening, all right?"
Potter shifted nervously on his feet before he looked back to Hermione. "Okay," he said awkwardly.
She smiled at him before wrapping her arms around him once more in a fierce hug.
Draco felt his shoulders straighten of their own accord.
"I'll see you soon, Hermione," he said quietly, pulling himself from the hug and stepping back through the Floo.
Hermione instantly turned to him. "Draco—" she began.
"We'll go," he said immediately, surprising himself.
"What?" she asked, her eyes wide.
"We'll go," Draco repeated.
"We don't have to—"
"You love them, Hermione. If I refuse to interact with them, I don't stand a chance. So, we'll go."
"Will you be surly and indignant?" she asked.
"Probably."
"You'll like Ginny," Hermione mused.
"Doubtful," he replied.
"You will," she insisted, rising up on the tips of her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck.
"You're excited," Draco realized.
Hermione sighed. "I know our history is…complicated. But I like you quite a lot, Draco. And I know the relationship between you and Harry is even more complicated. The fact that you're willing to do this for me—it means a lot," she explained. "It will be awkward, and weird, and probably very uncomfortable—"
"I cannot wait—" Draco said sarcastically.
"But it's important."
"I'll never deprive you of your friends, Hermione," he vowed.
"So you'll try?" she asked hopefully.
"I will," he confirmed. "We'll go."
Friday came around much too quickly for Draco's taste, and by the time he met Hermione at her flat, his stomach was nothing but nerves. She was waiting for him on the couch when he stepped through her fireplace.
She was already dressed, and Draco took her in as she stood up, smiling at him. She was wearing a casual long-sleeved dress of olive green, which was cinched at her waist and accentuated her figure. She wore black tights, but her long legs, which Draco had come to very much admire, were still visible before they disappeared into the tops of her knee-high leather boots. She was wearing a bit more makeup than normal, her eyes accentuated and her lashes long and darkened. There was a twinge of pink in the apples of her cheeks. Stepping closer to her, Draco caught a pleasing floral smell—hibiscus, with a hint of cedar. He'd never known her to wear perfume. Taking her into his arms, he murmured in her ear, "You look lovely."
Hermione visibly blushed. "Thank you," she murmured, not meeting his eyes.
Draco smirked before he took her chin in his fingers, gently guiding her face up. Her eyes met his just briefly before he pressed a kiss to her lips.
"Are you nervous?" Hermione asked him quietly.
"Yes," he admitted, finding her fingers with his—which were lightly shaking—and playing absently with the tips.
"You'll be all right," she promised.
Draco sighed. "I don't know how you're so optimistic. Potter and I have hated each other since we were 11."
"We also hated each other since we were 11," she reminded him, her look pointed.
"I know, but that's different—" he began.
"How?" she interrupted.
Draco met her eyes. "You saw me," he said softly.
Hermione nodded, placing a hand on the side of his face. "They will, too," she said.
Draco closed his eyes, relishing her touch for just a moment before he had to steel himself. Eyes flickering open, he nodded to Hermione. "Okay," he said.
Fingers intertwined, Hermione led him over to the Floo. Taking a handful of Floo powder, Hermione said clearly, "12 Grimmauld Place." They reappeared quickly in Potter's fireplace, and Hermione was yanking him through, their fingers still wrapped around each other. "Harry!" she called happily. "Ginny! We're here!"
Potter and Ginny appeared from an adjacent room. Potter greeted Hermione with a warm, "Hey, Hermione," and a cool, "Malfoy," for him.
Ginny's smile was wide as she rushed to Hermione, throwing her arms around Hermione's neck. "Hermione!" she said happily.
"Hi, Gin," Hermione chuckled.
Releasing her, Ginny turned to Draco and offered her hand perfunctorily. "Malfoy," she said evenly.
Draco hesitated for a moment before he placed his free hand in Ginny's hand, shaking it firmly twice. "Weasley," he greeted.
When he looked away, he caught Potter staring at he and Hermione's intertwined hands.
"Come in, come in! Dinner's almost ready," Ginny said, leading them into a cozy parlor. "Would you two like something to drink?" Ginny asked as Hermione led Draco to a small leather couch.
"I'd love a glass of wine. And firewhiskey for Draco," she said, smiling at him.
Ginny looked to Draco for confirmation, and he offered her a curt nod and a quiet, "Thank you."
As Ginny left the room, Hermione turned to Draco. "Relax," she said softly. "No one is going to hex you over the dinner table."
"I know," he replied quietly. "I just—I don't know what to do, or say, or—"
She ran her fingers through his hair, comforting him. "Just be you, Draco."
Draco met her eyes and nodded, grateful for her comfort. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny standing in the doorway, holding their drinks and watching them, eyebrow raised.
Catching his glance, Ginny neutralized her expression and made her way over to them, placing their drinks in front of them. "I'm so glad you two could come," she said conversationally, sitting in a chair across from them. "Imagine my surprise when Harry told me. I didn't believe him at first, thought he was joking with me."
Hermione laughed, always such a lovely sound. "I imagine he was surprised as well. We weren't quite ready to tell him yet." Hermione shrugged.
We.
Ginny nodded thoughtfully, just as Potter joined them, slipping into the chair next to Ginny. "Twenty minutes more and dinner should be ready," he said, mostly to Ginny, as he sipped at his own glass of firewhiskey.
Draco reached forward and took his own gulp of firewhiskey before returning it to the table. The warmth of the liquor hit him, and it calmed him slightly.
"So," Ginny began, sipping at her wine. "How did you two…reconnect?" she asked, awkwardly.
Draco instantly looked to Hermione, who nodded to him gently. Draco took a breath. "My mother has not been well, since—" he cut off. "My mother has been in poor health for a few years now. Her memory is not well. I had run out of options for her care, so I came to Hermione for help."
When he looked up, Potter was staring at him intently.
Hermione squeezed Draco's hand, grounding him.
"And you just fell for each other?" Ginny asked with a snort.
Hermione laughed. "No, not by a long shot," she said fondly.
"No," Draco agreed. "We fought at first, quite a bit. It was slow," he said, looking to Hermione, "subtle. Until one day it just wasn't anymore."
Hermione smiled at him. "Yes," she agreed.
Potter and Ginny were staring at them, each with an odd expression. Potter quickly drained his glass of firewhiskey. "I'll go check on dinner," he muttered, leaving the room quickly.
"Is he going to be shifty all night?" Hermione asked Ginny.
Ginny shrugged. "I honestly don't know. This is…odd," she explained.
Hermione sighed, shifting against the back of the couch. "I need something stronger than wine, clearly." Draco grabbed his glass of firewhiskey and offered it to her wordlessly. With a small grin, she gulped it with a grimace. "Thank you."
Ginny sighed and rose. "I'll go check on him."
"This is going horribly," Draco lamented. "I should leave, and you can have dinner with your friends." He made to rise.
Hermione's hand grappled for his, and she pulled him down forcefully. "You will sit your arse down, Draco Malfoy," she ordered.
Draco obeyed.
"Dinner's ready," Ginny called happily from the doorway.
Hermione rose, her fingers still a vice on his, and pulled him into the dining room, which had been set for four people. Potter was sitting at one end of the table, another glass of firewhiskey in hand. Ginny sat down next to him and wordlessly passed the bottle of firewhiskey to her left, indicating where Draco should sit. Hermione's fingers left his briefly as she, too, sat, before they found his knee under the table, where she rested her palm. Draco nodded gratefully to Ginny and poured himself another glass of firewhiskey.
The food was spooned magically onto their plates: roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and green beans.
Draco felt his stomach clench. He was too nervous to eat, so he sipped his firewhiskey and picked at a bit of mashed potato. Hermione was tense beside him and hadn't even touched her food. He looked to her, and her eyes were flashing between Potter and Ginny. His hand found her knee under the table, and he squeezed gently, mirroring her comfort. He felt the muscles in her knee, hard and tense. She was boiling and intense with rage. Rage for him.
He dropped his fork against his plate, and three pairs of eyes shot to him. "Let's drop the pretense, shall we," he said coolly. "If either of you have something to say to me, please, let's hear it. You're upsetting her." He motioned to Hermione.
"You're wrong for her," Potter quipped immediately. "You're cruel, and you're evil, and you don't deserve her."
"Harry!" Hermione and Ginny yelled in unison.
Draco nodded, before taking a sip of firewhiskey and replying calmly, "You think that you know me, Potter. Everyone thinks that they know me—But you don't—They don't. The only person—the only one—who knows anything about me, is Hermione. I don't deserve her, that much is true. But she chose me. And I choose her. I don't care if you like me, or respect me, but at least respect her," he said heatedly.
Potter just stared, shocked.
Ginny smirked faintly.
Hermione looked at him with abject affection.
"No one wants to be here less than me, but I came because you two are important to her. So I'm here, for her."
It was eerily calm for a minute before Ginny spoke, "Harry, can I see you in the kitchen?"
Potter's head shot up, looking guiltily at his wife. "Sure," he said dully, even as he was yanked up by his wife, who led him away.
Hermione's eyes narrowed, and she shot out of her chair immediately, following behind them quietly. With a sigh, Draco followed her. He found her outside of the kitchen, pressed against the wall. The door was slightly ajar.
"He's a Death Eater, Ginny!"
"Was! You testified!"
"Because—"
"You're just mad because—"
"He—!"
"—It's not Ron!"
"No—"
"Harry—"
"Ginny—"
Ginny moved closer to Potter, pulling him into her. "Have you seen the way he looks at her? He adores her, Harry," she said softly.
Hermione looked to Draco then, and he pressed a kiss to her temple.
"He hated her kind, Ginny, how can you forget that?" Potter argued.
"Because he clearly changed, Harry. I don't know him, and I certainly don't like him. But isn't he right? She sees something in him. We at least have to respect that. They adore each other," Ginny insisted.
Potter audibly sighed. "I—I—I'll try."
Hermione dragged Draco away from the door frame and back to the dining room table. "I do adore you," he murmured to her once they were seated
Potter and Ginny arrived moments later. "Sorry for the interruption," Ginny said, as she sat back down. "So, Malfoy," she began. "Tell me about yourself."
Two bottles of wine and a bit of firewhiskey later, Hermione and Ginny had paired off, giggling in the opposite room. Draco and Potter were left alone in the parlor, silently sipping firewhiskey. After a long period of quiet, Potter finally spoke, "She's my best friend, you know."
"I know," Draco replied.
"What do you like about her?" he asked.
"I like everything about her."
Potter rolled his eyes. "I've known her half my life. There are things I don't even like about her."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "Don't insult my girlfriend, Potter. I will hex you."
Potter laughed, drunkenly. "I'm serious. She can be insufferable."
"Maybe to you," Draco muttered, taking a gulp of his firewhiskey.
"I'm serious, though. What do you like about her?" Potter repeated.
Draco sighed. "She's the best person I know. She's so kind it hurts sometimes. She's always thinking about everyone else—how she can make things better. She's so caring, and protective, and fierce, and the smartest person I've ever met. The bossiest, too." His lips quirked in a faint smile. "She saw me," he finished simply.
He was drunk. He was definitely drunk.
Potter stared at him thoughtfully for a moment before he spoke, "Ginny was right; you really do adore her."
"Yes, I do," Draco affirmed.
Potter ran a hand over his face in sheer exhaustion. "I'm sorry about Ron," he muttered. "He's always been hot-tempered, but I've never seen him like this before. I think he's having some sort of breakdown."
"As long as he has it far away from her," Draco replied. "Weasley can break my face all he wants, but I don't like seeing her cry."
"It's all a mess, Malfoy," Potter said.
"What are we, friends now?"
Potter laughed. "No, definitely not."
Hermione and Ginny stumbled into the parlor just then, red-faced and giggling. "Malfoy!" Ginny cried. "He, the haver of thecock!"
Hermione fell into a fit of giggles. "Gin!" she admonished, as she doubled over in her laughter.
"She talked about your dick for a solid 30 minutes, Malfoy." Ginny said seriously. "I'm almost jealous."
Draco stood, catching Hermione by her elbow. "All right, time to get you home," he said quietly.
"But I'm having fun! Did you have fun?" she slurred.
"I had so much fun. But it's time for us to go now," he murmured.
She was still giggling as he led her to the Floo. He nodded both to Potter and Ginny, in thanks, before disappearing and quickly landing in Hermione's flat. Draco led Hermione out of the fireplace, and she quickly wrapped her arms around him. "You lovely, lovely man," she whispered drunkenly.
"Did I do well?" he asked her.
Hermione rested her head against his shoulder. "The best. You're the best one, Draco."
Draco stroked her back lightly. "You're the best one," he said softly.
"Gin likes you," Hermione said quietly.
He looked down at her quickly. "She does?"
Hermione hiccupped. "—The way you stuck up for me."
"Of course I did—"
"I'm falling in love with you," she said quietly, somberly.
Draco stilled for just a moment before he took her face in his hands. "Me, too, Hermione. Me, too."
"Really?" she asked girlishly.
"I adore you, Hermione. I absolutely adore you," Draco replied. "I'll do anything for you—you have to know that."
"Crooks likes you," she said with a laugh. "I never thought I'd see that." Crookshanks immediately appeared in the doorway, clearly watching them. "Crooks, come here." Crookshanks instantly obeyed, rubbing himself against her legs first, then Draco's. "You like him, don't you?"
Crookshanks responded with an aggressive headbutt to his knee. "Pretty sure that was a yes," Draco mused.
"They're never wrong—animals," she began. "They instantly know who's good, and who's bad."
"Crooks may be having a lapse in judgement," Draco replied. Crookshanks promptly started scratching at his leg. "Ow, Crooks. The fuck?"
The cat glared back at him.
"He likes you," Hermione repeated.
"I like him, too, as long as he's not scratching at me." Draco scratched behind the half-Kneazle's ears. "You hear that? Please don't hurt me."
"He's very protective of me," Hermione said.
"So am I," he said with narrowed eyes.
Her eyes flickered to his. "It won't ever be easy."
"I don't care," he replied. "You are worth it. All the awkward dinners, the getting spit-on in public, the slurs; you're worth it. I'll do it all—I'll deal with it all, as long as I have you."
"And I'll bludgeon anyone who dares to come near you," she murmured.
Draco laughed. "You're a violent drunk, aren't you?" he mused.
Hermione pulled him close, resting her head on his shoulder. "Don't like you hurt," she said simply.
Draco wrapped his arms around her, and they stood that wait for a few minutes, just holding each other—taking comfort in one another. "Are you ready for bed?" he asked her quietly.
"Are you staying?" she asked.
"Yes," Draco replied.
Pulling away from him, Hermione grabbed his hand and led him towards her bedroom. They both undressed, abandoning their clothes in a pile on the floor. Hermione slipped into the bed first, waiting for Draco. Darkening the room with a quick wave of his wand, he slid in next to her. Hermione was instantly in his arms, resting her head above his heart. Draco pulled the covers up over them, nestling down in the bed with her. Absently, he stroked her hair. It was freshly washed and tamer than he had ever seen it, soft curly tresses that fell down past her shoulders.
"What did you and Harry talk about?" she asked suddenly.
Draco shrugged even as he laid in the bed. "Not much talking, really. More like sullen drinking." Hermione's head cocked, and he caught a small frown. "I know you were hoping that one dinner was all that it would take for us all to be friends, but I'm afraid it's going to take a lot more than that. If you remember, you didn't like me all that much at first either."
Hermione sighed against him, her breath dancing over the naked skin of his chest, making him shiver. "I suppose it was too much to hope for, wasn't it?"
"After one night? Yes, my little idealist, it was," Draco said with a small chuckle.
"Would you go again? If they asked," Hermione asked quietly.
"If they ask, and you want me to go, we will go."
"Thank you, Draco," she replied, cuddling into him further.
"Anything for you."