It was just before 8 a.m. that Monday as Hermione and Draco stood hand-in-hand, waiting for Potter. Hermione typically left the flat at 7:30 so she could get in a couple of hours of brewing before she opened the shop, but on this morning, she had insisted that she would wait to leave until Potter had arrived, despite Draco's protestations.
So there they stood, Hermione trembling faintly beside him in anticipation. "Hermione," he said, looking over to her. "They accepted my offer; this is just semantics. You don't have to worry."
Hermione sighed. "I know that—logically, I do. I just—I just wish I could go with you," she lamented.
"I'll be okay," he promised her. "And I'll drop by Elixir as soon as we're done."
Hermione nodded forcefully. "Good," she replied.
It was 8:05, and Hermione was grumbling about how Potter never managed to be on time when the Floo roared to life and Potter strolled through, unrepentant about his lateness. "Ready to go, Malfoy?" he asked, after hugging a rather disgruntled Hermione.
"Let's fucking get this over with," Draco replied, taking a step towards Potter and the Floo.
Hermione's hand reached out, grabbing his before he managed to be out of reach. "Wait," she said softly.
Draco obliged, turning back to Hermione, who instantly threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close in a desperate hug. Draco dropped his head down and chuckled into the shell of her ear. "Relax, Hermione. It's going to be okay," he assured her once more.
"I know," she said quietly, nodding vigorously against his shoulder before releasing him.
"As soon as I'm done," he promised her, before taking another step towards Potter. "Apparate or Floo, Potter?"
"Floo," Potter replied, clapping Draco firmly on the shoulder. "Let's go get this over with."
Draco nodded, following Potter into the Floo. Hermione continued to stand in front of the fireplace, nervously wringing her hands in front of her. Draco watched her until Potter grabbed a large fistful of Floo powder and shouted, "Ministry of Magic!" Within moments, Hermione had disappeared, and Draco and Potter appeared in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. It was quiet as Potter strode purposefully through the Ministry, his head held high. Draco trailed behind him, his anxiety prickling just beneath his skin.
Draco kept his eyes downcast, focusing on the floor of the Ministry. It felt strange being here, so open and exposed without Hermione by his side. Potter was one thing, he supposed. Their relationship had certainly changed in the past few months, Potter now numbering among his few friends. He knew nothing would befall him while Potter was by his side, and Draco took a bit of comfort in that. But he knew he would feel much better with Hermione by his side. No, no one would dare harm him with Potter as his companion. But with Hermione—with Hermione, anyone who dared look at him with a hint of malice in their eyes ran the risk of being hexed into oblivion.
Draco sighed and lengthened his stride, catching up with Potter so that they were walking shoulder to shoulder.
"Good?" Potter asked quietly.
"Good," Draco replied.
They made their way to Shacklebolt's office without incident, and Potter knocked at the door as Draco simultaneously let out a breath. "All right, mate," Potter encouraged, once more clapping him on the shoulder as they waited for Shacklebolt to allow them entrance to his office.
"Come in!" called Shacklebolt's now-familiar voice.
Without hesitation, Potter pushed Shacklebolt's door open and greeted him genially, "Kingsley," he said warmly.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," Shacklebolt replied, gesturing to two matching wooden chairs in front of his desk. "Please, sit down."
Potter dropped gracelessly down into the wooden chair, immediately draping his right leg over his left knee. "So, Kingsley," he began artlessly, "what have you got for us?"
Shacklebolt tapped his fingers against the desk before lacing his fingers together atop the wooden expanse. "I, with the support of the Wizengamot, have decided to accept the transfer of Malfoy Manor to the Ministry of Magic as reparations for the funds that were embezzled from the investment accounts of one Lucius Malfoy," Shacklebolt began.
Potter nodded, fully in Auror mode now, Draco realized. "The terms?" he asked, glancing at Draco.
Shacklebolt shrugged. "The Ministry wants to take ownership of Malfoy Manor in its entirety," he said simply.
They had expected this, of course—Potter had even voiced it. Even so, Draco glanced up at Shacklebolt with narrowed eyes. His family home was worth much more than a lousy 400,000 Galleons—much, much more. Draco, feeling bold, said as such, "Forgive me, Minister Shacklebolt," he said, "but my ancestral home is worth a small fortune—much more than 400,000 Galleons. It seems quite unreasonable for the Ministry to take ownership of all of it."
"So what do you suggest, Mr. Malfoy?" Shacklebolt asked easily.
Draco gulped, thinking. Eventually, he spoke, slowly, "I want to keep the library. I also want my personal belongings as well as my Mother's. You won't find any dark artifacts amongst our belongings."
Shacklebolt snorted. "Mr. Malfoy, surely you are aware that the Malfoy library is one of the most valuable and extensive collections in all of England. We will want the library. Your personal belongings are of no interest to us."
Draco gritted his teeth. "I'm sure the personal belongings of Lucius Malfoy will be of interest of you," he countered.
Shacklebolt thought for a moment before nodding. "Yes, indeed," he replied.
"The first floor of the library is ordinary. The books on the second and third level are the ones you should be interested in," Draco said. "I want all of the books on the first floor. All of them. My belongings, and my mother's."
Shacklebolt unlaced his hands, once more tapping his fingers against his desk. "You will relinquish everything else?"
Draco nodded. "Yes," he replied. "There is a free house elf living there, though. If she wants to stay—allow her to stay, unbothered."
Shacklebolt nodded once more, pulling a piece of parchment towards him. With a quick spell, a quill began to scribble on the parchment, presumably drawing up the terms of the contract. Once the quill finished, it clattered against the wood of the desk. Hastily, Potter reached for the parchment and with a quick adjustment of his glasses, hastily began to read. "It's all here," he said finally. "You leave with the first floor of the library, the belongings of one Draco Malfoy, and the belongings of one Narcissa Malfoy. The house elf stays, unperturbed by the Ministry, if she chooses to." He glanced to Draco.
Draco thought for a moment. What would Hermione think? he thought to himself. You're missing something, her voice replied. Draco thought harder. Suddenly, he realized what was missing—something that Hermione would have pointed out instantly. "Yes, one more thing," he said finally.
"Yes?" said Shacklebolt.
"These reparations," Draco replied. "If any more crimes that my father committed come to light, I want them considered repaid. The land alone would cost more than 400,000 Galleons. If he's done anything else—I want nothing to do with it. I want a full pardon as far as his crimes go."
Shacklebolt shot a glance to Potter, who merely nodded. The quill rose once more, scratching briefly against the parchment. "Consider it a deal, Mr. Malfoy," Shacklebolt said.
Potter reviewed the parchment once more, before passing it to Draco. "Just need your signature," Malfoy."
Draco quickly grabbed a quill, hurriedly scrawling his name at the bottom of the parchment before pushing it towards Shacklebolt. "Are we done with this now?" he asked, exasperated.
Shacklebolt signed his own name below Draco's before nodding. "Yes," he said. "In 30 days, the Ministry will take full possession of Malfoy Manor. You have until then to remove the discussed exemptions."
Potter sighed and rose, making his way over to a bar cart at the far end of the Shacklebolt's office. He quickly poured three glasses of firewhiskey, handing one to Draco, and then to Shacklebolt himself. "Cheers," he said, taking a swig.
"Cheers," they all agreed.
"The library?" Shacklebolt said after a moment. "You really thought you'd get the library?"
Draco shrugged. "Hermione loves books. I had to at least try."
"Hermione does love her books," Potter agreed. "And she loves this git." He gestured to Draco.
Shacklebolt laughed, taking his own swig of firewhiskey.
Draco himself was feeling quite uncomfortable. He wanted Hermione. "Gentlemen, forgive me. I have the aforementioned witch anxiously waiting for me," he said, draining the contents of his glass.
"Use my Floo," Shacklebolt said, casually.
"I'm certain I'll see you later," Draco said to Potter, as he moved towards the Floo.
Potter nodded.
"Thank you, sir," Draco said to Shacklebolt. "I appreciate everything."
Shacklebolt raised his glass, nodding.
Draco took a large fistful of Floo powder and called for Elixir. Within seconds, he arrived in her shop, which was bustling. He took a moment to dust off his trousers. The green light caught Hermione's attention, and her gaze flashed towards him with a brief smile before turning back to her customer.
Seeing Hermione busy, Draco instantly took his place behind the register—ringing up customer after customer as she helped them. Eventually, the shop was empty, and Hermione bound towards him. "Tell me?" she said breathlessly, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close.
"The first floor of the library is yours," he replied, kissing her soundly.
"What?" she asked quietly, pulling away from him slightly.
Draco rubbed comforting circles into her back. "My possessions and my mother's possessions are all mine. The first floor of the library is mine—yours. Jinxy can stay if she pleases."
"You got me the library?" Hermione asked, reverently.
"Just the first floor," he replied.
"That's—Draco—"
"I know how much you love books," he offered.
"You did that for me?" she asked.
"Yes," Draco said. "Of course. I told you I wanted to keep it for you. I tried to keep all of it, in fact."
Hermione beamed at him. "Thank you, Draco," she said quietly, nuzzling his neck. "I just have one question," she continued after a brief pause.
"Hmm?" Draco asked, contented to just remain like this, with her.
"Where are we going to put all of them?" she asked, her voice full of concern.
Draco laughed heartily. "Some can come here—if you can find the space," he said with a shrug. "Maybe turn your guest room into a library."
Her eyes shone brightly at him, and for a moment, Draco was certain he saw tears in her eyes. "My very own library?" she whispered reverently.
"Consider it an early Christmas present," Draco replied, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.
"It is much too much," she said softly. "But thank you anyways."
"You are welcome," Draco said, kissing her cheek. Pulling away from her, Draco peered around the little shop, which had remained vacant since Draco had rung up the last customer. "Do you need me here today? I've only got 30 days to get everything I want out, and I'd really like to get started."
Hermione shook her head. "No, no! Go!" she said happily, pressing a palm to his chest. "I'll see you later?"
Draco nodded before pressing a kiss to her lips. "Later," he promised.
For the first time since he could remember, Draco Malfoy was happy—really and truly happy. With his legal troubles seemingly resolved, Draco found there were no unpleasant thoughts lurking in the recesses of his mind. Forfeiting his ancestral home was certainly not the most ideal experience, but it was infinitely more attractive than being dragged back to Azkaban, and for that, Draco was thankful. He had his belongings, his mother's belongings, and an entire floor of books for Hermione, which he was hoping would result in some rather passionate sex later on.
Yes, things were certainly looking up for Draco. His mother was cared for, he had a lovely witch waiting for him at home, and Draco couldn't think of a single thing to worry about at that moment. Breathing in deeply, Draco sucked in a large breath of cold air, relishing the icy chill that flowed through his lungs as he walked up the path leading to Malfoy Manor. While he could have apparated directly into the Manor, Draco preferred the rousing walk instead, feeling very much alive as he was right now.
As he arrived in the foyer of the Manor, Draco was shocked just how quiet and lonely it was. Had he really lived here, mostly alone for the past few years? It seemed so odd now, having grown so accustomed to Hermione's flat, where there was always some sort of noise to be heard—the telly, left on in the background, all but forgotten. A tea kettle, screaming in the kitchen as Hermione scribbled furiously at a piece of rustling parchment. Even Hermione as she read made noise, humming thoughtfully as she flipped the pages.
Here, though—the silence was palpable. All Draco could hear was himself as he breathed, in and out. It dawned on him suddenly that this place was no longer his home—it hadn't been in a while.
With this thought, Draco made his way to his bedroom, and swinging the door open, he stopped to survey the contents of the room. There were several large pieces of furniture, including his bed, a set of dresser drawers and an antique night table. Hermione had just bought all new bedroom furniture when she had purchased her flat, so his bedroom furniture certainly wouldn't be necessary.
Sighing, Draco made his way to the closet, thinking it was as good a place to start as any. Draco already had several sets of clothes that stayed at Hermione's flat permanently, so he might as well move all of his clothes over. He performed several shrinking spells and before long, every item of clothing he owned was no larger than a Galleon. Tucking his clothes into a pocket, Draco made his way deeper into the closet, finding trunk upon trunk, each filled to the brim with pictures, old Hogwarts parchments, and all of his old Quidditch gear. Grinning at the long-forgotten Slytherin uniform, Draco shrunk all of those trunks as well, wondering idly if Hermione could be convinced to try some Hogwarts-themed roleplay.
A few hours later, just as Draco had found several vials of leftover, somewhat questionable potions that he pocketed for Hermione, he was disturbed by a loud wrapping at his bedroom window. The little owl was instantly recognizable as Astoria Greengrass' Vizzy. Draco furrowed his brow and rushed to the window to allow a distinctly ruffled Vizzy inside. The owl hooed at him irritably before holding out her leg to him.
Draco unfurled the letter quickly and read hastily. It was a simple letter, and offered no explanation, no apology, it only offered one line: I'm at the Hawthorn Inn, room 417.
Internally, Draco seethed. She had disappeared for weeks with no explanation, and this was how she returned? Noting that it was still rather early in the day, Draco apparated to Hermione's flat to deposit his belongings. He haphazardly dumped his pockets onto Hermione's coffee table, reasoning that he would organize it later, before abruptly apparating into a luxurious section of magical London, in front of the Hawthorn Inn, a place he had once suffered through a truly mind-numbing dinner with his parents when he was a boy.
Making his way to the lifts, Draco made his way to the fourth floor. Upon finding Astoria's room, Draco beat his fist against the door, demanding attention. He only had to wait for a few moments before Astoria swung the door open. Upon seeing Draco, she smiled. "Draco!" she said, pulling him in for a quick hug.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Draco growled as she released him.
Astoria's smile dropped instantly. "What?" she asked quietly.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Draco repeated heatedly. "I have owled you five times, Astoria."
Astoria winced and looked away from him. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I had something to take care of back in France."
"Well, why couldn't you just say that?" Draco asked. "Hermione and I were worried about you."
"I'm sorry, it was urgent!" Astoria reasoned.
Draco studied her for a moment. She seemed remorseful as she stared at him, wide-eyed. "Are you okay?" Draco said finally, his anger leaving him quickly.
Astoria refused to meet him in the eye before nodding. "Yes," she replied.
Draco didn't believe her but nodded back before stepping more fully into her room. "Change of scenery?" he asked.
"Less people know me here," she said simply.
"Right," Draco replied, narrowing his eyes.
"So what's new with you?" Astoria asked brightly.
Draco couldn't help the dark laugh that escaped him and the rest of the tension in the room dissipated. "How much time and firewhiskey do you have?" he asked.
Astoria smiled again. "Vast quantities of both," she replied, heading towards the kitchen where a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey sat on the counter. She pulled two glasses from the counter and began to pour, motioning to the table.
"I was in Azkaban for five days," he began.
"What?" she asked, nearly dropping a glass of firewhiskey.
Draco nodded his thanks as Astoria placed one of the glasses in front of him. Gratefully he took a sip before continuing. "My father was doing something quite illegal during the War—financially, I mean. Thanks to fucking Weasley, the Ministry was alerted, and my arse ended up in Azkaban until Hermione managed to get me out."
"So, what you're telling me is that I didn't miss much?" Astoria replied teasingly.
"It's been downright boring without you here, Ms. Greengrass," he agreed taking another sip of firewhiskey.
Astoria cleared her throat, and her expression turned serious. "So, what's going on—with that?" she asked, awkwardly.
"It was whole big thing—I had to go before Shacklebolt and the Wizengamot under Veritaserum—that was fun, I assure you—and I ended up offering the Manor as a repayment." Draco shrugged, nonchalantly. "Just signed the papers this morning—I'm a free man."
"The Manor?" Astoria asked sadly.
"It's just a house, Astoria," Draco said quietly.
"Yes, but where will you live?" she asked.
Draco fidgeted for a moment. "Well, I guess I'm sort of moving in with Hermione."
"Sort of?"
"Well, it's all been very uncertain up until a few days ago. I'm practically living there anyways," he replied with another shrug.
Astoria chugged the rest of her firewhiskey quickly. "Merlin, Draco. I'm gone for a few weeks and you land your arse in prison before moving in with a girl. I clearly cannot leave you alone."
"Agreed. I've had to have my guy talk with Potter, and I assure you it is much less riveting," said Draco.
"You love her," Astoria said after a moment. It was not a question.
"Yes," he agreed instantly. "You have actually missed a fair bit, Ms. Greengrass."
"And it was just months ago when you were telling me you maybe liked her," she said, chuckling.
Draco shrugged. "That witch fought like mad to get me out of Azkaban. Things have changed a bit."
"You disgust me," she said fondly. "So, I know that Fridays are reserved for the Potters, but what say you and Hermione join me here on Saturday night, now that I'm back? I make fabulous takeaway."
"I'm sure Hermione would be fine with it. If I owl you, will you owl me back this time?"
"I was somewhere I could not be located," she said secretively. "I never got any of your owls, Draco."
"Right," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Well, I just wanted to stop by to give you a piece of my mind—I'm sure Hermione's at home waiting for me now."
"It was good to see you, Draco, truly," Astoria said with a small smile. "Please give my regards to Granger."
"I'll owl you tomorrow, yeah?"
"Yeah," Astoria agreed.
Satisfied that Astoria was, in fact, all right, Draco quickly made his way home, eager to see his witch again. Upon entering the flat, he found the telly blaring, but Hermione was nowhere in sight. "Hermione," he called, attempting to quell his sudden burst of fear.
"In here!" came a muffled voice from the bedroom.
Draco found her standing in front of the closet, her hands on her hips in frustration. "Hermione," he said quietly, greeting her with a kiss on her cheek. "What are you doing?"
"You have more clothes than I do," she huffed.
Draco looked up and saw that she had unshrunk his clothing and was attempting to hang it up next to her own. "Oh, I didn't mean for you to do that, Hermione," he said apologetically.
"It was a bit of selfish project for me," she admitted. "I wanted to go through your jumpers—you have the softest ones."
"Ah, so you were planning to rob me, then," Draco concluded.
"Borrow," she corrected.
"Borrow," he amended.
Smiling, Hermione turned to face him fully, standing up on her tiptoes, she looped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. "Hi," she said softly before capturing his lips with hers.
"Hi," he replied, unable to stop his own smile from forming as he crossed his arms over the small of her back.
"Where have you been?" she asked, resting her head against his shoulder. "I was worried when I found all of your stuff shrunken on my coffee table—and no you."
"Ah," Draco began. "Astoria has returned."
Hermione looked up at him sharply. "Is she okay?" she asked immediately.
"Seemed like it. Wouldn't tell me where she was, though. Apparently, she never got any of my letters—said she was somewhere she couldn't be reached," Draco said, furrowing his brow. "Bloody bizarre, really."
"Hmm," Hermione agreed, once again resting her head against his shoulder.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
Hermione nodded against him. "Yes, just tired. It was a long day."
"Have you eaten?" Draco asked.
"No," she said quietly.
Without removing his arms from the small of her back, Draco hoisted her easily over his shoulder. Hermione let out a small shriek before she began to laugh and swat playfully at his back. He turned and made his way to the living room, carrying her weight easily before depositing her gently on the couch. "Stay here. I'm going to make you dinner," he said.
Hermione continued to laugh. "Draco Malfoy, do you even know how to cook?"
"No," he said firmly. "But I'll think of something."
"Okay," Hermione said, beaming at him.
Thanks to Jinxy's recent grocery trip, their reserves were full, and Draco found several cured meats, cheeses, and fruits which he placed on a plate with some crackers and some fresh bread. It wasn't much, truly, but it would do in a pinch. At the last moment, Draco found an unopened bottle of red wine, which he opened, pouring two large servings into the stemless wine glasses Hermione kept at the front of the mounted cabinets. Casting a nonverbal spell, Draco levitated the plate of meat and cheese before taking the two glasses of wine and returning to the living room. He lowered the plate onto the table and set a glass of wine in front of Hermione.
"Charcuterie?" Hermione asked.
"Well, as you rightly pointed out, I can't cook," he said, in mock defense.
"It's perfect," she replied, kissing his cheek before taking a large sip of wine. "You made me dinner," she continued, smiling wildly. "And gave me a library."
"I suppose I did," Draco replied, feeling himself flush a bit at her praise.
They ate in comfortable silence before cuddling up on the couch together to watch a bit of mindless telly. Hermione's second glass of wine—to celebrate, she had insisted—seemed to have given her a second wind as she turned the telly off and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him to standing. "I want to properly thank you," she said seductively.
"Oh?" Draco asked, feigning innocence.
"Mmm," she agreed, pulling him down forcefully by the collar of his shirt so she could kiss him.
"By all means, Hermione," he said quietly, into the shell of her ear.
She led him to the bedroom then, and what followed—as Draco had hoped earlier in the day—was some truly wonderful sex. Hermione, who usually remained mostly composed during their lovemaking, had unraveled to the point of crying out, "Oh, fuck," as her second orgasm rolled over her. The unusual expletive falling from Hermione's lips sounded so fucking delicious that Draco quickly found his own end, grasping her hips tightly as he collapsed over her naked back with a loud groan.
Below him, Hermione sighed a satisfied sigh. Draco did not immediately remove himself, instead peppering feather light kisses against her spine and neck. She responded, tilting her head to allow him better access to the expanse of her throat, which he kissed and nipped at reverently.
He rolled over, pulling Hermione with him so that she laid between his legs and directly atop his chest. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her close. "I love you," he whispered into the dark room.
"I love you," she answered back easily. After a moment, she spoke again, "For the first time in months, I can't find anything to worry about."
"I know," Draco replied quietly. "It's odd, isn't it?"
"It is," she agreed. "A good odd."
Draco nodded against her shoulder before tightening his arms around her. She sank into him, her hands gripping lightly at his forearms before her grip became nonexistent as she fell asleep against him.
Yes, as far as Draco was concerned, everything was perfect.