When Hermione's Muggle alarm clock went off in the morning, Draco was less than thrilled. He had never been much of a morning person, and in the past several weeks he had grown accustomed to staying in bed for hours long after Hermione's alarm had gone off and she had headed to work.
Today was not to be one of those days.
Draco observed as Hermione took a shower and got dressed. She appeared more sluggish than normal as she pulled an olive green jumper over head, and Draco could see across the room that the bags under her eyes were just as prominent as they had been yesterday. Another stab of guilt, deep in his belly.
Reluctantly, Draco rose and splashed his face and underarms with water before joining Hermione in the bedroom, where she was pulling on a pair of dark denims. He gently placed his hand on the small of her back to steady her. "You're not going to shower?" she asked.
Draco shrugged. "I had one last night before you got home."
Hermione studied him for a brief moment, and finding his answer satisfactory, continued dressing, pulling on a pair long cotton socks and a pair of riding boots. "You don't have to come with me this early, you know," she said quietly. "You can always come in at opening, like you used to."
The reason he used to come later remained unspoken between them. "No, I want to," he replied, even though he very much did not want to be anywhere this early in the morning. "I've never seen you brew," he continued, which was true. "And I'd like to help." Also true.
She smiled at him, but it seemed strained. "Okay," she replied.
Draco took several steps toward her, gently clasping her upper arms with his hands. "I mean—as long as that's all right with you," he said, questioningly.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, it's fine. I just—I want to make sure you're ready."
"I'm ready," Draco replied. "Last night—I realized we haven't—I haven't—" he cut off. "I should be back with you." He swallowed. "I miss you."
Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling their bodies flush. "I miss you," she replied quietly. "But I don't want to push."
It was then that he realized that he had indeed succeeded in pushing her away, if only just a bit. They hadn't had sex since before—well, since the aftermath of his mother's death, and that been more comfort than anything. Draco hadn't realized how important the intimacy of sex was in their relationship until it had gone missing.
The way she'd kissed him last night—she felt it, too.
Suddenly determined, Draco pressed against her, backing her into the dresser until his knee was between her legs. "Hermione," he said lowly.
"Yes?" she asked nervously.
"I think," he began, swallowing. "I think, that if you can, you should skip brewing this morning."
"Oh?" Hermione replied quietly.
"If you can," Draco reiterated, more seriously.
"Why is that?"
Draco pressed into her, his cock hardening. "I think we should stay here and have sex," he replied, nipping gently at her earlobe.
Hermione gasped, "Draco."
He pressed kisses to her jaw and neck. "Is that a yes?" he asked, his voice husky.
"Draco," she groaned.
"Yes?" Draco asked again, closing his eyes and thrusting up into her again, his cock hardening further.
She placed both of her palms on his chest and pushed him back, gently. "Draco, we can't. Not right now."
A coldness washed over him at her rejection. He pulled away from her violently. "Oh," he said numbly.
"Draco, wait—"
"It's fine," Draco cut her off. "Let's just go to work."
"Draco," Hermione pleaded quietly.
"It's fine. I just misunderstood what you were saying, is all," he replied.
"You didn't," she said desperately. "You didn't. But I don't want a quick shag with you before work."
He relented, looking back towards hers. "Tonight?" he asked quietly.
Hermione looked away from him. "I don't know. Maybe."
"Maybe?" he asked hoarsely. "Hermione, what's wrong?"
Hermione bit her lip, as if she were nervous. She was quiet for several seconds before she spoke again, "We aren't connecting right now."
"I know, that's why—"
"You think I want a quick shag with you before work? You think that will fix it?" she asked, tears forming in her eyes.
"Hermione, no—"
"All you've done for weeks is lay in bed—Don't think you're fooling me, Draco. I know you spend all day in bed. And that's fine—"
"Is it?" Draco interrupted, sneering. "Because it doesn't seem fine."
Hermione sucked in a deep breath, closing her eyes. "You don't talk to me anymore," she said quietly. "You lie to me. You're pushing me away. And you think I want sex?"
"I don't know!" he cried. "After you kissed me last night, I thought—"
"I just wanted to kiss you! You barely do more than kiss me on the cheek these days, and if it's on the lips, it's a peck!" she yelled back.
Draco took several more steps back. "I think you should go to work by yourself," he said quietly, looking away from her. "You're right, I'm not ready."
"Draco—"
"Go to work, Hermione," he interrupted coldly. "We'll talk later."
She Floo'd to work, and Draco promptly threw himself back into their bed, burrowing deep into the covers and trying not cry.
He was awakened hours later when the mattress beside him sagged lightly. Lithe fingers stroked his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Draco," she said softly.
Draco rolled to face her, keeping his expression carefully closed. "You're home early."
"Lunch," she explained.
He nodded against the pillow.
"I was too harsh," Hermione began.
"A bit," Draco agreed quietly.
"I just don't—"
Draco rolled to face her and interrupted. "It's not just sex, Hermione. It's never just been sex with you. You feel a disconnect? Well, I feel it, too. I thought—I thought sex could help."
Hermione nodded. "I was too harsh," she repeated. "We have very emotional sex. I shouldn't have—I shouldn't have assumed." She hugged her knees to her chest.
He grabbed her calf, squeezing it gently. "I know I'm a mess. I know—Hermione, I'm doing what I can. I'm sorry that it's sex."
"It's never just been sex. I'm a bitch," she said quietly.
"No," Draco argued. "You're not."
She smiled weakly at him. "I scheduled an hour for lunch."
"I don't want a quick shag either, Hermione," Draco replied. "I wanted to make love to you." He blushed at his own words.
"Tonight?" she asked shyly.
He smiled at her. "Yeah, okay," Draco said softly. "Now, you said you had an hour?"
Hermione nodded, the confusion evident on her face.
Draco pulled gently at her ankle. "Come here," he said, motioning for her to lay down next to him. She obliged without question, and Draco rolled onto his side, pulling her body into his and wrapping his arms around her. He pushed the hair from the nape of her neck, planting a soft kiss there. Hermione shivered slightly in his arms. "You were right," he admitted after a moment. "I have been pushing you away."
"Why?" Hermione asked, girlishly.
He sighed against her neck. "I don't know," he replied, which in part, was truthful.
Hermione flipped in the bed, turning to face him. "Please stop," she begged quietly. Her eyes were wet, glimmering with unshed tears.
"Okay," Draco said quietly, tightening his hold on her.
Seemingly pacified, Hermione buried her head in Draco's shoulder and closed her eyes. "Wake me in an hour?"
Draco nuzzled into Hermione, breathing in the lovely scent of her and closing in his own eyes before nodding. "Yes," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair. "I love you."
"I love you so much," she whispered back.
Hermione dozed away her lunch break in his arms, and Draco felt as if they were more connected than they had been in weeks, and he was reluctant to let her go when it was time for her to head back to Elixir. She seemed to feel it, too, as she gazed up into his eyes as they stood before the Floo. "I'll see you tonight?" he asked, unsure why he was even asking the question, then he grimaced.
She caught his expression and giggled up at him. "Of course you'll see me tonight," she replied before a blush crept up her cheeks.
Draco smirked down at her. "I love when I make you blush," he whispered.
Hermione smiled. "Haven't seen you smirk in a while. I'd forgotten just how smug you can look," she replied in jest.
He sighed and kissed her smile, lingering on her lips for just a moment before he pulled back away. "Tonight," Draco confirmed, leading Hermione closer to the Floo by her waist.
She nodded. "Tonight," she repeated, right before she disappeared through the Floo.
Hermione was late—later than she'd ever been before and Draco was beginning to panic.
He'd been a veritable ball of anxiety since their conversation earlier in the day, but now it was beginning to grow worse with every minute that she was not home. Perhaps she had changed her mind and she was not going to come home?
It was a ridiculous thought, Draco realized, given that she owned this flat, but he found he could not keep his irrational thoughts at bay.
She had been entirely correct, of course, in her assessment of him; he had stopped being vulnerable with her, and he had been hiding things from her. And, of course, there was the matter of him pushing her away. Draco had consciously attempted to push her away after her injury, consumed by his own guilt, but he hadn't realized that every action—or, rather, inaction, since his mother had died, had succeeded in creating a noticeable wedge between him and Hermione.
Since Hermione had been injured, Draco's own self-loathing had convinced him that pushing Hermione away was for her protection. But then, today, her eyes wet with tears, as she pleaded with him to just stop, Draco had come to the intense realization that, in fact, he was hurting her.
Draco hated when Hermione was hurt.
Hurt.
What if Hermione was hurt?
What if she was hurt—
With this thought, Draco grabbed a handful of Floo power, preparing to head to Elixir where he was certain he'd find Hermione, horribly mangled in some way, when the front door of the flat opened with a faint click and Hermione stepped inside, holding two bags of takeaway. She tilted her head when she took in his position and his handful of Floo powder. "Going somewhere?" she asked, confused.
Draco instantly dropped the Floo powder back into its pail. "You were late," he said quietly. "I was starting to get worried."
Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "I thought we could have dinner. As of way of me saying 'sorry.' But they messed up my order," Hermione rolled her eyes at this, "and it took forever for them to fix it."
Draco sighed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in tightly even as Hermione continued to awkwardly hold the bags of takeaway in her outstretched hands.
Hermione laughed. "Draco, it's just takeaway!"
"I had just half-convinced myself that you were hurt and bleeding somewhere," he replied into her hair.
Hermione dropped the bags of food on the coffee table before she wrapped her own arms around his midsection. "I didn't mean to worry you, Draco," she said softly. "It was only supposed to take 5 minutes. I'm right here, see?" She squeezed him.
Draco nodded and pulled away. "I realize I'm being irrational," he replied with a self-deprecating laugh.
"I probably would've been worried, too," she admitted, running her fingers through his hair. "Here, let's eat." She ripped the bags open and pulled out the food, depositing several containers onto the coffee table.
Truthfully, Draco didn't have much of an appetite. He'd been in a state of anxiety and half-arousal all day long and he very much wanted to push all of the containers to the floor—carpet be damned—and make love to Hermione on top of the coffee table until they were both breathless and sated.
But neither of them wanted a quick shag, so Draco would be patient and would wait for his witch to eat dinner. Draco suddenly had a realization—she'd come home on her lunch break to shag him, and hadn't eaten a damn thing. Draco frowned, remembering the feeling of her ribs beneath his fingertips. "You didn't eat today," he said, not bothering to ask a question.
Hermione shook her head as she took a bite of food. "I had other concerns," she replied simply.
He sighed and rubbed her back between her shoulder blades. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.
"No," Hermione replied, dropping her fork and turning to him. "I'm sorry. I was awful to you this morning." Her hands fell into her lap, and she began to fiddle with her thumbs until Draco reached his own hand out, twining their fingers together and stilling hers.
"I've been hurting you," Draco argued back, squeezing her fingers.
"You've been hurting," Hermione countered.
He would never win in a battle of wills against Hermione Granger. Draco exhaled lowly and motioned toward the takeaway. "Eat, Hermione," he urged.
Hermione obliged, munching happily away at her pasta dish as Draco picked absently at his own. She held his hand the entire time, and it felt nice. He had missed this. Had missed her. Her skin was so soft and warm against his own, and he couldn't wait to feel her body pressed up against his again, every inch of her skin touching his own. Draco felt a tingle of excitement raise up his spine—it had been too long since he'd touched her the way she needed him to.
When she was finished, Hermione turned to him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She looked nervous. "So," she said quietly.
"So?" Draco replied, raising his eyebrows in question.
"Now what?" Hermione asked, her eyes fixed on the ripped takeaway bag that still sat on the coffee table.
Draco shrugged, playing with her fingers. "Whatever you want," he said, grinning at her.
She blushed furiously and did not reply.
"Hermione," Draco asked softly. "What's wrong?"
Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm so nervous."
Draco frowned. "Nervous?" he asked, furrowing his brows. Nervous? That was concerning to him. As far as Draco was concerned, Hermione Granger, for all intents and purposes, was a literal sex goddess. She was always confident in the bedroom, never shy about asking for what she wanted or needed. She was not afraid to take control, and despite the self-consciousness she sometimes exhibited to the outside world, it never made its way into the bedroom. Hermione was not shy or self-conscious about her body the way he had known most women to be when they were naked. Draco brushed a curl over her shoulder. "Why are you nervous?"
Hermione shook her head. "It's stupid," she said quietly. She still wouldn't look at him.
"Tell me," he pleaded. "I don't want you to be nervous."
Hermione swallowed visibly. "We've just—we've never planned sex before."
It was true, they hadn't; it had always been spontaneous and in the heat of the moment. "I would've thought that planning it would've turned you on, my little swot," he replied with a smirk.
She laughed uncomfortably. "You'd think."
"Hey," he called for her gently, passing his fingers over her cheek. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to. I want you comfortable."
Hermione shook her head. "I'm being ridiculous—we used to have sex almost every day."
"We don't have to have sex, Hermione. Let's just—let's spend some time together," he suggested, motioning towards the couch. Draco relinquished his hold on Hermione and sat back against the couch, beckoning for Hermione. She sat next to him before sinking lower and resting her chin against his shoulder and throwing an arm around his middle. Draco pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "I love you," he said. "I know I don't tell you enough."
"We said we would," Hermione said shyly.
Draco ran a soothing hand down her back. "We didn't swear a blood oath, Hermione."
"I like to keep my word," she replied stubbornly.
She was pressuring herself into having sex with him—he could feel it. His stomach dropped. She didn't—she didn't want to. He felt ill, and he was grateful he hadn't eaten much of the takeaway, because the sudden urge to vomit was currently very strong. He'd thought about her all day, how much he wanted her, how much he missed her—how much he fucking needed her—and she—
He'd known they were disconnected—he'd known, because he was the fucking cause of it. But he hadn't realized it was this bad. They were so badly disconnected that Hermione had to talk herself into having sex with him.
Draco swallowed and removed his hands from her body. "I think I'll take a shower," he said tonelessly.
Hermione sat up straight. "What?" she asked, clearly surprised.
"I'll be back," he replied, ignoring her question with a sharp nod of his head.
"Wait!" she cried out, her hand reaching up to catch his. Draco turned back to face her. "I don't want you to go."
Draco stilled. "I'm not going anywhere," he replied calmly.
Hermione grimaced but held his hand tighter. "Don't walk away from me right now," she said quietly. "You never used to walk away from me. You were always more in touch with your emotions than I was." She smiled bitterly.
"Surprising, really," Draco replied sarcastically.
Hermione's face fell slightly. Her grip on his hand was so tight his fingertips were beginning to lose feeling, but he didn't dare pull away from her. She was touching him, and that was good. "Please," she begged.
Draco nodded. "All right."
"Don't take a shower," Hermione said quietly. "Let's go to bed."
"Hermione, I don't want to have sex with you if you're nervous, or like now, upset," Draco replied, his eyes drifting towards the bathroom.
Hermione shook her head. "Can we cuddle?" she asked in a small voice. "And talk? Like we used to?"
Draco's heart dropped in his chest. She wanted to cuddle and talk. That's how badly they were disconnected, how badly he'd fucked their relationship up. He wanted to gather her in his arms and pull her into his chest and never let her go. "Yeah, of course," he replied, reaching for her other hand.
Her eyes brightened as she took his hand and stood. "Really?" she asked.
"It's rare that you want to cuddle. I'd be a fool to say no," Draco said, grinning lightly.
They walked to the bedroom hand-in-hand and once inside, Draco pulled his jumper and trousers off before slipping under the covers and beckoning for Hermione to join. She bit her lip and removed her own jumper and leggings before crawling under the covers, still clad in her bra and knickers. She nestled into him, her back pressed to his front, just as they had done during her extended lunch break during the day. "I'm sorry," she whispered into the darkness.
"For what?" he asked, dropping his chin down onto her shoulder, content to listen to her speak.
"I got into my own head—about the sex," she replied.
"You, overthinking? Imagine," Draco said dryly.
"Thank you for being so understanding," Hermione continued.
Draco kissed her bare shoulder. "I love you," he whispered against her skin. "I will always love you. I promised, remember?"
"You did, didn't you?" He could hear the smile in her voice.
"Yes, and I remain committed to that promise."
"Good," Hermione said softly, wrapping her fingers around Draco's wrists. After several minutes, she spoke again, "Do you miss her? Your mother?"
"I don't know," Draco replied automatically.
Hermione turned back to face him, clearly expecting him to expand on his answer.
He sighed. "I mean, of course I do. She was my mother and I loved her—but, at the same time, everything I've found out about her afterwards..." Draco trailed off, trying to find the right words to describe how he was feeling. "I'm angry at her," he admitted. "I miss her, but I'm so incredibly angry at her."
Hermione nodded. "I know you are. I am, too." She played absently with his fingers resting near her belly button. "I wish she had been honest with you—about everything. I don't think you'd be hurting as badly if she had just told you the truth about your father."
"You're right, I think." Draco laughed bitterly. "The thing is—I get it. I understand. You know how I feel about my father. I would've been fine if she had divorced him. But I would've wanted to know. I mean, being buried with the Blacks, leaving everything to me and Andromeda. Did she think I wouldn't figure it out?"
"I don't know what she was thinking, Draco. Maybe she was going to tell you—maybe she thought she had more time," Hermione reasoned.
"Maybe," he relented, pressing an absent kiss to Hermione's cheek.
"I really am sorry about this morning," Hermione whispered.
"Stop apologizing," Draco replied, placing a gentle kiss just beneath Hermione's jaw. "It's fine." Hermione let out a breathy moan, and Draco froze for just a second, before he continued kissing down her throat, then moving to the nape of her neck and down to her shoulders. Hermione turned in the bed and caught his face with her hands, pulling his mouth to hers. Draco couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips. Yes, this was good. He'd missed kissing her like this. How had he managed to go so long without it?
"Draco," Hermione murmured, pressing her hips against his.
"Hmm?" Draco replied, closing his eyes as he felt blood rush to his groin.
"Draco," she repeated, before kissing him again. "I think I'd like to have sex now."
His eyes flew open to look at her. Hermione was watching him, a sly smile gracing her face, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded. "Is that so?" Draco asked, a smirk growing on his own lips. Hermione bit her lip and nodded, shyly. His cock was suddenly rock hard. He needed her, now. Draco rolled so that he was abov here, balanced on his elbows. He dipped his head down, searching once more for her lips.
"Ow," Hermione muttered, just as Draco was about to kiss her.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Hermione squirmed beneath him. "Yeah—you're just—you're on my hair."
"Oh, sorry," Draco said, shuffling so that his elbows were above her head. Hermione's hair now out of the way, Draco bent down again, determined to taste her again. Hermione titled her upwards to meet him, and their teeth clanked together painfully. "Ouch," Draco murmured, pulling away from her.
Hermione grimaced. "Sorry."
Draco rubbed at his tooth before shaking his head. "It's fine," he replied, moving to kiss her again. As their lips finally met, Hermione whimpered softly against him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him in closer. Draco's tongue darted out to tease the seam of her lips, and she opened for him eagerly. Draco massaged her tongue with his before slipping his hand down her body, gently teasing at her covered clit with his fingers. Hermione moaned and jerked beneath him, and the action caused her to bite down on his tongue. "Fuck!" he swore, pulling away.
Hermione sat instantly. "Draco! Are you okay? I'm so sorry—you surprised me."
"It's fine," Draco repeated, even as the coppery taste of fresh blood flooded his mouth.
"Let me see," Hermione urged. "You're bleeding."
Draco shook his head. "I'm fine, Hermione. Really." He grasped her by her hips and rolled them so that Hermione was on top of him. Wanting to see more of her, Draco reached up and went to undo the clasp of her bra. He fumbled with the clasp for several moments before it finally came undone and Draco could pull the offending garment from Hermione's breasts. As he pulled it away, the metal clasp got caught on the skin of her back, and Hermione cried out as it scratched her skin. "What's wrong?" Draco asked, confused.
"The clasp got stuck in my back," she replied, tentatively touching at her back. Her fingertips came away shiny with blood. "Damn it."
"Fuck," Draco swore. "I'm sorry, love."
"It's okay," she said, smiling down at him. "I guess we're a little out of practice."
Out of practice, indeed. It was like they were two fumbling teenagers about take each other's virginity without any clue what they were doing.
The sex was some of the most awkward that Draco had ever had in his life—it was blunder after blunder, and Draco felt a sense of relief when he came, albeit weakly, that finally it was over. Hermione rolled off of him, panting hard and staring up at the ceiling. "That was…" she began, trailing off.
Bad. It had been bad. There was no use in denying.
"I'm sorry I didn't make you come," Draco apologized after a moment.
"No, it's fine," she replied, instantly.
Draco could tell from that response alone that it had been just as bad for her. He turned his head to look at her, and Draco could see even in the dark that there was strained expression on her face. He turned away and stared at the ceiling. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.
It was his fault, he knew. He had pushed her away, he had pushed that wedge between them, and now they were feeling the consequences. Draco could never imagine that he and Hermione could ever have bad sex. Sex with Hermione was awe-inspiring, revelational in nature, the most transcendental experience he could ever imagine, it was—
Based on a connection, he realized, and his stomach dropped. He'd fucked it all up. Finally. He'd always known that he would, but now that it was actively happening—
He closed his eyes tightly, feeling the tears welling there.
Hermione didn't respond to his second apology. "I'm going to take a shower," she said quietly, rolling out of bed before Draco could even respond.
Draco wiped furiously at his face as a few tears leaked from his eyes. Maybe he could join her—make it better. Maybe they were just out of practice, and they just needed to get the awkwardness out of their systems. He shook his head at himself, there was no way he wanted to try again so soon after—that. Whatever that had been.
No. He wouldn't join her. Not now, not tonight.
Hermione returned a half-hour later, wrapped tightly in a towel. She dressed quickly and silently in the dark, pulling on a t-shirt and a pair of flannel of pajama pants before returning to the bed. She pulled the covers up to her armpits and Draco watched as she shut her eyes and took a deep breath before she rolled onto her side, facing away from him.
And for the first time Draco could ever remember, they fell asleep without talking and without touching.