When Draco woke back up, it was dark outside and he was lying in bed next to Hermione, who was smiling at him. "Hi," she said quietly.
"Hey," he replied, his voice groggy. "What time is it?"
Hermione shrugged. "Not that late," she replied. "You've only been asleep for a couple of hours."
Draco grimaced. "Sorry," he said. "You did that thing with my hair and I was just out."
Hermione giggled. "You're as bad as Crookshanks." She shifted in the bed, bringing herself closer to him, her eyes never leaving his. Slowly—experimentally—she nuzzled his nose with her own before gently pressing her lips to his for the first time in months. Closing his own eyes, Draco leaned into the sensation, enjoying the feeling. She surrounded him—her lips, her hair, the smell of her. It lasted mere seconds before Hermione was pulling away with hooded lids. "Hi," she repeated, flushing slightly.
"Hi," he replied, unable to contain his smile. "What was that for?" he asked.
Hermione shrugged again. "I'd nearly forgotten how cute you look when you sleep."
Draco smirked, shifting in the bed so he was able to peer down at her. "Cute?" he teased. "I'd always thought you found me rather handsome, so I'm feeling a touch hurt."
She smacked his shoulder playfully. "You're ridiculous," she said, laughing. "No," Hermione continued, "you are rather quite cute when you're asleep. You get this little smile on your face, and you look so relaxed. And I can tell when you're dreaming—you screw your brow up like this." Hermione attempted to intimidate the face he supposedly made.
At this, Draco raised a brow at her.
"Hush," she commanded, rolling her eyes, before resting her head back on the pillow. "Sometimes, when you'd sleep, I'd watch you, so maybe I could figure out what was going on in that torture chamber that's inside your head."
The conversation had gone from playful to serious in a matter of seconds. Draco sighed, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm sorry that you had to do that. I should've told you what was going on."
"And I should've asked," Hermione replied, and this time, it was with a little less argumentation. They were not disagreeing, now—they were simply talking.
This was good. This was what they needed—what they had just discussed. This was communication.
Draco shifted upwards, propping himself up on the pillow. Hermione gave him a questioning look, before he held out his arm, beckoning for her. Hermione sat up, sitting next to him. Draco draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. "You said you'd been seeing a Mind Healer," he said, feeling a bit uncertain. "Has that—" he broke, swallowing, "Has that been helpful?"
Hermione didn't answer right away, and Draco let her think. She let out a long exhale and said, "I hate it most days," she admitted. "But I can definitely see the difference. My thought processes have changed. I challenge myself when I have certain thoughts, or if I fall back on old behaviors."
"I'm not sure I understand," Draco replied, squeezing her shoulders in a way that he hoped communicated that he very much wanted to.
Hermione thought again, before her eyes seemed to light up. "So, you know how I used to tell you that I used to watch you when you sleep?" Draco nodded. "Before, I would've kept that to myself, because it would mean we have to have an actual conversation."
Draco grinned, understanding. "But now you've said it, and we talked."
Hermione nodded vigorously. "Yes," she said.
He kissed her lightly. "I'm glad you told me."
Hermione beamed at him. "O-oh," she stammered, looking surprised. "Good." She blushed furiously.
"Do you think—" he began to ask. "Do you think one could help me? Is that something I should do?"
"What? A Mind Healer?"
Draco nodded. "Yeah," he replied uncertainly.
Her smile, somehow, widened. "I think—I think it might. If you wanted to do that. I could help you find one."
"Okay," he said quietly, grateful for her. "Thank you."
She kissed him again, longer this time, as if experimenting. They were in uncharted territory, after all, and Draco himself wasn't entirely sure where the boundaries laid, and Hermione appeared to be in the same predicament. Testing, Draco pushed further, running his tongue across the seam of her lips. Hermione didn't even hesitate, opening herself to him, and he pushed in, eager to taste her again. It was like they were new again, like he was kissing her for the first time in the ambient light of Elixir, when he had no idea what he was doing with Hermione Granger in the first place—when he didn't quite understand the vast expanse of his feelings for her. This time, though, he knew. He knew it better than he knew currently knew his own name: he loved her, and he'd always love her. Perhaps he'd always loved her. The thought occurred to him then, and he pulled away from Hermione, gesturing towards the stack of journals on his bedside table. "Did you—?"
She didn't even allow him to finish his question before answering, "I got through everything there," Hermione replied.
Draco laughed. "Of course you did. I'd forgotten how ridiculously fast you read. It took me days."
"You had more to process than I did. Draco, I—" she began. She stood, grabbing one of the journals, and began to pace. "My gods, Draco. I don't even know where to begin!" she exclaimed. "This—" she motioned to the journal, "This is amazing. Your mother—a spy for The Order?" Hermione laughed. "I would've never guessed."
Draco nodded. "She played her part extremely well," he agreed.
"And her visions—I mean, she was seeing me in the 1970s. And Harry, and the Horcruxes!" Hermione stopped pacing, and sat down on the edge of bed, taking his hand. "She loved you. I already knew that, but this—I mean, Draco—"
"I know," he said, squeezing his hands. "I knew she loved me, too. I did. But she did everything for me, Hermione. I feel guilty for ever being angry with her," Draco admitted, looking away from her."
Hermione sighed. "She did this knowing you'd be angry with her. She expected it, Draco. This is her apologizing to you," she said softly.
Draco met her eyes again before nodding. "I guess I hadn't thought about it like that," he said. "She did write me a letter, apologizing for everything. I hadn't considered her journals as an extension of that."
"That's how I took it," Hermione said gently. After a moment, she bit her lip. "She wrote me a letter, too. I was waiting for you to wake up before I read it."
Draco looked at Hermione, surprised. "She wrote you a letter?" he asked. "Where?"
Furrowing her brows, Hermione reached for the envelope that had Draco's name on it. "Right here," she said as if it were obvious.
"Hermione, that's mine."
She stared at him. "No?" she said, questioningly. "That's my name, right there."
"No, that's mi—" Draco began before cutting himself off, laughing. "That brilliant woman."
"Draco, I'm confused," Hermione said quietly.
"It has to be one of her enchantments. I see my name and my letter, but you see your name and your letter. That's for your eyes only, Hermione," Draco explained.
Hermione stared down at the letter, as if attempting to wrap her mind around his explanation. "That—that would be a rather difficult piece of magic," she said quietly. "Brilliant, actually."
"Nothing about my mother would surprise me anymore," Draco said. "Go on." He motioned towards the letter. "Read it."
Biting her lip delicately, Hermione unfurled the parchment and began to read. After several minutes, she rolled the parchment back up, tucking it back in its envelope, and gave a watery-sounding laugh. "She apologized for identifying me at Malfoy Manor the day Bellatrix—" she cut herself off, as if unable to speak any more about that day. Draco wrapped his arms around her waist. "Well, she apologized. She felt horrible about it, but she did it to protect you. And she knew I'd be okay. She wouldn't have let me die—she would've blown her cover that day if she had to." Hermione laughed again. "Incredible."
Draco squeezed harder, and Hermione placed the envelope back on the bedside table before leaning back against him. He pressed a kiss into the covered shoulder blade. "These helped me a lot, Hermione," he said quietly. She turned her head to look at him. "I finally feel like I know her—and even if it's just paper and ink—it's better than all the questions I had. And the fact that she was willing to do anything for me—Well, I suppose that's why I decided to stop drinking."
Hermione nodded, encouraging him to continue.
Draco paused for a moment, trying to find the right words—this was important. "I was somewhat drunk when I read my letter. And it all just clicked; she would've done anything to keep me alive—I mean, she did do everything, and then I just thought, she did all that for me, and I'm just sitting here drinking my whole life away. I couldn't let her give her life up for that. It wasn't fair. That's the night I destroyed all of that firewhiskey."
Hermione touched his cheek, and Draco leaned into her touch. "She would be proud of you, Draco. She was always proud of you."
"I hope so," he said uncertainly.
Hermione twisted in his arms so that she was now facing him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her forehead against his. "Yes. She was," she said confidently. "She even said as much. Beyond that, you were put in a horrible situation—we all were, Draco, but we're working on it. You're working on it." She smiled at him. "And I'm proud of you."
Draco kissed her. "Thank you, Hermione."
"So, I was thinking," she said after a moment, relaxing into Draco's arms. "I think we should spend the weekend together."
Draco pulled her closer. "Oh?" he teased. "I think I could be made amenable to that."
Hermione bit her bottom lip. "I was just—I've missed you so much," she admitted. "And I just—I'd like to spend some time with you. Just talking and cuddling, maybe watch a few movies. Just—I don't know. It would be nice to just be. Together."
He grinned up at her. "Yeah, I think that would be nice," Draco replied, pushing her down on the bed. He rose and made his way to his dresser. "Shorts or trousers?" he asked, pulling open a drawer.
"Shorts," Hermione replied.
Draco tossed a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt to Hermione, grabbing his own pair of pajamas and going into his bathroom to change. When he returned, Hermione was lying under the covers, waiting for him. With a smile, he slid in next to her and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Are you tired?" he asked.
"Yes," she admitted, followed immediately by a yawn. "I've had a bit of trouble sleeping since—" Hermione broke off.
Since you left. It didn't need to be said, but Draco heard it all the same. He kissed her temple. "Sleep," he urged, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "I'll see you in the morning."
Hermione fell asleep almost instantly, and Draco watched her for several moments. A small smile graced her lips, and her face was relaxed—happy. Draco felt a surge of pride—he had made her happy. He could still make her happy.
He would make her happy.
The next morning, Draco headed to the kitchens before Hermione woke up, determined to surprise her with a big breakfast in bed. In addition to being somewhat sleep deprived, Hermione had also lost a fair bit of weight, and Draco did not enjoy the feeling of her ribs through her t-shirt.
When he arrived in the kitchens, Draco found Hexy already there, washing vegetables. "Morning, Master Dracos," squeaked the elf as he scrubbed at a potato.
"Morning, Hexy," Draco replied, rubbing at his eyes. "Where is Jinxy?"
Jinxy is already at work in the gardens, sirs!" Hexy exclaimed.
Draco nodded. "She's doing a great job—the gardens are looking great."
Hexy nodded vigorously. "Jinxy is always loving the flowers the most!"
Draco smiled down at the elf. "I know," he replied. "Hexy, is there any way you could make some breakfast? Enough for two?" Draco winced, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
Hexy turned to him with a wide smile. "Hexy was knowing that someone elses was here last night. Jinxy was saying it was Mistress Granger."
Draco felt himself flush, rubbing uncomfortably at the back of his neck. "You know about Hermione?" he asked.
The elf nodded excitedly. "Jinxy is loving Mistress Granger. She is making Master Dracos very happy. Hexy will make Mistress and Master breakfast! I will bring it in a bits!" Hexy exclaimed.
"Thanks, Hexy," Draco replied, heading back to his bedroom, where he found Hermione still fast asleep. He slid back under the covers, wrapped his arms around her, and peppered her neck and cheek with soft kisses. "Good morning," he murmured as Hermione stretched out against him.
"Mhmm," Hermione hummed as she turned in the bed to face him, her eyes fluttering open. When they landed on him, she smiled. "I was afraid that I was dreaming," she said in response before kissing him gently on the lips.
"Nope, I'm real," Draco replied, propping himself up on his elbow so he could stare down at her. "Sleep well?" he asked as he spread her riotous curls out against the pillow, gently detangling a few with his fingers.
She nodded. "Better than I have in months."
"Good," he said, dropping a kiss onto her forehead. "I have Hexy preparing a big breakfast for us right now. Your ribs were poking me all night long." To demonstrate, Draco poked at a protruding rib, then frowned. "You're too thin."
"I've only lost a little bit of weight," Hermione replied defensively, rolling her eyes. "Hexy?" she asked in confusion.
"Yes, and I've always thought you were too thin," Draco said, running his hands from her ribs and down to her waist, studying her unfamiliar curves. His frown deepened. Yes, much too thin.
"Draco," Hermione called softly, bringing his attention back to her face. "Stop fussing, I'm all right. Now," she continued in a more playful tone, "who's Hexy?"
"You're too thin," Draco argued, then he sighed. "Hexy is Jinxy's twin. He's been here for a long time—waiting for me."
Hermione furrowed her brows. "Waiting for you?" she asked, taking the hand that he was still running over her ribs and twining their fingers together, stilling his ministrations.
Draco sighed. "My mother knew I'd come back here. Hexy said it was foretold. This bedroom was just here, waiting for me."
"How odd," Hermione mused, squeezing his fingers. "I'm glad, though—I pictured you here by yourself, sleeping on the floor or something."
"Ah, only when I was getting drunk," Draco replied, in an attempt at a joke.
Hermione only frowned, clearly unamused.
"I'm kidding, Hermione," he said seriously. "I'm done with all that."
"Yeah?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah," Draco agreed, kissing the tip of her nose. There came a soft knock at the door, and Draco called out, "Come in!"
Immediately, Hexy entered, followed by several plates levitating behind him. "Hexy is bringing Mistress Granger and Master Dracos breakfast!" the elf exclaimed, lowering the plates onto Draco's dresser before bowing to Hermione. "Hexy is very pleased to meets Mistress Granger."
Hermione smiled at the elf. "It is very nice to meet you as well, Hexy," she replied.
Hexy blushed furiously before turning and hastily scurrying out of the room. Draco laughed. "I think he might have a bit of a crush on you," he said, walking over to his dresser to prepare a plate for both of them. Hexy had spared no expense on their breakfast: the dishes were filled with bacon, eggs, sausages, toast, biscuits, freshly fried potatoes, beans, grilled tomatoes, as well as a generous slab of butter and several varieties of jams and a pitcher of freshly-squeezed pumpkin juice. Draco loaded the plate with food and set in on the bed in front of Hermione. "Eat," he commanded as he poured juice for both of them.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him, but picked up a piece of toast and began to butter it. Draco sat down next to Hermione and grabbed a piece of bacon. "I have a question," Hermione said apprehensively after taking several bites of her toast.
"Yes?" Draco asked, spearing some egg with a fork.
Hermione set her half-eaten toast down on the plate, then ran her hands over her t-shirt as if to wipe away any errant crumbs. She looked nervous for a minute, but determination flashed in her eyes, and she spoke, "I was wondering," she began, "whether you would be moving back in with me?"
Draco set down his fork. This was also an important conversation. He thought for several seconds, choosing his words carefully. "I think—I don't think so," he said quietly. Hermione's face fell instantly. Draco continued, "Hey, don't make that face. I don't intend to spend a single night without you, Hermione, let me be very clear about that. But—I like this place. I like fixing it up. And this place—it's mine. And that—"
"It's good for you to have something that's yours," Hermione interrupted, smiling. "I think I get it."
Draco nodded, grateful that she understood. "I'd already planned to change the wards to allow you entry at any time."
"But no nights apart?" she asked quietly, hesitantly.
"I never plan on sleeping without you, ever again," Draco admitted.
Hermione flushed. "Okay," she replied, picking her toast back up, nibbling at it thoughtfully. After several moments, she spoke again, "I've been thinking—" she swallowed, "I've been thinking, that since you're giving up alcohol, I should, too."
Draco stared at her. "That's very thoughtful of you, Hermione, but you don't have to—"
"I want to," Hermione interrupted bluntly. "I want to support you in this, in any way I can. And I want to be your partner. So if you can't drink, then neither can I," she said, jutting her chin out obstinately.
Draco couldn't help his smile. "Okay," he agreed, taking her hand and kissing her palm. "Thank you. Though it's a shame that all of the wine in the cellar will have to go to waste—I was planning on giving it to, you."
Hermione shrugged. "We'll give it to Ginny, then."
He laughed. "Perfect—she'll be thrilled."
They spent the weekend as such. They talked, they slept, Draco attempted to force feed Hermione, and at one point, Hermione apparated to her flat to get something called a "laptop" that she promised they could watch movies on. While initially wary of the device, Draco promptly became a fan when he discovered that he and Hermione could watch movies in bed, curled up together under the covers. They kissed and they held hands—they were happy again.
Most importantly of all, they communicated.
"I'm worried that you still have alcohol in the cellar," she admitted one night as they laid in bed facing each other, just talking. "I know it's not your drink of choice, but what if you get desperate?"
Draco nodded. "All right, I'll have Hexy take it the Potter's in the morning. Would that make you feel better?"
Hermione smiled. "Yes," she replied. "Thank you."
"You really are too thin, Hermione. You haven't been eating, have you?" Draco asked.
"No," she admitted. "I'll try and be better about remembering to eat. I don't want to worry you."
"I know you would never cheat on me, Draco. I was just hurt, and I wanted to hurt you back, but that wasn't fair either."
"You deserved to be angry, Hermione. I messed up. But you're right, I'd never cheat on you. You're the only one I'll ever want."
"Staying sober is hard, Hermione, but I'm trying so hard. For me, and for you."
"I know. But I believe in you, and if you ever feel yourself slipping, I'll be there. Always."
"I want to study soul-bonding magic. There's not a lot of research done on it, and there was nothing I could have done for your mother. But maybe, one day, in the future—"
"I think she'd like that, Hermione. And if anyone could figure out a way around a soul bond, it would be you."
"I actually do like Potter."
"I know."
It was a perfect weekend, and he never wanted it to end. Of course, that was an impossible, and midafternoon on Sunday, Draco felt the niggle while he and Hermione were watching a movie in bed. Draco sighed. "Someone's on the estate," he said quietly.
Hermione immediately paused the movie. "What? There is? How can you tell?"
Draco tapped his temple. "Blood wards. I can tell. You stay here, I'll take care of it."
Hermione nodded, but looked somewhat worried.
Still clad only in pajamas, Draco made his way to the front door, where he found Potter jogging towards him, breathing harshly. "Malfoy!" he cried, waving his arms about wildly.
Draco frowned and crossed his arms across his chest, waiting for Potter to reach the front porch. "What is it, Potter?" he asked irritably, wanting to hurry back to Hermione.
Potter was breathing heavily. "Malfoy—go get—dressed. Need—your—help," he panted. "Hermione's missing," Potter continued once he caught his breath. "She hasn't answered an owl from me or Ginny since Thursday, and she hasn't been at her flat—I need you to help us look for her!" When Draco did not move, Potter shouted again, "Malfoy, did you hear me!? Go get dressed. We have to find Hermione."
Draco burst out laughing.
Immediately, Potter looked murderous. "Why are you laughing, Malfoy? The girl you supposedly love is missing and you're standing on your porch laughing?"
Draco shook his head, unable to stop his laughter. "Potter—" he said after moment, laughing again. "Hermione's not missing. She's fine—!"
"I'm telling you she's missing—!"
"Potter, she's fine, and she's not missing—she's inside," Draco explained.
Potter's eyebrows furrowed in confused. "What?" he asked, taking several steps forward.
"Hermione is inside," Draco repeated.
"With—with you?" Potter asked dumbly.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, with me."
"Of her own free will?"
"You did not just ask me that."
Potter winced. "Right, sorry. So, what—I'm confused. Are you guys—?"
Draco shrugged. "We're back together," he replied.
Potter narrowed his eyes at Draco. "What, after everything? You're just 'back together?'"
"Ah, I have truly missed having to justify my relationship to you, Potter," Draco said mockingly.
"I'm serious," Potter shouted, clenching his fists.
Draco eyed Potter warily for a moment before sighing. "As much as I do not owe you an explanation, I will tell you this one time. Hermione is in there because I love her, and she loves me. And despite all of our issues, we want to be together. Is everything resolved? No, but we're working on it. Together. Now, is that sufficient, because I would really like to return to my girlfriend now."
Potter stared at Draco for a long time before he finally spoke, "Okay," replied.
"Okay?" Draco asked.
Potter nodded. "Okay. Dinner on Friday?"
Draco was shocked. "I—I'll check with Hermione," he stammered.
"See you Friday," Potter replied with a grin.
Draco rolled his eyes and slammed the door behind Potter, rushing back to his bedroom and to Hermione. She was still in bed, but she had pushed the covers back and was gnawing at her lip. As soon as she saw Draco, she spoke hurriedly, "Who was it?"
Draco chuckled, throwing himself down on the bed. "Potter. Did you know his penchant of showing up unannounced did not stop when we broke up? If there was going to be one positive—"
Hermione smacked his shoulder lightly. "Shush. I know you secretly like him, even if you'll never admit it. What did he want?"
"Oh," Draco said casually, "you're missing, did you know?"
"Missing?" she asked in confusion.
"You haven't answered any of Potter's owls, and you weren't at home. Potter just assumed you were missing. He's quite dramatic, don't you think?"
Hermione laughed. "He really is. It's all that Auror training."
"Anyways, he wanted my help in finding you. I assured him that you were fine." Draco sat up, kissing her shoulder. "Wants to know if we want to dinner on Friday," he continued, kissing at her neck.
She giggled, leaning into him. "Do you want to?"
"Hmm," he murmured, nibbling at her neck and making her gasp, "I don't relish returning to Friday nights with Potter—But it would be nice to see the Weaslette, I suppose. And I wouldn't mind spending Friday nights with my girlfriend again."
"So dinner, then?" Hermione asked, closing her eyes.
"Dinner," Draco agreed.