"What brings you here today, Draco?—May I call you Draco?"
Draco nodded, fiddling with a nonexistent thread on the sofa. "That's fine," he replied, neither meeting the Mind Healer's eye, nor answering his question. Truthfully, Draco didn't know the answer. Why was he here? Where would he even start to unpack the answer to that question? Draco snorted, then grimaced, finally looking up at the Mind Healer—Peters, was his name, Draco remembered.
Healer Peters tilted his head at Draco in curiosity. "Is something funny, Draco?" he asked calmly, his expression revealing nothing.
Draco shook his head, focusing his eyes on his dragonhide shoes. "N-no," he stuttered, then paused, then sighed. "I just realized I don't actually know the answer to your question. I mean—I don't even know where I'd start to explain."
The Healer's expression did not change. He simply looked towards the clock, gave a small shrug, and replied: "We have 45 minutes, Draco. Start wherever you'd like."
Draco exhaled. "I suppose that the simple answer is that my girlfriend started seeing a Mind Healer a few months ago, and she found it helpful. So—I guess, I thought I'd see if maybe I did, too."
Peters smiled, then jotted something down on his parchment. "A girlfriend?" he asked. "What's her name?"
Draco couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. This question he knew the answer to—this was an easy question. "Hermione," he said firmly.
Nodding, the healer jotted something else down on his parchment. "Hermione," he repeated. "A lovely name. How long have you been with Hermione?"
He winced. "Well, that's also a complicated answer," Draco replied slowly. The Healer tilted his head again, an invitation to continue. Draco sat back against the couch, closing his eyes and placing his hands on his knees, attempting to steel himself. "We'd been together for about a year. We—we broke up for a few months. We got back together about a month ago."
"What was the reason for your breakup?" The Healer asked, not unkindly.
"It's complicated," Draco replied, feeling anxiety stirring in the pit of his stomach.
"It usually is."
Draco sighed heavily. "A lot of reasons, really. We just—we fucked everything up until we didn't know how to be together anymore."
"But you do now? Know how to be together?"
"I think so," Draco replied with a nod. "In any case, we're working on it. We just—I think we needed that time apart to figure ourselves out." Healer Peters didn't respond, but he also did not break eye contact with Draco. After several seconds of silence, Draco began to feel uncomfortable, and continued: "My mother had been ill for a really long time," he admitted. "And she died, and I really didn't handle it well. Truthfully—" Draco cut off, sighing. "I have a bit of a drinking problem, and when she died—well, I spiraled. And I hit rock bottom."
Healer Peters nodded, again returning to his parchment. "How much do you drink, on average?"
Draco shook his head. "I don't anymore."
For a brief moment, Healer Peters looked surprised. "Congratulations, Draco. Deciding to be a sober is not an easy decision to make, nevertheless commit to."
Draco felt himself flush, uncomfortable with the compliment. "Yeah," he replied noncommittally.
"And how does Hermione feel about that?"
"She—she supports it. I guess she's proud of me." Draco rubbed uncomfortably at the back of his neck. "She quit drinking, too—for me."
"She sounds like a good partner," Peters replied, jotting more notes down on his parchment.
Truthfully, the Healer's notes were making him vaguely uncomfortable. "She is," Draco said firmly. "Um—Healer Peters, what are you writing?"
"Charlie," The Healer corrected.
"What?" Draco asked dumbly.
"My name is Charlie," he replied, still writing. "You may call me Charlie." The Healer smiled at him. "And to answer your question, Draco, I'm just writing down details, so I'll remember them better for our next session."
"Oh, okay," Draco said, rubbing at his knees.
"You mentioned that your mother died, and you didn't hand it well," The Healer—Charlie—continued, looking Draco directly in the eye. "Do you feel comfortable telling me more about that?"
Right to the point, then. "I was mad at her," Draco replied quietly. "I was devastated when she died—but—that—being angry at someone who's gone—I think that was the worst part. I loved her, and I missed her, and I was so angry with her." Draco paused, looking up at Charlie. "And I didn't know how to process any of it. So I just drank instead."
When his 45 minutes were up, Draco apparated to just outside of Elixir, eager for his lunch plans with Hermione. As the tinkling of the little bell announced his arrival, he found Hermione already sitting in front of the coffee table, opening a bag of takeaway. Smiling, Draco silently locked the door behind him.
Hermione looked up at him and returned the smile. "I know I said sandwiches, but I just had the overwhelming craving for Chinese. I hope that's all right."
Draco took his designated seat next to her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Fine by me," he replied.
"How was it?" Hermione asked, arranging the food containers.
"Weird," Draco said, leaning back against the couch. "Hey, do you call your Mind Healer by her first name?"
Hermione nodded, handing him a container of lo mein and a pair of chopsticks. "Yes. Mary." Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's weird at first, but you'll get used to it."
"The name thing or the whole therapy bit?" Draco asked, grimly.
She laughed. "Both," she said, leaning back against his shoulder as she picked happily at her own container of food. "So, Harry's just owled me. Guess what?"
Draco could barely suppress his groan. "What?"
Looking up at him, Hermione grinned deviously. "Ginny's back. So that means—"
"—We will finally be attending dinner at the Potter's." Draco interrupted, grimacing.
Hermione laughed again. "Don't pretend like you aren't looking forward to it," she teased.
Despite the fact that they had been back together for nearly a month now, Draco and Hermione had not yet returned to spending Friday evenings with the Potters. In a split-second decision, Ginny had decided to try out for the Holyhead Harpies, had made the team, and had been at training camp ever since. Draco would never tell Hermione, but he was, in fact, looking forward to seeing the Weaslette. "I've been meaning to ask," he continued after a moment. "Whatever happened with you two? After Australia. When things were—weird with us."
Hermione shrugged, capturing a piece of sweet and sour chicken with her chopsticks. "I did what I always used to do. I just forgave her without really forgiving her. Because it was easier," she said, before pausing to chew her chicken. Swallowing, she continued: "I talked about it with Mary, actually. I eventually sat down with Ginny and we discussed it." Hermione smiled at him. "It's all in the past now."
"Good," Draco replied, kissing her cheek again.
"Are you nervous?" Hermione asked.
"Why would I be nervous?"
Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. You haven't been to Grimmauld Place in several months. It's new."
Draco heard what Hermione did not say: We used to get drunk there. Will you be okay? "Do they know?" he asked. "That I—that we—don't drink?"
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "You know how perceptive Harry can sometimes be," she replied, rolling her eyes. "I'm fairly certain that he's figured it out. Ginny—well she's been away, so I really don't know." Hermione shrugged. "But I'll be there," she continued softly. "I won't let you slip."
Placing his container of lo mein on the coffee table, Draco turned to face Hermione fully. He took her hand in his, twining their fingers together. "I know you won't, Hermione. I know." Draco squeezed her hand. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For that—for this—for this month."
"What are you thanking me for?" Hermione asked, her brows furrowed.
He shrugged. "I don't know. Just—I guess—that you're you, and you're mine. That you're mine again," he said, kissing her temple.
Hermione lifted her chin to stare directly into his eyes, and Draco could see the fierceness glimmering in them. "Oh, Draco," she said. "I think I've always been yours."
Dropping his forehead to hers, Draco nodded slightly. "I think so, too," he agreed. Chinese food now entirely forgotten, Draco wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. Hermione was eager, crawling into his lap and winding her arms around his shoulders. Draco had to stifle a groan as she shifted in his lap.
"I love you," Hermione said quietly.
"I love you," Draco replied, pulling her closer. It was becoming very difficult to ignore just how very close she was. And yet, she was not close enough. Draco longed to rip her jumper over her head and take a rosy nipple into his mouth. Gods, how he longed to taste her. He was painfully hard. He pulled away. "Not here."
Hermione nodded. "Not here," she agreed, creating more distance between them. "But," Hermione continued hesitantly, pulling at the hem of her jumper. "Maybe tonight?"
His eyes shot to Hermione's. "Tonight?" he asked, his voice suddenly and inexplicably hoarse.
Hermione flushed furiously. "I mean, maybe."
Draco rested his hands lightly on her hips. "You—we don't have to commit to anything right now, Hermione. Let's just—"
"See how it goes?" she asked, smiling nervously.
"Yes," he agreed, kissing her on the lips.
Moment shattered, Hermione glanced toward the clock and sighed. With some hesitation, she pulled herself from his lap. "I have to get back," she said quietly. "But I'll see you tonight?" she asked hopefully.
He nodded, smoothing his clothes. "Jinxy has already started prepping for dinner."
Hermione rolled her eyes, an objection forming on her lips.
"She thinks you're too thin, too," Draco said before she could voice her objection.
"I've already gained weight!" she cried. "All you do is feed me, Draco."
Draco wrapped his arms her, pulling her in for a hug. "I just want you happy and healthy," he said softly.
"Oh, don't pout, Draco," Hermione breathed against his neck.
"I will continue to pout, because I know it will always get me my way."
"You're terrible," she said, laughing. She pulled away, looking up at him seriously. "Tonight?"
"Tonight," Draco confirmed, before ducking in for one last kiss. "I love you."
"Love you," Hermione replied, in lieu of a goodbye.
Draco returned to Black Manor, feeling refreshed after his lunch with Hermione. He had felt somewhat off-kilter after his session with Healer Pet—Charlie—but now he felt as if he had been righted. It astounded him even now that Hermione had the ability make everything better by just simply existing near him.
Mentally, Draco checked himself. He had to be careful with that kind of thinking—after all, it was part of what had led to their breakup in the first place. They had spent many nights, with Hermione's unruly hair strewn about the pillow, talking about every mistake they had ever made throughout the course of their relationship. One of Draco's own admissions: I thought all I needed to be happy was you, and that wasn't true. I have to make myself happy first. I can't put everything on you.
And then, Hermione: I want you to be happy with me and because of me, but you're right, there has to be more than just me. I can't be everything.
Draco: It was unfair of me to make you everything. For you, and for me.
You are allowed to be happy, Draco reminded himself. That was important to remember, too
Hermione arrived in the foyer of Black Manor promptly at 7, having changed out of her jumper and denims and into a simple black dress that stopped at her mid-thigh. Draco greeted her with a kiss to the cheek. "You look lovely," he said quietly in her ear.
"Thank you," she said, blushing.
They enjoyed a quiet dinner in the smallest dining room. To Hermione's chagrin, Jinxy returned every few minutes carrying yet another course she had prepared, until the small dining room table was nearly overflowing with food. Hermione, aware of how much trouble Jinxy had gone to in order to prepare the meal, thanked her for every course and sampled each one until she groaned, protesting that there was simply no way she could eat another bite.
After dinner, Draco led her down the hall to his bedroom, closing the door soundly behind them. "Hi," he said softly, lazily looping his arms around her waist.
"Hi," she replied, smiling shyly.
He kissed her slowly, tasting the chocolate from their last course on her lips. Pressing his forehead against hers, he looked deep into her eyes. "I just want you to know," he began, "that we don't have to do anything but sleep if you don't want to. But," Draco continued after a pause. "I'd also like you to know that I'd really, really, like to have sex with you again."
Hermione visibly gulped, her flush creeping up her neck. "I'd—I'd like that, too."
"Yeah?" Draco asked, feeling hope bloom in his chest. He had her, and that had always been good enough for him, but he wanted this—that part of them, that intimacy, that piece that was still missing from their relationship. He wanted it back.
She nodded. "Yes. It's been a month. I think—I think we're ready. I think we should," Hermione replied, the determination in her voice growing.
"Turn around," Draco whispered lowly into her ear. Hermione instantly whirled around, and Draco gently pushed her curls over her shoulder, exposing the zipper of her dress. He pulled it down slowly, revealing the expanse of her back, and eventually, the delicate green lace of her bra. Draco's mouth watered—he'd always loved her in green. "Is this the same one? From the Ministry?"
Hermione shook her head, a few curls once more falling over her back. "No," she said throatily. "Different."
"You just happened to wear green tonight?" he asked, dropping his mouth to her shoulder and smirking.
"I knew you liked me in green," Hermione replied, shivering at his touch.
Draco pushed the dress from her shoulders, and it fell, pooling on the floor. Hermione turned back around, wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on the tips of her toes. She kissed him lightly. "I love you, Draco," she murmured against his lips. "Now, please take off your shirt."
He smiled and took a step back. With one quick movement, he removed his jumper from his torso, tossing it across the room. He returned to Hermione, twisting his fingers into a section of her hair. "Bed?" he suggested.
Hermione nodded. "Bed," she agreed.
Draco discarded his trousers before lying down on the bed, motioning for Hermione. She obliged, scooting towards him until there were only centimeters between their bodies. "Hi," he said again, brushing an errant curl from her face.
Hermione smiled, mimicking his action and running her fingers through his hair. She wrinkled her nose. "You need a haircut."
He laughed. "Later," he replied, draping an arm over her waist.
"Later," Hermione echoed, placing her palm on his cheek. "Hi," she said before taking his lips.
They kissed slowly, lazily. There was no rush here. They wanted each other, and they would have each other—tonight, it seemed—but for now they were content to taste each other, lying together in bed clad only in their undergarments.
It was Hermione who took things further. With hooded eyes and a seductive smile, she unclasped her bra and threw it across the room, presumably to join Draco's forgotten jumper. Then, with a smirk, she pushed her knickers down her legs. Draco stifled a groan. He'd nearly forgotten—had nearly blocked out—the memory of Hermione Granger naked. She was still just as beautiful. Draco reached out, gently tweaking a nipple. She moaned lowly as it darkened and grew harder. "You are still the most beautiful witch I've ever seen."
She giggled, tugging at his boxers. "You didn't keep your promise, you know."
"Hmm?" he asked, distracted by Hermione's fingers so very close to his aching cock.
"You promised you'd tell me that every day," Hermione replied.
Draco stilled. "I did," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."
She giggled again. "You did most days. And on the days you didn't—you still looked at me like I was beautiful."
"You are," he insisted, kissing her.
"Hush," she said, pulling his boxers down. "I'm teasing you."
"You're very cruel, Hermione."
"But I can also be very kind," Hermione replied, taking his cock in her hand. Draco moaned.
"H-Hermione—" Draco gasped as she continued to stroke him. "It's been too long—if you keep this up—I won't—I won't be able—"
"Able to what, Draco?" Hermione teased, slowing her hand.
"I w-won't be able to make you come."
"Fine," she huffed, withdrawing her hand and laying back against the pillows.
Draco took several deep breaths, grappling with his self-control, before raising himself up over her. "You are very cruel, Hermione," he said, staring down at her hungrily. Determined to beat her at her own game, he pressed a hand between her legs. She was nearly dripping, and he groaned. "Let's not be cruel to each other."
"No," she whimpered. "Let's not."
He aligned himself with her, dragging his cock through her wetness before slowly pushing inside of her. They both gasped at the feeling, and Hermione's legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him close. When he was up to the hilt, he paused and dropped his forehead down onto Hermione's. "All right?" he asked roughly.
Hermione nodded jerkily. "All right."
Draco remained still for several moments, merely kissing her and grappling with his self-control. When he began to move, slowly, he couldn't help loud moan that fell from his lips. "Hermione," he murmured, burying his head in her shoulder.
"Draco," she whispered back, rocking her hips to meet his.
He met her thrusts—or she met his. It didn't matter. They were one, and they were connected. This was so different than the last time they had been intimate—so incredibly different. They moved as if they were one body—as if they were of the same mind. He pushed, and she pulled, taking him deeper as her legs wrapped around his hips. He wanted her, and she wanted him and this was perfect. So completely, utterly perfect. Pleasure raced up Draco's spine. He was not going to last.
As Draco shifted and the angle of his penetration deepened, he thought briefly—It's not perfect. But it's her, and it's me, and that's good enough.
Afterwards, they lay panting in each other's arms. As Draco's breathing finally began to slow, he laughed out loud. Hermione, who was still flushed a deep pink, looked up at him in confusion. Draco kissed the top of her head, lingering at the tangy saltiness there. "I was just thinking," he said, pulling away, "that made the last time worth it."
On Friday evening, Draco apparated to Hermione's flat promptly at 6:45, prepared for evening with Potter and Ginny. When he arrived, he found Hermione in the bedroom, pulling on a pair of flats. "Ready?" she asked as soon as she saw him.
Hermione was dressed simply in a pair of denims and a yellow cotton blouse, and Draco thought she looked lovely. He told her as much. "And yes," he continued, "I am ready." She smiled at him—Gods, how he loved her smile. Ignoring her outstretched hand, Draco embraced her, pulling her into his chest. "Hello," he said, greeting her properly.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed a light kiss to his lips. "Hello," she replied, beaming at him. "Come on," she said, making no attempt to move, "we should get going."
"One second," Draco argued. "I've missed you." He kissed her again, more forcefully this time.
She laughed against his lips. "I saw you just this morning!"
"Too long," he muttered, squeezing her waist.
Hermione stared up at him, a more serious glint in her eyes. She bit her lip. "Actually, that reminds me of something that I'd like for us to talk about later."
Draco raised his brows, a bit of anxiety blooming in his belly. "Everything all right?" he asked tentatively.
She smiled at him effortlessly. "Yes, yes!" Hermione replied hurriedly, and Draco knew she meant to soothe him. "Everything's fine. Just something I wanted to talk to you about."
Anxiety mostly gone, Draco nodded. "All right. Your place tonight, right?"
"Yeah," she said quietly, finally managing to escape his embrace and take his hand. "Ready?" she repeated.
"Yes," Draco replied with a grin. Because he really was.
They Flooed to Grimmauld Place and found Potter and Ginny already waiting for them. Potter was sitting, but Ginny appeared to be excited, standing and rocking back on her heels. As soon as Ginny saw him, much to Draco's surprise, she launched herself at him. "Draco!" she cried, wrapping her arms around him in one of the most enormous hugs he had ever experienced.
Draco very nearly had the wind knocked out of him. "Hi, Ginny," he said, finally managing to speak.
"I have missed you, you complete and utter prat," Ginny continued, speaking so lowly that it was unlikely that either Hermione or Potter would be able to hear her. "And do not take this hug to mean that I forgive you. I intend to verbally assault you later in the evening."
Draco laughed. "I expect nothing less," he said, pulling away from Ginny's hug. "Potter," he greeted, nodding to Potter.
Potter nodded back, then held his hand out for a casual shake. "Glad to have you back, mate," he said.
"It's good to be back," Draco said, surprising himself. Perhaps even more surprising, was that it was not even a lie.
Ginny hugged Hermione, greeting her with far less enthusiasm than with which she greeted Draco. "Cocktails are in the kitchen."
Hermione visibly started, her eyes shooting to Draco, her mouth already forming an objection.
Ginny caught the movement and shook her head. "Apologies. What I mean to say, is that I've been experimenting with a few different drink recipes. Fizzies, and juices, tonics and such. All alcohol-free." She smiled. "I'm a professional athlete now—I have to stay away from that stuff," she said, glancing briefly at Draco.
Hermione looked visibly relieved and wrapped her fingers around Draco's forearm, pulling him in closer. He dropped a kiss to her forehead, in a way that he hoped said, I am thankful for you.
When they arrived in the kitchen, Draco found that Ginny had not been joking—there were more than a dozen "cocktails" awaiting them in mismatched pitchers. "Some are better than others," she admitted. "I'm partial to the sparkling pumpkin juice myself," Ginny said, pointing at one of the pitchers.
"I didn't know they made sparkling pumpkin juice?" Draco asked.
Ginny gave him a conspiratorial look. "They don't. Sparkling grape juice with just a splash of pumpkin juice."
"Clever," Draco commented, pouring himself a glass of the juice and taking a sip. It really was quite tasty.
They enjoyed a simple meal of steak and kidney pie, and Draco was loath to admit just how much he had truly missed Ginny Potter's cooking—not that he would ever tell her that. The conversation was as simple as their meal, with Ginny regaling the table with stories about her time at training, her workout schedule, and her upcoming matches. Primly, she informed Hermione and Draco that she expected them to attend every match that took place in England. Hermione rolled her eyes, but agreed, and Draco found her hand under the table, squeezing.
After dinner, they retired to the living room, where Ginny doled out second and third helpings of sparkling pumpkin juice. Hermione and Potter were sitting on the couch, Hermione chatting happily with him, a small smile gracing her face. Draco watched her, captivated by her hand gestures, the way she bit at her lip when she was focused, her smile. And for what had to be the thousandth time, he thought, Gods, I love that fucking smile.
Draco barely even noticed when Ginny plopped down beside him. "She looks better, doesn't she?" Ginny asked, snapping Draco out of his thoughts.
"Hmm?" he asked distractedly.
"There was a while there, where she wasn't doing so well," Ginny continued. "When she didn't look so good."
Draco looked at Ginny. "I'm aware," he said evenly. "Is this my assault?"
Ginny did not answer him. "You're well?" she asked evasively.
"As well as I can be," Draco replied.
"Harry mentioned that he thought you might not be drinking," Ginny said lowly. "I'm glad to see that it's true."
Draco nodded. "It's been a few months now," he answered vaguely.
"She was really miserable, you know."
"Yes," Draco agreed.
"She missed you."
"I missed her."
"Are you here for good this time?" Ginny asked.
"Finally, we get to the point," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "Yes. I am here for good. I was always here for good, things just—got a bit messy." Draco paused, thinking. "I don't know what it is you need to hear from me, Weaslette, but I've quit drinking and I'm seeing a Mind Healer. I'm doing my best, for me, and hopefully for her."
Ginny smiled widely. "Good boy," she said, patting his arm. "I always had a good feeling about you, Ferret."
Draco rolled his eyes again. "I highly doubt that."
Ginny laughed. "You and Hermione," she clarified. "You were a shite at Hogwarts."
"Oh? I wasn't aware," Draco replied sarcastically.
"You're different," Ginny said, more seriously now.
"Yes," he agreed. "I had to be." Ginny watched him for several seconds before smiling at him. Draco was feeling distinctly uncomfortable under her gaze. "So, Weaslette," he said, hoping to change the subject. "What's it like being a professional Quidditch player?"
Ginny sighed. "Exhausting," she admitted, laughing. "But I love it." Ginny paused for a second. "Say, Draco, I've always been meaning to ask—why don't you play Quidditch anymore? I've never heard you or Hermione mention it. Back at Hogwarts, you were good. Really good."
"I was a bit too busy for Quidditch, Weaslette, what with Voldemort living in my house," Draco answered sardonically. He shook his head. "And after—well, flying interfered with my drinking."
Ginny shrugged. "Well, now that you're not drinking, you could try again."
"Yeah, maybe," Draco said offhandedly, returning his gaze to Hermione, to ensure that she was still all right. He found her watching him intensely. When their eyes met, Hermione smiled at him and rose, quickly heading towards him.
Hermione stopped in front of Draco and glared at Ginny, her hands on her hips. "Are you done interrogating my boyfriend yet?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "It was hardly an interrogation, Hermione. But yes."
Hermione smiled and dropped down into Draco's lap, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'm tired," she said. "Ready to go home?"
Draco nodded. While the evening with Potter and Ginny had been entirely pleasant, he wasn't used to social interactions with people that weren't Hermione without the lubrication that alcohol provided, and he was beginning to feel rather exhausted. "Yes," he agreed.
They bid the Potters a goodnight—Hugs from Hermione, and a handshake from Potter for Draco, as well as another hug from Ginny and a whispered, "Oh, and thank you for all that wine."
"You're welcome, Weaslette. I hope you enjoy it." And Draco found that he sincerely meant that.