Chapter Eighteen

Another Beginning

September 15, 2001 (The next morning)

I peel my eyes open, waking up to Malfoy staring down at me. His head is propped up on his hand, his hair bright and shining, with the soft morning light coming from the windows behind me, so in contrast with the pair of black silk pajamas he's in. For a moment, I think I'm still asleep and dreaming. But then Malfoy speaks and I remember all that occurred last night.

"Good morning," he says with a smile.

A CRACK and Blinky is in front of us, bowing so deeply that for a while, I couldn't see her from the bed.

"Master Draco, Miss Granger, breakfast is ready. Will you be joining the Master and Mistress?"

I groan in embarrassment, hiding my face under a pillow.

"We're taking breakfast here, Blinky. Please let Father and Mother know," Draco says flatly, seemingly unperturbed that his parents know I stayed the night in his bedroom. Bugger!

I hear Blinky snap her fingers and food appears somewhere as I take a whiff of bacon and eggs. Another CRACK and she's probably gone.

"Granger? You want breakfast?" Draco asks as he pulls down the pillow covering me.

He looks handsome with bed hair, messed up with sleep and hanging down his eyes.

"Are you feeling better," I ask. He seems to have more color, as far as his complexion allows.

"Yes, thanks to you," he teases with a smirk plastered on his face.

I can't help looking at him, it seems. For the first time, I admit to myself how much I missed him. Weeks without his company was torture but now it felt like a blur compared to this moment. His all too familiar smirk sends butterflies to my stomach.

"If you don't stop looking at me like that, I'll have you as breakfast instead," he warns, his eyes turning molten grey.

This sends a shiver down my spine. Draco slowly moves closer and whispers to my ear, "Would you like that, Hermione?"

The sound of my name from his lips followed by the feeling of his tongue tracing the shell of my ear send the hairs on my arms standing on end. A soft moan escapes me, my grip on the pillow tightening. Malfoy… Draco, notices this and quickly gets rid of the thing, throwing it behind him. He holds my wrists together, slowly bringing both my arms up over my head, all the while searching my eyes as if asking for my permission. I return his gaze, feeling the heat rise from my chest to my cheeks. He moves over me, his other leg gently settling between mine, his other hand grazing my jaw.

"Do you know how much I've fantasized about this?" he says to me in a husky voice I feel down to my toes, intensifying the ache in my core.

I haven't had many sexual partners. I lost my virginity fumbling with Ron in his room at the Burrow after the war. That summer was filled with innocent stolen kisses and curious explorations. Towards the end of our one-year relationship, we fought too many times that we mutually decided to save the friendship before we hated each other too much.

Months after that, I rekindled a friendship with a childhood Muggle friend I met again through my parents. We went on a few dates and shagged a few times before he left for the United States. It was with him that I learned I actually enjoyed rough sex. It has been almost two years since and I've settled on pleasuring myself from time to time.

The weeks leading up to this moment, it was Draco's hands touching me whenever I closed my eyes. I would imagine him hovering over me, pinching my nipples, fucking me with his fingers, and bringing me over the edge.

"Show me," I reply breathlessly.

His eyes turn impossibly darker, drawing me in. "Fuck," he hisses before descending on me, lips bruising as he explores my mouth hungrily.

I buck against him, searching for that sweet friction, feeling him getting harder against my thigh. I groan into his mouth, wanting to touch him everywhere but unable to do so with my hands still trapped above me. Draco however, runs his other hand from my jaw to the length of my neck, down my side, squeezing me as he kisses me. His mouth moves down to give my neck attention—alternating from licking it, nipping at it, and grazing his teeth against it.

I squirm against his grip and he finally lets go of me. I let my hands come up behind his neck, comb through his silky hair, and scrape at his scalp. I bring my knees up, wrapping my legs around his waist. His length finds my center through our clothes and we both moan at the contact.

"Granger, can I—," he says, stopped by another loud CRACK.

"Master Draco," Blinky squeaks, bowing again. "The Mistress is asking for you and Miss Granger."

Draco and I are frozen until he finds his voice before clearing it, "Tell her I'll be down in a minute."

CRACK and Blinky's gone like she hasn't been here at all.

Draco buries his face in my neck and groans.

"I'm sorry. Mother is as meddlesome as ever," he explains.

"It's okay. I have to go anyway," I reassure him.

"It's the weekend, Granger. Tell me you're not working," he chastises.

"No. If you must know, I have a lunch date with Ginny."

"Hmmm… Can I see you tonight," he asks innocently and I feel myself melting against him.

"Yes," I breathe.

He finally lifts his head, giving me another mind-numbing kiss.

"I'll make excuses for you. You can use the Floo from here," he says as he stands up, adjusting his pajamas.

I also stand up and pick up the robes I folded over the wingback chair last night. I smooth my clothes with a flick of my wand. My hair, on the other hand, is hopeless. I'm about to tie in in a bun when Draco speaks again.

"Leave it," he says, his eyes lidded again.

"Don't make it harder for me to leave, Draco," I rasp as I pass by him on my way to the fireplace.

"Minx," he says playfully, licking his lips. "I'll send you an owl later."

"Okay," I say. I move to grab some Floo powder but Draco stops me, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"Don't you dare run away again," he whispers.

"I won't," I promise.

His eyes never leave mine as I step into the fireplace and vanish.

I step into my living room, my heart pounding from all that's happened. Crookshanks looks up from the couch, silently berating me for coming home with the sun already up. I flop down beside him, petting him absently.

There's no other way to explain it: I am in a daze. I feel like I am floating in a dream that I don't want to wake up from. Throughout the morning, I mechanically go through the motions of showering, preparing breakfast, and eating, not realizing how hungry I am. The last meal I've eaten was yesterday's lunch at the Ministry cafeteria. The sound of sudden rapping on my window interrupts the haze.

Draco's eagle owl, Icarus, taps his beak impatiently on the glass until I retrieve the letter from him.

Granger,

I'll pick you up at 6 tonight. Wear something nice and Muggle.

Yours,

D.M.

My eyes scan the signature again and again.

Yours.

Yours.

Yours.

Am I really seeing Draco Malfoy? Something drops in the pit of my stomach at the thought. How did I go from avoiding him to kissing him overnight? Sensing that he's been forgotten, Icarus nudges me for his treat. I quickly give him something and he flies away with a hoot, apparently not needing a reply from me. I look at the clock and remember that I did have plans with Ginny. We were meeting at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour so I prepared for that to distract myself.

An hour later, I'm Apparating to the ice cream shop, feeling as normal as I possibly can. Ginny's already here, waving me to a table she's reserved for us. She's been so busy—between trainings and games, we haven't had time to really catch up during the few times we've seen each other over the weeks.

Today, however, we're dedicating an afternoon to wedding planning.

"Hey," she squeezes me as I get to the table. I hug her back.

"How have you been," I ask her, picking up the notebook on the table and quickly scanning it. It's filled with doodles, cut-outs from magazines, color schemes, and more.

"I'm good. And yes, that's my notebook from when I was still in school so you'll have to forgive all the girly stuff," Ginny says, chuckling.

"Then we'll have a lot to work with," I smile at her.

"You look happy," she teases.

"I do?" I ask, surprised. "Maybe I am."

We order ice cream for lunch and talk about the wedding theme, eventually settling on green like Harry's eyes and most importantly, so it goes well with the Weasley family's hair. We also agree on floating or flying decor (think: Hogwarts Great Hall's candles and Quidditch snitches and brooms). Ginny still has to get Harry's opinions on it but we both feel satisfied with our productive session.

We're about to leave when the bell chimes. Narcissa Malfoy comes in, looking as haughty as I remember her from when I was still a student. She is followed by Draco, who looks around the place nonchalantly and stops when he sees me. I stand frozen. Why is he here?

Narcissa seems to notice us as well as she goes straight to us.

"Miss Ginevra, I hear congratulations are in order," she says, addressing Ginny.

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," Ginny says, looking uncomfortable.

Narcissa's eyes flit to mine and she actually allows herself a small smile.

"Hermione, so nice to see you again. You must have been in quite a hurry this morning," she hints at my hasty departure to her invitation and I blush.

Before I can answer, Draco cuts in warningly, "Mother, I told you Granger had plans."

I feel Ginny's confusion and calculating gaze between this bizarre exchange.

"I apologize, Narcissa. Perhaps we'll have that tea next time," I try.

She seems to be placated with this. "Well then, I'll send you an owl dear."

And just like that, after echoing her son this morning, she leaves and chooses a table near the windows while a server hastily comes up to her and takes her order.

Malfoy stays, his hand behind his neck as he looks at me.

"Weaselette," he greets, nodding in Ginny's direction but eyes never leaving my face.

"Ferret," Ginny says with a smirk.

"Granger," he finally says, ignoring Ginny's quip and deciding to put his hand inside his pocket. "Right," he speaks again, pauses, and finally leaves to join his mother.

I breathe an exhale and practically drag Ginny outside.

"Later," I promise her quickly before she can get any word in.

We briskly walk as I lead Ginny to the Leaky, nodding to Hannah behind the bar, and walking directly to a booth hidden in the shadows.

"Explain," Ginny says, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Two glasses of firewhisky float to us and I almost finish mine before I speak. I start from the time Draco and I first kissed, his attempts at talking to me, the moment I decided to visit him at the Manor, to this morning's events, conveniently skipping the parts where we almost shagged if weren't for Blinky. By the time I reach the end of the story, I feel hot, from the alcohol or something else, I'm not sure. Ginny stayed quiet the whole time, reacting only with 'oooh's and 'ahhh's and 'what?!', but never cutting me.

"Merlin," she says eventually.

"Don't tell Harry and Ron yet," I warn her in panic.

"Okay, this stays between us for now," she agrees. "So, how do you feel?"

"I don't know. Until this morning, it felt unreal. Like the glass will shatter any moment. But seeing him again today… I want it so much to be real, Gin."

I've never felt like this with anyone. I am constantly on the edge of a cliff, afraid of falling but if I don't jump head first, I know I'd still slip and plunge down anyway. To where? I'm not sure. My brain, the one I've always trusted, tells me it's dangerous, but my heart, it feels like its bursting from the seams if I don't give in to it. My foot is dangling now and I'm lightheaded.

"Hermione?" Ginny waves a hand at me. I barely hear her gasp as she lifts a hand to my forehead and says, "Godric, you're burning. Let's get you home."

There's no other way to explain it: I am in a daze. I'm lying in what seems to be my bed, Ginny hovering over me, feeding me potions. Crookshanks meows, curling beside me. I can't seem to stay asleep for long—I wake to Ginny checking up on me, hearing her tidy things up in the living room, smelling the porridge she seems to be cooking in the kitchen.

When I was a child, I always secretly liked it when Mum took care of me while I'm sick. For someone whose parents are both dentists, I always had a fascination with sweets which almost always gave me sore throat, hence the fevers. The best thing about it though was having Mum constantly beside me. She would bathe me in lukewarm water, which felt cool to the skin. She'd feed me soup, water, and ibuprofen, and lay down with me at night in case I wake up from a bad dream.

My parents didn't always pressure me to be good in school or anything. I think that's why I've always seen to that myself. I wanted to prove that I was worthy of the confidence they placed in me. They supported me in whatever I decided except only when I Obliviated them. It took years to earn their trust again but my relationship with my mum has never been the same.

"Hi," Draco says softly, a gentle smile etched on his face, eyebrows drawn in worry. He wipes the tears I didn't think were there. "What were you dreaming about?"

"What are you doing here," I ask in confusion, ignoring his question. "Where's Ginny?"

"I was supposed to pick you up at 6, remember? When I got here, the Weaselette was here. Told me you had a fever. She was shooting daggers at me. Did you tell her about us?" he mutters, his face betraying nothing.

About us. "Only because you were making it too obvious earlier."

He nods, accepting the explanation and continues, "She left after giving me instructions."

"What time is it?" I move to sit up, my body heavy. Malfoy immediately comes up to me, propping pillows behind me as he helps me lean back on them.

"It's 10. Do you want some porridge? She left a stasis charm on it so it should still be edible, assuming she's as good as her mother."

"Yes, I'd like that," I say smiling.

Draco nods again and heads out the room, tailed by Crookshanks at his ankles. I'm not sure if the half-Kneazle likes Draco or if he's wary of him. Draco comes back with a tray of porridge, water, and potions floating in front of him.

After I finish everything, Draco vanishes the tray with a flick of his wand and I murmur my thanks. I now notice what he's wearing—grey button-up shirt, a black blazer, matching trousers, and oxfords.

"I could kiss you right now," I admit, spurred on by the effects of the potions.

Draco chuckles and says deviously, "I would have ravished you already, if things went according to plan."

"Sorry," I say, remembering what was supposed to be our first date, if I could call it that.

"I'm not sorry. I wouldn't be here in the first place if it weren't for the Weasel's virus."

"Ron?" I ask incredulously.

"Yes, it was him who spread it in the office. Came in one day, sneezing all over the place," he recounts.

"What were you doing at Fortescue's earlier?" I change the subject, too curious to let it go.

"I had to make it up to Mother after I sent you away this morning," he explains, "And I wanted to see you."

"How did you know I'd be there?"

"I didn't. I just thought maybe, but then you were there," he says, his mouth twitching.

I didn't expect this eye-opening revelation: Draco Malfoy is adorable. Seeing him like this makes me wonder if he was this person all along. Did he seek out Parkinson when she was busy traipsing around with the other Slytherin girls? Did he smother Greengrass with too much attention that she had to ask him herself to spend time with other people?

"Are you like this to all the girls you like?" I say, narrowing my eyes.

He's faintly surprised and considers it before answering.

"Apparently, I can't seem to control myself when it comes to you," he says, looking annoyed at this fact. He then adds suspiciously, "Do you plan to torment me with these questions all night, Granger?"

"It's your fault I'm sick," I answer petulantly, crossing my arms across my chest. "How else am I going to entertain myself?"

"You devious witch," he says without malice. "Why don't you—?"

"Do you want to read me a book?" I suddenly say.

"Is this some kind of fantasy of yours, Granger?" he says, raising an eyebrow.

"Prat," I roll my eyes at him. "You can choose whatever book you like."

"Fine." Draco stands up to pick up a book from the shelves in the living room. When he comes back, he holds up 'To Kill a Mockingbird' by Harper Lee.

"A book written by a Muggle?" I say, raising a brow at him.

"I thought you'd like to hear a story," he asks back.

I concede since I don't have better ideas anyway. "Have you actually read this one?"

"No," he admits.

"You'll probably like it," I tease him.

Draco walks to the other side of the bed, takes off his shoes, lifts the cover, and slides his legs over, extending them next to mine.

"Come here," he says, reminiscent of last night. I snuggle closer, allowing my head to rest on his chest as he opens the book to the first page. Draco barely turns another page when I fall asleep.