Archive of Our Own

Draco looked at the Tapestry before slowly turning to face the wall. He hadn’t been up here since the battle. He told himself that it was because it had been a busy year, but inside, he knew the truth. There was a part of him that was convinced he would be walking into a blackened mess with Crabbe’s bones sitting there waiting for him. A sight he saw often enough in his dreams to know that he didn’t want to see it in reality.

He shook his head. That was ridiculous. There would be nothing inside except for some pureblood bitch who thought they could seduce the Malfoy heir for money. It hadn’t escaped his notice that the letter did not identify the sender thereby ensuring he would come. Curiosity has, after all, always been a failing of his.

There was, of course, the possibility that it was someone he actually wanted to be with, but considering he only really wanted one person right now, who was horrendously out of his league, he was doubtful. Hope, however, was a powerful motivator and the life of a pariah was lonely.

With a sigh, he dutifully paced three times as he thought of the phrase and pushed open the door.

When he opened his eyes, after realising that he had stupidly closed them on entering, he was confronted with a beautiful room. A roaring fireplace took up the centre of the back wall next to a small sitting area with two antique wingbacks facing it. To the left was a pleasant little study nook containing a table and chairs and to the right was a giant four poster bed with a mountain of pillows atop burnished gold sheets. Whoever had created this room must have very similar taste to his own, after all every wall contained a bookshelf. It was like someone had carved out a house inside a library.

Before he could move any further, a figure jumped up from one of the chairs.

“Don’t close the ―”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Draco’s eyes blew out wide as Hermione Granger groaned and pulled a hand down her face.

Perhaps he was going mad. There wasn’t a single chance that Hermione Granger was the silly bint who wanted to get in his pants. She didn’t care about money. She didn’t care about his stupid pure blood. If anything, his pure blood made her like him less. Just like every other thing about him.

He was brutally aware that almost every action he had taken since the age of ten was likely to make her less attracted to him. It was like he hadn’t been able to help himself. At first, it was simple teenage jealousy. He made fun of her because she was so much better than him in so many of their subjects. Then, in fourth year, it began to change. She made his stomach roll and his palms sweaty. When he stood in front of her, he lashed out because he just couldn’t think.

This year, he had made the resolution not to say anything at all if he could help it. The ledger was already so black, and he didn’t want to make it any worse. So instead, he was attempting to show his good faith through actions; silently cutting up potions ingredients for her when she was forced to partner with him, putting away her books if he was also studying in the library, and leaving her favourite pastry at her table.

Small actions that made him feel less like a black cavernous hole inside and more like a person. He had thought it was working. She no longer glared at him. Her expression was more often confused or thoughtful when she looked at him. It wasn’t love or anything of the sort, but it also wasn’t revulsion, and that was enough for him.

Yet here she was, in a place meant for him and she was ― beautiful. Her hair looked even softer in the light of the fire. She wasn’t wearing her school robes and had undone her tie. It was lying on either side of her collar which was open and showing a truly alarming amount of clavicle.

Draco gulped.

Granger froze. Those warm doe eyes widened and her pretty pink mouth dropped open. Then, she blushed a sweet shade of rose and looked down at her feet.

“D ― Draco,” she stuttered as she looked back up at him through her lashes. “Did you ― come here to see me?”

Draco!?

Hermione Granger had never called him Draco in his life.

“I received a letter,” he replied dumbly.

“Oh.” She deflated a little before reaching back onto the chair she'd been sitting in. “So, did I. Does that mean it wasn’t from you?”

She held out a piece of paper and Draco snatched it out of her hand. The letter was exactly the same as the one he’d had. The same paper and handwriting, with the name mysteriously omitted.

He scrunched it in his hand, as he struggled to stave off the disappointment. “It’s a practical joke of some kind.”

“Why would you say that?” she asked as she took a step closer.

Draco became brutally aware that she was a little too close. Her breast brushed against his arm as she leaned in, and the scent of her washed over him like a balm. He detected hints of citrus, jasmine and something distinctly other. The same ones that he’d smelled in his Amortentia all those years ago.

“I―I,” he struggled to get the words out. “It’s obvious. You would never entertain the idea of ― of ―”

“Of what?” She leaned in and Draco thought he might faint.

Her face was right there, and she was looking at him with those eyes. If he leaned forward their lips would touch and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to come back from that. This doomed and hopeless attraction might turn into a crush, or perhaps something worse, like love.

“You know what,” he replied, helplessly unable to look anywhere but at her lips.

She tilted her head quizzically before her lip quirked up in an evil little grin. “Do you mean this?”

The kiss was insistent. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her soft body pressed against him. Oh Gods. On reflex his hands came to rest on her hips as she pushed into him even more. She licked a stripe along his lips, and he took that as an invitation to do the same. When their tongues met, she groaned, a sound that went straight to his suddenly enthusiastic cock.

She stood up on her tiptoes, the action making her stumble and grasp his shoulders tighter. In a truly gentlemanly fashion, he manoeuvred her against the closest wall for stability and pulled her knee up by his thigh as he pressed himself against her core. This was a dream come true. He couldn’t believe he had gotten so lucky. She felt amazing.

He moved his hand up into her hair and grasped it tightly in his fist so that he could pull her head to the side and kiss her throat.

“Draco,” she moaned. “Yes, please Draco.”

Draco.

His whole body shivered. He would never get used to hearing his name in her voice. There was no scenario in this world where he would have expected Hermione Granger to―

Do any of this.

He stepped back with his arms on her shoulders. She looked kiss drunk, her lips swollen and glistening with his saliva. Her hair was a mess from where he’d grabbed at it. It took everything he had not to dive straight back in.

“Who am I?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Draco Malfoy,” she replied with an adorably cute frown on her face.

“And how do you feel about me?” he asked carefully.

A blush spread across her cheeks, making her freckles stand out. She looked down at her feet again as she shifted her weight. When she looked back up through her lashes she took his breath away.

“I love you,” she whispered.

The words washed over him in waves, first pleasure, then disappointment, followed by dread.

“Did you eat or drink anything?” he demanded.

Her eyes darted behind him, and he turned to follow her line of sight. Two mugs of steaming hot chocolate sat on the table, one of which was half empty. He moved closer before kneeling down to inspect the steam. It rose in perfect pearlescent spirals.

“You’ve been drugged,” he stated dejectedly.

“Have I?” she asked as she crouched down beside him.

“Yes,” he confirmed before pushing himself up just enough to collapse into the wingback.

He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to get a handle on his emotions. It would not do for him to lose his cool right now. He was locked in a room with possibly the most famous young witch in the world and he couldn’t afford to let anything happen to her. Even if, what happened, was him.

“What were you thinking!?” he exclaimed in frustration only to open his eyes and find her drinking from the mug.

“Granger!” he snapped as he snatched the almost empty mug away.

“Hey!” she objected. “That’s mine.”

He held her back with one hand as he placed the mug down and proceeded to vanish the contents in both.

When he turned back to her, she was sulking. Her arms were crossed under her breasts and her luscious mouth stuck out in a truly adorable pout. No. He closed his eyes for a moment. He was supposed to be furious right now.

“You almost drank the whole thing,” he scolded her. “It’s going to last for hours.”

“So what?” she argued. “We’ve got until the dawn rises, remember? I can think of plenty of stuff for us to do.”

She stepped closer as she looked up at him again, her eyes glittering in the light. She ran her hand down his arm and picked at his sleeve. The entire action was so deliberately seductive that he was momentarily speechless.

Then he remembered.

“No!” he cursed as he pointed a finger at her. “You are using wiles on me. Secret. Feminine. Wiles. You are not yourself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she disagreed in such a swotty manner, that the juxtaposition was making him dizzy. “I am Hermione Granger. Ask me anything.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he sighed.

“Come on, try me,” she needled. “How about what I did to you after you insulted Buckbeak, or the words you used to apologise for making my teeth grow or,” she stood up a little straighter, a manic smile on her face. “How about the circumstances of the first time you kissed me?”

Draco froze. He wouldn’t have thought she would want to remember that horrifically embarrassing incident. It had been in their sixth year. He was tired and walking back to the Slytherin dormitories in a daze after another failed attempt to fix the cabinet. Exhaustion dragged at his steps, and he was barely conscious as he stepped into the corridor next to the library and ran straight into Granger.

She looked ridiculously beautiful in the moonlight filtering in through the window. It hurt to know that he could never be a part of something that good. Not if he succeeded in his mission.

He tried to push passed her and couldn’t move.

“What the fuck!?” he cursed loudly.

Granger sighed and looked away. “It’s mistletoe, Malfoy.”

He looked up in shock to find the offending sprig hanging from a beam. Panic began to set in. He didn’t have time for this. There was barely enough time in his day to sleep as it was. If he didn’t get back to his dorm soon, he was going to collapse, and he couldn’t let anyone see how bad it was. People would start asking questions and if they asked questions, they would probably uncover his web of lies. His life was a house of cards, and all it would take was the flick of a finger to make it all come tumbling down.

“We have to get out of here,” Draco hissed, his voice bordering on hysterical.

“We can’t,” She snapped. “We’re stuck here until a professor comes along.” Her cheeks turned pink as she muttered, “unless you’ve got any bright ideas.”

He did have an idea. A terrible, beautiful, brilliantly tempting, forbidden, idea. They would have to kiss. If they didn’t, it could take hours. Professors didn’t just wander around at this time of night. This corridor wasn’t well used. He didn’t even know why she would be there.

It was an idea that would free them in minutes.

It was the only thing he could think of.

Draco had not touched another human being in months. At first, it was because he hadn’t wanted anyone to notice how sore his arm was. Later, it was because it was easier to push them all away, than to lie about what he was doing.

But this…

Hermione Granger was untouchable. Forbidden. He wasn’t allowed to look. He wasn’t even allowed to think about her. The Dark Lord would find out and his life would be forfeit.

But now he had no choice. Now the world was forcing his hand.

So, he looked and after months of darkness and despair, here was warmth and light. Like a moth to a flame, he was drawn to her. This unthinkable temptation. She looked soft and inviting and he ― reached for her.

“We’ll have to kiss then.” His voice was matter of fact. A statement that brokered no argument.

“What!?” she spluttered. “How on earth ― No! Malfoy ― We can wait for ―”

He didn’t wait.

She was as soft as he had imagined. His hand cupped her face as he pressed in and like a miracle, she didn’t push him away or struggle. She melted. Her body arched into his as she gasped.

It was too much.

Draco had thought it would be only a moment. A quick press of his lips against hers. Just enough to release the spell on the mistletoe. But his hand came up to rest in the centre of her back with just enough pressure to pull her into him. His other hand on her cheek moved backward so that it could thread through her hair. All the while her pillowy lips moved to match his own. It had begun tentatively but was now morphing into something more dangerous, almost frenzied.

When her hands came up to fist in his shirt, he thought he was going to lose control of everything.

“Hermione?”

The voice echoed from around the corner. Someone had come for her, just like she had known they would.

He pushed her away like she was made of hot iron. She looked dazed and almost drunk, her lips shining and her eyes glazed. It made him want to keep her. Perhaps he could lock her away and keep her for himself. No one had to know and even if they did find out, he could lie and say she was his slave or something. She could be his dirty little secret.

When she met his gaze, guilt was written all over her features as a blush of shame crept up her neck and his hopes were immediately dashed. Of course not. She would never want to be with him. It was foolish of him to think otherwise.

He wiped the sheen from her lips with his thumb and stalked away. When he rounded the corner he passed Harry Potter. The sneer on his face came naturally.

Draco shook his head out of the memory. “Fine! You are Hermione Granger, but what I meant is that she would never in a million years love me. You are being influenced by a love potion. When this is all over, you will regret it.”

“No, I won’t,” she sulked with a pout.

“You will.” He gritted his teeth.

This was torture. Whoever had orchestrated this entire situation knew exactly how to get him where it hurt.

Her.

Who could have done this? Theo? No. He would never hurt Draco to this extent, and he knew exactly how much this would hurt him. Blaise? No. This was not his style. He preferred to work in barbed words rather than actions. Pansy? Maybe, but she would rather die than have anything to do with Draco. Not now.

He moved back toward the door and tried the handle. It wouldn’t budge. He tried every single spell he knew but they were all useless. Soon he was worn out and panting over a stupid door. With two steps backward he collapsed onto the bed and covered his face with his hands. This was hopeless.

He couldn’t do this. She was all he could think about, all he wanted, yet for her to be so close and yet so far was a brutal punishment.

Her hand carded through his hair in a comforting gesture, and he held back a sob. “Are you tired?”

For a moment, he let her touch him. Her hand was cool and gentle. She caressed him like he meant something, as though he were special. Not like he was the warped, broken remains of something that was supposed to be exceptional and was now cloaked in darkness and ruin.

“Yes,” he admitted.

He was so tired. The magical world was trying to fix itself and try as he might, he could no longer see a place for himself in it. Everyone knew how low the Malfoy’s had come and they were right to. His trial had shown the world how weak and pitiful he was.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Her voice sounded close, but he kept his eyes closed.

“Right now?” he sighed, “No. Maybe never. But definitely not until you’re you again.”

She sighed and he felt the bed dip beside him. “I’m still me.”

Draco opened his eyes and turned to face her. She was lying on her side, her hawthorn-coloured curls tumbling around her in spirals. It hadn’t escaped him that they were the same colour as his wand. The same colour as magic to him.

Her deep amber eyes were plaintive.

“Okay,” he agreed as he turned onto his side in a mirror image of the position she was in. “I’ll bite. Why would Hermione Granger love Draco Malfoy?”

It was a deliberate ploy. Love potions warped the brain. He expected her to say he was handsome. Nothing particularly deep or thought out. She bit her lip. It made him want to surge forward and replace her teeth with his own. He wanted to claim her mouth and taste her.

Fuck.

He had to get a hold of himself.

“Draco Malfoy was a boy who didn’t often get to make choices of his own,” she said, finally, after driving him mad with her silence. “But in those rare times when you did get to choose, you didn’t choose darkness. Sometimes it was not to kill a man. Sometimes it was not to reveal an enemy. And sometimes it was to kiss a girl that you had never even been allowed to see before. It was how you acted in those moments that made me curious.”

She took in a deep breath, and it felt like it lasted an age. He knew that it wasn’t real. It was the twisted monologue of the potion that made her say and act the way that she was. Her subconscious had created this entire fascination, but it felt so real.

“This year you’ve had all the choices in the world.” Her eyes scanned his face. “You haven’t been perfect.” A bitter smile curled up her lip. “With all the trauma, none of us have been, but I can see how hard you’ve been trying and I want to see how far that goes.” She hesitated as her fingers reached out to tug on the buttons of his shirt. “I want to see if it’s changed how you feel ― about me.”

“H ― how I feel about you?” he stammered.

“Yes.”

It was a simple statement. Nothing more. Not real. Not real. Not real. He chanted to himself.

She blushed as she shuffled closer, her fingers brushing against his abdomen. Draco gulped. It felt as good as sin. He reached down to encircle her wrist and gently pull it away from his body.

The words came out before he could really think about it. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Her breath caught at his admission, those doe eyes going wide. It made him want to skate his fingers over her jaw and claim her. His grip tightened on her wrist.

“I didn’t let myself look at you,” he confessed. “You were everything I wasn’t allowed to have. This impossible person. After fourth year I couldn’t even lay eyes on you because the moment I did…” His voice trailed off as he looked at her. He gulped, and the action felt painfully full. “Well, you remember what happened.”

“What’s stopping you now?” she whispered.

“Nothing.” He met her gaze. “Which is why I can’t take my eyes off of you.”

Granger smiled. The way it lit up her face made his stomach flip. When she leaned forward to kiss him again, he sat up and got off the bed holding his arms out in front of him.

“No,” he warned. “Granger, we can’t.”

She followed him up, her smile instantly disappearing. “Why!?” she exclaimed. “You like me and I like you. There’s nothing holding us back.”

“You don’t like me!” he argued. “You’ve been drugged and the moment you wake up in the morning you’re going to hex my balls off!”

“Think Malfoy!” she argued. “Amortenia creates the feeling of love. It doesn’t create a whole history of interactions. The reasons are normally surface level and vague. If there was nothing there before I had drunk the potion, I wouldn’t be able to articulate why beyond your hair being stupidly, soft and shiny or the fact that you’ve somehow bucked centuries of inbreeding to become so ridiculously attractive!”

He backed away as she stalked toward him, practically vibrating with fury. Her hair floated around her, imbued with magical energy. There had to be something drastically wrong with him because he found her even more attractive like this. She backed him up against the wall, her face tilted upward as she glared at him.

“That’s not exactly the most flattering compliment I’ve ever received,” he snarked foolishly.

To his delight she stomped her foot. It made her look like an adorable, angry puppy. “That’s because you are being so difficult!”

He couldn’t help but laugh. An action which only seemed to infuriate her more. With a sound of frustration, she tried to punch his chest only for him to catch her wrists in his hands.

“My, my,” he mused with a grin, “aren’t you impatient?”

“I’ve waited so long,” she confessed as she stilled in his grasp.

She was fire and ice. One moment, she was storming across a room and then the next she was like putty in his hands. There was never a dull moment in her presence. This couldn’t continue. There were still hours until the potion wore off, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could resist her.

“Now you have me.” He tilted his head. “Here in this moment, I am your captive audience. Is there anything that you have always wanted to do with me that is not sexual?”

Her expression temporarily brightened until he reached the end of the sentence when she slumped. He let go of her wrists and tilted her head back up toward him with his index finger.

“If you really loved me, it would be more than just sex,” he teased.

She bit her lip again, and in this particular instance the intrusive thoughts won. He reached up with his thumb and pried it out from between her teeth. Silence followed as she blinked so slowly, he thought she may not open her eyes again.

“Well?” he asked.

“Would you tell me about your childhood?”

If Draco could have taken a step backwards, he would have. His childhood was a minefield of emotions. Especially any of those that involved his father. It was a hurt that he hadn’t yet reconciled. The man who held him as a child. The man who had tucked him into bed and told him stories of the Malfoy’s of the past. He was like a separate person to the man who he knew had attacked children.

“Why would you want that?” he croaked.

“Because I want to know everything about you,” she reached up to cup his face, and Draco closed his eyes at her touch. “The good, the bad and all the moments in between.” She hesitated. “I never got to experience a magical childhood. I don’t know what it was like and Ron’s must have been vastly different to yours. Please?”

Draco ran a hand through his hair. “I ― I don’t know where to start.”

“Well how about we get comfortable first,” she suggested before shucking off her shoes and climbing into the bed.

When she turned around and patted the space next to her, he narrowed his eyes. “Wouldn’t it be more appropriate to discuss this by the fire?”

She stretched, the buttons of her shirt straining for all they’re worth, before settling back against the pillow. “I’m tired. We’re going to have to sleep next to each other eventually anyway.”

Draco knew he should say no, and that he should insist, but he was also tired. It had already been a long day of trying to be ‘good’ and he was at the limit of what he could endure. If he was careful, it should be fine, after all, the bed was enormous.

Draco walked around to the other side and slid off his shoes. When he joined her underneath the covers, he made sure to keep a respectable distance sitting up as straight as he could whilst she sunk down onto the pillows. Where to start. She was looking up at him with such longing that it was making it difficult for him to think.

He cleared his throat.

“I have always loved the sky. It was a passion I shared with my mother who also loved to fly, in her own way. We spent so many days on the back of her miniature Abraxan mare that I started to think that I was made more for the sky than I was for the ground. Her name was Breeze...”

***

Draco was warm. He could feel something soft and sweet smelling pressed against him. A featherlight touch was tickling his nose, and he instinctively arched back away from it. Yet that movement caused his lower body to come in contact with more of that softness, and he sucked in a breath. Reflexively his arm tightened, and his hand encountered something round and squishy.

This was a marvellous dream.

The scent reminded him of Granger. He shuffled closer. The thing that had tickled his nose was a mass of curls that smelled like citrus and sunshine.

Fuck.

He had imagined fucking Granger plenty of times in his dreams, but it had never felt as real as this. His cock felt like it would burst if he didn’t feel any more of her.

Then the Granger in his dreams moved. Her hand came up to grip over the top of his own as she rocked backwards against him. She moaned. It was a sound that went straight to his cock. With his other hand he gripped her hip and pressed himself into her.

“Draco.”

Draco froze. Granger had never once in his dreams called him by his first name. It felt too intimate and too familiar. They weren’t friends. In his dreams they were always together because neither of them had any choice.

Draco opened his eyes and found himself back in the room of requirement that was now dark with only the slightest light from the fire. He was spooned against Granger in the big bed that he had obviously fallen asleep in. Her eyes were closed but he wasn’t sure she was asleep. It didn’t feel that late and it was highly possible that the potion was still in effect.

She rocked back against him again, and he gripped her hip tightly.

“Granger,” he hissed as she moved his hand to clench at her breast.

Her back arched and her eyes fluttered open. “Please, Draco.”

His resistance crumbled. She pressed her lips against his and the world fell away. Her body turned as she looped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He fell backwards under her, her legs coming over to straddle his hips. With deliberation she rubbed against him, and his hands came up to hold her hips in a deathgrip.

“Granger we can’t,” he objected as she moved to kiss down his neck.

“Yes, we can,” she argued. “I want you and,” she rolled her hips against his ridiculously hard cock, making him groan, “and you want me.”

“Fuck,” he gasped as she took his face in her hands and kissed him once more.

He knew he should stop. This wasn’t his to have. This was a cruel trick played on him by someone who knew where to hurt him. Someone who knew where he was weak.

But something inside him broke anyway.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her down on top of him. His other hand cupped the back of her head, those burnished curls wrapping around his fingers. When their lips met, she tasted like chocolate and something distinctly her own. All of his favourite tastes in one. It was like the mistletoe all over again. This is what he wants. This is what he has wanted all this time.

Her.

She matched his fervour with her own. Every rock of their bodies caused a wave of arousal to shoot down his spine. It was like his body was on fire. Even fully clothed this felt better than any other woman he had ever touched. Not that he’d had much experience other than a few strangers and Pansy.

Yet when her hand brushed over his cock, he stilled.

Guilt and shame washed over him. She wasn’t in her right mind. There was no way she would want this if she were.

He grasped her wrist and flipped them over.

“Granger,” he panted. “We can’t.”

She had never looked more beautiful than that moment when she was laid out below him, her hair cascading over the pillows like a renaissance painting. Her shirt was untucked, a sliver of skin showing above the band of her skirt. If he survived this, without Granger eviscerating him, he would remember this moment for the rest of his life.

“But I love you,” she whispered.

He cupped her cheek. “I know sweetheart, but I need you to wait for me. It will all become clear in the morning.”

Her lip quivered. “How am I supposed to sleep now?”

With reluctance he rolled off of her and lay down beside her in the bed. “How about I tell you a story?”

She turned to face him and nodded, her eyes shining in the low light.

Draco sighed and lay down on his back to face the ceiling. “Once upon a time there was a prince of an evil Kingdom who was raised by a kindly governess deep within a castle…”

***

Draco woke as though he was climbing out of a hole. Sleep dragged at him. His head was swimming with images of Granger. Images that he didn’t want to let go of. She was writhing above him as he desperately tried to hold on. He would do anything to stay there with her at that moment. The problem was that they were muddled up with memories of his childhood and a dark fantasy castle that made him feel trapped. It was interfering with his high.

When he finally opened his eyes, he was surprised to find himself looking up into a golden canopy. It took him a couple of minutes to remember where he was and then a couple more for the full recollection of the night before to filter through into his sleep-addled mind.

He bolted upright and looked over to the other side of the bed. Granger was sitting up against the headboard; her arms wrapped around her legs and her head resting on her knees. It was a drastically different position than any of the ones he had found her in last night. He gulped.

“Granger.”

She jerked backwards, her eyes darting toward him. “Malfoy,” she replied, her voice soft.

It felt like a weight had descended on his chest, and he struggled to breathe. The potion had worn off. Everything that he had failed to prevent last night came flashing before his eyes. He had to get out of there.

Draco held up his hands. “I tried. I tried so hard. I just ― you were really hard to resist.”

Her mouth settled into a hard line as she clenched her arms tighter around her legs. He knew it. There was no way she wanted him. All that pleading and reasoning was all bullshit. It was all a lie.

Draco pushed out of the bed and hastily pulled on his shoes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? Nothing really happened. I managed to keep you off for the most part. Just ― give me a minute, and I’ll be gone.”

His heart clenched as he ran his hands through his hair. Everything he was wearing was rumpled and creased. It would be so obvious to anyone that he hadn’t spent the night in his own bed. He was about to take the worst walk of shame in his life. Then as soon as word got around, he would be even more outcast than ever.

When he reached the door, he took a deep breath. He pleaded for the handle to turn. He couldn’t stay here and face her with the knowledge of everything that had happened.

“Malfoy, wait!” she called out behind him.

He froze with his hand warming the metal. His freedom was right there. All he had to do was push through, and he could be gone the next minute.

Yet something stayed his hand. She deserved the right to chew him out. He could have tried harder, but he wanted her so badly. The old Draco never would have stayed. Draco hit his head against the door before taking a deep breath and turned to face the music.

She was standing next to the bed, her clothes just as dishevelled as his were. Her hands were twining together in front of her as she shifted from foot to foot. Even now she managed to take his breath away, and he remembered how she felt in his arms.

“I need to apologise.” Her voice was tremulous as she pursed her lips.

A cold wave of realisation hit him. She had been drugged and woke up in a room with a man. It was possible she had very little recollection of the previous night. He let his hand fall from the door and walk toward her, his hands resting on her arms.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he assured her as gently as he could. “You were drugged and had no control over what you were doing. If it makes you feel any better, we barely did anything.”

“No.” She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t,” he agreed. “I’ve never experienced a love potion before, especially not one as strong as Amortentia. I know that I can’t relate to what that must have been like, but none of that was your fault.”

“Fuck,” she cursed as she looked up at the ceiling, her eyes shining with tears. “That’s not what I meant.”

Draco’s heart clenched at the sign of her tears. He hated seeing her cry. When he accidentally hit her with a Densaugeo in fourth year, he’d felt bad about it for weeks.

“Please don’t cry,” he pleaded, “We’ll find whoever did this and ―”

“I DID IT!” she yelled.

Draco dropped his arms and took a step back. Her eyes were still wet, but her expression was determined. He was confused. She wasn’t making any sense.

“I know it feels like you did,” he continued, “but you weren’t yourself.”

She clenched her fists. “No. It was me. I was just ― so ― frustrated. I thought you liked me, but it didn’t matter what I did. You would always turn away from me or give me this totally perplexing silent treatment.” She took a step forward, her hands gesticulating wildly now that they were free again. “But I couldn’t say anything. My stupid anxiety convinced me every time not to act. All I could think of was what would happen if I was wrong. You were so cruel to me when we were younger, and I didn’t think I could bear it.”

Cold realisation pooled in Draco’s stomach. “So, you drugged yourself? You thought so low of me that I would take advantage of someone who was drugged?”

“No! No, I ―” she gulped as she shifted. “I didn’t think it would make a difference.” A blush coloured her cheeks. “Love potions create the feeling of love when one does not already exist. I already have feelings for you. I didn’t think it would change how I felt. Other than maybe make me a bit more forward…”

She trailed off as she looked down at her feet and sucked in a ragged breath. His heart melted. Draco moved closer again, his hand coming up to rest against the side of her face. He swiped his thumb across her cheek to wipe away her tears.

“It was more than you were expecting, wasn’t it?” he asked gently. She nodded a sob catching in her throat. With a hand at the centre of her back, he led her to the bed and guided her down to sit, before rubbing his hand over her back up and down in as comforting a manner as he could. “What do you remember?”

“Everything,” she whispered. “From the moment you came in to when I woke up last night.”

“But it didn’t feel right?” he asked as he pushed a curl behind her ear.

“No,” she confirmed as she leaned forward and gripped his sleeves. “I couldn’t control it, and now it feels like I was forcing you.”

Draco grasped her hands and ran his thumbs over her knuckles. “You didn’t. If you had been in your right mind last night, I would have happily participated in everything you did.”

“But I ―” she leaned closer, as if to whisper in secret, “I pushed you down and ― and ―” her voice was barely audible. “I mounted you.”

Draco couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips. “I know.” He shook his head. “I think I will remember that till the end of my days.”

“Don’t tease me,” she snapped as she glared up at him. “I’m mortified enough as it is.”

Hope had started to blossom within him. She wanted him. The woman of his dreams was sitting there confessing her sins, and he couldn’t feel anything other than joy.

“I’m not teasing,” he confessed before lowering his face toward hers.

He took it achingly slow, giving her all the time in the world to rear back. Her eyes went wider and wider until they closed and their lips met. This kiss was different from the others. It was hesitant and gentle. Draco tried to infuse it with every inch of sincerity he could.

Instead of pulling at each other in fits of passion, they met with barely any pressure at all. His hand came up to cup her face with the lightest of touches, as though she were something delicate that he needed to handle with care. He took every one of her sighs and the slight lick of her tongue as the blessing it was. A true miracle.

When they broke apart, it was with deliberation, his eyes scanning hers for any sign of discomfort.

“Was that, okay?” he asked with his heart beating out of his chest.

“It was perfect.”

“Are you sure you want to be with me?” he asked breathlessly.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice watery. “I was so reckless and you treated me with such patience. Malfoy, I know I went about this the wrong way but,” she bit her lip again, “would you consider dating me officially? I want you, all of you and I don’t want to hide this.”

Draco let his hands run up her arms and over her shoulders until he could cup her face. “Good, because I think my first instinct is to shout it from the top of the astronomy tower.” His voice lowered to a growl. “But I should warn you not to bite your lip in my presence.”

She frowned, a cute dip appearing between her brows. “Why?”

He crooned, “Because that’s my job.”

Draco kissed her again, taking her top lip between his teeth until she gasped. Then he set about devouring her. The slide of his tongue against hers felt divine. The small sounds of pleasure she made as they explored each other were the sweetest of elixirs.

When they broke apart she was panting, her eyes kiss drunk. He was tempted to kiss her again and again, before pushing her back onto the bed so that he could show her exactly what her evening antics had done to him but he didn’t.

It felt wrong somehow. He knew that she wouldn’t object, her actions from the previous night had made him aware of how much she wanted him, but she meant more to him than a solitary night of pleasure. He wanted to spoil her. Draco Malfoy had never had the luxury of choosing a woman for himself and now that he had one he wanted to take her on picnics, wild adventures and evenings where they talked about anything and everything until the sky turned pink.

Draco slid off the bed and held out his arm.

“Granger,” he asked in a gentile manner, “would you do me the honour of accompanying me to breakfast?”

She slid off after him looking slightly dazed. Her hand felt so small in his. “Now?”

“I’m game if you are,” he replied, his heart pounding with nerves.

He wanted the whole world to know and breakfast was as good a start as any. If he were completely honest with himself he was a little nervous. Goyle, Theo and Blaise would be overjoyed for him but he couldn’t imagine Potter and Weasley being happy.

She winced, her face reddening. “Im wearing the same clothes as yesterday and I haven’t showered.”

Draco looked at her rumpled appearance before lifting his wand and transfiguring her skirt and blouse into a pretty green sundress with small white flowers and a pair of matching sandals. She gasped in delight as she lifted the fabric.

He smirked. “Not a problem.”

When she lifted her head to meet his gaze her expression was wicked. She twirled her wand. “Does this mean I get to do you?”

He spread his arms wide. “Do your worst.”

With a grin she transfigured his school pants into a pair of jeans, his shirt into a graphic tee and his shoes into sneakers.

Draco pulled his t-shirt away from his chest. “Why is there a desert habitat printed on this?”

She laughed, a sound he thought he would never tire of. “It’s a band.”

“A muggle band?” he asked, his eyebrows rising into his hairline.

“You don’t mind do you?” she teased as she sashayed toward him. “It looks,” she sucked in a breath, “surprisingly good on you.”

“This is what does it for you?” He grinned. “Muggle attire?”

She tilted her head. “It makes you feel less — pointy and sharp.” Then she pressed up onto her tip toes and ran her fingers through his hair. “More like the boy I see underneath all the grooming.”

It was a sentence that contained so many layers. She saw beneath what his father had tried to turn him into as well as the hair gel and pristine white shirts and pressed trousers. He wrapped his arms around her and lowered his head.

“I’m glad,” he murmured against her lips before kissing her again.

When they finally left the room hand in hand it felt like the beginning of something momentous even if it was only something that mattered to them. He was tired. The night had been mentally taxing in so many ways but in the light of everything it felt like it was worth it.

They sat together at the Gryffindor table with every eye in the room on them. Hermione was straight backed and proud and beside her Draco felt a little less small and empty. Across the table from them Harry cleared his throat but before he could talk Ginny pushed into the seat next to him.

“So it worked!?”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her the source of all his misery. “You.”

“No,” Hermione interupted, “No. It was my idea. I already told you that. I just ran it by Ginny first.” Draco raised an eyebrow before she continued. “Well, it’s not like I could run it by Harry!”

“What couldn’t you run by me?” Harry asked with a pained expression.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer when Ron stuck his hand out. “I have an inkling and I really don’t want to know any more so maybe let’s not.”

Draco bristled. “If you must know, Ginevra. I was a gentleman. I talked to her until she fell asleep. Both times.”

Ginny made a face. “Urg. I’m sorry Hermione.”

Hermione blushed. “Don’t be sorry. It was really sweet.” She met Draco’s gaze, her eyes soft.

Someone made a retching sound from across the table but Draco didn’t care. Nothing was more important than the girl in front of him. He could bear the backlash and he would do it again in a heartbeat.

He ate his breakfast in relative silence as the Gryffindors talked around him. When he looked up at the Slytherin table they Pansy poked out her tongue and Theo gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

As he usually did when he finished his breakfast Draco lowered his head to the rest on his arms. He watched Hermione as she talked, charting the way a blush ran up her throat. After a few minutes he felt her hand carding through his hair.

Draco smiled. He was never giving this up.