Catalyst

Disclaimer: Not mine.

“Just promise me that you won’t leave Draco alone with Dad.”

Hermione stood in the kitchen with her mother, wringing her hands anxiously as she watched the petite woman bustle about the small room.

“Don’t be silly, dear,” came the distracted reply as the older woman poked through the refrigerator. “Your father knows to behave himself. I’m sure that he’ll be a gracious host.”

“Right.” The worried frown deepened as she muttered her response, retreating to the living room.

Richard Granger was sprawled out in his newest acquisition, a plush recliner. The television was blaring some sort of sports program that was barely audible above his raucous snores.

“Dad.”

He started, jerking awake with a loud snort.

“Sweet pea! When did you get here?” He struggled with the lever of the chair as he attempted to right himself, flashing her a warm smile.

“Just a few minutes ago. I wanted to speak with you before Draco arrived.”

The warm expression disappeared from his faced instantly at the mention of Draco’s name.

“He’s not here yet, then?”

“He’ll be here shortly.” She fell silent momentarily, searching for words to phrase her concern properly. She was an only child, and an only daughter at that. As such, her father was often fiercely overprotective. Not having had much experience with the opposite sex, Hermione hadn’t had any idea of this before the first time Ron had encountered her father during their brief and ill-fated attempt at romance. Ron had never gone into details of the event, but to this day he went a bit pale at the mention of Richard Granger.

If he’d inspired that sort of reaction in Ron, a boy that she’d known for years and who’d always gotten along well with her parents, she shuddered to think of how her father would treat Draco.

“Dad, I really like Draco.”

He grunted in response, avoiding her eyes.

“I’d really appreciate it if you could-“

Her father met her gaze with a challenging expression and she sighed inwardly.

“-be very polite to him.”

He huffed slightly. “I’m always polite. You’ve nothing to worry about, pumpkin. Promise.” With that he stood, sweeping her into a hug and leading her back into the kitchen.

*****************************

Draco apparated to the coordinates Hermione had provided him, reappearing on the frozen ground of the Granger’s backyard. He strode to the door, rapping soundly and pulling his winter cloak tightly around his body in the cold. A few moments later, the door swung open to reveal a short, plump woman with familiar looking brown curls. She beamed at him before ushering him in and fussing over him as she offered a variety of warm beverages.

Despite his veneer of arrogance, Draco had been more than a bit nervous at the prospect of meeting the two muggles that had raised the formidable Hermione Granger. He could feel his nerves easing as he chatted with the matronly woman. The atmosphere of the home was actually quite welcoming, very casual and comfortable.

“Draco,” Hermione greeted, smiling almost shyly at him as she entered the room and took his hand, squeezing lightly. He felt a burst of affection for the little witch, normally so self-assured, as she gazed up at him, mirroring his own nervousness.

“So,” came a deep booming voice from the doorway, “the mysterious Mr. Malfoy has appeared.”

Draco felt his stomach leap into his throat as he met the older man’s gaze. While the two men were approximately the same height, Hermione’s father presented quite an imposing picture. Draco’s throat tightened as he noted the burly build and the suspicious gleam in the balding man’s brown eyes.

He moved forward, offering his hand.

“Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Granger.”

Mrs. Granger tutted softly. “Call us Jane and Richard, dear.”

Draco nodded, even as he watched a sour expression flit briefly across the older man’s face and made a mental note never to address Hermione’s father by his first name. Richard’s expression was quickly replaced by a broad smile as he turned back to his wife.

“Jane, we’ll just go into the den to have a drink before dinner’s ready.”

“I’ll come too,” Hermione replied instantly, following the men.

“Wait, dear. I’ll need your help with a few things first.”

Hermione watched her father lead Draco from the room, hoping against hope that both men behaved themselves in her absence.

“Quit worrying. They’ll be fine.” Her mother was whisking some sort of creamy substance at the stove.

“Right. So what can I help with?”

“It’s nearly done, actually. The boys could use some bonding time, though, don’t you think?”

“Bonding?”

“You know… Talking about business, sports, politics… Male bonding. Can’t do that if you’re there.”

“Draco’s business is wizarding-based. The only sport he follows is Quidditch, and I highly doubt if he has more than a cursory knowledge of muggle politics.”

Her mother waved away her concerns, looking up with a smile. “Your young man is quite handsome though, isn’t he? And so polite. There aren’t many in your generation with manners like that.”

Hermione refrained from informing her mother that Draco was raised in what basically equated to some sort of royal family that was entirely convinced of their own superiority to the entire muggle world and the vast majority of the wizarding as well. She also did not mention that those manners may as well have been non-existent during their school years when his greatest delight had been threatening, ridiculing, hexing, and annoying her and her friends at every possible opportunity.

“He does have good manners I suppose,” she replied absently, her imagination running rampant with the possibilities of what could be transpiring between Draco and her father.

As if on cue, an odd thump sounded from the direction of the living room. Hermione and her mother exchanged a worried glance before hurrying to investigate. Draco was slumped over in his chair, looking even paler than usual, and her father was standing over him looking very guilty.

Hermione rushed to his side, muttering a quick “enervate” and taking Draco’s hand. His silvery eyes opened and immediately widened in panic as he became cognizant of his surroundings. He said nothing but squeezed Hermione’s hand tightly.

They both turned and watched in fascination as Jane Granger’s motherly countenance dissipated into blinding fury as she delivered a scathing rebuke to her husband. Draco was struck by the resemblance between mother and daughter as he watched the petite woman terrify the brawny man who was now looking distinctly regretful.

“-can’t even conduct a simple conversation with such a nice young man without striking the fear of God into him! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Don’t even think of coming to dinner until you’ve made proper amends and decided to conduct yourself in a respectable fashion.”

She turned and stalked from the room after throwing a sympathetic look in Draco’s direction.

Richard Granger met his daughter’s gaze reluctantly, wincing as he noted the familiar gleam of fury that he’d just witnessed in his wife. He next turned to Draco, who was actually feeling somewhat sympathetic at this point. One irate Granger was quite enough for him. He didn’t fancy the idea of being at the mercy of two furious Granger women at all.

“I apologize.”

Hermione arched an eyebrow and tapped a foot impatiently.

“I just wanted you to understand how much I care for my daughter. Perhaps I went a bit overboard,” he mumbled.

Draco nodded, still looking a bit pale. “Quite alright. Rest assured, the message has been received.”

The older man slunk out of the room, leaving the two young lovers alone. Hermione slid into Draco’s lap, giving him a small smile as she wrapped her arms around him.

“What happened?”

“Suffice it to say that your father loves you very much. He gave me a very vivid description of his course of action should any harm befall you whilst we are involved. He was quite concerned with my understanding that his lack of magic would not deter him from seeking vengeance.” Draco stopped, shivering slightly. “I can honestly say that this is the first time I’ve ever had reason to fear a muggle.”

Hermione bit back a laugh and stood, pulling him to his feet.

“Come on. Let’s go see if they’re ready to eat.”

**************

“I’ve always maintained that, while my little pumpkin may be a genius, she’s never bothered to learn how to keep herself out of harm’s way.”

Draco’s eyes flitted briefly to Hermione’s annoyed expression before looking back to her father.

“I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Granger. For a woman of such dizzying intellect, she is rather cavalier with her own safety at times.”

Hermione’s father beamed at him. “Call me Richard, Draco. Have you seen the lock on her door? Might as well leave it wide open,” he scoffed.

“I put wards up!” Hermione protested. “I don’t need hefty locks when there are magical wards in place.”

Draco snickered. “You mean the wards that I broke through in about thirty seconds? They’ll keep the muggles out but that’s about it Granger. You’d have to do some serious charms work to put up substantial wards to prevent wizards from entry.”

“I can’t place those kinds of charms on an apartment in a muggle building.” Hermione was looking most put out.

“Well, then. Time to move, isn’t it? Find a building with decent security.” Richard was now jabbing the air with his knife for emphasis, looking to Draco for support.

“I like my building. Plus it’s affordable and I doubt if any of the units that you would approve of are within my budget,” she added.

“Pumpkin, I don’t know how many times I’ve told you that we’d be more than happy to help out with your expenses. Besides, shouldn’t that job of yours be paying you a decent wage by now?” He turned to Draco. “They create an entire department for her, put her in charge of a whole team of people, but they can’t give her a decent salary?”

“They could certainly afford it,” Draco chimed in, “and I’ve no doubt that they’d consider her worth a good deal more than they’re paying her. Trouble is, they know she’s willing to work for whatever they offer.”

“Ah, yes, she never did learn to keep a poker-face. Got to learn to play hard-ball if you want your just desserts in this world.”

“A truer word was never spoken. She’s not one to talk herself up, but there are times that that’s exactly what’s called for. Modesty is one thing, but this is quite another. It’s painfully obvious how much she loves her work. They know that they can get away with paying her a pittance because she’ll never leave those bloody house elves without proper representation within the Ministry.”

“Enough!” Surprisingly, it was Jane and not Hermione that brought the discussion to a halt. As the conversation had worn on, Hermione had sunk further and further into her chair while glowering at the surface of the table and willing them silently to change topic.

Both men looked up, startled, and noted the expression of discontent written across the young witch’s face.

Richard looked a bit indignant. \"But-\"

\"No.\" Hermione glared at her father, who looked a bit more contrite.

Hermione knew that she should be grateful that they were getting on at all, considering their rocky start. She had just hoped that their common ground would be something other than their evident dissatisfaction with her home and occupation, not to mention her numerous other faults that they’d not had time to expound upon. Was it really such a terrible thing to care enough for one’s work that money truly isn’t a big issue? Alright, it’d be nice to make enough that she needn’t ever worry about financial issues, but she was doing just fine. The very thought of demanding a raise was unsettling to her when she knew that there were so many others who desperately needed the money while it would just be a cushion to her. A subtle clearing of the throat interrupted her musings and she looked up to find all three of her dinner companions watching her.

“So,” began her mother, obviously struggling for a suitable change of subject, “how did you two meet?”

Hermione went pale and Draco reached for her hand under the table, giving it a comforting squeeze before answering.

“We met in school, actually. Lots of classes together.”

Her father frowned. “You weren’t friends though, were you? I don’t recall hearing Hermione speak of you.”

Draco squirmed imperceptibly. “No,” he answered truthfully, “we were never very close before recently. We ran into each other in a restaurant a few months ago,” he finished diplomatically, avoiding details. He wasn’t sure whether or not Hermione had filled her parents in on her attack, but it was evident that she didn’t wish to speak of it at the moment.

“How pleasant. The rekindling of old acquaintances.” Jane beamed at Draco, who stifled a snort of laughter. The circumstances of their reunion were anything but pleasant. Besides Hermione nearly being assaulted, he doubted she’d been very glad to see him again. Truthfully, he hadn’t been all that thrilled at seeing her either. It had taken several weeks for it to sink in that there was a good deal of chemistry between the two of them, and it wasn’t exclusively negative. Watching her now, he realized what a long, strange journey it had been to arrive at this point in their relationship. He stroked her arm soothingly as he turned back to her mother.

“Yes. I certainly am grateful for that opportunity.”

****************

They wound up staying much longer than originally planned. An array of desserts and beverages were served after dinner and the quartet moved to the living room, settling on the plush couches and enjoying the simple comfort of the warm, cozy house. Snow had begun falling that afternoon and by nightfall the grounds were covered in a frosty white blanket.

Draco was surprisingly content, settled on the sofa with Hermione curled against him, a blanket over their legs. Her father had turned on the telly after a bit, and they’d been chatting while various programs played in the background. Finally, as he felt Hermione nodding off next to him, he realized that it was actually quite late. Hermione went off to collect their coats and her bag as Draco thanked her parents for their hospitality.

As they exited the house to apparate, a small smirk replaced the warm smile on Draco’s face.

“What?” demanded Hermione, immediately suspicious.

“Relax, Granger. I told you they’d like me. All parents like me.” His breath fogged the frozen air as he spoke.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m freezing. Let’s just go.”

“Will you stay with me at the Manor tonight? I don’t fancy waking up to that cat of yours sleeping on my pillow again.”

“Of course.” She suppressed a smile, feeling a bit disloyal to her beloved Crookshanks, but vowed to make it up to him later.

Several moments later they rematerialized in Draco’s suite of rooms and Hermione pulled off her gloves, cupping her hands and breathing on them to warm them up.

“Cold?” Draco flicked his wand a few times and the room became considerably balmier. He pulled her coat off her shoulders and pulled her icy fingers between his own larger hands, rubbing them gently. She smiled up at him and inched backwards towards the bed, falling back on it.

“My feet are cold too.” She pouted prettily, smiling smugly when he obediently reached for her feet, pulling off her shoes and socks and warming them between his hands. She shimmied out of his reach, curling up on the bed and patting the space next to her. He pulled off his own shoes and socks and spread out beside her. She burrowed into the warmth of his body, sliding her hands under his sweater and tee shirt.

He yelped as her icy fingers slid over the warm flesh of his abdomen, yanking her arms out of his clothing and holding them captive.

“Granger?”

“Um-hmm?”

“What the bloody fuck do you think you’re doing?”

She looked at him with wide brown eyes, peering up through her lashes for a maximum of innocence.

“I was cold.”

His silvery eyes narrowed as he watched the calculated display.

“Were you, now?” He pinned her wrists in one hand, pushing them above her head. “I guess that I’ll have to warm you up then, won’t I?”

With that, he descended on her, trapping her beneath the firm weight of his body and using his free hand to tickle her sides mercilessly while she shrieked with laughter. After several long moments, he collapsed on top of her, releasing her wrists. Her body was still quaking slightly in the aftershocks of his questing fingers, and he waited for her breathing to equalize before once again reaching beneath her blouse, this time stroking tenderly at the warm, smooth skin of her abdomen.

“Draco?” Her voice was breathy when she finally spoke.

“Hmm?”

“I really do love you, more than I would have ever believed.”

He lifted his head from its resting place in the crook of her neck and gazed into her eyes, which were sparkling with happiness and emotion.

“I love you back.” His words were slightly choked, and he immediately dropped his gaze, scooting down her body and pillowing his head on her breasts. “You know, that’s the first time I’ve ever said that, other than to my mum.”

She was silent for a moment. “Never to your father?”

He snorted. “Yeah, that would have gone over big. Lucius comes home from a busy evening of torturing, pillaging, and murder to cuddle up with his wife and son.”

She thought about that. She’d certainly never considered Lucius Malfoy to be the paternal type. In light of recent events, however, she’d assumed that her impressions of him were at least slightly erroneous. It was obvious that his life revolved around his wife and son and he seemed to be crazy about both of them, no matter how misguided and repulsive his morals were.

“It’s obvious how much he loves you though, both you and your mum.”

“Yeah, it’s obvious now. Now that there’s no Dark Lord in the picture and he’s spent years locked away in Azkaban. He came out of prison a very different man than he was before he was incarcerated.”

She ran a hand through his silky flaxen strands, letting them sift through her fingers before grazing his slightly flushed cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, unsure of how to respond.

“Don’t be.” He slid up her body, slanting his mouth over hers and kissing her gently, signaling the end of the uncomfortable conversation. Her lips parted to allow him entrance and his questing tongue slid into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth, tasting her deeply.

His hands roamed over her body, sliding under her blouse and pulling at the silk of her bra. He broke the kiss briefly, yanking the top over her head and popping the clasp of the thin undergarment before sliding it away from her breasts. Her skin was flushed and rosy from the heating charms. He lowered his head the pink flesh, nuzzling her curves gently before resting his head in the valley of her breasts, listening to the rhythmic thumping of her heart.

“So perfect,” he murmured, lifting his head to meet her eyes. Her cheeks were dark crimson, positively burning now as her breathing grew shallow. His fingertips stroked slowly, almost lazily, over the swell of her breasts while his darkened grey eyes bore into her, watching every reaction with a searing intensity.

Finally, he dipped his head, gently pulling a nipple between his lips and laving it with his tongue. The sound of her breathless gasp filled his ears and he smiled contentedly as he continued his ministrations to her dusky nipples. One of her hands twined through his hair, holding him flush against her body as she let her head fall back against the pillows.

“Draco.” Her hands were pulling insistently at his hair and jumper and he reluctantly allowed himself to be yanked upwards. She said nothing but tugged on his clothing, grunting her appreciation as he assisted her in pulling it off. Once he’d stripped, she pushed him back onto the bed and shimmied out of her own trousers and knickers before climbing atop his nude body and smothering him in kisses.

She’d been impatient to get down to business, but the sight of all that pale, smooth skin stretched out before her was much too enticing to ignore. She licked and stroked a trail across his abdomen, tracing familiar lines along his slim frame. Pausing as she reached the juncture of his long legs, she ran her fingertips across his thighs. He groaned slightly and his hips jerked or their own accord, bringing the evidence of his need to her attention.

She licked her lips, noting how the flushed and swollen erection twitched slightly under her gaze. Dropping her head, she wrapped her lips around the head and was rewarded with the familiar musky taste of Draco. He was panting slightly and moaning now as she took him in deeper, tonguing the length of his erection. His hips began to push against her face and she knew he was getting close to the edge.

Her ministrations came to an abrupt end as he pulled her off and pushed her back on the bed. Wordlessly, he parted her legs and climbed between them, covering her body with his own. He bent forward, dropping kisses on her forehead and cheeks as he pushed slowly inside her, bracing himself with his arms on either side of her body.

Hermione whimpered slightly as he slid in, reveling in the delicious stretching sensation as her body accommodated his heavy arousal. Draco’s eyes shut as his motion stilled and the sound of his breathing was distinctly labored. She wrapped her legs around his slim hips and waist and began to rock against him. The invitation was immediately accepted and he thrust into her, meeting the movements of her hips.

She reached between their bodies, craving the friction that she needed to send her over the edge. Her hand was immediately batted away by a frowning Draco. Shifting his weight, he maneuvered one of his own hands to where their bodies were joined. It wasn’t long before she was gasping and writhing beneath him, crying out his name as she came apart.

With a few final thrusts, Draco’s own climax followed with a sudden rush of warm wetness within her. He sagged against her, burying his face in her neck as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, hips pistoning against hers slightly until he was completely spent.

The two lovers lay together in a rare moment of silence, clinging tightly to each other. With a sigh, Draco reached for the covers, pulling the duvet over their cooling bodies.

“Sweet dreams, my love,” he murmured into her hair as they drifted off together.

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