Nothing Like You and I

Author's Note


This is one REALLY long Epilogue. I could've made it into two chapters but alas...whatever.

To clear a few things up:

Draco has been told that he was in a coma for the five years Voldemort was occupying his body; which is why he doesn't remember a thing - that's what they want him to think.


I really enjoyed writing this bit and am thinking of a sequel but right not I'm not too sure. I'd be afraid no one would like it as I'm not a fan of sequels myself. So, who knows!

Thank you to everyone who rated and commented! I really hope you enjoyed it!










The thing with memory is that it has a way of holding onto the things a person loves, the things a person is and the things a person never wants to lose. A heart that has truly loved never really forgets.

Three Years Later

The annoying buzzing of the lights swinging above her made her want to dive under the counter for a little migraine medication; but she knew she had work to do. Leaning against the counter of a small wizarding bookstore situated south of Yorkshire, Hermione J. Granger was bored. Completely and utterly bored.

She passed the time by poking at a swinging book charm that sat with a pile of other book charms enchanted to glitter whenever a person touched it. She would watch the star charm swing back and forth like a pendulum measuring the dull life she was exposed to now.

Every one in awhile the door would swing open and her whiskey colored eyes would look up at the visitor. A faux smile played across her lips as she would greet him or her, or them, and ask the same question that became automatic after awhile.

"Welcome to Proverb and Arnold Books, how may I help you?"

There were three types of responses; a grunt signaling no help was necessary, the actual words that they didn't need anything, or endless questions about the volumes and volumes of books the small store seemed to have large quantities of.

She sighed and slumped over the desk, pounding her head against the table. The twinkling of the bell peaked what little spark of interest that was eager to escape and find something more interesting to do. Her eyes caught sight of a dark clad individual, hood up and shadows covering his face.

"Welcome to..." Hermione began but was silenced by a hand.

"I'm meeting some one," he said with a gruff voice, tossing a small satchel of galleons onto the table, "Ensure no one bothers me."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow and was prepared to say that this was a bookstore, not a coffee shop. However, she remained silent and merely nodded. The man moved across the aisles and out of sight. Just as he disappeared around the corner another man entered, clad in the same fashion but with a dark emerald cloak.

"Down the hall, to the right," she said board, nodding her head in the direction of the creeper.

He nodded and moved in the same fashion, causing Hermione to roll her eyes. Sitting back on her small rickety stool, Hermione leaned forward with her forearms resting on the counter top.








"Have you got it?" he breathed uneasily, looking around the corner, "I don't feel comfortable trading in a place like this, Gambol."

"This is a tiny book shop with one entrance and one exit," Gambol huffed, pulling out a small box.

"Yes, but that girl...she looks an aweful lot like..." the man whispered, "You-Know-Who."

"Don't be an idiot, Jensen," Gambol snapped, "Hermione Granger wouldn't have anything to do with this shite hole. Now, have you the galleons or not?"

Jensen fumbled with his belt and pulled a small satchel. He held it out for Gambol but paused when a boy passed. They froze as he looked at him, hair a muddy brown with a lot of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He carried a bundle of books and paused when their eyes met.

Looking away, the boy quickly moved into another aisle and out of sight. Gambol sneered and turned back to Jensen, snatching the satchel from him. He held out the box on the palm of his hand and brought his wand out, waving over it lightly.

It enlarged four times. Jensen gulped eagerly and moved to open the box, grinning wildly at its contents.

"Only the best," Gambol explained, "Eggs from a Northern Ridgeback, Chinese Fireball, and Japanese Horntail. Extremely rare."

"They're beautiful," Jensen said with glee, "Worth every galleon."

Gambol held the box back as Jensen reached for it, "No one must know where you got these from. Those Ministry bastards have been on my case for the past three years."

"Oh, I won't tell...I promise," Jensen breathed, smiling crookedly at him as he reached for the box.

As soon as his fingers touched the box the aisle of books besides them collapsed. Gambol and Jensen turned as a spell shot toward them. Gambol shouted as he was thrown back into another row of books, the box falling into Jensen's hands.

Jensen looked up quickly as Hermione Granger stood over the pile of books with her wand raised.

"Kyle Jensen, hands up and wand out," she warned, eyes narrowed, "You're wanted for the purchase and distribution of..."

Jensen pulled his wand quickly and shot a spell under his various yards of robes, knocking another shelf over Hermione. She blasted the books back quickly and looked over at the empty spot.

"Shit," Hermione snarled, reeling around as the door bell jingled.

She raced out into the streets and peered over the shoulders of various people. Spotting the emerald green cloak disappear into an alleyway, Hermione sucked in her breath and took off after him.

Running along the narrow winding alleyway, Hermione kept her wand out and narrowly dodged a severing curse. She fired back a stunner but watched it blast into a wall just as Jensen disappeared around the corner.

Jumping quickly over a metal garbage can, Hermione came to a halt at a dead end. She frowned, knowing that there was no Apparation point back here. Clenching onto her wand, she was about to turn when she felt the tight prod of a wand at the nape of her neck.

"I knew it was you," Jensen huffed, taking in shallow breaths, "I just knew it."

"And yet you still decided to do illegal business," Hermione said with narrowed eyes, raising her wand slightly.

"Ah! Don't move or I'll hex your head off," he warned, flicking his wand slightly, "Throw your wand."

Hermione swallowed and threw her wand to the side, listening to it clank and roll on the cobblestone pavement. Jensen let out a sigh but was caught off guard when Hermione spun quickly and brought a knee into his groin. She grasped onto the backs of his robes and pulled them over him, clenching her fist as she punched him in the gut.

Pushing him against the wall, Hermione extended her hand as another wand slid down and pointed it at his jaw.

"Do you really think I was ill prepared, Jensen?" she asked, shoving him harder against the wall.

"I surrender! I surrender!" he cried as she twisted his arm.

Hermione released and held her wand out, waiting for Jensen to push himself from the wall and turn. He dropped his wand and spun quickly, revealing a knife hidden in his hand. Hermione leaned back just as the blade cut a strand of hair and nearly lost her footing.

"Stupefy!" a voice from behind him cried out.

Jensen grunted and fell to the ground with a flop and cracking thud. Hermione leaned back against the adjacent wall taking in a breath. She looked to the wizard standing in the alleyway with his wand raised and grunted.

"What took you so long?" she snarled, pushing herself from the wall.

"Gambol woke when you decided not to bind him," he said coolly, winding long dark robes around Jensen, "Put up a fight, the bastard."

"Right, well I thought you'd be all over that one," she breathed, snatching up Jensen's wand, "Seeing that all you do is complain about the boring jobs we get."

"There's a difference between boring and uninteresting, Granger," he said, pulling Jensen up, "Doing undercover stuff like this for weeks is far from boring but very uninteresting."

"You just couldn't stand looking common," Hermione half laughed, holding her wand up as she shot red sparks into the air, "Could you, Malfoy?"

"Brown is very dull," Draco grinned, leaning back against the wall with his blonde locks falling over his head.

"I happen to like brown," Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, you would with that bush you call hair," he waved at her hair, which was pulled back into a long pony tail, "Why don't you ever use any glamor charms, or at least hide those bags under your eyes."

"Too embarrassed to be around your partner then?" Hermione asked with a chortle, "I don't need to look like a sodding supermodel in this job."

"A lot better than behind a desk, yeah?" Draco asked as a few Aurors arrived in crimson robes, "Gambol is back at the shop. Kyle Jensen. Former Death Eater turned illegal dragon egg salesman."

"We got it from here, Malfoy and Granger," a tall but large man said, grasping onto Jensen by the back ropes and pulled him along, "You two can head back to the office."

"Great," Draco groaned, "Now all the good stuff is over, on to paper work."

"It's not that bad," Hermione shrugged as the pair made their way back through the alleyway.

"You would say that," he laughed, "Especially considering how your reports tend to overshadow mine by at least twenty inches!"

"There happens to be a lot of things to write, and a ton of details," Hermione said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms as they emerged into the crowd.

"You could do mine for me if you want, I wouldn't mind," he paused when Hermione quirked an eyebrow and chuckled, "Yes, I know. 'How will you ever learn to do things all on your own if I do everything for you'!"

"That's a horrible impression of me," Hermione snorted, spinning around on the Apparation mark.

Draco shrugged and spun around as well, "I thought it was decent."

"Well, you're the only one then," she smacked her lips and closed her eyes as the world around her shifted.








"So, take-away?" Draco asked from the threshold of Hermione's smallish office.

"Can't," Hermione said quietly, folding several stacks of parchment, "I'm meeting Harry and Ginny for dinner."

"Ah," Draco nodded, "Another one of those dates then?"

She looked to him and sighed, "I hope not."

"I don't see why you just tell them you're one of those girls and get it over with," Draco laughed, inviting himself into her office.

"One," Hermione held a finger up, "I am not one of those girls. I am just picky."

"I've hardly seen you pick anyone in the three years since I woke from my coma," he said quietly, crossing one leg over the other, "So, would've never guessed you fancied men."

It was a big joke. The past three years. Draco often used it as an excuse to get out of the larger cases, saying he was afraid he'd forget the most important spells. It wasn't true. He was an amazing agent, Auror, and the best undercover wizard this side of the ocean.

"I fancy a nice glass of firewhiskey," Hermione laughed, rising from her seat, "But that's not going to happen. Gin is on this whole no alcohol thing."

"I could always sneak you a drink," he winked at her and rose as well.

"And hope you didn't spike it?" she laughed, pulling her cloak on, "I don't think so."

"Right," Draco nodded, "Well tell this bloke you're going to meet that I feel sorry for him."

Hermione glared but the smirk on Draco's lips couldn't make her hold that look long. She shrugged her cloak on and dusted it lightly.

"Mhm, I'll be sure to tell him that," she mumbled, looking up as Draco pulled the door open.

They stood in silence as they made their way out of the office, the last in the building per usual. Hermione stared at the numbers of the lift and closed her eyes remembering the past three years.

Now that he was back she didn't have to study Nimue's Hill any longer, not that she wanted to. Ron made it out safely of course, only with a thumping good headache and no recollection of the past few hours.

Hermione came to the conclusion that when one's soul was out of one's body and returned, their memories and times outside of it were erased. How could a soul have memories?

She was offered a job working alongside Harry and Ron; and for once she took up the opportunity. The first year, Hermione spent much of her time reclaiming her cottage. She moved to a new place just outside of Leeds and started what she thought was a new life.

Draco moved back with his parents but soon grew too tired or bored of being pampered and returned to the Ministry. It wasn't hard for them to reclaim his living state now and he was instantly offered a job.

It was a year and a half since they last saw each other before they were paired together. She was against it at first; the past was not her friend and she didn't know how she could cope with it. But, she did and their partnership flourished.

He remembered nothing and she everything. Not one day passed did she think of showing him her memories, telling him she remembered. However, that was the past and this was the present.

Something Lucius had told her just before Draco called for him stuck to her like glue, "We cannot change our memories, but we can change their meaning and the power they have over us."

She actually listened to him and turned over a new leaf; becoming a new person.

The ding on the elevator broke her from her trance. Draco held his hand against the door to allow her to exit and she returned his kindness with a smile.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow then?" he asked once they reached outside.

"Unless you decide you need a sick day," she grinned, shoving her hands into her pockets.

Draco thought for a second and looked up into the sky, "No. I don't think I will need one."

"Alright," she smiled, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Hermione," he said softly, pressing a small kiss to her forehead, "Give that poor man a break, alright?"

"Sure, whatever," she rolled her eyes and watched as he popped out of sight.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes, popping out of sight as well.







Harry lived in a large cottage by the sea called The Dwelling. Various toys sat strewn across the sandy grass where one had to be careful if they wanted to keep their bones together. Hermione remembered tripping over James’ toy broomstick and found herself with a sprained back. It was humorous for a moment, until the next day when she forgot to purchase numbing potions and had to endure ridicules for looking like the Hunchback.

She sighed as the wind whipped around her and dug her hands into her pockets. Stepping over that blasted toy broomstick, Hermione skipped up the steps to the cottage and rapped lightly on the door. She straightened her cloak slightly as the door opened only slightly.

“Ginny? Harry?” Hermione asked, instantly taking her wand out as the lights were mysteriously out.

She frowned and pushed the door open with her foot, coming to a stand in their kitchen overlooking the living room. Something was wrong. Something was off.

“SURPRISE!” the lights flickered on just in the worst possible moment.

Hermione threw her wand forward and shouted a disarming spell at the nearest person. Ron went flying across the room and tumbled over the back of Harry and Ginny’s sofa into Fred and George. Her eyes widened as the group quieted and she turned scarlet.

“Oh,” she said quietly, noticing the wide eyes of the other people in the room, “A surprise party…”

“Yeah,” Ron choked, scrambling to his feet, “We missed your birthday last week on account that you and Malfoy were in Bulgaria.”

“Oh gods,” Hermione dropped her wand and brought her hands to her mouth, “I’m so sorry guys.”

Harry chortled with Ginny, “It’s alright ‘Mione. Bound to happen one day right?”

“Note to self,” George leaned over to Fred, “No more surprise parties if we want to keep our bollocks.”

“Roger that, George,” Fred saluted, grinning at Hermione, “Well, you going to just stand there?”

“Oh, right,” Hermione smiled as she pulled her coat off while the crowd instantly resumed their goings on.








Hermione managed to escape the large crowd inside the house and took a breath while leaning against the brick wall that separated the cottage from the sea. She brought her hands to her face and rubbed her eyes, rubbing the exhaustion from right under her.

“It’s a nice night,” came a drawl from behind her.

“I’m going to kill you,” Hermione mumbled into her hands.

“Ah,” Draco laughed, walking slowly toward Hermione, “You can’t kill the bearer of gifts, now can you?”

Hermione turned slightly and laughed when Draco held up a small bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses. He moved to the brick fence and rested the bottle and glassed on the ledge.

“You knew and you didn’t tell me,” she said, watching him pour her a glass, “What kind of partner are you?”

“One that wants to keep his head,” Draco explained, handing her a glass, “Potter would have maimed me to no extent if I let it slip. Besides, you deserve a birthday.”

“I quite like staying at home, eating a pint of ice cream and wallowing in my own self-misery,” she badly joked, swallowing the liquid.

Hermione hissed as it burned her throat on the way down but it was rather soothing afterward. Draco sipped at his and leaned back against the wall with his heel resting at its base.

“Do you ever have dreams?” Draco asked suddenly and quietly, staring into the house.

“Of course,” Hermione answered, pouring herself another glass, “Everyone has dreams.”

“No,” Draco shook his head, “I mean dreams that seem so real…like out of this world but plausible. I keep having them recently.”

“Were they about you winning the Quidditch World Cup while riding on the back of a dragon?” Hermione asked, taking a smaller sip.

“As cool as that sounds, no,” he laughed, looking into his glass, “Most of the time they were about you.”

Silence. Hermione nearly choked on her drink as she brought it to her lips. Her eyes widened only a little when his met hers and he turned.

“Promise not to murder me?” he asked, setting his glass on the wall.

“Uh,” Hermione’s eyes darted around as Draco stepped closer, his hands moving to her waist.

She found herself mortified in her spot as Draco’s eyes looked over her. His lips parted when he brought his hand to the crook of her neck, feeling her soft locks with his fingers. He leaned in closer and closer. She was about to explode with anticipation as Draco’s lips softly touched hers.

Explosion!

Hermione melted into his arms and tilted her head up. Draco instantly deepened the kiss, his lips gnawing at her own. Feeling his hands graze over the shallow fabric of her robes, Hermione moaned parting her lips only slightly. The kiss grew more passionate, fierier, more…more…more! She leaned against him, her hand resting on his shoulder all while standing on her toes to meet his kiss. Draco grunted and pulled away excruciatingly slow.

They stared at each other. His eyes swam with an unknown emotion; almost fluttering specks of cobalt surrounded his irises. Hermione cleared her throat and moved from him, just as he moved from her as well.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

“I’m not,” Hermione breathed, grasping onto the back of his neck to pull her to him.

Draco stumbled forward but eagerly met her kiss. His hands became tangled in her hair, drawing her closer to his body. He could feel the heat between them, searing him straight into his soul. He remembered kisses like these but some how they felt completely distant; as if in a dream. Her hands moved from his neck, traveling down his chest and over the flat pressed tie he wore.

He felt her gasp into his mouth when he brought a hand to her lower back, pressing her against him. She was considerably shorter than he was causing him to crane his neck and literally bend in order to meet her lips. Parting only a centimeter, Draco tilted his head to the side for a better angle but it was Hermione who leaned up to capture his lips during that short moment apart.

The light touches of her hands as they gripped onto the edges of his shirt sent shivers up Draco’s spine. He moved forward, grasping onto a small portion of her hand with his fingers while pressing himself against her. Spinning her around slowly, Draco and Hermione stumbled toward the brick wall. He grunted a second time when their movement was abruptly halted by that damn wall but neither broke the kiss.




Draco didn’t know what happened afterward as it all seemed to be one massive blur. They managed to pry themselves from one another before being caught by a very chipper Ginny Weasley and ushered back into the house. Draco had to quickly dispose of the alcoholic contents sitting on top of the wall and received a very staunch eye from Ginny when she noticed the disheveled appearance of the couple.

Hermione cleared her throat and made sure to stay at least five paces from him. Draco made his way to the other end of the house in an attempt to escape the burning sensation of being apart from her. His head was beginning to sting as it normally did when he felt flustered. They had told him he was spent five years in a coma after the end of the war but the dreams he had were often so real that when he woke, old scars began to bleed and he was in a cold sweat.

Almost all of them involved Hermione and some dumpy looking cottage. At first, he considered the possibility that they were real moments of his life in a coma – but Hermione Granger wouldn’t so much as look at him in that light. Not after their years in Hogwarts, not after she had her memories removed. He remember the cat though, Crookshanks. She would often bring the mangy creature into the office; just to annoy him, but he remembered the cat. It was weird.

The party went off without a hitch and Draco finally saw Hermione smile. Of course, her smile caused him to smile in return. He had to admit that he felt a little awkward in a room full of people he hardly got along with, with the exception of the American girl. Pandora something. She was probably the only person in the room unaware of Draco’s past affiliations, and even if she was she surely didn’t care.

Draco tilted his head back when he saw the petite Asian giggle with Hermione while stringing her arm through the hole made between Remus’ arm and torso. He looked down at her with eyes Draco found familiar; eyes he looked at Hermione with whenever she wasn’t paying attention.

He stiffened when a pair of whiskey colored eyes flashed toward him. Hermione was staring at him with such emotion and intensity that something was off. Something didn’t make sense, or it did and Draco was far too ignorant to notice.

Once the party began to die down, Draco took his leave and maneuvered through the living room. He passed a snoring Neville Longbottom whose face was currently being doodle upon by the twins, Remus tucking away a sleeping Teddy while Pandora grabbed their coats from the chair, and Harry bustling dishes into the kitchen. There was no sign of Hermione.

He had lost sight of her when Ron came up to ask him about his latest mission in Bulgaria and if he had met Viktor Krum there. He had, but he noticed Ron’s ears turn pink when Luna mentioned Viktor asking for assistance with an unruly Nargle population surrounding the pitch. Draco had to excuse himself before Ron made a fool of himself by implying the blonde headed weirdo would do anything with a former Quidditch star.

Opening the closet door for his cloak, Draco paused and spun around. Nearly jumping out of his skin, Draco fashioned a startled grin.

“Trying to sneak up on me, eh?” he asked, watching Hermione quirk a brow.

“Clearly some one’s senses aren’t up to par,” she replied with a mild chortle, reaching for her own coat.

“I’m off the clock, Granger,” Draco said, pointing to his expensive watch, “Senses don’t kick in until 9 am.”

She cracked a loopy grin and pulled her coat on, wiggling her fingers as they escaped the sleeve as she normally did.

Flipping her hair over her shoulders, Hermione brought her eyes to him, “Let’s hope they don’t go on permanent vacation. It might be too late for me to break in a new partner.”

Draco grinned now, “Who says you had to break me in? Maybe it was the other way around?”

Hermione clearly looked as if she were thinking, yet her eyes moved with every moment he made while pulling his traveling cloak on.

“No,” she said finally, “I don’t think so.”

Draco laughed, followed by Hermione. They made their way outside into the nippy air where Draco instantly pulled on his dragon hide gloves.

He stood awkwardly in the front yard, looking over his side and down at her. Hermione was starring at the ground, fumbling with the buttons on her coat. Much like a father would for a child; Draco moved in front of her and batted her hands away, easily buttoning her coat up. He paused when her fingers touched the back of his hand.

Looking into her eyes, Draco parted his lips as a breath escaped. Hermione moved, so quickly that it was a blur. She leaned up and pressed her lips against his only chastely. Draco nearly fumbled back, but managed to hold his position if not looking a little odd with how frigid he was.

“Sorry,” she said quietly, blushing only slightly when Draco inhaled.

“Don’t be,” he replied with just the same amount breath. “I’ve wanted to…for years.”

He brought his hand to the back of her head and leaned lower, brushing his lips against hers. For the fourth time this night, they parted out of breath and flushed.

“Do you…want to come over?” Hermione asked with a shaking voice, “For tea?”

“I don’t drink tea,” Draco said quietly, looking away for a moment before he grasped what she meant. “Oh!”

She smirked smugly, “The cold making your processing centers in your brain slow?”

“Between the cold and abrupt snogging sessions with you?” Draco asked, snaking his hand bravely around her waist, “I’d say so…but not everything is affected by the cold.”

“A little sure of yourself, are you?” She giggled, moving closer to him.

“Want to find out?” he breathed into her neck, inhaling her scent.

“Possibly,” Hermione replied with a small moan.






Hermione’s flat was two stories situated beside what appeared to be a smallish coffee shop. Everything was spotless and in order, as usual, and that damned feline stared at Draco the entire time since he stepped foot into the flat. Narrowing his eyes, Draco was pulled by the hand toward the stares. He and the cat exchanged glares and for a moment Draco could have sworn the animal flipped him the bird mentally.

The walls were littered with various moving and non-moving photographs. Most of which were more recent and involving her trips overseas with the Weasleys or Potters. He paused only for a moment when his eyes settled on a photograph of them sitting at their usual lunch counter seemingly bickering over whether or not he had pickles in his sandwich; he hated pickles.

“Draco?” Hermione called from the top of the stairs, almost as if she were worried that he had chickened out, or grown out of his lusty haze.

Good thing Draco Malfoy was not a chicken or in a lusty haze. Maybe just a little bit of a lusty haze but he hadn’t been inside Hermione’s flat before and tried to take in as much as he could before she came to her senses and booted him to the street corner.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, moving up the stairs and to the right where her bedroom was.

He pulled his scarf and traveling cloak from him, coming to a stop at the threshold. Hermione bit her bottom lip as she took her coat off and stared at him.

“It’s not too late,” she breathed in almost a whisper.

“Too late for what?” Draco asked, draping his cloak and scarf over a large wicker chair.

“To leave and forget,” she averted her eyes giving Draco enough time to cross the room to her.

“Why would I ever do such a thing?” he whispered, tilting her chin upward, “Unless you’re such a bad shag…then I might have to obliviate my memory.”

She made a noise that sounded like a wounded laugh. Draco tilted his head to the side and stared down at her. She looked so fragile with her large doe eyes. The sad thing was, Hermione Granger was not a fragile creature. She had never been one and would most certainly never be one. Naïve at times? Sure. But, so was everyone.

People witness things they should never witness let alone experience. It does not make them a weaker person. If they were able to overcome so many trials and tribulations then they were a strong person in the end. Nothing could take that away. Hermione Granger was not a porcelain doll. She was a fighter and he would have it no other way.

He leaned in at that moment and softly captured her lips. Her hands moved shaking ever so slightly to his waist almost as if she wasn’t sure if he were real, or if he would reject her. Draco would never reject Hermione. Not even if she was a bad lay. Not even if she had a third nipple, or horns, or even webbed toes. Maybe if she had a penis but he was quite certain she was 100% female.

Draco and Hermione fell onto her bed in a clumsy yet passionate manner. He moved over her, giving her pecking kisses as she scooted upward toward the center of the bed. Draco paused when Hermione’s hands moved to his shirt, slowly prying the buttons and allowing the warm air around them to tickle his flesh. Her fingers traced over a lone scar that traveled from his collarbone to the center of his chest.

He had woken with that scar, and many others, but had always figured they were from the war. However, the look she gave them spoke volumes. He brought his hand to hers and lightly grasped onto her wrist, causing her to look at him. Hermione’s lips were parted, eyes swimming with emotion.

Draco groaned as he crushed his mouth against her, gasping for breath all while fondling with the hem of her skirt. Why females had to wear so many layers was beyond him. He messily pulled her skirt from her and brought his hands to his shirt, finishing the job she had started. Draco glanced at Hermione, who was busily pulled her shirt from her form, and paused at the sight of what looked like hastily scribbled letters across her shoulder and into her bra.

She looked at him now and bit her bottom lip. Hermione moved her hand in an attempt to cover said scars but Draco moved over her, pushing her lower onto the bed. Both of them were scarred individuals. It made no difference.

Hermione gaped into his mouth, allowing him to drink from hers all while dueling her tongue. Her fingers slipped to his trousers where she pried them apart and squirmed a little under him. Draco moved a hand to her hip, pulling her knickers from her with a little help when she lifted her hips. He tossed them to the side and pushed his boxers from him.

Draco paused and looked down at her, watching her eyes as he positioned himself at her entrance. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Draco pushed. He let out a long groan as her sex stretched over his length fitting him like a bloody tight glove. Hermione parted her lips and moaned softly, leaning back against the bed as Draco brought his hand to the sheets beside her head.

He closed his eyes for a second, allowing her tight heat to adjust before withdrawing and thrusting slightly. It started slow, moving with long drawn out strokes but Hermione’s hands resting on his buttocks urged him to thrust a little harder.

Draco leaned down, bruising his lips on hers as he began a steady rhythm. He could feel her body quiver under him like it was familiar, craving for him as he craved for her. He grasped onto the sheets beside her as he withdrew and slammed his hips hard against her. Hermione cried out softly, tilting her head back and urged him for a fast pace by grinding against him.

Grunting with each thrust, Draco lowered his head, watching his length disappear into her warmth. Hermione’s body pushed up against him, rolling her hips in just the right angle. Falling to his elbows, Draco buried his head into her nest of hair, listening to the wet sound of their union, her moans mingled with his grunts, and the tempo of the bed slamming against the wall.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Draco breathed into her ear, bringing a hand to her hip to steady her as he stroked harder, “Ever since I saw you. I wanted you.”

“Oh gods,” Hermione moaned, arching her back, “Draco…”

Draco scrunched his face as her body clenched around his length, milking him of his seed while crashing down from an orgasm. He continued his assault, using all the leverage he had to slam his hips between the apex of her thighs.

“I…love you…” she whispered so quietly Draco wouldn’t have heard if he took a breath.

He closed his eyes and grunted, shivering slightly as he filled her with his hot seed. Two more strokes and he was spent. His eyes fluttered open as he rolled onto his side, gathering Hermione with him.

Bringing his hand to her face, Draco pushed away fly away hairs and tucked him behind her ear. He smiled.

“I love you,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her lightly.






In the middle of the night, Draco woke up with a fright. He didn’t dream anything but something just told him to wake up. Bringing the ends of his palms to his eyes, Draco rubbed the shock from him and stared at the ceiling. His eyes darted to the side of the sleeping body beside him, her back facing his. It was hard to contain a smile as it slipped past.

Rolling onto his side, Draco wrapped an arm around Hermione and brought his lips to her shoulders. Three amazing hours of claiming her bed had tuckered both of them out. He was surely going to convince her to call in sick and maybe take her to lunch; as long as there weren’t any pickles in his sandwiches.

He moved slowly from her, lifting the blanket up to shift from the bed. The room maintained a steady temperature so it wasn’t abnormally cold; unlike his manor. He moved silently and very nakedly to the bathroom adjacent from her room.

It was small yet very clean. Draco fumbled around for the candles but flipped some switch of some kind and nearly fell when the lights turned on. He stared at the light bulb hanging from the ceiling for a moment before making a mental note to ask Hermione what that was because he surely didn’t pay attention when he took Muggle studies in school.

Running the tap, Draco cupped his hands and filled them to the brim with luke warm water. He grunted as droplets splashed against his face. An overwhelming feeling of relief straggled into his mind, causing him to sigh. Splashing a few more handfuls of water in his face, Draco looked up at his reflection in the mirror.

His eyes widened and he instantly shot back toward the wall. Staring back at him wasn’t his reflection at all. Rather it was a very battered, bloody version of him self. Eyes crimson red stared back at him and he saw himself smirk. Draco brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed before looking at his reflection. It wasn’t the bloody red eyed version of him but rather his normal self.

Water dripped from the tendrils of his hair, face a ghostly white, and creases in his forehead. Draco closed his eyes and opened them, only to see his reflection in the mirror. He frowned but shrugged it off, turning the light off as he made his way back to Hermione’s room. What he didn’t realize was that his reflection didn’t follow him, instead it stayed put and merely watched him leave before his eyes flashed red and he chuckled.



- FINITE -