Their Greatest Mistake

The next week passed in a strange way: it seemed to move both a slow as a snail and as fast as a blur. True to the plan Draco had tentatively laid out the night before, the couple left the following morning and went straight to St. Mungo’s. Once Hermione had identified the bodies of her parents – turning whiter than any white Draco had ever seen, but surprisingly not crying – they were transported to a funeral home in Muggle London.

Hermione took care of all the details for the funeral itself, and Draco kept her sane. Asides from the funeral and burial on Friday, Hermione held back her tears the best she could.

But Draco knew better. Every night when they returned to Saxe-Coburg Manor, she would sob, crying her heart out. Some nights Draco just held her, some nights she needed to be left alone, and some nights they had very rough sex, which seemed to help her anger and aggression. It seemed to be just what she needed, though, because once the funeral, burial, and wake were over, she stopped crying. Sometimes in the week that followed Draco could feel her cries as she sobbed into her pillow at night, but when he tried to comfort her she pushed him away. Soon, even those tears stopped, but he knew that she was still keenly feeling their deaths.

Two weeks to the day after the attack on the Grangers was Hermione’s eighteenth birthday. All of her friends were worried about how she would hold up, but Draco had a plan. The night before, Hermione holed herself in the library until curfew, so Draco was free to put the finishing touches on her present.

“Merlin, Draco,” Pansy breathed as they and Blaise stood around a table in the Slytherin Common Room. “It’s brilliant.”

Preening a little, Draco shut the plain, leather cover of a book. “Thanks. I did have some help from Potter and Weasley, but the idea was all mine.” Gingerly he wrapped it in plain brown paper and tied it with a bright red ribbon, so to everyone else it looked like a normal, boring present.

Collapsing elegantly in a nearby chair, Blaise asked, “So when are you giving it to her?”

“Well,” Draco began, thinking aloud. “I got permission to go to Hogsmede for the evening, and we have reservations at Vincente’s, that new Italian place. I could give it to her then.” He paused, frowning. “No, I can’t do that. I’ll give her the trinket then.”

Pansy raised one eyebrow. “The trinket, Draco?”

He hurried to explain. “Well, what I think I’m going to do,” he said, sitting down in the chair next to Blaise, “is give her something small, so she thinks that it’s her main present. Then, when we get back to our rooms, I’ll give her this.” He fingered the ribbon on the freshly wrapped present, feeling satisfied with himself.

Quietly Blaise interjected. “So it’s a trinket because its value is less than the book’s value?” he asked. “I hate to break it to you, mate, but I really don’t think that giving her something small is a good idea. It might be to throw her off, but with everything that’s gone on recently it might work a little too well.”

Draco nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Don’t worry. It might not have the same affect on her that this does -- ” he gestured to the package he had just finished wrapping “ -- but it’ll still be big enough that she’ll think it’s the main present.”

Pansy’s lip quirked, and he could almost see the wheels turning. “Let me guess. Emotionally, the book is worth so much more. But financially, the ‘trinket’ is worth significantly more,” she said, her grin overcoming her face.

Blaise’s quiet, broad laughter filled the almost empty common room. “You devil,” he laughed incredulously. “You bought her sapphires, didn’t you?”

A smirk threatened to overtake Draco’s face as he leaned back languidly. “Maybe I did,” he answered cryptically. “It’s not my fault that they’re her family’s signature stone and her birthstone, is it?”

Pansy’s gasp and wide smile followed him as he made his way back to his rooms later that night. He was positive that this would be the best birthday every for Hermione, even if her parents weren’t alive.

* * *

The next morning dawned nice and bright, and for once Draco was the first one up. Stretching and yawning, Hermione shut the alarm off and sat up in bed, comfortably rubbing her eyes to get rid of the sleepiness. She could hear Draco moving around in the bathroom, and for the first time in two weeks her first waking thought was not of her parents, but much cheerier in nature. It’s my birthday, she though, smiling to herself.

“Morning, love,” Draco said as he came out of the bathroom in just a towel and moved to kiss her briefly. “Happy birthday.”

A grin lit up her entire face, and she crooned, “How did you know?”

He laughed. “You think Ginny would let me miss your birthday? She owled me last month with all of the dates that are important to you.” I’ve got to thank her, Hermione thought as Draco walked over to his closet and started getting dressed.

Smirking, Draco asked, “Don’t you have to get up and get dressed, Birthday Girl?”

“Oh, but ogling your arse is so much better,” Hermione teased, and to her delight he turned a little pink. “Draco Malfoy, are you blushing?”

A quick frown answered her. “No, I most certainly am not. Malfoys don’t blush.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Sure, Draco, whatever you say. But I still say that your entire body – including that amazing arse – are pink. And I’m the birthday girl, so what I say goes.” With that definitive, she pranced off to the bathroom to get ready, smirking to herself the entire way. As he watched her go, Draco laughed a little to himself. She’s certainly something else.

Before they headed down to breakfast, Draco nervously waited for Hermione in the living room, a single jasmine flower in his hand. When she finally came out of their rooms, a bright smile on her face, he felt his heart flop and the butterflies in his stomach triple. In her school uniform with the House unity tie, school robes, and plain shoes, she was beautiful.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

Her smile was contagious, and he couldn’t help but smile, too. “Almost. Here,” he said, elegantly giving her the jasmine. Instantly he was rewarded by another brilliant smile, and he stuttered a little as he explained. “I had it owled in, because I wanted to show you the best way I knew how that you are graceful and elegant.”

She stood up on tip-toe and kissed him slowly. “Thank you, Draco. It’s beautiful.” He couldn’t help the pleased smile that appeared afterwards even if he wanted to. That was the kind of affect she had on him.

When they finished kissing, she took his hand in hers as they walked leisurely down to breakfast, and on the way she told him what her friends had given her.

“Ron gave me the updated version of Hogwarts: A History, and I immediately turned to the last few chapters to read what was new,” she explained happily.

Draco chuckled to himself and squeezed her hand. “Of course you did, sweetheart,” he said fondly.

Shooting him a sideways smirk, she decided to ignore the comment. “Ginny gave me a gift certificate to Anton’s Relaxation Spa, and the note said that it is explicitly to be used with her. And Harry gave me a Muggle journal with a pretty cover of painted irises so I could write down my infamous plans, as he calls them.”

That comment drew him up short, and he started a little. “You have ‘infamous plans,’ too?” he asked.

She frowned, more than a little confused. “Huh?”

He hurried to explain as they continued walking again. “I’m famous in Slytherin for my plans. Huh. You know, I keep finding out we have more in common than I thought.”

Smiling brilliantly, she drew him in for a quick kiss, earning some strange looks from a third year walking past them. “Yes, I suppose we do,” she agreed happily. Longingly Draco drew away to open the door to the Great hall for her and they continued their walk up to the Head Table.

When they arrived at their spots at the end of the Head Table, there was a small pile of presents next to Hermione’s chair, to her delight. “I believe they are from your many friends who did not know where to send their presents, my dear Mrs. Malfoy,” Dumbledore explained. “After all, only four or five students know where your quarters are, although even that small number is against my better judgment.”

Draco thanked the headmaster once again for allowing their closest friends to have the occasional admittance to their rooms and helped Hermione into her chair. While she turned her attention to the cards on the presents – “Draco, did you know Crabbe and Goyle were going to give me something?” – her husband specially arranged her breakfast.

When she turned around moments later after investigating the presents, but not opening them as she did not have the time, it was to find her favorite breakfast waiting for her. A tall glass of pumpkin juice sat next to a steaming cup of tea. Two pieces of bacon, one piece of buttered toast, a scoop of scrambled eggs, and two sausages were arranged on her plate in a pleasing way, and while she was still taking it all in, Draco whipped out a lilac.

Her mouth was open a little, and Draco thought he could detect a slight “Aw” coming from it, which made him more comfortable executing such a romantic gesture in front of the entire Great Hall. “First love,” she whispered, and Draco smiled slightly as she caught the meaning of the flower.

“Yeah,” was all he could say, and, not caring who in the world was watching, she kissed him.

“Your Graces, I understand your need to populate the world with little Malfoys who are Muggle royalty, but I would appreciate it if you could keep that act to the bedroom,” Snape barked, sarcasm edging in on their titles as he interrupted what was quickly becoming a snogging session. Bright red, they apologized and finished their meals in silence, occasionally shooting each other loving looks.

The rest of the day passed in pretty much the same way. Every now and then, when they were together, Draco would surprise her with a flower that had some sort of romantic meaning to it. By the time Hermione was returning to her rooms to get ready for dinner with Ginny, she had also received an orchid, a sunflower, and a violet, which meant delicate beauty, adoration, and faithfulness, respectively.

It was obvious to everyone the kind of effort that Draco was putting in to this birthday, and Ginny happily noted that it was making Harry warm up to him. In the month or so since the dinner party, the two had been cordial as necessary, but both of their significant others wanted it to be more than that. When Draco had come to Harry and Ron to work on Hermione’s birthday present, the three had actually gotten along, shockingly enough. They weren’t best mates, but there had not been a single argument.

Between her husband and best friends getting along, the romantic flowers from her husband, and presents from just about everyone, it was turning out to be one of the best birthdays she had ever had. Among other presents, Crabbe and Goyle had chipped in to buy her a miniature gold Gryffindor lion, Narcissa had sent a lovely new pair of dragon hide gloves for potion making, and Parvati Patil had organized the Gryffindor sixth and seventh years to buy her a scandalous yet beautiful piece of lingerie.

“Can you believe Draco?” Hermione asked Ginny that evening as she examined her interesting bouquet of flowers while the younger girl did her hair for her birthday dinner.

Ginny smiled at her friend’s obvious feelings for her husband. “It’s really romantic, isn’t it?”

Hermione murmured her agreement as she sniffed them again. “I can’t believe he did all of this for me.”

“Hermione,” Ginny said matter-of-factly, “the man obviously has real feelings for you. And I’m not just talking about fancying, because you both already admitted that you fancied each other when you got married.”

Catching her friend’s eyes in the mirror, Hermione’s eyes were filled with hope. “Really, Gin? You think so?”

Ginny leaned forward and said, “Trust me on this. I know so.” Hermione smiled and looked down at her fingers in her lap, blushing as she realized how obvious she was being about her feelings for Draco. “Now what exactly am I doing to your hair?” Ginny asked, all hustle and bustle.

* * *

Two hours later, Ginny exited the bedroom and came face to face with a scowling Draco. “Oops, sorry,” she said, and he shook his head briefly as if to clear it before apologizing, too.

“Can I go in, yet?” he asked, a little crossly.

“Yup,” she cheerily laughed. “I left her in her closet getting dressed, and she said that you can go in as long as you don’t go in there.”

He thanked her, and entered to find the room relatively clean, something he wasn’t expecting. A humming that originated from behind Hermione’s closet doors confirmed Ginny’s placement of his wife, and he rapped once on the door briefly before heading to his own closet.

“Hermione?” he called.

“Hi, Draco. I’m sorry, but you can’t come in.” Her reply was accentuated with little giggle, and he smiled to himself. She was so sweet and bubbly, intelligent and clever, graceful and elegant, and funny and witty. How the hell did I get so lucky? he briefly asked himself.

He couldn’t help the smile that he was sure she could hear when he called back, “Okay, that’s fine. I just wanted to let you know that I was back and we should leave in twenty minutes to make our reservation.”

At her affirmative reply, he went and got ready before going downstairs to wait for her. Just as he was wondering when she would be ready, he heard the door close, and his head snapped up to take in the beauty that was his wife.

She wore a white, off-the-shoulder cocktail dress that was tight until her waist and then spread out stiffly, ending at about her knees. It was white and had a few large grey flowers printed on it, and she wore three inch white pumps. Asides from a single string of pears around her neck she wore no jewelry, and her hair was pulled back into an elegant French twist, with no hint of a curl.

“Wow,” Draco breathed, completely in awe. “I knew you looked good, but this,” he gestured with a little whistle of appreciation, and she looked down, blushing.

“You really think so?” she asked, moving down the stairs. “I mean, I worried that it was a little too 1950s.”

Still in awe, Draco held out a hand, which she grasped, before drawing it into the crook of his arm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, love,” he said as he escorted her to the nearby closet. She beamed at him, and he helped her with her cloak before leading her out the door.

They chatted comfortably on their way to Hogsmede, and Draco was pleased to note that she didn’t mention her parents once. He was sure they held a large presence in her mind, but he didn’t want her to be unhappy on her birthday.

When they arrived at Vincente’s, he held the door open for her and then helped her with her cloak. “I have a reservation for two,” he said to the maître d’. “It was made under the name of Draco Malfoy.”

“Ah, Signor Malfoy,” the older man said warmly with a thick Italian accent, offering a hand to shake. “It is so nice to meet you at last. I am Vincente di Aldo, owner of this restaurant. A little birdie tells me you and Mrs. Malfoy like Italian food, no?”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile at the man and instantly liked him. Without losing a sense of grace, although Hermione knew that he was a little confused, Draco introduced her. “Well, actually, Italian is my wife’s favorite type of food. Signor di Aldo, may I present the Duchess of Windsor, Hermione Malfoy, my lovely wife.”

Again Vincente offered his hand, and when Hermione took it, smiling warmly, he leaned forward and kissed hers. “Please, please, call me Vincente, Your Graces. You are a Duke, then, Signor?” Draco nodded, and Vincent launched into brief Italian tangent before finishing, “Scusa a mi, Duca e Duchessa Windsor. I am so happy to have met you. We will be good friends, no? Come, come to your table.”

They sat down at their table in the small, crowded restaurant and before Vincente hurried back to the front to greet more patrons, he added, “I hear it is your birthday, Duchessa, si? Well, a very happy birthday to you, and I hope that you are very, very happy. I like you lots, Duchessa, and we will make this a very happy day, si? Si. Ah, I must go. Ciao!”

Laughing a little to themselves, they took the menus he offered and watched him bustle off. Hermione began to busy herself with the menu when Draco pushed it down. “Hermione, before we eat, I have something I want to give you,” he said, and gestured over his shoulder to a waiter. The man brought forward a dozen red roses tied together with a matching red silk bow.

Draco stood up to receive it from him and brought it over to Hermione. “Here, sweetheart. Every witch deserves a dozen roses, especially you.” Hermione felt her heart beat wildly as she accepted them, after giving Draco a brief kiss that was proper yet romantic.

“This is very sweet, Draco,” she said, smiling as she stared directly into his eyes.

A secret smirk lit up his face, and he teased, “Do you know what these ones mean? All twelve of them?”

Hermione bit her bottom lip a little as she thought about what a dozen red roses could mean. Still smirking, Draco went back to his seat across the table from her. He knew she would figure it out momentarily.

All of a sudden her head snapped up and her mouth formed into a little ‘o.’ “A dozen roses mean a steady relationship, mutual attraction, and a satisfying union.”

“Correct, my darling little bookworm,” he said, leaning forward to capture her lips in his. “And, I don’t know about you, but I’m finding this a very satisfying union indeed.” A brilliant smile lit up her face, and Draco knew then and there why he had gone through with the entire day. He loved her. Earlier he had been almost positive, but now he knew one hundred percent. I. Love. Her.

“Me too,” she said, and they turned, blushing, to the waiter who had just arrived to take their orders.

The rest of the evening passed in a similarly romantic manner, and they were just finishing a delightful mini-birthday cake when Draco pulled out a box from his inside pocket. It was a couple of inches tall, a couple of inches long, and covered in red paper.

“Here, my darling,” he said, handing over the box. Smiling inquisitively at him, she tore the paper open and pulled out a smaller, red velvet box with a hinge on one side.

When she opened it, she couldn’t help the slight gasp that escaped her lips. A platinum bracelet with what must have been at least two dozen sapphires rested inside, and it sparkled like nothing she had ever seen. Each sapphire was square cut, less than a quarter of an inch long, and of a beautiful deep blue color. Immediately her head snapped up to look at Draco lovingly, and she breathed, “Oh, Draco, it’s beautiful. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out. “Well, clearly you haven’t looked in the mirror before.” She leaned over the table and lovingly kissed his lips. Merlin help her, she loved him.

* * *

They made their way back to Hogwarts, having promised Vincente to come back another time (“And owl me whenever you be wanting the best Italian food ever, Duchessa! Vincente will bring it to you!”), and the House Elves sent the roses back to their rooms. Hermione couldn’t stop staring at her bracelet; she hadn’t been lying when she said that it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

They paused outside the portrait, and Hermione said, “Draco, before we go in, thank you. Thank you for everything tonight. This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

A brilliant smile lit up his face – a real one, the smile that only she, and sometimes Pansy and Blaise, got to see. “I’m glad you think so, darling. But the night isn’t over yet, and the best is to come.” She shot him a confused and excited look as he turned to the portrait. “Young Lovers,” he said, and the people in the portrait smiled before opening to admit him.

When they walked in, Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. There were tulips everywhere. Pink, purple, yellow, red, white. Floating in mid-air, sitting on the coffee table, laying on the couch. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

Draco watched her face critically and uneasily. She seemed shocked, which could either mean she liked it or it all was too much for her to handle. It had, after all, been a tough couple of weeks. Quickly he summoned one tulip in each color and moved to stand in front of her.

“Hermione,” he began, snapping her out of her reverie. “When I started planning today, I knew a part of it had to be for show. But the more I planned, and the more time I’ve spent with you, the more I knew that I wanted you to know how I felt, and I wanted it to be private so you would never question whether I meant it or not.”

He handed her the purple tulip. “I’m sure you already know what each of these mean, but I’m going to say it anyways. The purple is practically unnecessary, because it just means royalty, but it seemed wrong to not have it. I didn’t want to exclude it, and besides, you are practically royalty.” She laughed a little, still seeming dazed. Taking a deep breath, the next words tumbled out of his mouth. “I know it sounds cheesy, but even if you weren’t a Duchess you would be a princess to me.”

The pink tulip was next, and he moved on without allowing her to speak. He was a little worried that if she interrupted he would never be able to finish what he had started. “I care for you an awful lot, Hermione. It was how my feelings were when I started planning this, so I wanted to start the real process with the pink one.”

He handed her the white tulip. “I know that we already talked about this when we got married, but I want to ask, no, beg for it: please, Hermione, please forgive me for how I treated you in the past couple of years since I first met you. I was young and stupid and even if it was just my way of expressing my feelings, it was wrong.”

She nodded and whispered, “I forgive you, Draco.” He smiled, and she couldn’t help but smile, too.

Instead of handing over either the red or yellow tulip, Draco twirled them in his fingers. “I don’t know which one of these to do first, so I guess I’ll do them together.” He dropped onto both of his knees in front of her and held out the two flowers, their stems intertwined as he finished, “Hermione Malfoy, this is my declaration of love. I know this is gonna sound corny, but it’s what these two mean together: I’m hopelessly in love with you.” He offered the flowers, and she accepted them, wide-eyed. “Listen, you don’t have to say anything now, but I just wanted you to know, and –”

She interrupted him with a kiss and jumping into his arms. When they broke apart, she whispered, tears in her eyes, “I love you, too, Draco.”

He leaned in for another kiss, and before either of them knew it, they were in the bedroom. Unlike previous times where their coupling had been fast in furious, or pent up sexual tension, it was more sensual. They took their time lavishing and worshipping each other’s bodies, and it was overall more fulfilling than it had ever been before.

In short, they made love.

Afterwards, they lay in bed, holding each other, smiling goofily, and gazing into each other’s eyes. “I can’t believe this,” Hermione whispered. “I’m in love with Draco Malfoy.”

He chuckled. “I never thought I’d be in love with Hermione Granger,” he said.

“That’s Hermione Malfoy to you!” she teased with a smirk.

They laughed quietly, and settled into a few moments of quiet happiness. “So do you want your present now?” he asked, remembering the package hidden in the back of his closet..

Wide eyed, she pulled apart at sat up, completely unaware that her breasts were hanging out above the sheet. “My present? I thought the bracelet was my present.”

He grinned to himself and, with a quick nip of his teeth to her closest nipple, left her on the bed, going into his closet while she sat up and wrapped a sheet around her chest. A few moments later, he came back out of the closet, the brown paper package in his hand, and he gave it to his wife before settling next to her in bed.

Excitedly, Hermione pulled the ribbon and tore off the wrapping paper. When she saw the plain, leather bound book, she paused, frowning, a little confused. It had no title, yet it was the same size as many books she owned. She looked up at her husband. “Draco? I don’t understand.” He nudged the book’s cover, and she obligingly opened it.

The first page had “Louisa V. Granger and Andrew N. Granger” printed neatly in large bold letters, and curiously and sadly Hermione turned the page.

To her wonder, the book was filled with pictures of her parents, with neatly written captions in Draco’s handwriting. There were pictures of them on their honeymoon, of Louisa when she was pregnant, of Hermione when she was a baby. There were pictures from their family trips to France, of sending Hermione off to Hogwarts, of Louisa and Andrew celebrating their twentieth anniversary. By the time she was finished looking through the entire thing, she couldn’t hold back the tears that had been threatening to fall, and she sobbed into Draco’s shoulder.

When they subsided, she looked up into his eyes, and said, “Thank you, Draco. I don’t think I can thank you enough.” The love she felt for him was clear in her eyes, and he knew right then and there that marrying her had been the best decision he had ever made in his entire life.

**
All flower meanings are from http://www.aboutflowers.com/floral_b5.html, except for the dozen roses, which is from http://www.rosemeaning.info/dozen-roses.

Thank you to all of my readers for following me on this journey! I have decided, due to RL constraints which didn’t allow me to update prior to this, to end this here. The original plan was to start the next part of Draco and Hermione’s journey after this, which would have begun in December and followed them through June. I do have plans to continue, however, as I originally intended for this to go on for a very, very long time. When time allows me to, I intend to write a number of one-shot sequels showing glimpses into the Malfoys’ lives in the following twenty or so years (yes, I’ve planned that far ahead!).

I would also like to thank Christy for beta’ing for me, as well as for being a loyal reader. You saved me on more than one occasion. Thank you so much!

I would finally like to thank scifichick774, TinkWolfe, and Lexy Malfoy, three of my favorite authors. Your continued brilliance inspired me on more than one occasion when I didn’t want to write any more. I hope your muses cooperate in the future.

Thank you to everyone for your support!