A Forbidden Fruit

Title: A Forbidden Fruit

Written For: Mia Fitzpatrick/Miafitz

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Draco Malfoy / Hermione Granger

Disclaimer: I do not own any JKR / Harry Potter characters – she is the lucky, lucky woman, however
Draco certainly owns a piece of my heart.

Summary: It was funny to think that even Fate, fickle a mistress that she may be, had chosen two people so unequivocally divided and diametrically opposing in every way, to be together. But she had. And it only took them one apple, two snails, one Samhain tradition and thirteen years in between to realize it. A tale of love, Draco and Hermione style. Written for the Three Keys Fic Exchange Halloween Treat 2006.


Two

Hermione Granger stood at the edge of the apple orchard, gazing at the rows and rows of neatly trimmed trees lush with their just ripening fruits, and smiled. She inhaled deeply the heady aroma of autumn and early evening; a glorious mix of apples, turning leaves and that certain scent that could only be described as the crispness of fall. It was a beautiful day, and here in the stillness of the orchard she had stolen away to take a few well-deserved minutes of solitude and escape from the busy goings on at the castle.

Hermione turned to glance back at the imposing building and sighed. It was a sound full of all that had been, and all that could be again someday. Her smile grew almost wistful as she tried, knowing she would be unsuccessful, to catalog all the colors dancing and glinting in the heavy leaded glass windows as the sun slid across them in its decent into the countryside. She could never recapture in her mind the beauty of the light playing off those windows. But fortunately, she wouldn’t have to. She could come and look at them everyday if she chose.

The windows were her latest triumph.

She’d fought hard for the newly replaced casements. And now as she surveyed the fruits of her labor, she knew the battle was well worth the spoils of victory.

Hermione tried to remember how beautiful the building looked when she was a student all those years ago. But her memory, although sharp, simply could not recall how the setting sun’s colors streaked across the windows, nor the way that the decades old red roses clinging stubbornly to the walls of the castle, seemed to glow from within, radiant with life, when the afternoon light hit them just so, as they were glowing right now.

Hermione wondered if the building did not look quite this beautiful when she was here? She fancied that as she was painstakingly repairing it piece by loving piece, so was Hogwarts repairing itself; rebuilding and coming back to life, brick by brick, breath by breath, heartbeat by heartbeat. For Hermione now understood what she suspected that Professor Dumbledore and the past headmasters knew all along: that this building and these grounds were not simply stone and mortar, but a vibrant, strong, living entity.

Hermione slid her clipboard under her arm and really studied Hogwarts. From here you could no longer see the devastation that had almost taken the building to the ground. From here, you could almost imagine that if you walked around to the front of the school, you would see an entire, whole and thriving place filled with the sounds of laughter, the sounds of children. You could almost see their faces, some smiling, some not…but all of them alive, flourishing, learning.

And it was Hermione’s goal to see that again.

Though she had taken on the role as Director of the Foundation for the Restoration of Hogwarts some five years ago, under the guise of restoring the building and grounds to their original pristine condition, so that one day it would become a monument to the victory of good over evil, Hermione had always had far grander plans.

Hogwarts had been closed a handful of occasions in its celebrated thousand-year history, but each and every time it managed to re-open its doors and welcome students again. Now would be no different. Hermione Granger would see to that personally. She’d stood at what had once been the imposing, grand front entrance of the school, at that time just a vast, yawning hole and cried. She’d made the decision as she ran her palms gently across a felled stone and felt a jolt of power surge into her. She gasped. The place still had its magic. It could still be saved.

So she wiped the tears from her eyes and whispered her promise softly to the winds.

Hogwarts would be resurrected.

And she’d been single minded in her conviction ever since.

Hermione spun around and began walking idly through the orchard. She loved apples, always had. They were the perfect ingredient for the best pies in the world, and to this day she could find nothing that compared to the scent of just blooming apple blossoms. Aside from that, they were just beautiful to look at. Just as pretty in a bowl on her table, as they were nestled in the trees.

Hermione smiled faintly and reached out, plucking an apple from a branch and watched as sunlight filtered through the trees, falling upon her like a shower of sunbeams, and she sighed. This place was just too special, too beautiful not to be thriving again. Not to have children running through its grounds and growing up in its towers. “So beautiful,” she murmured.

“I quite agree,” came a deep voice from behind her. Hermione gasped and spun around, her wand drawn, pointed, and at the ready.

She let out a disgruntled huff and pocketed her wand as her visitor approached, gallantly swooping down to retrieve her dropped apple and blatantly ogling her as he stood. He grinned and proffered the fruit on his open palm, “Eve,” he murmured, “I believe you dropped your apple…”

Hermione groaned and snatched it from his hand. “You startled me! You’re very lucky I didn’t blast your nose right off.” Hermione eyed him haughtily before turning and walking away. She stated casually over her shoulder, “By the way, Adam, you got it wrong. It’s the other way around, Eve gives Adam the apple. The parable comes from an interesting book. You should read it some time.”

He caught up easily and strolled alongside her. “I’m quite familiar with the Bible, Granger. Thank you.”

“Are you now? You’re just full of surprises. When you’re ready to read it, let me know. I’ve got a copy I can lend you.” She tossed the apple back at him and smiled sweetly. “Who knows, you might learn something.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I am a well read man.”

Hermione stopped, her mouth agape. “Are you trying to tell me that you have read the Bible?”

“Correct.” He spun the apple leisurely from its stem, and looked at her through his thick fringe of lashes.

“I don’t believe it.” She actually found her hands on her hips, and forced them down when he grinned knowingly. “When?”

“Which time?”

“You’ve read it more than once?”

“Rumors of you being a bright girl are clearly not overstated.”

Hermione folded her arms across her chest and began tapping her foot impatiently. “Well?” she said.

His eyes were the picture of innocence. “Well what?”

“How many?”

“Comparing notes? Not going to be satisfied unless you’ve read it more times than I have, eh, Eve?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Just answer the question.”

“How many times have you read it?” he countered and took a jaunty bite of her apple. Hermione found her gaze riveted on his lips, wet from the juice of the fruit. She managed to drag her eyes up to his when he licked his lips and grinned wolfishly at her.

Lord, did that man have a magnificent smile. She found herself fighting back a smile in return. “That’s beside the point. Anyway, I asked you first.”

“Three times. So far.” Draco Malfoy raised his eyebrows in challenge. “How about you?” he questioned and took another deliberately slow bite out of the apple.

Hermione had read it twice, cover to cover. She was rather in shock to find out that Draco – Draco Malfoy, pureblooded prat, Sytherin’s very own poster-boy, had read it more than she. Hermione found the Bible an interesting study in theology and religion and philosophy. She was raised a Christian, and the Bible still held many of her mainstay beliefs. She was about to tell him that when Draco smiled and leaned forward, almost whispering in her ear, “By the way, thanks for letting me eat your apple, Eve.” She ignored the shiver that ran down her back when he leaned in imperceptibly closer for just a moment, before pulling back.

Hermione found herself swaying forward slightly toward him and was distracted from her reply by Draco licking the sweetness from his fingers before tossing away the core. “What are you doing here, Draco?” she finally asked sounding mildly irritated.

“Why, I was agreeing with you.”

“Agreeing with me about reading the Bible?”

“Actually, about how beautiful you are. Although, I never figured you as the vain type, Eve; I’m rather surprised, I must admit.”

Hermione was already shaking her head before he’d even finished his statement. “Stop calling me Eve -“ she stopped mid sentence and gaped at him, cocking her head in surprise. “What did you just say?”

“I said I was agreeing with –“

“After that part, Malfoy…”

He smiled again, this time it was seductive, devilish. More Malfoy like. “What, Eve? A man can’t compliment a beautiful woman?” He just did it again! Hermione felt butterflies alight in her belly. She didn’t quite know how to react, especially when he added in a deep voice, “Just accept the compliment. I know I’m not the first man to tell you you’re beautiful.”

He’d said that so matter of fact that again she couldn’t formulate a proper reply. He thought she was beautiful? Finally she managed an uncertain, “Thank you.” When Draco ran a hand through his impeccably styled hair, she smiled faintly; if she didn’t know better, Hermione might have thought that he looked nervous. Draco Malfoy nervous, around her? Laughable.

But before Hermione had more time to process that thought, he had stepped closer and was giving her a thorough once-over. Draco observed her from head to toe and she fidgeted at his scrutiny. Why she was even letting him was beyond her, but she couldn’t seem to muster enough indignation to stop him.

Draco took in her muggle business attire, which Hermione seemed to prefer over standard Wizarding robes. Draco preferred it on her too, as she typically wore longish, sleek skirts that hugged her curves deliciously. She was wearing one of those skirts now, form fitting, black, just past her knees, black heels and a white shirt that was unbuttoned two or so buttons down. Her wild hair of years before was tastefully swept up and away from her face. Hermione chose simple jewelry to compliment her wardrobe: pearls, single drop necklaces, nothing flashy. She had grown into an elegant, refined woman. One that appealed to Draco’s basic maleness very much.

She looked – he paused, caught off guard by the untimely revelation- sexy. Draco’s body reacted instantly and he fought it back. Now was definitely not the time to let that persistent itch flair up. He forced his more desirable inklings aside and focused on how exhausted Granger seemed these days.

He wasn’t surprised; it happened like this every time she got involved in one of the Foundation’s charity events. She’d lose herself in the project, putting every bit of her being into whatever was at the top of her hit list and not rest until she had accomplished what she’d set out to do. And now, as the Wizarding world was on the eve of the tenth anniversary celebrating the end of the war, and with the Hogwarts Foundation’s biggest charity event to date just days away, it was clear to Draco that the stress and pressure were talking a toll on Hermione.

The board members knew this was going to be their best opportunity to garner sizeable donations for the restoration of Hogwarts and that the gala would likely fund the Foundation for the next few years. It was Hermione’s time to pull out all the stops and convince all those wealthy Wizarding families with fat bags of gold to contribute heartily.

It was an important milestone for the Foundation and Hermione needed to be on top of her game. But she not only appeared fatigued; she was definitely on the thin side. The Foundation needed an alert, well fed and rested Hermione to work her magic.

Draco’s eyes narrowed calculatingly, he would just have to make sure that happened. “All kidding aside, Eve, I actually did come out here to find you for a reason. I wanted to go over some of Malfoy Industries’ contribution specifications before this year’s amount is finalized.”

Hermione’s eyebrows rose warily. She could not afford for the Foundation’s most generous benefactor to get cold feet now. Not when she was finally starting to make some headway in the restoration. “Why is that, Malfoy? You’re not thinking of reducing the agreed upon amount? Because if you are, well the-”

Draco interjected before she could finish, his tone was curt, “No, Granger. I have no intention of reducing my donation.” He glared at her petulantly and Hermione felt a stab of guilt. “My goal actually, is to ensure that all funds are appropriated for properly.” Draco looked at her pointedly. “Let me clarify. That is, to make sure they’re allocated for in the areas in which you deem most urgent and necessary.”

Hermione flushed, she was very pleased with that announcement. “Thank you, Draco. I didn’t mean to snap, I’m just concerned about this year’s endowment.”

She sounded properly contrite and Draco waived off her apology. “I know that, Granger.”

Hermione nodded, “Right, thanks.” He folded his arms a bit impatiently and Hermione took that as her cue, “I do think that’s an excellent idea,” she continued, jumping back into business mode. Hermione pulled her clipboard open and began flipping through it, searching her lists and pulled a few sheaths of papers out from the stack, thrusting them at Draco. She stood at his side, her arm brushing against his and the little thrill that went through her, caught Hermione off guard. She glanced up into his eyes and stalled in her pointing out figures at the intensity in which he was looking at her.

Hermione cleared her throat and pointed back down to her notes, continuing in a somewhat breathless voice, “There are so many repairs that really should be tackled straight away. I have detailed lists of all the areas of the main building most immediately in need.”

Draco nodded. “I knew you would.” He took the papers from her hands and clipped them back to her board. “And I do want to go over them, just not now.” Draco handed her back the clipboard and Hermione looked at it a bit disheartened. “When was the last time you had something to eat?”

Hermione’s head shot up. “What?”

“Food, Granger. When was the last time you consumed some?”

“Oh. Well, you just ate the apple I was going to have, and I didn’t have any lunch… So, I guess that leaves, uh, last night…”

“I certainly hope that apple was not going to be your evening meal?”

At Hermione’s guilty flush, Draco glanced up at the darkening sky and shook his head. “I see. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so we might as well have a working dinner,” he folded his arms across his chest, clearly the matter was set. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“No.” Hermione shook her head.

“No? Granger, the gala is less than a week away. I want Malfoy Industries’ monies to be settled so you can catch the…what’s that muggle saying you’re so fond of? Ah yes, so you can catch the bigger fish to fly.” Draco’s brows furrowed. “Do fish fly in the muggle world? I didn’t think so...”

Hermione’s lips twitched. “Every once in a while they do.” She pursed her lips to hold back a little chuckle. “Anyway you’re correct, I am indeed rather fond of that saying.” She grinned at him, he was trying after all. “But tonight I had planned on working here a bit longer then going home for a quiet evening.” A look that Hermione couldn’t quite define flashed across Draco’s face before he nodded curtly and took her arm to start leading them back to the school.

“We’ll set up a meeting for first of the week then.” He was surprised at how disappointed he felt, but better she stay at home and rest. He stopped and grasped her shoulders in his hands gently and spoke earnestly, “Promise me you’ll eat something though.” He searched her face. “Alright?”

Hermione looked startled, she tried to cover up her shock by replying cheekily, “Concerned about my well-being, Malfoy?”

He nodded immediately. “I am. You look exhausted and starved. Quite like you haven’t had a decent meal in weeks.”

This time there was no disguising her surprise, it showed in her face and in her voice. “You are? And, I do not look starved or exhausted.”

Draco nodded. “Yes you do, Granger. And I’m absolutely concerned for you.” He stopped short at the look on Hermione’s face: she was flushing slightly and her eyes had grown quite large. Draco cleared his throat. “Strictly on a professional capacity, of course.” He said it in an even voice, yet the look in his eyes was anything but professional.

“Of course,” she replied softly. Hermione had just noticed that his hands had slid down from her shoulders to her arms and he was gently rubbing up and down as if trying to keep her warm. And she was certainly getting warm. She stole her gaze from his face to his hands, and he followed where she was looking and abruptly released her and took a step back.

Draco took her arm formally again and turned to continue walking. “I need my Director in good health. And you don’t look healthy. You look starved. So please get something to eat when you get home. I can have dinner delivered to you, if you like. My elves are excellent cooks.”

“How about I cook you dinner?” she blurted out. Where had that come from? Draco’s eyebrows shot up, clearly he was thinking the same thing. But the more Hermione thought about the idea, the more she liked it. Cooking for Malfoy – it felt somehow – right. She turned to him, “Now before you say no, when was the last time someone cooked for you?” Draco was about to speak when Hermione added, “And I don’t mean a house elf. I mean an actual human being.”

Draco’s brown knitted in though for a moment, his frown deepened before he cocked his head and announced, “Why, I believe, Eve, that you would be the first.”

Hermione was not surprised by that declaration. The notion of any of the spoiled socialite witches he’d courted in the past cooking him a meal was ludicrous. Suddenly Hermione wanted to cook for him very much. She wanted him to see what a real woman was like, so you know, he had something to compare against, next time he was sniffing around some elitist snob.

Hermione frowned as the image of Draco holding some witch’s hand was unexpectedly upsetting.

She shook her head as it to clear it and refused to concentrate on Draco holding anyone’s anything any longer.

Besides, she only invited him to supper because she needed to relax and cooking relaxed her. She loved to cook. Hermione didn’t consider herself the creative sort, but the culinary arts were a good balance of creativity and rules. You followed the recipe and the meal came out good. You added a few extra touches; your own signature to it, and you had something that became your own. It was creative and logical. It was the perfect hobby for structured, methodical thinkers, such as she.

Hermione hadn’t planned on going home early tonight though. She’d actually intended on working at Hogwarts till she was about to drop, but hey, why not take a little break. Why not cook for Draco? She did need to unwind a bit. And, as much as she was loathe to admit, Draco was right. Hermione had been working a lot of hours and not getting much rest or food. So, Hermione agreed, she did need at least one night to relax and recharge. And as Draco was a generous patron of the Foundation, the head of the Board of Directors, in fact – and – he wasn’t too hard on the eyes either, he was a good choice for company. Besides, she was dying to try out her latest recipe on someone.

“So, Adam? Am I going to be your first?”

His eyes sparkled at her flirtatious intimation. He took her hand and kissed it. “How can a gentleman refuse such a enticing invitation?” He decided he’d flirt right back.

Hermione’s smile brightened. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was…flirting…with me…and that I’m liking it… “Do you indulge in desserts, Malfoy?”

Draco chuckled, his voice was smooth as silk. “I’m a man of refined tastes, Granger. I assure you, I only indulge in the very best.” The way his eyes slid over her made her knees wobbly slightly. “What kind of dessert are you offering exactly? Tempting me with another apple, perhaps?”

Hermione’s lips parted as a shiver run through her. Oh. My. Word. When did Draco Malfoy’s voice get that deep? She was instantly aware of several things about Malfoy that she’d been purposely trying not to notice for a very long time.

Like how damn good he smelled. Truthfully it was her favorite thing about him, his scent. She’d spent more time than she would ever admit, looking through stores at Diagon Alley one afternoon trying to find his cologne! She had been in a meeting with Draco and afterward he’d spent some extra time speaking with her privately and she couldn’t concentrate on anything but how amazing he smelled. It was a dirty little secret, but if she had been able to find it, Hermione would have bought one of those cologne bottles on the spot and worried about the implications of that action much, much later.

Then there were his eyes. She didn’t fail to notice how they changed from their usual placid grey to the most beautiful shade of blue whenever he spoke to her. And, she liked how tall he was and that, grudgingly, (Padma Patil had known her better than she’d wanted to admit so long ago) Hermione truly did fancy tall men.

As a matter of fact, she fancied the physical build of tall broad shouldered men who carried some weight on them. She liked a man with a good solid frame, long legs…blonds, much to her dismay, were catching her eye more and more. Men built and looking very much like the one standing right in front of her…

Hermione looked up at him through her lashes and Draco actually took a half step toward her before he caught himself and stopped. “Why don’t I surprise you,” she said. Inside she was rolling her eyes at her coquettish tone, but it was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

The smile that he gave Hermione took her breath away. It was slow, easy, practiced. His eyelids were heavy and his lips tugged up at one corner of his mouth lazily. Hermione’s heart skipped all kinds of beats.

Uh oh. She was in big trouble.

“I’m not a man who typically likes surprises, Hermione. But in this case, I’ll be looking forward to it.” He paused for effect. “Very much.”

She blinked at his use of her given name. He did use it, but not very often and each time he did, she had a similar reaction. The way her named sounded coming from his lips did dangerous things to her insides that she didn’t want to examine too closely.

They had reached the front entrance to Hogwarts and Draco turned to her all business once again, now that they were back in public. “What time would you like me?”

Anytime, anywhere? “Eight.”

He nodded once. “Eight it is. See you then, Eve.” Draco winked at her, his face immediately schooling back into the picture of formality before he turned and strode away.

Hermione stood there watching his retreating form and couldn’t quite pin down the emotions roiling around inside. Was she…excited? Anxious? Happy? A small smile quirked her lips as she turned to head back into the building, the realization just starting to settle in; Hermione Granger was cooking dinner for Draco Malfoy and there was no denying it – she was down right happy about it.
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