Patronus

"It's the only spell she ever has trouble with."

Those words rocketed around Hermione's brain for months afterward. Years afterward. After the war was over and Voldemort was surely maggot feed. After her feelings for Ron had coalesced, finally, into something resembling love. After she had given birth to two of the most beautiful, intelligent and lovely children in the world. After nineteen years of togetherness. After the myriad of mundane tasks that make up an ordinary life had blotted those words from her mind.

She saw him on the platform. She was there seeing Rose off to Hogwarts, laughing. When they all looked up and saw him, standing there silent with his wife and son, they locked eyes for a moment and the memory came rushing back. With it came a hot wash of blinding jealousy at the witch who lived with him. Who had borne his son. The son who looked so much like him. But it was tempered with a softness that came from the knowing that the unknown woman, at least, had been able to give Malfoy a measure of peace.

"It's the only spell she ever has trouble with."

The words came, unbidden to the forefront of her brain, and within her mind's-eye she saw them so clearly. As if it had happened yesterday.
****

20 Years Earlier.

Stolen moments in the library were all she could get to be alone, to gather her thoughts. After Harry told her he had seen Malfoy crying in the boys' lav and Harry had all but vivisected the young Slytherin, Hermione's thoughts were all in a whirl. She was on the outs with not only Harry, but Ginny, too. And, as a result Ron, who had just split up with Lavender, was following Harry around like an obedient little pet. Books were, as they had always been, her best refuge.

He came around the corner to her favorite reading niche. It was the middle of the afternoon and sunlight poured through the windows. He looked startled to see her and her, him. The last of the slashing wounds on his face had faded to no more than a thin pink line. It angered her to see the results of Harry's headstrong carelessness.

"Granger, I - I'll find another place to sit."

She held out a hand to stop him. "No, please. I think we're mature enough to share study space."

He offered a ghost of a smile and went to sit in the arm chair next to hers. They sat in companionable silence as each read and scribbled notes.

Malfoy broke the quiet and asked, "Are you working on Snape's essay about the uses of hellebore?"

"No, I've had that done for ages." She didn't look up from her book. "Just doing a bit of personal research."

"Ah." Draco refrained from prying any further. More scratching of quill on parchment. And then silence once more. Hermione could feel Malfoy's eyes on her.

"Yes, Malfoy?" A slight hint of annoyance tinged her query.

"Why are you friends with them?"

She looked up, confused at the sudden question. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you friends with them? They don't appreciate you, unless you can help them with homework or spells or anything they're too thick to work out for themselves. Why do you do it?"

"Because they're not as bad as all that. They're more than just knowledge sucking little prats. Although, at the moment, it doesn't seem like it." Her head cocked to the side with a quizzical glance at her niche-mate. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I think you can do better."

A raised eyebrow. "And who do you suppose I conjure up a friendship with?"

"How in the bloody world am I supposed to know that, Granger? Anyone else would do, I suppose."

"You mean like you?" She gave an admirable sneer.

"I heard about how you laid into Potter after he cut me."

"Don't flatter yourself. I would have done the same for anyone."

"Would you have?"

"Yes." This said with no hesitation.

"You're a better person than I thought. Most of the gossip around here is that I must have done something to deserve it. Saint Potter would never have done anything like that unless I was being the scum that everyone thinks I am."

Hermione regarded Draco thoughtfully. "I don't think you're scum."

A derisive snort. "Then you're naive as well."

"Naive? No. Merely optimistic."

"I wish I had that luxury."

"More like a burden." A look of understanding passed between them and they continued on with their work.
***********************************************************************

The next few weeks passed in this manner. Each pretending surprise at finding the other in the library every time they met, all the while knowing they planned their days around it. Hermione found that while Draco was imperious and bossy, behind the facade laid a quiet, serious boy with a tremendous intellect and an equally tremendous terror of the future.

Draco, for his part, found the fascination he had begun with Granger in fourth year was entirely justified. She was frighteningly smart - too smart for her own good. He liked that. Most girls he knew were just ciphers, echoing the things they heard their parents say. She had her own opinion and wasn't afraid to express it. She was also massively insecure, mostly about her looks and appeal to the opposite sex.

Despite his growing admiration for her, Malfoy looked at Hermione objectively. No, she would never be a great beauty. But there was a homespun appeal, a typically English prettiness about her. Her hair was as wild as ever, floating around her head in a russet cloud. Her eyes weren't honey, or hazel or topaz or any of those flowery, exotic things. They were brown, just brown. But what a brown they were. They were the deep, fathomless brown of the heart of a sunflower, situated in tip-tilted feline lids that were fringed in the darkest, curliest lashes he'd ever seen. They were eyes to drown in. And he wanted to - so, so badly.

Hermione was reminded of her physical shortfalls everyday she sat across from Malfoy. Albeit, the pointed chin was a distraction, it nevertheless added to the impressive whole that was Draco Malfoy. The silvery grey eyes, Nordic hair, the faintly rosy cheeks - all designed to make a girl weak in the knees. More often than not, Hermione was secretly ashamed to admit, it worked. Especially when Malfoy bothered with halfway intelligent discussion. Right now, though, he was in a strop about assignments and didn't hesitate to make his displeasure known.

"You know, right now, I could really give a shit about the 'Five-Hundred Uses of Flame Stargazer Lilies'. Totally worthless information." He slammed his book shut.

Hermione looked up, amused. "Tired?"

"No, darling, whatever gave you that impression?" He sneered at her and put his things into his bag. "Come on. Let's get out of here." He stood and held out his hand.

"To where?" She looked at his outstretched hand suspiciously.

"You'll see. Andale."

Truth be told, Hermione felt that she could use the break. The last month or so hadn't been easy on any of them, especially Draco. The blond had developed circles under his eyes that only deepened with the passing days. They happened to match the ones under her own eyes.

Her mind made up, she gathered up her things and made to follow him. She didn't take his hand. They left the library and Malfoy led them to a side door.

"It's after curfew, Malfoy. I can't leave the castle."

"Of course you can. Hogwarts may be many things, but a fortress it is not." He sneered at her. "Or are you chicken?"

She echoed his words of a moment ago. "I may be many things, Draco Malfoy, but a chicken I am not." Hermione swept past him and out of the opened door. He followed quietly behind her.

The moon was only half-full, sending a watery sort of light onto the grounds. The torches merely flickered weakly as they wended their way around to the front of the castle. The night was unseasonably warm even as a cool breeze fluttered through their hair. He led her to a halt in front of the lake. The moon shimmered on the surface and the trees rustled quietly with the wind. They stood quietly for a moment, drinking in the nocturnal beauty, until Hermione grew curious and broke the silence.

"As nice as this is, I have to know, why here?"

"I thought you might like a little nighttime swim." He smiled at her knowingly.

"How did you know that I like to swim at night?"

"I know a lot of things about you, Granger."

Hermione turned to look at him fully. She didn’t tell him that she had seen him many a-night from her tower window, taking just such a late night dip. How she had watched him split the surface of the lake with such surety that she felt that he was part sea creature, as slippery as a seal, as graceful as an otter. What she saw in his expression both excited and frightened her. She turned to sarcasm, her familiar refuge. "Well, I'd oblige you, but I don't have a suit."

"Who said anything about needing suits?" Malfoy looked positively wolfish in the night.

"I'm not skinny-dipping with you. We're not that good of friends."

"Granger. You're so unimaginative." With that dismissive sniff, he stripped down to his grey boxers and dove in. "Come, scaredy-cat. The water's not that cold." He turned and paddled farther out, giving Hermione a measure of privacy.

She contemplated for awhile. Draco had been decent, but that didn't erase the past. Still...in these dark times, one didn't dismiss an olive branch. And it wasn't as if her knickers were particularly lust inducing. They covered more than her usual bikini. Her mind made up, she ducked behind a tree and stripped down to her bra and panties. Stepping from around the trunk of the tree, she folded the discarded clothing into a neat pile on the roots and waded into the water.

Draco turned just in time to see her picking her way delicately into the lake. The bright blue satin lingerie glowed on her skin. Her body was even better than he thought it would be. Neither tall nor short, she was firmly in the middle. She was a bit leaner than he had imagined, but then again, weren't they all? Hermione filled out the underwear in all the right places and he found himself pleasantly surprised. He watched as she got to a deep enough spot in the water and executed a graceful dive.

Hermione came up and spied Draco's head bobbing along the surface of the water. Paddling over to him, she gave him a grin which he returned.

"This was rather a good idea, Malfoy. Well done."

"Yes, it was, wasn't it? How about we have a race, Granger? See who can get to the opposite shore."

"Sure you can beat me?" she asked cheekily.

"Please. You haven't got anything on me. Ready?"

"Always."

"Right, then. Go!"

They took off at a sprint. Both bodies split the tension of the water with grace and power. Each kept their eyes out, but although Hermione was the better, more experienced swimmer, Draco had the physical advantage and he bested her easily. He surfaced with a sharp bob to laugh at her graceless loss.

"This is bollocks, Malfoy! How dare you beat me!"

"Sore loser."

"Damn right!" With that, she slapped her hand on the water to send a splash into his face.

"Oi! Not fair, Granger." Malfoy lunged at her and gave her a good dunking.

"Aargh! You little shite!"

"We're both in a huge lake. There's no point of dunking me again. See?" Malfoy slipped underwater and back up.

"You're a nutter, you know that Malfoy?"

"I happen to come from a long line of distinguished nutters, Granger. Show some respect." He looked down his nose at her as best as he could.

They dissolved into chuckles at his feigned imperiousness. The lethargy and stress relieved, they swam to shore. Hermione pulled out her wand and transfigured a couple of oak leaves into blankets. Soon they were huddled in their coverings, cozy bluebell flames dancing around them.

"Malfoy?"

"Hm?"

"Do you really hate Muggle-borns?"

He sighed, knowing this moment would come. "Let me put it this way - I don't hate you. Not anymore."

"So I'm just a glaring exception to your rule?" Hermione was incensed.

"I don't know, Hermione. I find a lot of what I was taught about Mud-um, Muggleborns was just a lot of rubbish. You had a lot to do with that."

"You called me Hermione, just now." She grinned at him shyly.

"Did I?" He looked surprised.

"Yes, you did Draco." Her smile widened. "Feeling comfortable?"

"Must be." He scooted closer, admiring the little flickers of electric blue the flames gave off.

They were leaning against the wide trunk of the oak, enjoying the companionable silence. Hermione sighed, not remembering the last time she felt so content. Head resting on the rough skin of the tree, her eyes slipped closed, and she reveled in the minute night sounds and the even rhythm of Draco’s breathing beside her. She felt his eyes on her and she languidly turned her head to look at him.

He was watching her quizzically, seemingly amused. His eyes roamed over her face and lingered on her mouth.

“Is it just me, or do you also have the overwhelming urge to put our mouths together?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, yet she said nothing. He could see her contemplating his question, her eyes narrowed faintly. She reached up to encircle his neck with her slender fingers and pulled him in. Their kiss was soft, exploratory. Mouths slightly opened, they felt their way into an embrace, and their blankets falling away as the blue lights flickered like fairies around them.

Discovering that neither would pull away in disgust, their lips softened and opened further. Hermione’s tongue made a small incursion into Draco’s mouth to find his waiting for her. Their tongues thrust and parried languidly – neither felt hurried. Hermione felt Draco’s large hand curl itself around her cheek, holding her there to his kiss. With a sigh she gave herself to it completely.

Draco pushed Hermione blanket from her shoulders, pressing her to lie upon it. His lips migrated from her mouth and traveled the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered a little when she felt his teeth graze that spot. He mistook it for a sign that she was chilled and pulled his blanket over their entwined bodies.

“Are you cold?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Burning.”

He stroked his hand from her cheek to rest on one satin covered breast. “May I?”

She nodded with the barest of movements. He smiled. Thankfully it was a front clasp. A second later it was open, the halves lying limply along her sides. They watched as his hands trailed over her ribs to cup the twin mounds reverently. Draco grazed his thumbs over her coral coloured nipples, delighted as they sprang to attention. His hands were so fair against her skin. She found herself entranced by the sight of them. Hermione’s breathing deepened under his ministrations and a purr escaped her lips.

A knowing grin twitched at the corner of Draco’s lips and he lowered them to catch a nipple. Hermione looked up at the deep blue sky, watching the tiny blue spheres dancing around them and feeling thoroughly seduced by it and by the lovely sensation he caused her to feel.

His lips set up a deep tugging at that bit of sensitive flesh, plucking and pulling at its sister. Her breath began to stack in her throat at his ministrations and he slipped further down her body, lavishing kisses along her skin. He could smell the faint vanilla that clung to her epidermis, mingling with the warm, tangy scent that was only her. At seventeen, Draco wasn’t nearly as experienced as many thought him to be, but neither was he a shy little virgin. Still, this encounter had a sense of intimacy that many of his others lacked. The perfect bowl of her navel beckoned and he kissed, it, sending the tip of his tongue just flickering inside. His fingers grazed the tops of her thighs and with a sigh, she parted them.

Draco hooked his fingers into the elastic of the blue satin knickers she wore and drew them down her legs. He flung them into a patch of grass with a sense of casting his cap over the windmill. It was just a light touch at first – a simple graze to the velvet skin of her inner thigh. He grazed his fingertips up, ever nearer until they rested just atop the dewy brown curls. His thumbs spread her with a sure touch and for a moment he could only look at the perfection of her; coral red flesh pouting with desire, her clitoris stiff and begging for attention. He dropped a kiss there, lightly saluting her. Her thighs quivered. He smiled knowingly.

Fingers and lips and tongue joined together to tease at her labia, stroking and inflaming her already heated flesh. His hand became wet and his cock became harder. Draco felt a sharp tug on his scalp – Hermione’s hands found themselves twisted in his hair. He sent his tongue roaming about the innermost recesses of her pussy until she writhed underneath him. When she tensed beneath him, he knew she was ready. A quickly whispered Contraception Charm remedied the last bit of business before he abandoned himself to pleasure.

He raised himself even with her mouth, kissing her, letting her taste herself on his lips. She was eager for it. He teased the head of his cock at her entrance until she became impatient and grabbed for him. Her hot little hands encircling the steely flesh was almost his undoing. She stroked him, once, twice, deft and sure. Catching the drops of pre-cum and spreading it around the head. Draco closed his eyes, feeling about to burst from his skin.

He couldn’t take anymore and so he spread her wide and slid home without any impediment. He was faintly surprised – goody goody Granger wasn’t a virgin? But the thought was lost as the sensation of her wet channel closing about him took over. Still, to be sure, he moved slowly at first and he received the second shock of the night.

Hermione, growing impatient, wrapped her legs around his waist, sinking her fingernails into his taut buttocks, urging him onward with a growl. The pleasured pain of those nails acted as the spur he needed. Drawing her hands above her head and holding them there, he started a driving rhythm that was ferocious and half-savage in its hunger. What began as a gentle encounter ended fiercely as each strove to reach the peak.

Her thighs tightened vise-like about his hips and her mouth opened on a silent scream as she came. He followed right behind her on the most intense orgasm he’d ever had. They lay there, sweating and panting under the blankets and the deep black sky. The blue bells danced around them like fairies, enchanting them both.
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Her happiest memory. Dubious distinction, that. A star-filled night lit only with bluebell flames when they swam and played, sleek like otters; reinforcing her earlier spells. Later, it was replaced by thoughts of her children as he receded into the background of a childhood given up all too soon. She never knew what his Patronus was. Never needed to know. Hers stayed the same. Ron never asked. She never told him. It would have been the ultimate betrayal. Even her protector changed to fit her new life. Two lions for her lion-hearted children. But now, seeing him across a crowded platform, she knew that whatever his was, it had been constant. That sadness in his eyes was real. A longing for a life he had forfeited long ago.

And if, in the course of her work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she happened to cast an otter Patronus, none of her colleagues mentioned the strange new being. They only accepted it as a matter of course. And even still, twenty years later, it was the only spell she ever had trouble with.