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Chapter Text

“Hermione? Hello? Hermione are you there?”

She wasn’t. Not really. 

“Yeah sorry, what was that?” She blinked a few times, her eyes refocusing on Ron. 

“What’s going on with you, ‘Mione?” He asked, there was a sadness in his eyes that Hermione could not bring herself to care about. She didn’t really care about anything. 

It had been two months since the War and Hermione was struggling. Well struggling implied she was putting up a fight, which she very much was not. She was letting the anhedonia take her. She had no fight left. 

Once the funerals were over and Hogwarts castle rebuilt, she gave in. She gave in to her feelings of not wanting to try anymore. She had nothing left to give and wanted nothing from anyone in return. 

“I’m worried about you,” Ron said in response to her silence. 

“I don’t need you to worry about me,” she replied. 

“Of course I am going to worry about you. You’re my best friend… and we’re supposed to be…” he trailed off. 

“Supposed to be what?” She asked. 

“More than that,” he sighed. 

“More than friends?”

“Well yes,” he pursed his lips, “After our snog in the Chamber of Secrets I just thought…”

“Thought what?”

“Thought that we’d get through this together.”

“Get through what?” She asked. She wasn’t trying to be combative but knew she was. She didn’t care. She wanted to be left alone. Including by Ron. Luckily Harry had stopped trying days ago. 

“Through the grief, Hermione,” he sounded exasperated. “I thought we’d be able to build something together but you’re… I don’t know, depressed or something?”

“I’m not depressed,” she replied. Maybe she was but she wasn’t crying, she didn’t want to die, she just didn’t want to try anymore. 

“I don’t know how to help you,” he sighed. 

“I don’t need help,” she said. 

“Yes you do!” 

“Ron, I’m just tired,” she sighed. 

“You’re always tired. You never come out of your room. You barely speak to people. I only ever see you outside if you’re having a spliff with George,” he was starting to get heated. 

She liked her time outside with George. He did not want to talk either. Just wanted to get high and think. She could do that. But this talking with Ron… she did not enjoy. 

“I just don’t feel like it,” she shrugged. 

“Don’t feel like being a normal human?” 

“I don’t feel like being who I was,” she replied. 

“But I miss you,” he softened his tone. She did not respond right away. She was not sure what to say. They had all lost a lot but she was not going to pretend to be something she wasn’t for anyone. “I want things to be right between us. I want to be with you.”

“I’m sorry, Ron, but I don’t feel that way anymore,” she said. 

“No,” he shook his head, “This is just grief. We can get through this.”

“We can as friends,” she tried to let him down easy, “But I don’t want to be with you romantically.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m sorry but I do,” she told him. “I think I’m meant to be alone.”

“This will pass,” he tried again. “I’ll wait-“

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m going to go back to school and I want you to live your life. Don’t wait for me and don’t make plans thinking we’re going to be together… I don’t see that for us anymore.”

“What happened?” His blue eyes welled with tears, “What did I do?”

She didn’t feel that answering honestly was in the best interest of this conversation. She knew that taking the blame would be easier and less painful for him. Plus, she wanted this to end. 

“You didn’t do anything. It’s me. I’m different,” she said. 

“But I love you.”

“You’re one of my best friends,” she told him. “I’m going to get my things and go stay at Grimmauld. I’m sorry.” 

———

A month later, she sat alone on the Hogwarts Express. She barely saw anyone since she moved out of the Burrow. Ron sent her a few owls, only one of which she returned out of politeness. Harry and Ginny were in their own world, making up for the lost time, and preparing to not see each other until Christmas. 

Hermione should feel happy that she had a friend coming with her during her last year of Hogwarts. However, she felt nothing. When Ginny got her Heads’ badge and Quidditch Captain notice, Hermione congratulated her, secretly only pleased that she wouldn’t have to see her that much this year. More time to herself.

Harry had tried a few times to get Hermione to talk to him about what happened with Ron, and what was happening with her, but she didn’t have much to say. Eventually he just let her be. When he told her that he and Ron would not be returning, she shrugged. Whatever they wanted to do. Again, this just meant she’d have more time to herself. 

When the train car door opened, Hermione did not even bother to turn her head to see who was coming in. They would sit or they wouldn’t. She didn’t care. 

“Fuck, the swot’s already in here,” the sharp nasal of Pansy Parkinson’s voice broke the silence. Hermione didn’t turn, nor move, nor flinch, only stared out the window. 

“There’s nowhere else to go, Parks,” Blaise Zabini’s voice spoke next. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind sharing. Right, Granger?” 

Hermione kept her gaze out the window. She shrugged. Then they filed into the car. She didn’t care to know who else was there, but surely she’d be forced to know by the end of the ride. 

“What, that horrible orange cat got your tongue?” The jovial voice of Theodore Nott tried to break the tension. 

“Crookshanks died.”

Hermione still didn’t turn towards them as she spoke, not caring for any of them nor their reactions to her. 

“Well, sorry about that,” Theo said. She shrugged again. 

Crookshanks was only one of many things she lost. She’d seen him take his final breath, protecting a fourth year student from a Death Eater. He was more of a hero than she would ever be. 

The conversation picked up around her, all of them taking no issue leaving her out of things. She wove in and out of paying attention to their trite conversation. She knew they were only here at the behest of the Ministry and likely thought her to be some kind of nark. She wasn’t, nor did she care. She no longer had the energy to be concerned with people who just did not matter nor have power to do anything. 

“Rumour has it that there’s going to be a new house just for the returning Eighth years,” Zabini said. 

“I’m sure McGonagall will give us some long spiel on unity and setting an example,” Parksinson said. 

“And what are you an example for? Being a bint who tried to sell out her fellow students?” Zabini chided. 

“Oh shut up,” Parkinson snapped. “With all the shite happening last year, I’m surprised it was just me who wanted to get things over with.”

“If we’re our own house that means our own dormitory, right?” Theo asked. 

“Probably,” Zabini replied. 

“I hope we get our own rooms,” Theo said. 

“What? With our own master baths? Keep dreaming,” Pansy snipped. 

“I’ve only seen three others from our year,” Zabini said. “There definitely could be more, but less than ten seems like a great amount for getting our own rooms.”

“What do you think, Draco?” Theo asked. 

“Our own rooms would be nice.”

The low timbre of Draco Malfoy’s voice came from directly next to her. She had not seen him since the trial. Before that, she caught a glimpse of him in the Great Hall after the Battle. Before that was when she was tortured on the floor of his family home. 

“Our own rooms are the least they could do, forcing us back here,” Theo gruffed. “My mother didn’t even want to send me. Tried to have our solicitor fight it.”

“My parents weren’t thrilled either,” Pansy said. “Kept saying I got plenty of education last year.”

“My mother was too drunk to notice anything,” Blaise said. 

“And mine could barely see through her bloody tears,” Draco murmured. 

“What about you, Granger?” Theo tried to include her again. 

Hermione finally turned to face them all, “I obliviated my parents and sent them to Australia so Death Eaters wouldn’t kill them. They don’t know they have a daughter. If they did, I’m sure they’d definitely want me to have my own room,” she said the last part sarcastically, taking in the horrified look on their faces before turning to look back out the window. That should shut them up for a while. 

Luckily it did. The train car was mostly silent for about five minutes before Blaise excused himself to go change. She heard the others get up as well. While they were gone, she figured she should change, too. When she turned to get her things, Pansy was still in there. 

“Your new attitude is abysmal,” Pansy looked her up and down. 

“Sorry, would you rather I sing kumbaya and we can hold hands and dance?” Hermione replied. 

“Kumby-what? You’re really bloody mental, Granger,” Pansy said, turning away from her to change. 

Once both the witches had changed, Hermione resumed her position crossed arms, eyes out the window. They remained silent until the wizards returned. 

Hermione was left alone for the rest of the ride. When they finally came to a stop, the Slytherins left the car and Hermione stayed behind for a moment, not wanting to have to spend any more time with them. She’d rather walk than have to take their carriage. 

Once she had left the train, she was glad to see no one she knew as she waited for the final carriage. There were a few third and fourth years, and though they stared at her, they didn’t speak. Upon getting to the castle she went to the restroom instead of the Great Hall, buying some time before she had to face her housemates. She considered spending the whole ceremony in here, but she tragically knew her lack of presence would be noticed.

She wished she was a nobody. 

Chapter Text

The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement for the Welcome Feast. Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table with his friends, wishing this was already over. If McGonagall wasn’t going to let them stay in Slytherin, he wanted to get it over with as fast as possible. He wanted to be in his room, ideally alone. His friends repeatedly tried to engage him in conversation but he was not interested. After the war he shut down. He no longer cared about anything, especially once the trials had ended and he was free to sit in his house with his mother while his father served the next 25 years in Azkaban. 

His eyes flicked to the entrance of the hall, watching Hermione Granger stroll in. Their experience on the train earlier today rolled around in his mind. He had never seen her so dejected, it almost made him feel better about his own melancholia. Even victors suffered, too. 

He watched as she took a seat next to the Weasley girl, not speaking. Some of the people around her tried to engage her, but there she was with that shrug again. He wondered what had happened to make her this way. Surely being on the winning team, and one of the elite members of Potter’s inner circle should have meant something. Instead it seemed as though she had lost more than those in the war. And her cat. And parents. Maybe it made sense to him… but she was always so tough before this. Headstrong and loyal. For Merlin’s sake he watched her be tortured and she gave away nothing. Now… it seemed as though she wanted to fade into nothingness. 

When the doors opened again, the new first years were being ushered in for the sorting ceremony. There was more than he’d ever seen, which made sense considering all of the Muggleborns who were supposed to have started last year were not able to. 

The ceremony was long and painful. The Feast was no different. When the food cleared and McGonagall gave her closing remarks, she asked the Eighth Years to remain. The hall cleared out and she spoke to the ten witches and wizards left in the room. 

Himself, Pansy, Blaise, Theo, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones, Anthony Goldstein, Padma Patil, Neville Longbottom, and Hermione Granger, sat in silence as they waited for their sentencing from McGonagall. She cleared her throat. 

“Good evening, thank you all for returning for your final year of education,” she smiled at them. “In light of all that has happened, we have decided to offer you all private accommodations, with a dormitory just for the 8th year students. You are welcome to continue to wear your house colours, however you will be able to wear black, as well. I hope you all take this year to grow and learn from each other, seeing that we are not that different. As Hogwarts works to rebuild everything lost, I have hope that you all will be at the forefront of promoting unity and forgiveness.”

There were scoffs from around the room. McGonagall sighed and pressed her lips together. 

“For you, there will be no curfew, but please do not abuse this, as rules can always be reinstated. Professor Bins will be leading you to your new quarters. I hope this year brings what you came back in search of,” she nodded before dismissing them. 

The ten of them stood and followed Bins out of the hall. When Draco and his friends approached the exit, Blaise gestured for Hermione to go first but she shook her head. Blaise shrugged and the four of them left, leaving Granger behind them in the hall. 

They walked for a few minutes before curiosity got the best of him, and he turned to look if Granger was following. She was, but fairly far away, her eyes roaming the walls. When they finally arrived at the rear of the school, Professor Bins stopped in front of a portrait of a man and woman reading under an Apple tree. 

“ Unitatem, ” the professor said. The portrait opened and they gestured for the student to enter before they vanished, leaving the rest to explore. 

The common room was nice. Much smaller than the Slytherin one, but still nice. There were couches in each house colour, as well as plush leather arm chairs in front of a roaring fire. It seemed as though Theo’s dreams came true, and each of them had their own private dormitory that connected directly to the common room, no towers or hallways. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Granger find her room, sandwiched between Neville and Padma’s. She went in, however was back out in less than a minute with her overcloak. He tried not to watch her but ultimately did as she exited the common room. 

The rest of the students found their accommodations, Draco’s was the furthest over followed by, Blaise’s, then Theo’s, then Pansy’s. On the other side of Pansy was Susan Bones whom Draco was unsure if he’d ever spoken to in all his years here. After a quick investigation of his room, which boasted its own private bathroom, he too grabbed his cloak, once again letting curiosity win. 

The common room was empty when he left his room, for which he was grateful. As he exited, he looked around for a moment, considering where she may have gone. The back garden seemed like a good place to start. 

He was not sure what he would say to her if he found her. What was there to say? Sorry seemed like a good start but she did not seem to be much of a conversationalist anymore. Maybe he could goad her into a debate, he did miss their arguments from when they were younger. Maybe she did too…

After an unsuccessful walk through the garden, he headed toward the Herbology greenhouse. After that, the black lake. 

He finally found her sitting on a bench under a large oak tree that looked out at the shimmering lake, lit up under the moonlight. As he approached, he noticed she was smoking something, and it didn’t smell like tobacco. 

“Good evening, Granger,” he said, breaking the delicate silence of the evening. She didn’t even bother to turn towards him. 

“What do you want?” She asked, taking a puff of whatever she was smoking.  

He thought for a moment. What did he want?

“Can I have a seat?” He started by asking. 

She shrugged, so he took that as a yes. Sitting next to her on the bench was just as uncomfortable as it was on the train. His body was stiff, hers practically slumped in on itself. 

“Is that marijuana?” He asked.

“Want some?” She replied, holding the joint between her fingers out towards him. 

“I’ve never…” he trailed off as he debated for a moment. He had to kick a rough Dreamless Sleep habit this summer, but he still drank alcohol, and from what he knew about the Muggle drug, it was only a plant. 

He decided to take it. 

One puff was all it took for him to start coughing and he handed it back to her. He looked to see the slightest smirk on her face. “Cheers,” he coughed as he caught his breath. She took another drag. 

After a few moments Draco felt as though there was a film over his eyes, and in his brain. He blinked a few times, taking in everything that suddenly felt so new. His brain stopped whirring and instead he shifted, his posture more relaxed than his mother would have liked, and he couldn’t focus on what he wanted to say. The shimmering of the black lake was enchanting. 

“Feel it?” She asked. He nodded. 

He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Is this what you do now?”

She shrugged, “It’s the only thing that’s brought me any sort of peace in a while…”

His mouth felt dry but when she handed him the joint again, he took it, this time with much less coughing. He liked this, a lot. It wasn’t like being drunk, which was the only previous experience he had with intoxication. This was… easier. Life felt easier. He bet her life was not easy, that’s probably why she started getting high. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. She didn’t say anything, only continued smoking. “I treated you like shit, then the world treated you like shit, I’m just… sorry.”

Hermione went still next to him. He turned to look at her and watched her jaw clench and unclench as she watched the Black Lake. He wished he could read her thoughts. Maybe if he wasn’t so high he could give his legilimency a try. Not now though. 

“What do you want from me?” She asked. 

“What?” He blinked. His eyes felt dry. “Nothing. I don’t want anything,” he said. “I just… I don’t know. I am sorry and thought you should hear that.” 

She didn’t respond. Instead they sat in silence again. He wondered if her thoughts were as confused as his. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting tonight, but getting high with Granger was not on that list. He also was not sure she accepted his apology, but that did not really matter because no matter what he would have to show her that he was trying to change. That he had changed. It seems as though she had changed too. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, breaking the silence. 

They sat in the question for a moment. She shrugged. 

“Ugh, this shrug,” he stretched his arms. “The old Granger would at least be reaming me out for even asking something so daft.”

“She’s gone,” she said. He gave her a confused look, “The old Granger. I’m not her anymore.”

“Whatever you say,” he was the one who shrugged this time. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means if you want to be this mopey little burnout this year, I’m not going to stop you,” he spoke before his mind could even comprehend what he was saying. “But I just think it’s a phase.”

“A phase?” She laughed. 

“Sure. Maybe next you’ll dye your hair and get a facial piercing,” he chuckled. 

“Maybe Slytherin green?” She joked. 

“Or a nice rainbow and really celebrate inter house Unity,” he smirked. She rolled her eyes. 

“What a load of hogwash,” she took the final drag from her joint before stubbing it out.

“What, unity?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “It’s not like the war actually changed people’s beliefs.”

“There’s no way you believe that, Granger,” he faced her, “They changed mine.”

She rolled her eyes, “At what point? Once Voldemort was dead and you had no choice but to change sides and try to end up on the right side of history?”

“No,” he shook his head trying to work through his brain fog, “It was probably when I watched Professor Burbage getting eaten by the snake.”

They were plunged back into silence at Draco’s confession. Hermione finally turned to look at him and he felt compelled to speak again. 

“The man was a half-blood and we were just going to take his word that killing a bunch of magical people was the best way to accomplish his goal… it didn’t add up,” Draco said. Hermione nodded. “And you… you’re a good person and to be tortured… I may be a prick but I know when things are wrong.”

She looked away from him and out towards the water again. She stayed quiet. 

“I kind of like this,” he said after a few minutes. “Getting high. I can see why you do it. I feel like I’m talking so much, though. And my mouth is so dry.”

Hermione let out a dry laugh and pulled a water bottle from her robes. “Here. You have cotton mouth. It’s a side effect.”

He drank some eagerly and then handed it back to her, “Thank you,” he said. She nodded. “Do you do this everyday?” She nodded again. “What about reading? Do you still read? I feel like I wouldn’t be able to focus on a book right now.”

“I don’t really read anymore,” she sighed. “I don’t have interest.”

“Don’t say things that make me worry about you, Granger,” he said. 

“I don’t need you to worry for me,” she replied. 

“Well someone has to or you might just blend into the furniture,” he smirked, “And the Granger I know would have put up a fight to being relegated to that.”

“You don’t know any version of me,” she nearly snapped, but didn’t.

“If you would let me, I’d like to,” he said. 

“I’m not looking for any friends,” she replied. 

“Good because neither am I,” he replied easily. “Maybe we can just smoke sometimes,” he offered. “Like I said, I rather enjoy this.” She shrugged. “And any money you need you know I’ve got the galleons.”

“Of course you do,” she replied.

“There she is,” he nudged her shoulder with his. She retreated at his touch but that didn’t bother him. One day at a time. “It's late. I’m going to head back, would you walk with me?”

He was high but wanted to try to phrase it in a way where she felt obligated to come with him. He didn’t like the thought of her out here all night, freezing, smoking weed to dull whatever she was trying to dull. 

She shrugged but stood up and they walked silently back to the dormitory. When they entered the empty common room, Draco turned to her again. 

“Good night, Granger. Thank you for the lovely evening,” he bowed his head toward her in a way that made him feel stupid when he shut the door. This would be a long night.

Chapter Text

She should unpack.

Instead, she stared at the ceiling. It was Sunday morning. Classes started tomorrow, and she was… unsure. 

Usually by now she would have read all her course books, twice at least. She did not feel like doing that this year. She didn’t even really feel like participating in classes. Maybe she wouldn't do any of the readings. She didn’t know yet. 

Last night her conversation with Malfoy left her feeling… confused. From apologising to worrying about her, she was not sure what had gotten into him nor why he wanted to hang out with her last night. She surprisingly didn’t mind but preferred alone time. That’s why she hadn’t left her room yet. She should go down to breakfast, or at least do something productive. 

Eventually, she forced herself out of bed. After dressing in the most comfortable jeans and jumper she went down to breakfast. After breakfast she would go back to her room and hide until dinner. Maybe she would finally unpack. 

When she arrived at the Great Hall, Ginny was waving at her. She suppressed a sigh and went to sit next to her friend. 

“Sleep in?” Ginny asked as she took a seat. 

“Mhm,” Hermione nodded, buttering some toast.

“How are the 8th year dorms?”

“Nice. We have our own rooms.”

“That’s so nice, it’s great that we each have our own space this year,” Ginny said. She then proceeded to talk about the Heads dorms she shared with Harper Crestwood, who also happened to be Slytherin’s quidditch captain. The main thing Hermione appreciated about Ginny was that she could talk for hours, which meant Hermione didn’t have to say much. 

Across the hall her eyes wandered to Draco Malfoy at the Slytherin table. He was picking at potatoes on his plate, then his eyes flicked up to hers. He gave her a smirk and then turned his eyes back down. She did the same and focused on her tea, trying to tune back in to what Ginny was saying about tryouts. 

“Shit, I need to get going. I’m supposed to meet with Harper to sort out the schedule for Prefect rounds,” Ginny said, “I’ll see you at dinner!”

With that, Ginny left Hermione. She quickly finished her toast and tea and made her way back to her room before anyone else could talk to her. She allowed her mind to wander, thinking about her night last night, and about what would happen this evening. 

She decided to actually do her unpacking, the Muggle way, which seems to ease the growing anxiety in her body. Whenever Hermione tried to pinpoint exactly what the root of said anxiety was, she could never find it. She would always come to the conclusion of fear, but she was not sure what she was scared of. All of the former threats to her existence were gone, dead, taken care of, or locked away in Azkaban. 

When she was done unpacking she laid on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She did not move until it was time for dinner. She sat in between Neville and Ginny who were chatting animatedly about the updates to the grass on the quidditch pitch. Hermione stayed quiet. 

After dinner, she was glad when Ginny was running off again so she could go back to her room. Neville never forced her to make conversation, and peeled off once they were in the back of the castle to go to the greenhouse. 

Once she made it to her room she gathered her things and cloak, trying not to think too hard about whether she would have company tonight. When she left her room to have her evening smoke, Draco was waiting for her in the common room. She didn’t say anything as he stood up and followed her out of the portrait hole. When she started to head towards the Black Lake, he put his arm out to stop her. 

“Would you want to go to the Astronomy Tower instead?” He asked her. 

“Would you?” She gave him a sceptical look knowing what happened last time he was there.

He nodded, “I think I need to go… before classes start.”

She did not respond but nodded and the two walked silently next to each other. She wondered about this moment, Draco wanting to face a place that likely haunted him, and wanting her to be there with him. She had made it clear yesterday that she wasn’t looking for friendship, so maybe that was part of the reason he chose her to be there. Low stakes when they barely cared about each other. 

When they climbed the stairs, she was behind him, watching him white knuckle the railing with each step. She didn’t ask him if he was alright, she knew he would be. It was only a place and Malfoy wasn’t weak, she knew he could always occlude if he so choosed. Just like he had at the Manor when she was…

When they made it to the top, he went to the railing overlooking the Forbidden Forest. She went and stood next to him. She wondered if she should ask if she was okay but decided against it. He’d say something if he needed to. 

Hermione slouched down against the wall, rolling a joint cross legged on the ground. Draco eventually joined her, sitting across from her, knees up, arms resting on them, staring at his clasped hands. 

“I wouldn’t have done it, you know,” he said, breaking their silence. 

“I know,” was all she replied. She’d heard Harry speak about that night, saying Draco was lowering his wand. She did believe that he would have taken Dumbledore’s offer, but like always, there was a larger plan in motion. 

“He threatened to kill my mother,” he said next. 

Hermione just nodded. She had heard this all at his trial, which both she and Harry spoke at. She ultimately did not feel that Draco should be sent to Azkaban, however if he had been, she might be sitting alone right now. 

“And I’m sorry about your parents,” he said. “You did the right thing.”

Hermione looked up at him for a moment. Yesterday he’d blamed the weed for talking so much, but here he was doing it sober. Maybe he could no longer sit in silence, the opposite problem she was having. She pursed her lips and went back to rolling the joint. She did not want to speak about her parents. Not now. Not with him. 

“Want to light it?” She asked him, handing him the finished jay. He took it, put it in his mouth, then snapped his fingers creating a small flame. She raised her eyebrows at the impressive party trick. 

“I would teach it to you,” he said after taking a puff. He handed her the joint. “But then you might not need me around.”

She was going to tell him that she did not need him now, but decided against it. She took a drag and looked out at the forest. The stars were starting to peek through the clouds, and the moon was beginning to glow. It was a perfect night. 

“Are you ready for classes tomorrow?” He asked, clearly trying to engage her. She shrugged and he rolled his eyes as she passed back the joint. She was starting to feel the high so decided to humour him and verbalise her thoughts, somewhat. 

“I don’t really care about classes anymore,” she told him. “I’m only back here because…” she thought for a moment, “I didn’t want to work yet and I thought coming back here would, I don’t know, help me find the part of me I’m missing.”

Maybe she was already too high. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to be so honest with Malfoy, who until literally yesterday, was nothing but her former bully. Maybe it was the same thing she thought for him, that the stakes were low so it didn’t matter what she said. He already didn’t like her for so long, she wasn’t worried about offending him, nor upsetting him. She could be honest and it did not matter how he felt about it. Unlike Ginny or Ron or Harry who were constantly trying to persuade her into something or other. Being with him felt like taking a break. 

“C’mon, Granger, you’re supposed to be the brightest witch of our age,” he gave her a soft smirk. 

“Maybe I don’t want to be that anymore,” her eyes flicked to his for a moment at her revelation. 

Draco leaned back and really looked at her.

“Maybe I’ll finally be able to be top of the class,” he joked, the humour not quite reaching his eyes. Instead it felt as though he was studying her. 

“Go for it,” she shrugged, “I’m tired of everything that comes with that.”

“Comes with what?” He handed her the joint back. 

“Being the brightest witch or whatever,” she took a drag, “Too much comes with being the smart one.”

“Potter and Weasel aren’t even here this year for you to save,” he reminded her, “Wouldn’t you want to do well for you?”

“I don’t think I know what I want anymore,” she told him. “I used to think being the best was for me, but I am not sure it serves me anymore. Who am I without being smart?” She handed him the joint back. 

“Let’s see,” he thought for a moment, “You’re loyal, you’re witty, you’re attractive, and you have a mean right hook,” he smirked. 

Hermione felt an unfamiliar heat flash through her at him calling her attractive. She tried to reel in her thoughts, which was much harder now that she was thoroughly blazed. “Witty is smart adjacent,” she said. 

“True, but your natural intelligence is a big part of who you are, regardless of whether or not you’ve decided to view it as a burden,” he said. She rolled her eyes. “I honestly bet you could slack this whole year and still best me in all our classes.”

She shrugged, “We’ll see.” 

Draco handed her the joint and then turned to look out at the forest. She looked at him as he did, her eyes raking up his muscular neck, down his sharp jaw, then over the sharp angles of his face. He looked tired. Maybe she found him attractive too, but tired was the main look. 

“What are you looking at?” He turned, catching her eyes. She felt the same heat rise in her chest again. 

“You look tired.”

“Thanks,” the corner of his lip turned up. “I don’t sleep much anymore.”

“Nightmares?” She asked before she could think about it. He gave her a single nod. “I get them, too. I think the weed helps,” she handed him the joint back. 

“Not a fan of Dreamless Sleep then?” He asked. 

“Ron and Ginny wouldn’t let Harry and I brew it, said it was too addictive,” she told him. 

“Guess they’re smarter than they look,” he handed her back the joint. Her mind collected itself for a moment as she read deeper into his words. 

“Were you using it?” She asked. He nodded and turned back to the forest. 

“I don’t anymore,” he said. 

“Is the weed going to…” she hesitated before handing him the joint back. He shook his head and reached to take it from her. 

“I wish I knew about this before,” he told her. “No hangover.”

She nodded. “I smoked with George this summer,” she volunteered some information, not sure if she could stop herself from where this conversation was going. “It was one of the only things that got me to leave my room. Him, too.”

Draco nodded in understanding, “Theo spent a lot of time coming round to get me out of bed. It’s kind of why I don’t mind having to come back here. It gives me something to do.” 

Hermione thought about the distraction of classes. It would be nice to try to get her mind out of the past year, but working herself as hard as she used to did not seem like something she would enjoy. Maybe classes would start and her motivation would return. At this point, she didn’t feel like it would. 

“It doesn’t seem like you even want to do classes,” he commented, “So why not work instead of coming back here?” He asked. 

“I used to think I wanted to work for the Ministry, but became very disillusioned with that idea after what they did to Harry,” she told him. 

“Sure, but you like Shacklebolt,” he offered. 

“One somewhat decent Minister does not inherently change a corrupt government structure. There’s still the Wizengamot, and bureaucracy as a whole. Government is where people who want nothing to change go.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” he replied, “If it weren’t for people in the government trying to change the government and fighting for the rights of, let’s say, people like you, then we wouldn’t be where we are now. And I’m talking about muggleborn rights long before the Dark Lord.”

She pursed her lips. “It feels… hopeless.”

“I have a feeling you’ve been feeling a lot of that recently.”

She didn’t respond to his comment. It was a bit too pointed for her liking. She didn’t like the observations he made about her. She didn’t want to be known by anyone, including him. 

“You know I read that article in the prophet where they talked about you being the best option for the first Muggleborn Minister,” he said. 

“Fuck that,” Hermione shook her head, “I’m only 18. It feels like they wrote that to set me up for failure.”

“How?”

“Because if I don’t achieve that then the whole world knows I never lived up to my potential,” she huffed. 

“Ah,” Draco nodded in thought, “So that’s why you’re giving up now. Don’t even try so then you’ll never fail.”

“I- that’s not- oh, shut up,” she snapped. She took an angry drag of the joint. He didn’t know her. How dare he try this half assed psychoanalysis on her. 

“Hit too close to home?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“You don’t know anything,” she replied. 

“I do know a thing or two about having to live up to a standard you’re not sure you want because it’s been forced upon you,” he said, taking the joint from her. “I’m not judging you for it.”

She watched him inhale and exhale. She could ask him something and get the conversation away from herself, but she couldn’t think of anything to ask. This whole conversation has felt very personal and has made her high very mid. 

He handed the joint back and she took him, eagerly taking the last puff before putting it out. She remembered that she’d brought some crisps and suddenly she was starving for them. Eating was way better than talking. She pulled the bag from her robes, along with her water bottle, and opened it up. She placed a crisp on her tongue and let it dissolve. She loved the saltiness. She offered her smoking buddy one. 

“Did you eat when you got in last night?” she asked. He shook his head. 

“No but I was starved,” he reached for a crisp. 

“This is going to change your life,” she smirked. She took another as she watched him chew. 

“That’s like, the saltiest thing I’ve ever tasted in my life,” he told her, reaching for another. 

“Eating when you're high is like a top five activity,” she told him. 

“What are the others?” He asked, taking a sip from her water bottle. 

“Listening to music, watch the Telly, chatting, fucking,” she listed with a shrug. Draco choked on the water. She smirked at him. 

“When did you become so crass, Granger?” 

“When I stopped caring,” she replied. 

“Weren’t you the student whose Boggart was failure?” He raised an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes at him.

“That was before,” she said. “I don’t even know what it would be now…” her thoughts trailed off, “What was yours?”

Draco shook his head, “I’d much rather think of what your new one could be.”

“So yours hasn’t changed?” She asked. 

“Probably not,” he sighed then admitted. “It used to be the Dark Lord, and if I had to guess, it probably still is.”

Hermione sat with that for a moment. Being so scared of the man who lived in your house who your dad dedicated his life, then freedom, to. 

“Maybe we should find one,” she offered. 

“In your dreams, Granger,” he let out a short laugh. She tried not to linger on this thought, instead wanted to ask him a pressing question she’d been considering all night. 

“Have you ever watched television?”

“Never,” he shook his head. “You’ll have to show me.”

“You’ll probably watch it in your mandatory Muggle Studies class,” she smirked, knowing that was part of his sentencing. 

“Yeah but that’ll probably be all boring stuff, I’m sure you’ll know what’s really good,” he said. She thought about what she would show him, given the opportunity. 

“Do you like comedy?” She asked. 

“Sure,” he said. “I could use a good laugh.”

The two of them sat and finished the crisps. He didn’t push for anymore conversation. The two of them had covered a lot of ground tonight. When they settled into their highs, Draco stood up, offering her his hand. She took it to stand and they walked back to their dormitory. As they walked, she could feel his knuckles brush against hers. It made her skin tingle and mind wander to places it hadn’t in a while. When she’d made that comment tonight about fucking, she knew it how it would be taken by him. She’d only ever even done that a few times with Ron, who eventually started denying her because he didn’t like that she would only be with him when she was high, which was often this summer. 

When they got to the common room, Draco gave her a polite, “Goodnight, Granger,” before disappearing into his room. 

After getting ready for bed, she laid and once again stared at the ceiling. Even though she was high she didn’t feel relaxed. But she knew something that would help get her there. 

She closed her eyes and slipped her hand into her knickers. She traced up her core and to her clit, finding herself already wet. With a light touch she circled around her clit, allowing her mind to wander wherever it needed to for her to finish. Strong arms, a chiselled chest, and a throbbing cock swam through her mind. With only a little more pressure she was cumming to the image of a smirk and the ghost of a veined hand around her throat. 

She tried not to think of the implications of that image as she finally drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Going to bed that night was tricky. It was as though Draco could not turn his mind off. Though his usually perfect memory felt shoddy at the moment, he could not help but to pick apart some of the conversation with Granger tonight. Even though she did not have the same fire she used to, she still made him think in a way no one else could. 

When she admitted she no longer wanted to be the smartest, it felt like the missing piece to the puzzle that was Granger. It made sense to him that she no longer wanted to be the one with the answers, nor the one people looked to be better than they were. However the thought of her wasting her potential on getting high and doing nothing did not sit right with him. Even if she didn’t want to work at the Ministry, she could still accomplish so many things. 

He had to stop. He was getting sappy, and he was not sappy. He was cold and calculated, except when he was with her, apparently. It would be easy for him to just blame it on the weed and the lax thoughts that come with it, but he knew better. 

And the comment she had made that evening about getting high and fucking… Merlin, he wanted to know more about that. There was a part of his brain that wanted to hex the Weasel for taking her virginity, not that he knew it was him, but it displeased him nonetheless. There was another part of his brain that wondered if she would ever sleep with him. 

It was that though that had him pulling down his pyjamas and began stroking his already erect cock. He let his thumb brush the tip of the weeping head, and allowed himself to think about how Granger’s small hands would look around the base of his cock. When his thoughts drifted to her pink pert mouth wrapping around him, his hand sped up. In his mind he could see her look up at him with those big brown eyes, his hand wound in her bushy chestnut hair. With a groan, he finished quickly in his hand. He vanished his spunk and then easily drifted off to sleep. 

When he awoke, it was just before seven. He had not dreamt that night, for which he was grateful. After a shower, where he once again got off to the thought of Granger, he got ready for his day. He made sure his parchment and quills were packed, made sure his robes were fortified with a hefty shielding charm, and tried not to dread what was bound to be a long day. 

His friends were waiting in the common room when he emerged, and they all walked to breakfast together. There was safety in numbers. They had all been on the receiving end of a handful of hexes already, and the end was nowhere in sight. Though he was quick with a wand, he knew retaliation was not in his best interest. Some of the professors surely held similar grudges as the students, even though they would have to show impartiality. 

Breakfast was luckily uneventful. His first class was advanced Ancient Runes. He was the first to arrive and took his ideal seat at the back of the class. Two seventh years came in, taking seats in the front, ignoring Draco completely. Padma and Anthony came in next, both giving him a polite nod before also sitting up front. 

A minute before class started, Granger meandered in, taking the only open seat left, next to him. Professor Babbling arrived shortly after, diving right into the plan for the year and material. 

Halfway through the class he noticed that Grangers parchment had drawings of teacups and trees. He gave her a small nudge and she gave him a questioning look. He used his wand under the desk to add the Runes they were discussing to her parchment. She glared at him, but then spent the rest of class taking somewhat decent notes. 

Professor Babbling assigned them the project they would be working on this year, and he and Hermione were paired together. He was not worried about her ability to complete the translation of an ancient text, only worried about her motivation to do it. Draco held on to the text, copying his notes before putting away his materials. He handed her his copy of notes. 

“I thought you may want these, considering yours are riddled with tea and leaves,” he smirked. She took them with a nod, but put them away without even looking at them. 

“Thanks,” she said. 

They walked to their next class in silence. They had nearly the same schedule, which he didn’t mind. Especially now that he saw just how checked out she was. 

When they made it to Potions, he didn’t comment as she took the seat next to him, once again getting paired with him for the remainder of the year. He tried to ignore the looks his friends were shooting him, especially Pansy as she wound up being paired with Longbottom. 

They were starting easy today with Sleeping Draught for the hospital. He watched as Hermione lost herself in chopping the ingredients. She was much more involved in this than she was in Ancient Runes. When the class was coming to an end, she was shockingly lively in insisting to be the one to vial it. He couldn’t help but wonder if that’s because she thought he would be tempted to take some. It wasn’t Dreamless Sleep, so he really had no interest, but the thought of her wanting to protect him made him feel… sappy again. Ugh. 

Following Potions they went to lunch where he was promptly moved in on by his friends who were wondering what the hell happened with Granger. 

“We were partnered in Ancient Runes and were chatting on the way to class,” he shrugged, “It just kind of happened.”

Blaise and Theo exchanged a look that they then turned on him. If he had to guess, they would have something more to say when Pansy was gone. 

“I don’t get why you couldn’t just move. She obviously should be with Longbottom. He chats so much about the ingredients, I’m sure she’d love all that shite,” Pansy huffed. 

“Too late now,” Draco replied, taking a bite of his stew. 

His eyes wandered over to the witch in question who sat at the Gryffindor table, clearly not talking as female Weasley and Longbottom laughed on either side of her. She had also gone for the stew but was only stirring it in her bowl. When her eyes flicked up to his he held his spoon up and took a bite, raising his eyebrow at her in a challenge to do the same. She narrowed her eyes for a moment but did take a bite. He looked away and went back to Pansy’s complaints about her new potions partner. 

“Longbottom isn’t that bad,” Theo said to her. 

“Well I didn’t see you volunteering to be his partner,” she replied. 

“Balls before dolls, sorry Pans,” Blaise smirked.  

“Gross,” she replied. “Also, shouldn’t you be saying that to Draco? He’s the one who chose Granger.”

“That’s different,” Blaise said. 

“Why?” She asked. 

“Cause he’s our boy.”

“Oh fuck off,” she sneered as Blaise and Theo broke into a fit of laughter. “I’m going to Divination,” she said, angrily grabbing her things and storming from the Great Hall. 

“Now that she’s gone,” Blaise turned on him. “What is going on with Granger, mate?”

“Nothing,” Draco replied. He was not sure how he could explain what was going on between him and Granger to his friends. It was still so new, and he had absolutely no clue where it was going, but he knew where he wanted it to. 

“She seemed to be chummier with you than she was on the train,” Theo commented. Draco shrugged. 

“We’re all going through it,” was all Draco had to say. He didn’t want to out anything he and Granger spoke about in private, but could not deny that she was different from the swot they all used to know. 

“Sure… but she’s something else,” Blaise said. 

All Draco could do was agree. 

———

He had one more class that day, Defense Against the Dark Arts, which Granger was not in. The other Gryffindors were, leading him to believe she was excused from that class, which made sense to him. He found that by the time dinner ended and everyone retired to their rooms, he was itching to see Granger. 

He was waiting in the common room when she left her room, continuing their routine of him following her out. Today instead of stopping on the bench, they continued their walk around the lake and went to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Once they were around the other side and looking at the castle, she took a blanket from her robes and laid it out so they could sit on the shoreline. 

“How was the first day?”

“Fine,” she shrugged. She was readying the joint. 

“Seems like we’re getting partnered on a lot of things,” he shrugged. 

“Do you mind?” She asked, handing him the joint to light. 

“As long as my partner does her share and actually pays attention,” he smirked as he took the first puff. He handed it back to her. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “Class is boring.”

“It’s the first day,” he tisked. 

“I wish it was the last day.”

“Why because you're so ready to go join the workforce?” He took the jay from her. 

“Maybe I’ll take a gap year,” she said. 

“What the bloody hell is that?”

“Sometimes Muggles take a year after secondary school before they go to university,” she explained. 

“And do what?”

She shrugged, “It depends. Some work, some travel-“

“Some get high and sit around?” He teased. 

“Probably,” she sneered at him. “Maybe I could travel.”

“Where would you want to go?” He asked, watching the way the smoke left her perfect lips. 

“Let’s see,” she spread out on the blanket after handing him the joint. “I’ve been to France, Ireland, Italy, and Germany.”

“Wow, you’re a world traveller,” he smirked. 

“Holidays with my parents. They loved exploring new cities' history and culture,” she explained. “Maybe I’d go somewhere like America.”

He pursed his lips, “Why would you want to go there?” He asked. 

“Not sure,” she shrugged, “That’s where a lot of films are from so it would be interesting to see. I’d also like to see India one day. I've heard amazing things about their ancient wizarding culture.”

“What about finishing out Europe? There’s still Scotland, Switzerland, Poland, maybe you could even see Luxembourg.”

“I think I need a break from Europe,” she said, “Definitely the UK.” 

“Tired of getting recognized?”

“Beyond,” she nodded, taking the joint and having a long drag. 

“Maybe you should dye your hair,” he joked. She let out a laugh. 

“Maybe.”

The two of them looked up at the sky. Draco loved constellations and the endless stars. Looking at the vast galaxy reminded him of just how insignificant he was, which was comforting. 

“When’s the last time you felt free?” She asked. 

Draco had to think for a moment. After avoiding his Azkaban sentence, he truly believed he knew what freedom was. Before then, he couldn’t think of a single time, and the closest he could was when he was flying. 

“After the trials,” he told her. “When I went back to the Manor with my mother, I got on my broom and flew as far away as I could before I collapsed from exhaustion. But I only learned what freedom was after looking at true captivity. I could sit here and say my childhood felt like imprisonment, but I think that might be what being a child is.”

He felt her shift on the blanket and could swear he heard the endless stream of thoughts in her head. He wondered what she thought about that, what she thought about him, had she forgiven him?

“What about you?” He asked in hopes of focusing on something other than where his train of thought was headed. 

“I’m not sure I ever have,” she admitted. 

This made sense to him, she always seemed so tightly wound. Sure they weren’t close, but even after winning a war, her having turned out like this, it made sense that she didn’t know what freedom felt like. 

“I guess the closest was at the Final Battle, but even then,” she sighed, “It went from celebration to devastation with all of the funerals and rebuilding. I spent so much time with Harry and the Weasleys trying to make them all feel better.”

“When did you give up?”

“Probably after Fred’s funeral,” she told him. “I realised I could work forever and still not achieve what I want and never be fulfilled. Then there was that awful Prophet article, not to mention the trials. I was tired of being the problem solver, or the brain. But mostly tired of people always wanting or needing something from me.”

“So you became useless?” It came out harsher than he intended, but he was going to blame the weed. 

“I’m not useless,” she snapped. “Just taking a break,” she sighed, taking another puff of the joint, “Maybe a little useless,” she admitted, “But it’s better like this. People aren’t expecting things from me right now.”

“Or they just aren’t pushing you,” he said, “It’s life. People are always going to want something from you.”

“But I don’t have to deliver on all of people’s wants,” she replied. 

“True,” he agreed, “But I’d bet that your friends want and expect you to go back to being more like who you used to be.”

“They can be disappointed then,” she said.  

“That’s sad,” he turned his head to look at her. “You’re far too smart to give up everything you’ve worked for.”

“I’m not giving it up,” she turned to look at him as well. “Just reevaluating what it is I really want.”

“And what is it you really want?”

“I don’t know yet,” she sighed. 

For a moment , he could have sworn that her eyes lingered on his lips. He resisted the urge to wet them, instead, he looked at hers. When she looked back at him, she handed him the joint and their fingers brushed. He took the last drag then she watched as she stood and held a hand out to him. He took it and she magically folded the blanket before they walked back to the common room in silence. 

“Goodnight, Granger.”

“Goodnight, Malfoy.”

Chapter Text

It was her birthday. 

Any other year she would have been delighted that it fell on a Saturday because it gave her more freedom to do what she wanted. However, the only thing she wanted to do recently was get high, and she’d already been informed by Ginny that they would be celebrating in Hogsmeade today. 

She put on the jeans she used to consider to be her favourite, and a fuzzy black jumper. She hooked her cloak around her neck and went to meet Ginny. 

The two walked to Hogsmeade together, Ginny happily carried on conversation, expecting little from Hermione in return. Ginny was really a good friend to her, even after things went the way they had with her brother. 

When they got to the Three Broomsticks, Ginny went to order them drinks and lunch while Hermione sat in the corner of the pub that no longer made her feel young. She wondered where the time had gone and where it was going. She should be celebrating on her birthday, and she kind of was with Ginny, but this year felt more like a resignation to what used to be her youth. She wanted to leave this pub and smoke alone, or with…

“So what’s going on with you and Malfoy?”

“What?” Hermione nearly spit out her drink. She looked at Ginny who had a grin plastered across her face. Hermione wondered if she was blushing as fiercely as she thought she was. 

“You and Malfoy,” she repeated. “You’re partners in like all of your classes and someone may or may not have told me that you spend most evenings together.”

“Who said that?” Hermione demanded to know. Ginny always had her ear to the ground when it came to gossip. 

“Can’t tell you,” she smirked. “So it’s true then?” 

Hermione gaped, wondering if she was going to be able to get out of this. “I-we sometimes smoke together.”

“That’s it?” Ginny pushed. 

“We study together, too,” she shrugged. 

“Come on,” Ginny said, “You’ve never even once snogged?”

“Ginny!” Hermione knew she had to be bright red at this point. “No we have not.”

“Maybe you should,” Ginny smirked. “This is the most lively I’ve seen you in months. Maybe a little action would really get you back in the swing of things.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “We’re just… I don’t know,” she sighed, “Friends?”

“Even that’s kind of big,” Ginny said, “I’m guessing he apologised for being such a wanker?”

“He did,” she nodded. 

“And he doesn’t feel the same way about blood status?”

“Not from what I can tell.”

“Then you two should snog,” Ginny concluded. “There’s no reason not to.”

“There’s a million reasons not to!”

“Like what?”

“Like,” Hermione searched for the words. “Like the fact he does not like me like that.”

“That’s bull, Hermione,” Ginny was the one to roll her eyes this time. “He absolutely fancies you. He’s always staring at you in the Great Hall.”

“He is not!”

“He is,” she nodded. “He also seems very willing to be your partner this year, and it’s not because he wants you to do all the work. It’s so obvious he’s into you.”

“I think he’s just being nice and trying to earn my forgiveness,” Hermione sighed. 

“And what better way to do that then by giving you a few orgas-“

Hermione slapped her hand over her friend's mouth. “Ginny!” She scolded. “We are just friends.”

Ginny shook Hermione’s hand away and smirked at her. “Whatever you say,” she said sarcastically then added, “But it’s also okay to change your mind and see what he’s got going on under his robes.”

Ginny gave her a suggestive look. Hermione shook her head and focused on her drink, relieved when the food came out and the conversation naturally lulled. 

That evening, when she was slightly warm from firewhiskey, Ginny accompanied her back to the dormitory. She hoped no one would be there so she could slip out for a quick smoke once Ginny was gone. 

Her plan was quickly foiled because when she entered the common room she was met with a loud, “Surprise!”

Hermione blanched at the sight of all the people she saw. It was all of the eighth years, including the Slytherins, another ten or so seventh years she knew, and Ron and Harry. She wasn’t sure why seeing them made her stomach clench with anxiety, but she once again found herself wishing she was a nobody. She tried to muster up a polite smile but was almost positive it was a grimace. 

As she moved into the room, she was met with hugs and loud congratulations on her birthday. She wasn’t sure what the big deal with turning another year older was, nor why there had to be all of this fanfare for her. She used to love her birthdays in the common room, but now, she wished for solitude, and she thought Ginny would have known that. Maybe that’s why she did it though, trying to force her back to who she used to be. 

“Happy birthday, ‘Mione!” Harry and Ron pulled her into a group hug. “How’s school been?” 

“Alright,” she shrugged. “How’s auror training?”

“It’s incredible!” Ron gushed. 

“Definitely different from classes at Hogwarts,” Harry said.

“Let’s get you a drink,” Ron said, steering her toward the drink table while Harry went off to find Ginny. 

“How’s living with Harry?” Hermione asked as Ron poured her some firewhiskey. She was already slightly buzzed from her afternoon with Ginny, which helped in trying to entertain Ron. 

“It’s great,” he told her before talking about all the take out they ate and how Harry showed him Muggle television. 

Eventually Neville came over to speak with Ron so Hermione was able to peel off and focus on trying not to seem like she was having a bad time. She wanted so desperately for this evening to end, all she could do was hope it went by quickly. 

At nearly two in the morning, the room had finally cleared out. Ron was passed out on the couch and a thoroughly dishevelled Harry had just returned from his ‘walk’ with Ginny. Hermione watched him shake Ron awake, then said their final goodbyes to her before they snuck out of Hogwarts. Neville also went into his room, as did Theo and Blaise. Then she was left alone with Draco. 

“Let me get my cloak,” she said. He nodded and went to his room as well. She was more intoxicated than she wanted to be, but getting drunk helped her interact like people wanted her to. 

When she returned he led her from the room and the two walked to the Black Lake. In the past few weeks they’d gone to various places around the grounds to smoke, but the bench by the Black Lake was her favourite by far. 

“Did you enjoy your birthday?” He asked, lighting the joint between her lips. 

“It was fine,” she replied, taking the first drag. 

“Fine? What could have been better?”

“Less people, to start,” she said. 

“Anyone in particular?”

“Ron and Harry,” she pursed her lips. “It’s just not the same, and I know they want it to be how it was… but it’s just not anymore.”

“They’re probably just worried about you,” he said, taking the joint. 

“I get that, but trying to force things doesn’t make it any better,” she sighed. “I can’t figure out who I am if everyone tries to force me to be who I was.” 

They sat in silence for a moment, passing the joint back and forth. The moon was full and its reflection danced on the waves of the Black Lake. She enjoyed these moments with Draco, neither of them feeling the need to speak, just enjoying the high and bliss of each other’s company. When the final puff was smoked, she radiated in the sense of calm that was finally infiltrating her body. This night had been anxiety ridden, and being out here high with him was her peace. 

“I got you a present,” he eventually broke the silence. 

“Yeah?” She turned to him and raised an eyebrow. She watched as she pulled a parcel from his cloak and handed it to her. 

“Happy birthday, Granger,” he said, watching her open it intensely. 

She pulled the string and then carefully undid the paper, revealing a first edition copy of Hogwarts: A History . Upon skimming the pages, she noticed that this copy was annotated by Bathilda Bagshit herself. Her mouth was particularly dry as she took in the gift. For the first time in months, she found herself wanting to read. This book had always been a comfort read for her, but with the annotations there would still be so much new information. 

“Malfoy, this must be priceless,” she shook her head. “I can’t possibly accept this.”

“Of course you can,” he urged. “There’s no one who would care for this more than you. I do hope you actually read it, though,” he smirked. 

“I will,” she said absentmindedly. “Thank you so much.”

Without thinking, she pulled him in for a hug. He hesitated to wrap his arms around her but eventually did. She took deep breaths of his scent which she never noticed during the day, but was pronounced now that her face was pressed into the crook of his neck. He smelled earthy like like weed and pine trees, but also cool and crisp like spearmint. 

Her hands moved of their own accord, slipping under his cloak to feel the heat he exuded. She always used to think of him as so cold, but now he was the main warmth in her life. She hummed as her hands drifted over his steady heartbeat to his shoulders then down his back, not wanting their hug to end. 

She slowly could feel him relax into her, pressing his face into her hair and allowing his hands to also drift under her cloak and around her waist. When his hands splayed across her lower back, she felt him give the slightest pull closer to him, and she moved to straddle his lap. As she did so, she pressed her lips to the side of his throat, feeling him swallow as she did. 

There was a low rumble in his chest, and he moved his hands higher up her back, pressing her flush against him. Her hands came back around and skimmed his stomach before resting on his chest.

As she finally pulled back to look at him, her hands became fists with the fabric of his shirt clenched in them. There was a warmth in his eyes that easily could have been from the alcohol or marijuana, but she felt safe. When she leaned in, he did the same, their lips meeting with a spark. 

She dropped her grip on him and brought her hands around him, weaving her fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. He tasted better than he smelled, and she wanted so much more. She could feel his hands begin to explore, coming around to grip her hips, then slide up her thighs. Tiny moans broke free from her lips that were still pressed to his. When her mouth opened, he slipped his tongue in and she eagerly met his to explore. 

One of Draco’s hands wound in the back of her hair and she gasped as he gave it a little tug. She could feel him smirk into the kiss. It was almost as though she could feel his kiss warming her from the inside out, she felt lighter somehow. 

They could have snogged for hours, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the pot, but their mouths were greedy for one another, both of them clearly enjoying the sensation. When Draco brought his hands around to her arse, she eagerly rocked her hips against his. As she moved in his lap, she could feel him grow hard beneath her. 

She repeated the motion, earning a groan from him. She loved the sound and desperately wanted to hear more. She moved herself against him, angling her core so that the seam of her jeans pressed right where she needed with each rock of her hips. The grip on her arse tightened as she pleasured herself against him. 

Her moans became more pronounced as her orgasm approached. Her hips move faster, which was encouraged by Draco’s pull on her. Their mouths stayed on one another until she was about to fall over the edge. Their lips broke apart as she inhaled a ragged breath, pressing her forehead to his, and then releasing a choked squeal as she fell. 

When her hips slowed, she opened her eyes with her forehead still against his. His gaze was molten silver as he watched her, before bringing her back in with another kiss. She gasped into it and his tongue met hers once again. The way his lips felt, and the search of his hands, was orgasmic in and of itself. 

She wanted more. Wanted to see what his hands would do if there weren’t so many layers of clothes between them. Wanted to know how his mouth felt on every inch of her body. Wanted to know if his cock was as large as the one she was picturing as he pressed against her thigh. If he could bring her over the edge barely touching her, just dry humping, what else could he do? 

Her thoughts were becoming more dangerous and she considered pulling away, but instead she allowed herself to indulge. A birthday present to herself. 

However, now that she’s had a taste, she’s certainly going to want more. 

Eventually their lips slowed down. With a whimper from her, they reluctantly pulled apart, and stared at one another. Hermione felt flush under his examination. His lips were pink and swollen, and there was colour on his cheeks. He looked… ravishing, and not only because she had just ravished him. A small smile played at his lips and she was sure her expression mimicked his. 

“Happy birthday,” his voice was gruff but was pure sex to her ears. She was positive her blush deepened and prayed the darkness would cover some of it. 

“Thank you, Draco,” she replied. 

She could feel a grumble in his chest as he responded to her use of his name. She bent forward and leaned her head on his chest so she could listen deeper. He stroked her hair and back as she did so. 

“Let me know when you are ready to walk back,” he offered, pressing a kiss in her hair. She nodded and after a few more moments, removed herself from his warmth. 

When they walked back, at the first brush of their knuckles, Draco took his hand in hers. She could not help but smile at the gesture. Her high brain could not register anything other than her satisfaction. Thoughts of anyone other than her and Draco did not exist. 

“I hope you had a nice birthday,” he told her as they approached the portrait. 

“I did,” she nodded, then offered, “With you.” 

When they were just on the other side of the portrait hole, not quite in the common room yet, he turned to her and held her face in his hands. After another sultry look, he pressed his lips to hers, then released her. 

“Goodnight, Granger.”

“Goodnight.”

Chapter Text

There were moments over the course of the next month where he wondered if he shouldn’t have snogged Granger. 

These moments usually occurred after yet another evening in which they spent hours snogging, leaving little time for their school work. Granger was still fairly dejected in classes. He knew her marks weren’t suffering, but he was also confident he was outranking her. Especially considering he was now waking up hours early to complete assignments. This was usually after spending well after midnight smoking with, and snogging, Granger. 

He noticed that she was still checked out most hours of their day. When he watched her in the Great Hall he definitely saw her interact more with her friends, but still not nearly as much as when they were younger. He didn’t mind that around him she was different, more lively, wanting to both talk with him, and snog him. However, he might need to set ground rules, considering they were barely keeping up with their Runes translation schedule. 

He knew he should be more forceful when it came to making them complete their assignments, but he was powerless when it came to her. All he wanted to do was spend every second he could with her. Then as soon as she’d lean into him, all plans he had would go out the window and they’d snog until they were breathless. 

This evening was no different. They were in the back of the library, supposed to be working on their Runes translation, but she had crawled into his lap and was deliciously rocking against him in a way that made him want to rip off all of her clothes and shag her in the library. So far, they had stuck to snogging. 

“Granger,” he said breathlessly, trying to pull away from her mouth. Her lips pressed against his jaw then down his neck to nip at his jugular. 

“Hmm?” 

“We have to get some of our work done,” he sighed. 

“Mmh, don’t want to,” she murmured against the skin of his throat. Her hands were roaming his chest, thumbs skimming his nipples. He tried to suppress a groan. 

“We have to work on the translation,” he said. 

“We have all year,” she argued, not stopping the exploration of her lips. 

“Granger,” he groaned. She pulled back and looked at him with a frown. He put his hand on her cheek, resting his thumb on her bottom lip. “Let’s get some of it done now, so we can have this weekend free,” he suggestively raised his eyebrows at her. She sighed and got off his lap. 

They spent the next hour and a half working silently next to each other. He continuously checked to make sure she was actually getting her work done, which she seemed to be. When the library closed at ten, Hermione raced to put her things away, clearly ready for their evening smoke. 

When they got back to the common room, it was empty, and Hermione quickly went to put her things down and get her cloak. She was waiting for him at the portrait hole when he’d left his room and they walked silently to the other side of the lake. He transfigured a blanket for them, which she immediately took a seat on and began rolling the joint. 

“Eager tonight,” Draco smirked, lighting it for her. 

“You made me do all that work so now my brain needs a little TLC.”

“I think you mean THC,” Draco joked. Hermione rolled her eyes and handed him the joint. 

“I’m ready for the year to end,” she told him. 

“You always say that,” he took a drag. 

“I know,” she sighed, taking the joint from him. “I want to have no commitments.”

At that, he raised an eyebrow. They had not discussed what the two of them were, but he would be lying if he said he was not hurt at the thought they weren’t in some type of commitment.

“I don’t mean you,” she said, handing him the joint back. “You don’t count. You’re more like…”

“Like…?” He questioned, watching her high brain struggle to find the words. 

“Like a reward,” she settled on. 

“Hmm,” he thought about that and took a puff before handing the joint back to her. A reward certainly wasn’t the worst thing to be called. 

When the joint was out, Hermione moved to straddle him on the blanket. She kissed up his neck and across his jaw before reaching his mouth. This was always the highlight of his night. The two of them relaxed into each other and enjoyed their high the best way Draco knew how, snogging. There was something about the feel of her lips on his and touch of her skin that set him on fire inside. 

Tonight, Hermione was insatiable. He could feel her hips rock against his. He never had control over the blood that rushed south as soon as her lips were on his. They usually were on the bench so she wouldn’t feel it, but tonight it was pressed firmly against her heated core. Soft moans were escaping her mouth as she moved on top of him and he struggled to control his thoughts. 

“Granger,” he groaned as she pulled his shirt from his waistband then put her soft hands on his stomach. They shouldn’t be doing this. 

“What?” She asked, moving to kiss his neck. “I want you so badly, don’t you want me?”

“I do,” he sighed as she nipped his jugular. Her pleading for him was beyond anything he could imagine. He wanted her too, “But we can’t.”

“Why not?” She pulled back. 

“I’m going to hate myself for saying this but I have to hold out on you.”

“What? Why?” She pouted.

He almost gave in at that. It was taking all he had to even set the boundary here. He was only 18 and no one had ever turned him on the way Granger had. But even high, he knew this was not the right decision. 

“Because once we go down that road, we might literally not be able to get work done the rest of the year, and we both need to graduate,” he said. 

“We’re going to graduate,” she rolled her eyes. 

“But you deserve to be valedictorian. You’ve worked so hard for years. Don’t throw that away,” he gripped her hips tighter. 

“I’m not throwing it away,” she huffed, “I just don’t care about that anymore.”

“I don’t want you to look back on this in five, ten years, and regret not applying yourself,” he told her. “I want you more than you can even understand, but we have to wait until our school work is done.”

“This sounds like a punishment,” she told him. 

“It kind of is,” he agreed. “But we have to be accountable for our work. I’d probably be pushing for us to not smoke if I thought that would go well.”

“Do you want to change me?” She asked. 

“No. Not at all,” he shook his head, “I just want you to live up to your full potential, Granger, and I don’t know if that can happen being stoned out of your mind and wasting your time shagging me.”

“So it’ll be a waste of my time?” She raised an eyebrow.

“No. Hopefully not,” he said quickly, “But you know what I mean. We need to prioritise.”

“You’re my priority,” she pressed her lips to his throat. He swallowed heavily. 

“And you’re mine. Which is why I’m doing this,” his eyes drifted closed as she kissed up and across his jaw. 

“But we can still snog?” She asked. 

He nodded, “Yes but, Granger, we have to get our work done.”

“I know, I know,” she said. 

Hermione bent back down and kissed him again, however this kiss was much more reserved than it had been less than an hour ago. He could feel through her lips that her mind was now distracted, but so was his. 

He tried not to feel stupid for turning her advances down. He tried not to think about how he could be inside of her right now if he wasn’t such an idiot. Maybe he should have said some things were still fine, but he knew that was a slippery slope. Every so often the two of them would dry jump but even that was something he had been trying to avoid because it made him too randy throughout the day. He never wanted to leave a witch unsatisfied but somewhere in his stupid brain he knew this was the right call. Even if he would have to spend the next few months convincing himself of that. 

The rest of the evening the two of them were quiet. He didn’t want to push conversation as they walked back hand in hand to the dormitory, knowing that the look on her face was one of deep contemplation and it had been a while since he’d seen that from her. He wanted to remind her that he still wanted her, but he had said that already and at this point did not want to risk annoying her. When they got through the portrait hole she gave him a quick peck before fleeing into her room. 

The rest of Draco’s evening was spent further convincing himself he had done the right thing. 

The next morning he woke up early to complete some work still left over from the night before. Things seemed normal between him and Hermione during classes, and they resumed their normal schedule that evening. In the library she didn’t even try to snog him, instead sat next to him and did her work, with no complaints. When they smoked that evening on their bench, they did snog but Hermione kept her hands around his neck. 

Maybe they could do this. Maybe they could hold out until June. 

Chapter Text

To say she was hurt but Draco’s decision to hold out on her would not be 100% accurate. When it first happened, she felt the icy sting of rejection course through her, but being able to feel his erection pressed against her leg was more reassuring than his words had been. The main thing that was harmed was her need for instant gratification. Her anxiety surrounding her situation with Draco ebbed and flowed depending on the day, and while that day had been rough, she was determined to make things better; satisfy her need for immediate pleasure.

Hermione could not shake the feeling of her life being pointless now that the war was over. The few times she and Ron had sex this summer made her feel like there was something she could live for, and now that that was over and the current person she was hooking up with was partaking in celibacy, she was trying to find a way to find meaning. And as Draco, and many of her other friends, have pointed out smoking weed was not giving her life meaning. That definitely did not mean she would stop, but she had to find something. 

She hesitated to identify it as existential dread, because she knew that there had to be some meaning to life. But Hermione felt as though she had done it all, seen it all, and accomplished what she was put on earth to accomplish. So where did that leave her now?

Not having sex. Not working nor building toward a life or family. Hell, she and Draco didn’t even have a label for whatever it was they were doing. What was the point of even bothering with that when she was ultimately going nowhere? 

At this point, Draco was the only thing that made her feel alive. She craved his touch every second they were not together. Even sitting next to him in the library as they worked did not satiate her thirst for him. Most days she wanted him so badly she couldn’t focus. She couldn’t possibly have existential dread when her whole existence was revolved around wanting to shag him, right?

So, when Draco had put that hold, she had to reevaluate. That’s where she currently was in her life, reevaluating, trying to figure out a way to better the situation she found herself in. 

That evening, she and Draco sat on a blanket out by the lake. She liked these evenings where they laid next to one another and looked at the stars. It made her feel small in a way that surprisingly did not overwhelm her. 

“What’s your plan?” He asked. “Are you staying here over Christmas holiday?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I am expected at The Burrow on Christmas Day, but McGonagall has given me permission to leave and return that day.”

“Special privileges,” he smirked. She rolled her eyes. “I’m staying as well.”

“Good,” she smiled. She handed him the half smoked joint and watched as he pressed it between his lips. He was unfairly attractive and he seemed to hate letting her forget it. She was always too high to care that she was staring at him, instead she wanted him to know how much she wanted him. 

“What did you do on Christmas when you were growing up?” He asked. 

“It was just me and my parents, and we’d open gifts in the morning, then we’d have breakfast, sing Christmas carols, and take naps. Then we would have an early roast dinner and after watch Christmas films until we all fell asleep. When I was really young we’d have my grandparents over but they passed,” she said. “What about you?”

“It was also just me and my parents,” he handed her the joint. “The elves would decorate, they’d watch me open gifts, we’d all go our separate ways until the evening, where we’d also have a roast dinner.”

“Are there any special Malfoy traditions?” She asked, handing him the joint. 

“My mother would always watch me fly on whatever broom they had gotten me, and when I came down she’d always have hot chocolate waiting.”

“That sounds nice,” she commented. 

“It was,” he nodded. 

“What is she doing for Christmas this year?” 

“Staying in France. She wrote saying there would be no tree and no gifts,” he let out a humourless laugh. “I’ve still gotten her something, but I think she needs more time.”

Hermione nodded and took the joint back from him, watching him get lost in thoughts about his mum and his childhood. 

“What films would you watch?” He asked. 

“When I was younger I absolutely loved The Muppet Christmas Carol ,” she told him, “We’d also watch the classics like Miracle on 34th Street, and It’s a Wonderful Life .”

“What the bloody hell is The Muppet?”

Hermione gasped, “I can’t believe you said that! The Muppets are classic Muggle cinema characters. They’re puppets who do comedy!”

“Sounds ridiculous,” he replied. 

“They are!” She nearly squealed, “I guess I shouldn't be surprised because you’re useless when it comes to Muggle culture. I’ll have to show you them. You’re so Miss Piggy.”

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment,” he pursed his lips. 

“It is,” Hermione nodded, “She’s fabulous.”

“But she’s a pig, correct?” Draco replied. 

“Yes, and a movie star,” Hermione giggled. “I can’t wait to show you. Harry is so Gonzo,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “Miss Piggy is married to Kermit the Frog who’s like the main Muppet.”

“Are you Kermit?” He asked. 

“You’ll have to tell me when we watch, but I’ve always identified with Dr. Bunsen Honeydew,” she smirked. 

“What kind of name is that?”

“You’re one to talk Draco Malfoy ,” she chuckled. 

“What’s that supposed to mean, Hermione Granger ?” He gasped. 

“My name is Shakespearean, I’ll have you know,” she replied. 

“And mine is astronomical,” he said. 

“Is Draco your favourite constellation?” She asked, her high brain following her thoughts. 

“It’s my second,” he said, “I’ve always had a thing for Ursa Major.”

“That’s mine too!” She beamed at him. “My second is Virgo,” she said, “Because that’s my astrological sign.”

“Your what?”

“Wow,” she shook her head, “You have so much to learn about Muggle culture.”

“I was raised by a man who thought muggles were the scum of the earth,” he said off handedly. Hermione gave him a look but continued her explanation. 

“Basically, some muggles believe in what’s called Astrology which divides people into 12 astrological signs depending on when they’re born. The different signs are associated with different personality traits and sometimes life events,” she said. “Everyday you can read this thing called your Horoscope and it’ll give you more or less a fortune. I’m a Virgo and you’re a Gemini,” she said. 

“And what personality traits are associated with Geminis?” He asked. She snorted. 

“Well the symbol is twins so people like to say they’re two faced,” she smirked, “But I think they’re more associated with intelligence, wittiness, irritability, maybe a little manipulative, usually pretty popular.”

“Not all of those sound great,” he said. 

“None of them are perfect. No one is.”

“What do they say about Virgos?”  He asked. 

“That they’re fucking crazy,” she laughed. He joined in. 

“I guess that’s true.”

She gave him a swat to his chest. “They’re also intelligent, practical, critical thinkers who have an eye for detail, sometimes a bit too focused.”

“This seems vague,” he said. 

“I’ll have to get you a book on it,” she replied. “Sure some of it is silly but there being something to having slightly different traits depending on the time of year you're born makes sense to me.”

“Sure it does,” he snickered. 

“I mean, what’s so crazy about astrology?” She asked him. “There was a time in my life when I didn’t know magic existed,” she reminded him. “And when I found out… so many things made sense and even things that used to feel far fetched were suddenly aligning.”

“Do you remember the first time you felt magic?” He asked. She looked up at the stars as she thought about her answer. 

“I think the first time was when I was six,” she said. “There was this awful girl on my street, and one day she had stolen one of my books and was ripping the pages out,” Hermione shook her head at the memory, “The next thing I knew, her skirt was on fire and I felt this tingling in my body… I just knew I had done that but didn’t know how.”

“Vicious,” he chuckled. 

“I’ve been known to have quite a ruthless approach,” she smirked. “What about you?”

“I guess it’s different,” he said. “I always knew I’d get magic-“

“Malfoys have never had any squibs?” She interjected. 

“Never once,” he said seriously. “Sure the Blacks did but they have nowhere near the superiority of the Malfoys,” he smirked to let her know he was joking. She playfully rolled her eyes. “Anyways. When I was also around six, my parents got me my first broom,” he told her. “From the second I called it up and got it under my grip… everything fell into place. I could feel the magic in every part of me.”

Hermione knew the feeling, even if she couldn’t relate to the broom aspect. Magic gave her meaning. 

“What was it like?” He asked, “To discover that magic existed?”

“It was like winning the lottery.”

“What?”

She laughed, “The lottery is a chance game muggles play to try to win large sums of money,” she explained then rephrased, “When I was growing up I was painfully aware of how different I was from the other children, plus I knew there was something going on with me. Once I found out about magic, I thought I was finally going to fit in and become someone… I don’t know, important, maybe?” She struggled to find the word.

“But you do fit in,” he told her, “And you’re one of the most, if not the most, important witch of the modern era,” he said, “And you’re not even twenty.”

She chuckled but shook her head. “That was all in the last year though,” she sighed. “When I got here things still weren’t great for me. Sure I had magic, and internal power like I’ve never felt, but I didn’t fit in,” she shook her head, “Not only was I still too smart and dorky, I also found out that there were whole groups of people who thought I stole my magic from someone else, and because my parents were muggles, I’m inherently beneath them.”

Draco shifted next to her. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“I know-“

“Seriously, Granger,” he sat up and looked at her. “It doesn’t matter if that’s what I was taught. There was never an excuse to treat you the way I did. I was so incredibly jealous of you, and it was wrong of me to try to make you feel like less than.”

“It wasn’t just you,” she shrugged. 

“But I know I was the worst,” he said. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she smirked, “Your father tried to kill me.”

Draco flopped back onto his back. “I’m sorry  about that too.”

“Don’t apologise for something you never did,” she said. 

“But you’re owed an apology,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she put her hand over his. “I promise I know.”

They turned to look at each other and Draco moved in to give her a soft kiss which she returned eagerly.

This was always her favourite part of the evening. When they were on the blanket their legs would intertwine and his hands would either wind in her hair or settle on her lower back. She craved his touch. Even when she was sober all she wanted was the feeling of his hands on her.  

On evenings like tonight, where he would once again apologise for their past, he was always more eager to satisfy her craving for him. Usually by pressing his delicious length into her core. It made her mouth water just thinking about what he was packing under there. She knew in her heart and soul that it was big. 

As she straddled him, his hands settled on her waist. She rocked on top of him, taking every ounce of friction she could get. God she wanted him so badly. When she eventually came, with an orgasm that barely satisfied her craving for him, she would get off of him, unless he was close too. He’d only come in his trousers once and at the time she wanted nothing more than to unzip him and clean up the mess with her tongue. 

When she got off of him, he held her close to his chest, still looking up at the stars. She could watch him forever. 

“Ready?” He asked after a moment. She nodded and the two went back to the common room.

Once she was in the privacy of her bedroom she made herself come two more times before she managed to fall asleep. 

Christmas break could not come fast enough. 

Chapter Text

On Christmas Eve, following their dinner with the staff and the handful of students who stayed at Hogwarts over the break, they cast multiple warming charms as they sat at their bench looking out at the Lake. They were the only 8th years that stayed, which they were both thrilled about. All of the students had cleared out two days ago and they were enjoying spending all of their time together without prying eyes constantly on them. The joint was already lit and being passed back and forth between them. Around them, the white snow reflected the moonlight. 

“I’d like to give you one of your presents tonight,” she told him, “If that’s alright.”

He grinned at her, taking a drag. “Of course.” 

He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he loved getting gifts. It also sounded like Hermione had more than one for him. He had also gotten her something that he planned on giving her tomorrow after they ate Christmas dinner. 

She handed him a parcel wrapped in brown paper. He handed her the joint back. He raised an eyebrow at her and she gestured for him to open it. As he slid off the paper, he realised it was a leather bound book, with no marking on the front cover. When he opened it up and skimmed through he realised what it was. 

“Granger, you’re kidding me,” he knew he was staring wide-eyed at the book in his hands. 

“Think of it as a bribe,” she said. 

“A bribe for what?” He asked, not letting her answer. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

“You’re the one who said you were holding out till our work was done. We've done all the essays assigned so far, we’re exactly where we need to be for Potions, so finishing the translation was all that was outstanding.”

“But doing the entire translation yourself,” he shook his head. “I’m sure it took you ages.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” she shrugged. “Plus I’m sure you’ll want to look through and edit it.”

He nodded in agreement. He truly had not been expecting this from her. Even through this last week, she had been dragging her feet about doing work. She was still smoking every evening, as was he, so he had no right to judge, but finishing their Ancient Runes translation was truly a feat he had not anticipated. Honestly, this proved to him just how brilliant she really was, and how little of her potential she was currently using. 

After the initial shock of the gift wore off, he could feel the smirk form on his face. She wanted to shag him so badly that she’d done all of this just to try to get him to stop holding out. She was right that they were now right where they needed to be in all of their other classes, even ahead of schedule in some, and now that the translation was done, the bulk of their work was completed. 

For moral reasons, he wondered if he should continue to hold out until June. However, he was just a man. A man who desperately wanted to shag his… girlfriend? Partner? Friend with benefits? Whatever she was… and him holding out was conditional on them completing their work so now that their work for Ancient Runes was done…

“I can’t believe you did all this just to shag,” he laughed. 

She smacked him lightly on the chest, “I feel like I’m going to lose my mind,” she told him, “Everytime we're together it’s all I can think about,” she shook her head. He definitely agreed it was on his mind a lot more than not. “I think my right hand is going to fall off.”

He laughed loudly at that. “Granger,” he chuckled. He had to admit that his right hand was also getting a lot of action. “If we do this, we need to swear that we’ll keep getting our work done.”

“I swear,” she nodded. He gave her another smirk and put the book in his pocket before taking the joint from her. 

“You’re funny,” he shook his head. “And so fucking brilliant.”

———

That evening, when they got back to the common room, Draco raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Yours or mine?” He asked. 

“Mine,” she said, taking him by the hand and leading him to her room. 

When they entered, she waved her wand and lit a dozen or so candles she had set up. Her bed was beautifully made, and her room was neat and organised. He’d only been in here a few times before, and usually she was much more disorganised. 

As soon as the door was closed and her wand was on her desk, she turned to kiss him. His hands immediately went to her back, one winding up into her hair. At this point he’d spent hours snogging Granger and knew she liked things a bit rough. He was already hard thinking about what was to come. 

Her hands pushed off his cloak and robes, then swiftly began undoing the buttons on his shirt. He mimicked the actions on her, trying to also focus on her lips on his. He helped her shrug off his shirt and she did the same. Then she pulled back. 

His eyes were glued to hers as she removed her socks and shoes, then undid her denims and pushed them down her legs. She was left in a green matching bra and panty set and he could feel his mouth water. She looked ravishing and though he loved her in green, he wanted nothing more than to see those scraps of fabric on the floor. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, pulling her in for another kiss. 

The feel of her skin on his was heavenly. His mind that was still cloudy from the weed was relishing in all her touches. When her hand went to undo his trousers, he was positive he’d never been harder in his life. Every touch was magnified in his nerve endings, every small shadow and moan from her lips sounded like a symphony, every single thing about her, and about this, was perfect. 

She shoved his trousers down and led them back to her bed. When he could feel the backs of her legs hit the bed frame, he paused her lips to throw her into the centre. She giggled at his show of strength, he couldn’t help but grin as he climbed on top of her. 

Before leaning down to kiss him, he had to take in how she looked underneath him. She was flushed, her nipples hard, lips slightly parted. Absolutely fucking delicious. He bent down for another taste. 

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him into her. He rested his forearms on either side of her so as not to crush her under his weight, which she seemed to want. Her back arched into him and he could feel her nipples through the fabric of her bra as she pressed into his chest. He slipped his hand around her back and undid her bra. They broke apart for a moment as she rid herself of the garment. 

As soon as he got a look at her his mouth went to her full chest. He used his hand to pluck at the nipple not in his mouth before switching. Hermione moaned and arched further into his touch. He kissed back up her chest, neck, then across her jaw, and finally to her mouth. Her fingers wound in the back of his hair and pulled him closer. 

He lowered his hips into hers and she gasped as she felt his clothed erection. He told the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. Her hand went to undo his trousers which he ungracefully kicked off. She pushed his boxers down as well and gave him a few strokes which he met with shallow thrusts. If just her hand felt this heavenly, he wasn’t sure how he’d last inside of her. 

He watched her face as one of his hands went to her lace knickers. When she lifted her hips he pulled them down and off. As he kneeled above her, they both took the chance to rake their eyes over each other. His cock twitched under Hermione’s inspection and the way her already wet core shimmered was only adding fuel to the raging fire burning in his veins. 

“I need you,” she told him. His eyes flicked to hers. She was everything. 

He lent down to kiss her again, their cores meeting with heat. He began to slick himself against her, which made her hips buck in response. 

“Please,” she panted against his lips. They’d waited so long for this and now she was begging for him. Nothing was better than this moment. 

When he finally pushed inside of her, their lips broke apart with mutual moans. Her heat was gripping him in a way that made his brain go blank. There were no thoughts, just Hermione’s cunt, and trying not to finish immediately. Smooth like velvet, wet as could be, and all of that was only heightened by the sounds coming from her. 

“Draco, please,” she groaned, her lips against his ears. 

He didn’t need more than that as he pulled out of her then slammed into her again. This was met with another moan of pleasure and he repeated the action, faster.  His grip was tight on her waist as he pounded into her. He could feel her hands grip his biceps as he got lost in the sensation of her. 

He tried to keep his eyes open, watching the way her breasts bounced with each stroke, and the look of ecstasy on her face. But he was so lost in his own pleasure that keeping his eyes open was challenging. Her skin was so soft against his, and every moan and pant from her urged him to go further. 

Hermione’s hand grabbed the wrist of one of his hands on her waist. He let her have it and watched with hooded lids as she brought it up to her throat, skimming it between the valley of her breasts. When his hand was firmly around her throat she let him go, bringing her hand to clutch the bedding. 

He watched her face as she reacted to the varying pressure he applied. Like he thought she was going to, she liked it rough. The whole bed shook with his thrusts, and he removed his other hand from her waist to find the bundle of nerves between her legs. He could tell he found it when her hand met his around her throat, pushing him down harder, and her eyes began to roll back in her head. The breathy moans coming from her, and the way her cunt began to become vice-like around him was sending him so close to the edge. 

“Fuck, Draco,” her voice shook. He could feel her entire core clench before she spasmed around him. “Draco!”

The sound of her screaming his name was enough to send him over the edge as well. 

“I’m going to come,” he panted, slightly releasing the grip on her throat. 

“Come in me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He immediately emptied his load into her tight quivering hole. He didn’t even register the noise that left his mouth as he struggled to stay above her, dropping his head in the crook of her neck as he gave her a few final strokes. He wasn’t sure he’d ever come so hard, or so much, in his whole life. When he finally felt himself finish, he collapsed with exhaustion, trying not to crush her. 

Her thighs were still wrapped around his sides, holding him inside of her, so he put his arms around her to bring her resting on top of his chest as he settled, exhausted, into the bed. For a few moments, the only sounds between them were deep breaths and tiny groans from Hermione as aftershock coursed through her body. He rubbed her back as she trembled against him. 

He was still soft inside of her as her body stilled, he continued the movement of his hands on her back. 

“That was… wow,” she mumbled into his chest. He nodded in agreement. 

“That was. You’re right, definitely a top five activity,” he chuckled before pressing a kiss to the tip of her head. “Alright?” He asked. 

“Better than alright,” she sighed. She slightly turned her head to press her lips to his chest. “You’ll stay here tonight, right?” 

“Of course,” he told her. 

“Good,” she nodded, “I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

He laughed and watched as she turned to look up at him, eyes sparking. She moved up his body to give him a kiss, he slipped out of her as she did. He could feel the drip of his seed from her core on his stomach, and could feel himself already being to harden again. 

This time, she straddled him and rode him until his eyes were the ones rolling back in his head. When they were finally getting ready for bed after two more rounds, Draco wondered if his high had worn off. The feelings he had with her… inside of her… were indescribable. Even without the weed he knew that sex with Granger was otherworldly. 

He could not wait to wake up and do it again. 

Chapter Text

Leaving Draco the next morning to go to the Burrow was difficult to say the least. He made sure to send her with his come dripping down her thighs. She already feared she was walking crooked, and the smirk on Draco’s face as they rounded the corner to McGonagall's office was not helping. She was wearing a floor length skirt and the Weasley sweater that appeared at the foot of her bed this morning. Though she wanted to go to the Burrow, mostly to see George and re-up on marijuana, she was craving Draco more than she ever had. One taste, well far more than one between last night and that morning, had her wanting to shack up with him the rest of the week, maybe the rest of the year, possibly the rest of time. 

Outside the office Draco gave her a long kiss before letting her go. It made her toes curl and thighs rub together. 

“I’ll see you this evening,” he said. She nodded and stole another peck before giving the password and heading down the stairs to McGonagall's office. 

When she arrived, the headmistress was waiting for her with a raised eyebrow. 

“Happy Christmas,” Hermione said politely. 

“Happy Christmas,” McGonagall repeated. “It’s nice to see you in such good spirits for the holidays. That’s been a pleasant surprise. I hope you are beginning to feel more like yourself.”

Hermione blushed at the Headmistress’s knowing look. “I’ve always been myself,” she struggled to meet the older witch’s eye. “I just no longer want to be any of the monikers I was before, I don’t think that’s so bad.”

“No,” she agreed, “But regardless of whether you apply yourself, Ms. Granger, you’re still the brightest witch of your age.”

“I do not mean this disrespectfully, Headmistress, but I do not want everything that comes with that title. I spent my childhood being treated like an adult, I’d like to figure out what I missed out on and who I am if I’m not the smartest. Who am I when people don’t want things from me?”

“You’re still Hermione Granger,” the Headmistress gave her a soft look. “Tragically we cannot go back and give you more time in youth, but you still have today,” she said. “And, if you want me to treat you like a child, I will start by reminding you that the Hogwarts School grounds are not your personal bedroom.”

Hermione could feel herself blush a deep red. “My apologies, Headmistress.”

“I remember what it was like to be young and in love-“

“We are not in love,” Hermione interjected. McGonagall raised an eyebrow but nodded in concession. 

“Very well,” she nodded, “Anyways, it would also do you well to remember that dulling yourself with recreational drugs does not change who you are, nor who you’re meant to become. It only takes away your motivation to figure it out.”

“I am figuring it out,” Hermione said, more defensively than she intended. “I apologise,” she said. 

“Do not worry about it,” McGonagall said softly, “I know you are going through a lot; the aftermath of war, the confusion of finding your identity especially without Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, and then trying to navigate your likely conflicting feelings regarding Mr. Malfoy,” the Headmistress listed. 

Hermione must have been bright red at her pointed assessment. She knew logically that the Headmistress would know more about the happenings in the school than she led on, but this was an expose. She should have realised how closely her former head of house would keep tabs on her, instead she got high and pretended like she lived in her own world. She would definitely need to smoke after this. Maybe her first stop at the Burrow would be George’s room. 

“I just want you to remember that you are more than the nicknames you're given,” McGonagall's voice broke her out of her thoughts. “You’re more than Mr. Potter’s sidekick and Undesirable Number 2,” she gave her a smile that made Hermione feel… seen, “You’re Hermione Granger, the youngest witch to have ever brewed Polyjuice solo,” Hermione’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “You have taken the most classes of any student since Dumbledore himself, and you single-handedly made sure all of the house elves here were paid employees,” she said. “I could stand here and list more, but your accomplishments are not what make you who you are. Your passion is. Your dedication to helping others, even though you need a break from that, which is understandable. You are a spectacular witch, regardless of what people call you or what the Daily Prophet says you should do with your life.”

“Thank you, Headmistress,” Hermione’s eyes were welling with tears at her long time Professor, and friend’s, speech. 

“Of course, dear. I care deeply for you and want you to be happy,” she said. “I am so happy you’ve returned for your final year, and I know we can figure out where you’ll go from here.”

“I really appreciate that, Headmistress. Thank you.”

“Now come on, we don’t want you to be late for breakfast,” the witch said. Hermione nodded and wiped her face. As she approached the floo, she wrapped her arms around the Headmistress who gave her a soft pat. 

“Thank you.”

“Anytime,” McGonagall said before ushering hee though. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

With that, Hermione was finally off to the Burrow. 

When she arrived, she could not help but to be overwhelmed with what reminded her of home. Molly was busy in the kitchen cooking brunch, with many magical pots and pans both stirring and cleaning themselves. It smelled amazing, like warm bread, fruit pies, and magic. 

After her conversation with McGonagall she was already feeling sentimental, and this was the icing on that cake. 

“Hermione dear!” Molly greeted when she saw her. “It’s so lovely to see you.”

“You too,” she said, giving the matriarch a hug. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“No,no,” she bustled. “Harry, Ron, and Ginny are all up in her room, why don’t you go join them?” 

Hermione smiled and nodded and made her way to the stairs. Her first stop was only two floors up. She knocked and waited for a response. 

“Come in.”

She opened the door and saw him, less dishevelled than last time, but still clearly healing.

“Alright then, George?” She asked. He gave her a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but she knew he was happy to see her. 

“Alright,” he nodded. “What brings you here?”

“I’d never miss a Weasley Christmas,” she said, “And I’m buying if you’re selling.”

“Still smoking?” George asked as she entered his room. 

“Everyday,” she nodded. He gave her a smirk that was hollow but not as lifeless as it used to be. He went to get his stash, knowing that Hermione was here to purchase. 

“How’s work?” She asked him. 

“Still haven’t been able to come up with anything new,” he sighed, “But restocking what we were selling has been plenty time consuming.”

“Still lucrative?” Hermione smirked. 

“Wouldn’t be able to afford all this lush lettuce if it wasn’t,” he held up what looked like a kilo of marijuana. “I’ve missed our smoke sessions,” he commented as he began to magically weigh out weed. 

“Me too,” she nodded. 

“Did you find someone at school though? It’s always better to have a mate," he asked. 

“Sort of,” she nodded. 

George gave her a suspicious look, “What’s ‘sort of’ mean?”

“It means I might have someone to smoke with but you don’t need all the details,” she smirked. She liked being around George. It was easy in a way that it wasn’t with most other people. Maybe because he no longer expected anything from her. 

“Hmm,” George thought as he sealed the bag he put the weed into, “Who could former goody-two-shoes Hermione Granger be smoking with that she wouldn’t want anyone to know about… don’t tell me you’ve corrupted Longbottom.”

“Never,” she shook her head, “He’s much more interested in growing plants than smoking them.”

“C’mon, you can tell me, I won’t tell our precious Won-Won,” he pushed. 

“I’ll only confirm if you guess but I’m not telling you,” she said. It felt weird to bring up Draco, especially after last night, because they still didn’t have any words to describe what they were to each other. This line of questioning did confirm that Ginny likely hadn’t told any of the Weasleys what she’d been suspecting, but if Hermione had to guess, she’s definitely said something to Harry. 

“Let’s work backwards then,” George decided. Hermione held her breath. He was so much smarter than he let on. “The least likely person I could think of would be that ponce Malfoy.”

He looked at her beet red face and smirked more authentically than she’d seen in months. 

“Well that wasn’t hard,” he chuckled. “Ron will go fucking mental if he ever finds out.”

“We’re not together so it’s not like it’s his business.”

George’s eyebrows nearly shot off his face. “So you’re doing more than smoking.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but no words came out. She shut her mouth and just shook her head. 

George was laughing now. “This is too good, ‘Mione. You’re lucky Ron isn’t the sharpest Weasley in the Burrow,” he said. “Because you’re easier to read than a Prophet headline.”

“Oh shut it,” she huffed. George didn’t stop smirking. 

“As long as he’s no longer the arsehole he used to be, I don’t care what you do,” he tried to reassure her. “Even though you’re a little stoner now, you’re still the smartest witch I know. I trust ya.”

She released a breath she was holding. “Thanks,” she grumbled. He handed her the bag of weed which she took and hid in her pockets. She placed her galleons on his desk. He shook his head at the gesture. 

“It’s a Christmas gift,” he said. 

“I couldn’t,” she responded. 

“Please,” he tried to push the money back at her. She shook her head. “Come on. At least take half back.”

“Only if we can have a quick smoke before this shindig starts,” she said. 

“Deal.”

George showed her an air cleansing charm he used to smoke in his room. Once they were properly high, he sent Hermione up to Ginny’s room, promising to meet her at the meal. 

Ginny threw the door open before Hermione could knock. 

“About time,” the red headed witch said. 

“Sorry I was-“

“With George. Trust me, I know,” she pointed her finger between Hermione’s eyes which were surely red. She took out her wand and muttered a spell that made Hermione’s eyes wet for a moment, and likely took away the redness. 

“Thanks.”

“Come in,” Ginny said. 

“Hermione!” Harry and Ron stood to greet her. 

“Hi,” Hermione said, giving them a joint hug. 

“How are you?” Harry asked her. 

“Alright,” she nodded, “How are you both? Happy Christmas, by the way.”

“Happy Christmas,” they replied in unison. 

“We’re alright,” Ron nodded. “It’s really good to see you.”

Hermione was relieved when they went down for food. She was still often at a loss at what to say to her friends, especially while stoned. She sat in between George and Ginny and across from Harry, Ron, and Percy. 

“Given any thought of joining the Ministry when you graduate?” Percy asked Hermione as they all stacked their plates with food. 

“Some,” she shrugged. 

“Of course you’ll work at the Ministry,” Ron said. “We’ve all talked about it for years.”

Hermione focused on putting pudding cleanly on her plate. 

“We understand if you don’t want to do that, though,” Harry told her. 

“We’ll see,” she said. 

“The Ministry would be lucky to waste the talents of a witch as smart as you,” Aurthur told her with a grin. She smirked at him as she passed the potatoes. 

“What else would she do?” Ron looked around to the people at the table coming to her defence.

“Anything she wants,” Ginny said. 

“The Joke Shop could always use a cashier,” George joked. She playfully rolled her eyes. 

“You should take some time to yourself,” Molly said. “You work too hard, all of ye.”

“I’m going to focus on my N. E. W. T.s for now and we’ll go from there,” Hermione wanted this conversation to end. 

“Good to know you’re back in the swing of school,” Bill commented, “Gin said you were having a rough time adjusting.”

Hermione shot her a look. “All I said was that you weren’t spending nearly the same amount of time in the library and that you’re lucky to have been paired with the second smartest wizard in the school.”

“And who ees zat?” Fleur asked. 

“Draco Malfoy,” Ginny replied. 

And now Hermione was glaring. 

“Ze boy who was not zo nice to you and your friends?” Fleur clarified. 

“That’s the one,” George smirked. 

“Right tosser he is,” Ron said. “But you’d let us know if he was giving you any problems, right?” 

“Malfoy has been nothing but kind to me since we’ve been working together. He’s apologised for the past and has really been understanding when it comes to my new approach regarding work this year,” she told them. She was too high to figure out just where exactly this conversation went left. 

“The new approach being not working at all?” Ginny smirked. 

“Hey! I’m working,” Hermione stabbed a potato on the plate. “I just realised when I’m not doing assignments for three people I don’t have to try nearly as hard.”

“But you’re still trying dear…?” Molly checked in. 

“Of course,” she tried to ease the woman’s concern. “I actually just completed my Ancient Runes translation that was supposed to be due at the end of the school year.”

“Of course you have,” Aurthur looked proud, “Always so far ahead of the others.”

“Unless you’re under Malfoy this year?” George asked. 

Hermione nearly choked on her potato. Ginny tried to hold in a snort at that, while Harry was bright red. Luckily, Ron just looked confused. Percy, always the smartest, just raised a curious eyebrow while Fleur and Bill were in their own world, each with a hand on Fleur’s giant pregnancy belly. She was due any day. 

“I think Malfoy is outranking her in Potions, Charms, and Astronomy,” Ginny commented. 

“Cmon ‘Mione, you’ve gotta beat the ferret,” Ron tried to encourage. 

“Anything you can do to get on top of him,” George added. 

“How is the baby?” Hermione asked, changing the subject. If she heard one more innuendo she was going to combust. 

When the meal was finally over and Hermione had successfully managed to dodge any further conversation on Draco Malfoy, she was exhausted and ready to leave. She was surprisingly happy she saw the Weasleys. Maybe the space at school was exactly what she needed. 

After a lot of hugs goodbye, and a few more raunchy, but private, jokes, Hermione was ready to head through the floo. 

“Are you sure you can’t stay for a few more hours? Just dinner?” Ron tried. 

“I promised all the other leftovers I’d see them tonight,” she replied. 

“We’ll miss you,” Harry said. 

“I’ll miss you too but I’ll see you soon. Easter will be here before we know it,” she said. With that, she was on her way back to Hogwarts. 

McGonagall was not in her office when she returned, which Hermione could not help but feel relief at. She tried to stop herself from running through the halls back to her dormitory, because she was beyond excited to be back in the strong, strapping, arms of Draco. She felt like a schoolgirl, which she still was, as McGonagall reminded her this morning. 

When she entered the portrait hole, Draco was on one of the common room couches, reading. He had a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose, which made him look absolutely stunning. He looked up and put his book to the side and she let herself run towards him and throw herself into his lap. She kissed him deeply the moment her face was near his. 

“I didn’t know my gift would be seeing such a handsome wizard,” she purred. He smirked and took his glasses off. “Don’t take them off,” she pouted, “I quite like the sexy-studious look on you.”

“I didn’t plan on you seeing them quite yet,” he replied. 

“It’s okay if you wear reading glasses,” she said, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “You look like a fit librarian.”

He chuckled, “I’ve only had to start wearing them recently.”

“Why?” She asked, not stopping her lips journey down his neck. 

“Seems that a few too many Cruciatus Curses are bad for the occipital lobe,” he said humorlessly. 

She pulled back, “You’ve studied the Muggle science on neurology?”

“I thought getting more understanding on how the body works would help me with some Potions I’ve been working on.”

Just when she thought she couldn’t fancy him anymore than she did. Hearing him talk about studying Muggle research because they might know something wizards don’t made her… hot. 

“You’re so smart,” she gave him a kiss on the corner of his lips. 

“Not as smart as you,” he turned to kiss her full on. 

When their kiss became a full on snogging session, Hermione was eager to lift her skirt up, and pull her jumper off. 

“Should we go to my room?” He asked breathlessly. 

“No,” she shook her head, “No one’s here.”

She smirked as Draco’s mouth found hers again. She unbuttoned his shirt and ran her fingers over the plains of his chest. When her hands made it to his belt, he helped her by pushing his trousers and boxers down. 

Draco’s hand slipped into her knickers and immediately found her clit. He learned quickly last night that that was all she needed to come undone in minutes. As magical as his cock was, his hands were something else entirely.

As soon as she shattered underneath him, he yanked the lace down her legs and entered her with ease. “Such a naughty girl,” his lips were on her ear. “Waiting for my cock all fucking day.”

His groan in her ear when he slipped in was quickly becoming her favourite sound in the world. 

“Yes,” she moaned in response. 

“So fucking tight,” he groaned. 

Her legs wrapped around him and her hands wound in his hair. The feeling of him hitting the deepest possible spots in her while his lips attacked her neck made her zone out in bliss. She was no longer in control of the sounds that left her mouth as he claimed her on the common room couch. 

“Fuck, Granger,” he panted as her orgasm began to build. 

“Draco, please,” she begged, not even sure what she was begging for. 

He pulled up and gripped her waist so tight she knew it would bruise, but she didn’t care. She only wanted more of him, harder, faster, however he wanted to take her. 

He gave her a slap on the clit which did something to her she couldn’t control. Her body began to spasm and he gave her another, then another, and within moments, her orgasm blacked out her vision and her core released in a way that pushed him out of her. 

“Shit,” he groaned. 

She struggled to open her eyes, and saw Draco staring directly between her legs. When he looked up at her there was a growing grin on his face. In a quick movement he retenered her and put a claiming hand around her throat. Her eyes were shut again but she could hear the smile in his voice. 

“I didn’t know you could squirt you dirty, dirty, minx,” he growled. All she could do was respond with a moan. “Be a good girl and show me again.” He demanded. 

Hermione could only moan under his hold on her. She tried to get her brain to work but the euphoria was overpowering. Instead of trying to figure out how she squirted the first time, she fully gave into this moment and just hoped it would happen again. She wanted to be good for him in a way that the old Hermione would have protested against. 

She opened her eyes part way and watched Draco above her, a look of heated concentration etched across his handsome face. His thrusts were harder as he tightened his grip on her throat, trying to get her to come again. The hand that wasn’t on her throat was giving her clit attention, switching between light swats and eager swirls. 

As her next orgasm began to crest, she watched him react to the growing tension in her body. His lips pressed against hers for a moment before he pulled back up to watch her face. His hand on her clit pinched the bundle of nerves between his fingers and she could not control the shake in her legs, which had dropped from around him after her last orgasm. 

“Draco, Draco, Draco!” She screamed, her voice not even sounding like her own in her ears. His hand slapped her clit again and then she completely came apart. 

“There we go,” he grunted, releasing his hand around her throat, moving in to kiss her. 

She responded to his lips and could feel the rhythm of his hips begin to stutter as he tried to prolong her orgasm. Her nails sank into his shoulders as her body trembled under him, feeling the risk of becoming boneless with every thrust. 

“Fuck,” he swore before he released another of her favourite sounds as he emptied himself inside of her. 

He collapsed on top of her on the couch, which was a welcome sensation. The weight of his body helped her feel grounded after her multiple intense orgasms. For some reason, tears pricked her eyes as she came down from her high. She focused on her breathing, and the sound of his, as she rubbed soothing circles on his back. 

After a few minutes, he moved off and out of her with a groan, his eyes locked on the mess they had made on the couch between her legs. He sat back for a moment, still catching his breath as he pulled his trousers up. His hand lightly rubbed her leg then up her thigh, causing her to tremble. She watched him carefully. 

“We should shower before we go down for Christmas supper,” he said to her. She nodded. 

“I don’t know if I can walk though.”

With a grin, he stood then scooped her off the couch, carrying her bridal style to the bathroom. She squealed with delight at his display of strength. He nuzzled into her neck and she felt her core clench around nothing at his sweet touch. 

In the bathroom, he helped her strip off the rest of her clothing, then took his off, before setting the shower. She worked on standing as he got the water ready, and as soon as he saw her trying on her own, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her under the hot water. 

“I would’ve helped you,” he said. She smirked and gave him a kiss. 

“I know,” she said. “I’m okay though.”

He let out a soft moan against her neck before turning her in his arms and helping her wash herself. He took special care between her legs and didn’t put up a fight when she explained she had to do her hair herself. When she washed him, he got hard at her slightest touch which made her blush and him smirk. 

After taking her against the wall of the shower and then recleaning them both, they finally got ready for dinner, which Hermione was ready to be over with the moment they left the privacy of the dormitory.  

———

Her next week was orgasmic to say the least. 

Every morning she had been waking up with his warm chiselled body pressed against hers, some mornings his head was between her legs. They would explore each other's bodies until breakfast, where the two of them continued to learn about each other, sober. Between breakfast and lunch they would walk around the castle or go to the library, sometimes snogging or even shagging depending on the day. Sorry McGonagall. After lunch they would hang out in the common room, sometimes they would read the books they’d gotten each other for Christmas (The Muppet Show book and a collection of Shakespeare for him and priceless Bathilda Bagshot originals for her), play both magical and Muggle games, and sometimes would desecrate the couches all their friends would be sitting on when they returned. Before dinner they would go smoke, and possibly after dinner as well, followed by snacks and a glorious night of shagging until they passed out in the wee hours of the morning. Hermione could live every day like this. 

They only had two days until their classmates returned. Today was New Years Eve and Draco told her he had something planned for them. She couldn’t wait. 

It was foolish to think that by shagging him, her all encompassing thoughts about shagging him would lessen. Now that they had taken that step, her thoughts have only doubled because she knows how good it is. Truly, she never thought sex could be as magical and satisfying as it was with Draco. 

“I know it’s not the same for us,” Hermione said as they smoked that night. They were on the blanket by the lake looking at the stars, of course under multiple warming charms. “But does our… connection when we shag… does it feel different to you? Like it feels, I don’t know, unprecedented what we do, even when we’re not high. I’ve never had sex that felt like this before,” she told him. 

Maybe it was the weed, or the fact they could stare at the vastness of the universe instead of having to look each other in the eye, but Hermione did feel like she could talk to him about anything. This past week alone has made her feel closer with him than she’s ever felt… with anyone. And she would be lying if she said that didn’t scare her a little. 

Draco took a deep breath before responding. “It’s different,” he agreed. She tried to push past the wave of relief she felt at that. “All of my previous experience did not prepare me for being with you,” he chuckled. “Maybe we should have kept waiting.”

“No!” Hermione shot up to look at him, “I wouldn’t trade this last week for anything,” she said. “You can’t hold out on me now.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, a smirk etched across his face. 

“But how are we supposed to get anything accomplished the rest of the year?” He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Hmm,” she laid back down, this time her head on his chest, looking up at him. “Maybe a reward system.”

His hand smoothed over her hair as she listened to the sound of his steady heartbeat. Even just laying with him was fulfilling in a way she couldn’t explain. 

“That’ll have to be it,” he agreed. “Right now, you’re all I think about.”

“Same,” she agreed. “And I know we’ve spent pretty much every second together this last week, but I don’t know how we can go back to how things were.”

“We don’t have to fully,” he brushed his hand over her cheek. 

“Yeah?” She asked. His thumb ran over her lip and she pressed a kiss to it. 

“Maybe it’s time that we should put a name on whatever this is,” he raised an eyebrow at her. She could feel her face heat with excitement at that idea. 

“I’d like that,” she agreed. “I’d like to still spend nights with you.”

“As long as we get our work done,” he reminded her and she playfully rolled her eyes. “What are you thinking? Dating? Boyfriend girlfriend? Sexual partners? Lovers?”

Hermione chuckled, “All good options,” she nodded, “I think I’d like to call you my boyfriend if that’s okay.”

“More than okay,” he smirked and pulled her up for a kiss. 

It was not long before she was straddling him, pulling his zipper down, and trying to free him from his trousers. She was in a long skirt which draped over his lap. When she went to get her cloak and weed that evening she’d taken her knickers off, which Draco was realising by the look on his face. 

She wasted no more time seating herself on top of him, relishing in the way his eyes drifted closed. His hands were on her waist guiding her movements on him. Her hands gripped his chest as she rode him. She bent down to kiss him. His hand wound in her hair as she did, and he held them together as his thrusts began to meet her grinding. She moaned against his lips and he took her bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Draco,” she panted. When he released her lip her mouth went to his neck, nipping and sucking a path down his throat. She craved the sounds he made as she did. 

Suddenly, fireworks began over them. Hermione kept her rhythm as she leaned up to watch the display. She glanced down to see the colourful lights also reflected in Draco’s eyes. 

“For you,” he told her. 

She pressed her lips to his again before watching the fireworks again. His hands went to her breasts and her head was thrown back. He brought one hand up her thigh, under her skirt, and to her clit. She was always putty in his hands when he touched her so. 

Her orgasm came in bright flashes in time with the fireworks show above them. He held her tightly as she came and with a few more thrusts he finished inside of her. She collapsed next to him and he held her hand as they caught their breaths and watched the rest of the fireworks show. 

“How’d you do this?” She asked. 

“It’s a charm I worked on with Hagrid.”

“Really?” She turned to look at him. 

“Yeah, what do you think I did while you were at the Weasleys?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Waited for me to come back?”

He laughed and pulled her into him, and she rested her head on his chest. She listened to his heartbeat which was slowing to its usual pace. “I did that too.”

“Thank you,” she said. 

“Anything for you,” he held her tighter. “Anything.”

They ended up dozing off by the lake. Early in the morning she roused when she felt Draco carry her back to their dorm and deposit her in his bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow she was asleep again. 

She’d never get enough of him.

Chapter Text

Once again, Draco found himself wondering if he had made a mistake. 

Sure the two of them were getting their work done, but not nearly with the same effort as when they weren’t shagging. Yes, their Runes translation was complete, but there were other classes. 

Currently, they were trying to work on a chart for Astronomy, his second best subject besides Potions, and he could barely string a thought together. This was because Hermione was perched on his lap, in the back of the library, cockwarming him. 

Though nothing that felt this good could be a mistake, he still wondered. How had he let her convince him this was a good idea?

He snapped yet another quill as she shifted in his lap. One of his hands wrapped around her waist and held her still. 

“We need to work,” he growled in her ear. 

“We are,” her voice was breathy. 

“Hermione, you’ve barely added anything to this chart,” he commented. 

“You’re so much better at Astronomy,” she turned to look at him with her big doe eyes. 

“That’s only true this year because you don’t apply yourself,” he said through his teeth. She was making these tiny movements in his lap that were making him crazy. There was no way they wouldn’t be caught if he bent her over the table and pounded into her until she screamed. 

“This isn’t even due until next week,” she said. 

“I thought we were trying to get ahead on work so we had this weekend free,” he reminded her. 

“We just finished the Potions essay,” she shifted and he gripped her even tighter. “The Charms assignment is halfway done, I promise I’m almost done with my Transfiguration essay,” she looked at him and pouted. 

“Fine,” he groaned. “But tomorrow you’re sitting on the other side of the table.” 

He grabbed his wand and cast a muffliato around them. Keeping his grip on her waist, he stood, putting his hand over her mouth when she gasped. He bent her over the table, lifted her skirt up, and gave her a hard spank on the arse, leaving a bright red handprint in its place. 

The moment she set her legs, he pulled out slightly then rammed into her. He could feel the vibrations of her moans on his hand. 

“Quiet, Granger,” he warned, “You wouldn’t want Pince to hear.” 

Her hips began to meet his thrust for thrust. He gave her another spank and had to tighten his hand over her mouth to cover her scream. Her legs began to shake but he didn’t relent on his speed. 

When she tightened around him, in that heavenly way she always did, he finished right after. He watched between her legs as he pulled out, loving the sight of his come dripping down her thighs. He gave her another spank and then released his hand from around her mouth. 

He collapsed back into his chair and righted his trousers. He watched Hermione regain herself on the table before she straightened her skirt on wobbly legs, then sat next to him. 

“Let’s work on our Charms assignment,” he said after a moment. 

“Then we can go smoke?”

“Yes, Granger. Then we can go smoke,” he sighed. 

When they were outside, she seemed more in her element. It was honestly bizarre that he was here with Hermione Granger, his girlfriend, who seemed more at peace smoking than in the library surrounded by books. Though she was reading more than she had at the beginning of the year, it was nowhere near the Granger he grew up with, who always had her nose buried in something. 

He tried to be understanding when it came to her healing process following the war, and who she was here and now was the person he was falling in love with. The person that chose him and saw the change and redemption in him, even though she owed him nothing of the sort. However he was worried for her. How could he not when he, her adversary until this very year, was not the only person concerned for her mental state. She would tell him of what her friends would say, and she would always resolve that she was just different. But different did not have to mean aimless. 

As the marijuana began to cloud his brain, he tried not to spiral in thoughts about Granger and whether or not he was enabling her, and whether she would even like him anymore if he didn’t. Her hand played with his hair and skimmed his cheeks. Her touch did something to him that he could not put into words other than powerless. The second she looked at him or grazed her hand across his cheek or hand of thigh, he was powerless. He’d give her anything she wanted, do anything for her, and be anything she needed him to be. 

“Draco?” She asked him. He glanced at her, pulling himself up for air. 

“Hmm?” He asked. 

“If you could only have one snack for the rest of your life, what would you want it to be?”

He chuckled. She was always so funny to him, especially when they were like this. He was contemplating her feelings toward him and she was contemplating snack time. He respected and was honestly envious of the way she could turn her brain off, which must be rare for her and why she enjoyed smoking the way she did. 

“Something sweet,” he told her, “Like pumpkin pasties or chocolate ice cream,” he said. “What about you?”

“I love a crisp,” she said. “Any flavour.”

“How many favours do they come in?” He asked. 

“So many,” she smiled at him. “There’s standard flavours like salt and vinegar, cheese and onion, and prawn-“

“Prawn?” He made a face. 

“Yes! Don’t knock them till you try them, they’re seriously not that bad,” she told him. “Then they make specialty and seasonal flavours.”

“How many crisps do muggles need?” He joked. 

“More than you could imagine,” she smirked, then pulled a packet of crisps from her pocket, offering him one. “Have you ever gone out amongst muggles?” She asked. 

“No,” he shook his head. “I have not. I wouldn’t be opposed to it, if you wanted to take me,” he wound his fingers with hers and she smiled at him. 

“Is there anything specific you would want to do?” 

He knew very little of muggles, and even what he was learning in Muggle Studies probably barely scratched the surface. “Whatever you think I should see,” he said. “You did promise to show me Telly and films.”

“Well of course,” she said, “That’s standard. I think we should try an arcade too.”

“What’s arcade?”

She smirked at him, “It’s a place where muggles go and play games. Usually video games, pinball, maybe skeeball.”

Though he didn’t know what most of those words meant, she seemed excited and he enjoyed that. He could listen to her talk about Muggle things for hours, and would not complain. He liked that she seemed to want to teach him about the world he didn’t know. 

“What are you learning in Muggle Studies right now?” She asked, eating a crisp. 

“We’re learning about the postal service,” he said. “It’s very different from using owls.”

“It is,” she agreed. “The first time I sent a note via owl I was so scared I was going to hurt it. Then just telling it who it goes to and trust that it knows what the bloody hell you’re talking about.”

“Owls are very smart,” he said. 

“I know,” she playfully rolled her eyes. “I'm just saying, it’s jarring at first.”

“What was the biggest adjustment to the Wizarding World?” He asked, curious as to what she would say if the owls were a lot for her. 

“That’s a good question,” she paused, clearly thinking. “Maybe the moving portraits and pictures,” she said then pursed her lips, “Or how much stuff you have to carry? Like ink pots and quills, but then there are potions in vials and galleons which are huge. Then to restrict undetectable expansion charms,” she shook her head. “It’s like you always have at least five extra kilos on you at all times.”

He liked that answer. He’d learned about Muggle money in class already and the lightweight ‘bills’ and ‘pounds’ seems more practical than gold, silver, and bronze medallions. He also had learned about Muggle pens and they did seem very practical, but lacked elegance. “What do you do instead of potions?”

“Muggles put potions in tiny tablets called pills that you swallow. Some you can buy already made at the store, like for headaches and upset stomachs, then some you get prescribed by doctors, muggle healers, like birth control and sleeping medicine,” she explained. He nodded, trying to envision what she was talking about. She dug around in her pocket for a moment then pulled out a silver rectangle with a bunch of pink dots encapsulated on it. “Birth control pills,” she explained. 

She handed him the packet and he studied it closely. It was weird. There was a lot of packaging and it did not feel as though this tiny ‘pill’ was able to stop pregnancy. 

“And you take this every day?” He raised an eyebrow. She nodded. “But you only have to take the potion once a month.”

“I prefer this method,” she shrugged. “I like feeling protected everyday rather than the once a month method.”

“What’s the efficacy?”

“Same as the potion, about 95%,” she said. “It’s 99% if you take it perfectly.”

“Which means?”

“Same exact time every single day,” she shrugged. 

“And you do that?”

“Yes, I have an alarm on my wand,” she said. He handed her the package back. “Thanks.”

“Seems like a lot of work,” he said. She laughed. 

“Well it’s work on the witches' end no matter what,” she replied. 

“That’s true,” he nodded. “Maybe we should come up with a male potion,” he said. “I’m sure there’s a market for it.”

She chuckled, “That’s an idea,” she nodded. “And we’d test it on you?”

That he wasn't so sure about. “Maybe. Let’s start with Pygmy Puffs or something first.”

She nodded, “Alright,” she smiled and leaned in to give him a kiss which he returned eagerly. “Let’s go back to my room,” she said against his lips. He nodded quickly and let her lead the way. 

The next morning, he woke up early and snuck back to his own room so he could finish a project for Muggle Studies. 

He wanted nothing more than to spend every night with her, but he wondered if he could keep sustaining this the rest of the year.

———

He had to do it. It was early March and they were officially behind. 

“I have to give you an ultimatum,” He said that night when she tried to hand him the joint.

“What?” She seemed shocked. 

“We give up smoking or we give up shagging,” he said. “Your choice.”

“I choose neither,” she shook her head. “Where is this coming from?”

“Granger, we are officially behind in our work,” he said. 

“Barely! It’s not like we turned anything in late, we just didn’t get everything completed before the week’s end. We can do it tomorrow,” she said.

“No,” he shook his head, “You need to make a choice. It’s almost the end of the year and we have to finish strong.”

“We can do that while still having fun,” she argued. 

“No. We’ve tried that,” he said. “Look. I really like you and you know that I don’t want you to waste your potential. I’m giving you a choice, and if you cannot pick, we won’t do either.” 

“What?” She hissed. “You’re the only thing keeping me afloat,” she put her head in her hands. 

“And I’ll still be there for you, without getting high or making you come. Again, your choice.”

“This is torture,” she huffed. 

“Come on, we’ve both experienced actual torture. Having to pick between being sober or being celibate should be a day in the park for you,” he commented. She turned to glare at him. “You need to find meaning.”

“I’m trying!” She snapped. “I’ve been trying.”

“I know, but we’re coming towards the end of the year and we both have to make choices about what we’re going to do,” he said. “Not to mention studying for our exams.”

“I don’t care about that-“

“But I do,” he interrupted. “I know you’ve been taking a break from using your brain but please think about it. When we both leave in June, you are going to have every single option available to you. I am going to have a vault but no work prospects. Ex-Death Eater is not something I get to expunge from my resume. I need to work on rebuilding my name in society, something you do not have to do. Any job you want is yours. I have already been working with McGonagall about my options.”

“You have?”

“Yes,” he huffed, exasperated, “We’re not going to be in the privacy and safety of Hogwarts forever. We’re going to leave here and whether you want to admit it or not, there are going to be plenty of people who have something to say about our relationship and treat you differently because of it. I want you to be set up with a job before I ruin all of your prospects.”

“You won’t do that,” she shook her head.

“You don’t know that,” he replied. “You need to figure it out, and I will help you and be there for you, always.”

“But you’re making me choose.”

“You should be thankful I gave you a choice,” he smirked. “We can talk about what life will be for us once we graduate, but we have to graduate first.”

“What if I don’t want to work?” She asked. 

“I don’t care if you don’t work, but you need a plan,” he said. “If you want to get married, be a stay at home mum, and start having children, you won’t need to beg me,” he winked. She pursed her lips. “See, I don’t think that's what you want, not yet at least. That’s why you need a plan.”

“Would you not want to travel with me?” She pouted. 

“I would want that,” he sighed, “But I do have quite a bit of work to do on my image and it would be in my best interest to try to find suitable, respectable work, upon graduation.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I want to have fun.”

“We can do that,” he said, “But having fun doesn’t mean you’ve found meaning,” he told her, “And I’m worried that if you don’t, you’ll never truly be happy or fulfilled.”

“Can’t you just be my meaning?”

“Sure, but what does that really look like?” He asked. “You don’t seem ready to become a wife and mother, which is fine, but what then are we building towards?” 

“Getting high and shagging?” She muttered. 

“Come on,” he nudged her shoulder. “I want to grow with each other. I want to build something with you that gives us both meaning. I want us to enjoy being young together but using our time to build a foundation for when we’re older.”

“You want to be with me that long?”

“Forever if you’ll have me,” he took her hand in his. 

She leaned in and he gave her a soft kiss before pulling away. 

“So what’s it going to be, Hermione?”

Chapter Text

At the end of March, before Easter break, Headmistress McGonagall invited her to tea. Hermione accepted, knowing that this was likely going to be about her future. As the year end came about, everyone, including Draco, had been trying to talk to her about her plans after graduation. 

Sitting in the Headmistresses office felt a tad overwhelming. Above the elder witch was Dumbledore’s portrait, pacing slowly, looking over Hermione as if he still knew her. It was unsettling. There was a portrait off to the side of Snape, who appeared to be bored and reading. The others she did not know, and so they ignored her just the same. 

“Ms. Granger,” McGonagall said warmly. 

“Afternoon, Headmistress,” Hermione bowed her head politely. 

“I assume you know why I’ve called you here.”

“To discuss my options upon graduation?” She guessed. The Headmistress nodded. 

“Correct. Have you given any thought to what you would like to do?” She hesitated to the tea set, magically preparing her own with one lump of sugar. Hermione mimicked her action, plus a little cream and looked at the tea swirl in front of her. 

“Kinda,” Hermione shrugged. “I’m still not sure. I thought I wanted to travel but for a few reasons, I want to wait before I do that.”

“Very well,” McGonagall nodded, “In the past, you spoke of possibly joining Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley at the Ministry of Magic.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “I do not think I want to work for such a corrupt organisation,” she said, perhaps a bit too honestly, noticing the smirk on Snape’s Portrait as he set down whatever he had been reading. Dumbledore similarly paused his pacing to look at her with a raised brow. 

“Is there any particular reason you have become so… discouraged by Ministry work?” McGonagall chose her words carefully. 

“I used to think that change happens in the political realm, however these past two years have shown me that our political leaders would rather have everything be horrible and stay the same than fight for change. Instead, they had children fight and took the credit when things worked out. Sure Harry and Ron may think that catching bad guys is worth more than the bureaucracy they’re a part of, but I see it differently. Not only were we treated like lying whiny children, we were also run through the mud in every piece of Ministry propaganda, and now that those two are working for them, it would appear to the outside world that not only is all forgiven, but the Ministry is an honest, credible organisation, which in my opinion, has yet to be proven.”

McGonagall blinked at Hermione’s monologue. It was clear that the Headmistress had not been quite so prepared for just how upset Hermione still was with the government. 

“Ms. Granger,” she sighed, “You know Minister Kingsley has been working to right the wrongs of previous administrations.”

“But he is only one person,” Hermione replied, “And the majority of Ministry employees have been there since well before Fudge. Only last year a majority of those people watched their Muggleborn colleagues be hauled away to Azkaban being accused of stealing their magic, and having gone there during that time, I know there were no protests. I apologise for not being convinced things have changed after a year or two.”

“Of course there’s no need to apologise,” the Headmistress gave her a sad look, “I only worry for where this discontentment leads to. If there are not people as passionate as you in the government trying to change it, what hope is there for the rest of society?”

Hermione thought about this for a moment. Though she understood her point, Hermione did not feel as though she had to be the sacrificial lamb. “I see your point, Headmistress, but honestly I feel as though I have given all that I have to give to the Ministry at this moment. I am done being a pawn, being the person expected to change things, and being the one who suffers so other people can change their ways. It all falls on me and at this point in my life, I do not want that.”

McGoagall nodded in understanding. “I hear you,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “Let’s think of other avenues for you then. What about becoming a healer?”

“Pass,” Hermione shook her head. “I do not think that would circumvent me from feeling as though people expect me to solve every thing, or be reliant on me.”

“Alright,” the Headmistress nodded clearly suppressing a sigh. Hermione could tell that the witch definitely did not anticipate how this would go. “What about applying to apprentice with Ollivander? He will be retiring soon.”

“No thanks,” Hermione shook her head. She had no desire to work with children for the rest of her life. 

“Journalism?”

“After the way I’ve been treated in Wizarding media, I’m going to have to pass,” Hermione said. “And I don’t think I’m quirky enough for the Quibbler.”

“What about a Mastery in duelling?”

“And do what with that?” She asked. 

“You could always teach,” the witch gave her a small smile. 

“Respectfully, no thank you. I do not think I want to work with children.”

“What about a Potions Mastery?” 

“Maybe,” Hermione thought about that. She knew that was what Draco was trying to do, and while it sounded interesting, she was not that interested in it. 

“Tell her about Brellacy Glisworth,” The portrait of Dumbledore spoke up. Hermione flicked her eyes up to him. McGonagall didn’t turn to look, but nodded. Hermione raised her eyebrow at the Headmsitress. 

“Ms. Glisworth is the leading Potioneering Ingredient Connoisseur,” The Headmistress explained, “She not only has her Potions Mastery, but travels the world procuring rare ingredients for Hogwarts, St. Mungos, and other private collectors. She is the authority on potion ingredients. She does not regularly take on apprentices, but those she does go into Potion development, ingredient procurement, education. You would have options.”

Hermione thought about this. She did like the sound of this, getting to travel, also getting advanced mentorship she could take a variety of ways. 

“Do you think she would be interested in taking me on?” She asked. The Headmistress nodded. 

“I am sure you know your reputation precedes you. With a proper introduction and application, as well as exemplary N.E.W.T. Scores, she would likely be open to your menteeship. I will give you her information so you can owl her.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said. 

“We should also think of a few alternative options,” she said. Hermione nodded tentatively in agreement, it had taken them a while to get to this point. “Once upon a time you had a proclivity for reading,” she started, “Would you ever consider writing a book?”

“I don’t think I have anything to say people would want to listen to,” she said. 

“That isn’t true,” McGonagall shook her head. “You have done more at the age of 18 than most wizards have done in their entire lives.”

“People don’t want my story though, they want Harry’s.”

“Now, I do not usually involve myself in the personal lives of my students, however the changes I’ve seen in a certain wizard from a long lineage of blood supremacy, are admirable to say the least.”

“Draco came to those conclusions on his own,” she shrugged. 

“Possibly, but to disavow thousands of years of tradition to court a muggleborn witch would tell me that that witch is exceptional.”

“I don’t want to exploit him or our story,” she sighed. 

“You don’t have to,” McGonagall said. “I just believe that the notion that love transcends all, is something a lot of people could relate to,” the Headmistress gave her a soft look. “If you do not want to write, that’s okay as well. What about Gringotts? They’re always looking for curse-breakers.”

“I don’t think I’m welcome there,” Hermione said. 

“Oh yes, of course,” The Headmistress looked flushed, remembering the time her student broke in and did thousands of galleons worth of property damage. “What about magical creatures? You could be a Dragonologist or Activist.”

“I thought I wanted to be an activist but not right now,” Hermione said, “And after having rode a dragon, I do not think that’s for me.”

“It would hurt me to suggest shopkeeper to someone of your abilities, but if doing so would make you happy, I’d be remiss to not mention it.”

“George offered me a cashier job,” Hermione chuckled. 

“Maybe that would be a good backup, not only working the store but also inventing,” McGonagall suggested.

“I’m not sure how well I would do developing tricks,” Hermione replied. 

“You were known to have quite a devious side,” the Headmistress chuckled. “It can just be an option.”

“Alright,” Hermione nodded. 

“For now, let’s focus on the mentorship with Ms. Glisworth, and go from there.”

“Okay.”

“I’m glad we were able to come up with a plan.”

“Me too,” Hermione said honestly. McGonagall looked like she had more to say so Hemrione waited, sipping her tea in the meantime. 

“I apologise for overstepping, however I want you to know that though I’ve noted the changes you’ve helped foster in Mr. Malfoy, I can see the changes in you as well. Even over this past month,” she said as if she knew about her ultimatum from Draco. “I am proud of you and who you’re growing into, even if you did not take the most conventional way to get there. I know that leaving Hogwarts is daunting, but regardless of what you do, I know you’ll do well. You are someone who will never stop learning and that can take you so many places, even though you’ll always have a home here.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said, genuinely. 

“You’re one of, if not the smartest witch to ever walk these halls, and the wizarding world is a better place because you are in it.”

“Thank you.”

“I want you to finish off the year strong because you should be the one to make the valedictorian speech to your fellow graduates.”

“I don’t know,” Hermione shook her head. 

“I do,” The Headmistress smiled. “Everything you have given to this school, and to our world, you deserve it. No matter how you choose to use that time, it’s yours to say what you think everyone needs to hear.”

“I’m sure there is someone better suited,” Hermione argued. 

“There is not,” McGonagall said. Before Hermione could argue, the witch handed her a piece of parchment and spoke again. “Owl Ms. Glisworth and let me know how that goes.”

Hermione took the parchment and nodded. “Thank you, Headmistress.”

“Of course, dear,” she replied before turning to another area of her desk, letting her know she was dismissed. “I will see you soon.”

“Of course. Thank you again.”

Hermione stood to exit. As she rounded the staircase to the office door, she heard the voice of Dumbledore’s portrait speak cryptically of star-crossed lovers. If you asked Hermione, the stars were no longer crossed, however maybe there was something to Draco’s fear of outside voices. 

When she returned to her room, Draco was in there waiting for her, laying on her bed, reading, his glasses perched on his nose. 

“Oh hello,” she raised her eyebrow at him. He looked up from his book with a smile. 

“Hi, how was your meeting?”

“Alright,” she went over and gave him a soft kiss. “I didn’t expect you to be waiting for me.”

“Of course I was,” he said. “I am desperate to know where your mind is now that you’ve gotten advice other than mine and Ginny’s.”

“It was… productive,” she told him. Draco sat up at that, grinning. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Hermione nodded. “McGonagall gave me contact information for a witch who specialises in procuring potion ingredients.”

“Interesting,” Draco nodded. 

“I’d be able to travel like I wanted, but also get a Potions Mastery and have options for when the apprenticeship ends,” she took a seat on the bed next to him. 

“We’d both be Potions Masters,” he grinned. 

The main program Draco was hoping to enter was through St. Mungos where he would graduate and go on to make potions for the hospital. Hermione thought about that program but wanted more freedom than it provided. He applied to a few others as well, trying to cast a large net due to one specific blemish on his record. 

“Anything else?” He asked. Hermione shrugged, and in turn Draco rolled his eyes. “Not the shrugging again.”

“She said I could write a book,” she sighed. 

Draco raised his eyebrows, “That would certainly be interesting. I would read it.”

“She thinks our… story, would relate to people,” she said. Draco looked a bit surprised but nodded. 

“I think that makes sense,” Draco said, “I also think it would be a good way to control whatever narrative will be pushed about us.”

“So if I wrote something about us you’d be okay with that?”

“I would want to read it first,” he smirked, “But I don’t see why not.”

Hermione huffed. She was still not quite sold on ‘telling her story’ but it was nice that Draco did not hate that option. She was going to focus on an internship with Brellacy Glisworth, then figure things out from there. Draco was right that they should probably figure out how they were going to navigate the press upon leaving, but she wanted to put that off for now. 

“You know I want you to do whatever will make you happy,” he told her, wrapping her arms around her. 

“That’s you,” she replied, leaning in to his touch. She could feel him smile into her hair. 

“I’m going to miss you over Spring holiday,” he told her. 

“Same,” she nodded, then turned to press her lips to his throat. She could feel the vibration of a groan in his throat. 

It was not long before she was disrobing him, pressing her lips to every inch of exposed skin she could. His hands were also working to strip her of all of her clothes. 

When Draco had given her the ultimatum earlier this month, she knew immediately where she was leaning. Though smoking weed had been her relaxation for a large part of this school year, intimacy with Draco was above and beyond anything she’d ever experienced. While she missed getting stoned and feeling their hands all over each other, the physical things between them were just as fulfilling sober. 

Hermione perched herself on top of Draco, impaling herself slowly on his length. She loved looking at the pleasure on his face from this angle. His hands skimmed from her waist to her breast and she leaned into his touch. Her lips reached his and met in a heated clash. 

Her hips moved back and forth on his and his hands moved to guide her rhythm. He lifted her slightly so he could meet his thrusts up with her. Then he flipped them over.

Being underneath Draco was an other worldly experience. The way his forearms caged her in and he became the only thing in her universe, made her feel safe enough to let all of her anxieties and insecurities float away. He looked down at her with his heated silver gaze and she melted at his touch. He knew her body well at this point and the moment he brought her over the edge, he followed before collapsing on top of her. 

She rubbed his back, relishing in the weight of him pressed to her chest, keeping her from floating into space. One hand played with the slightly sweaty hairs on the back of his neck before he shifted off of her. 

He fell asleep before her that evening. Once he was asleep she contemplated the two of them, as well as everything McGonagall said. Her head was still swimming with thoughts by the time sleep consumed her. 

———

Hermione was staying at Hogwarts over Spring holiday. She had this application to send out, and honestly was not ready to talk to Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys about what she was going to do after graduation. She wrote Harry with a brief explanation, but promised to see him at Graduation. He responded asking her to let him know if she was planning on moving into Grimmauld after graduation. More decisions. 

Her application to Brellacy Glisworth had been sent, as well as a handful of others McGonagall had suggested. There were even less students staying over Spring holiday than Christmas, so she really had the library, owlery, and most of the castle to herself. She definitely enjoyed the solitude. 

The evening after she sent out applications, she decided to treat herself. There was no more school work to be done at the moment, and she wanted to relax. After dinner, she took a blanket, and a few snacks, to the spot on the shore of the black lake. 

With a joint already rolled, she made herself nice and cozy. She laid on her back looking up at the universe. The feeling of the marijuana in her veins only had a small effect on how close she felt to the stars. It had a much larger effect on the way her brain began to drift into a calm sea of thoughts. 

The consolations danced for her as she looked to the expansive universe. It was not hard for her to spot a few of her favourites. When her eyes roamed over constellation Draco, her thoughts immediately followed. 

She missed him when he was not around. They had spent so much time together this year, she was not sure she would fare well being apart from him when the year ended. When she tried to think of anyone she ever felt this way about she couldn’t come up with anyone. She wanted him in a way that was all consuming. 

It didn’t take long for her high brain to follow the thought to its conclusion. The way she felt about him was practically indescribable. The amount of time she spent thinking about him, the attraction she had towards him, and everything else in between. It was obvious. Clear as day. 

She loved him. 

She loved him and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. At nineteen that thought should terrify her but it didn’t. Even high she was almost certain he felt the same. She loved him and he might love her too. 

When her thoughts shifted to graduation, and Harry’s offer to live with her, she knew she did not want that. She would if she had no other option, but the only thing she really wanted was to be with Draco. Maybe getting a flat with him where they could spend every night and every morning together. They could cook, smoke, and she’d show him the TV. They’d build a home together. A life. Then years down the road, a family. 

The fact she wanted all of this with a man she only knew the bad parts of before this year was exactly how she knew. Because once she was allowed to see every side of him, she had no choice. There is no choice when it comes to falling in love. No one chooses it. It happens. If you’re lucky, it happens. And it happened to her. 

From this realisation on, she counted down the seconds until she could see him again. He had to know. 

Chapter Text

The door to her room was cracked. 

Draco sent his things to his before crossing the common room to her, not caring who saw him go. The two were well past that point with their peers. Most people knew but didn’t comment. Smart. 

When he walked in, she was reading on her bed. The sight made his heart flip. It had been so long since he had seen her enjoy a book when he was not there reading next to her. The second she heard him close the door behind him, she put it down and flew off the bed towards him, wrapping him in a hug. 

“I missed you,” she said, pulling him in for a kiss. He returned it eagerly. 

“I missed you, too,” he mumbled against her lips. 

He let her lead him to the bed even though they should head down to supper soon. 

“How was seeing your mum?” She asked. 

“It was okay,” he nodded. 

He had told his mother about her, and she’d taken it better than she expected, but still was not entirely thrilled with the likelihood that their Pureblood legacy would be coming to an end. They made a mutual agreement to not tell Lucius, who hopefully by the the time he was freed, would just bite his tongue and be thankful rather than do anything irrational. 

Most of his time home, he spent alone in his room, thinking about her. Not being with her made him feel like a part of him was missing. 

“Just okay?” She asked. 

“Though it was nice seeing my mother, I’ll be honest that I was very preoccupied thinking about you.”

She smiled at him and it made his heart do that funny thing where it felt as though it was not working correctly for a moment. His memories of her over break were nothing compared to being here with her. 

“I thought about you too,” she said. 

“Yeah?” He smirked. “Were you able to get your applications out?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I know we need to go to dinner, but I just want to hold you a moment longer. Is that okay?”

“Of course it is,” he held her tighter in his arms. He deeply inhaled the scent of her hair and tried to focus on her warmth against him. He knew they were about to leave but the blood that rushed south was only natural. When they pulled away, she smirked. 

“Come on, the sooner we go, the sooner we come back.”

Draco tried not to rush through dinner at the thought of being with Hermione again. His food was delicious but he barely tasted it as his mind wandered to her soft body under his. He knew there was more to say between them after not having seen each other, but he was just a man. 

When the two returned to her room that evening he knew there was something racking her brain. Her hands twisted and their usual ease of conversation was halted. He tried to shove thoughts of her naked body down as he prepared himself for whatever she was going to say. 

“I have something to tell you,” she told him.  He looked at her expectantly. “Two things really.”

“Alright,” he nodded, giving her his full attention. 

“While you were gone I smoked,” she said. He was not disappointed in her, truth be told he expect it. He did not see her spending a week alone without smoking once or twice. 

“Okay,” he nodded and gestured for her to continue. 

“I realised a lot,” she said. 

“Like what?” He asked, watching her fidget with her hands. She was always so adorable when she was nervous. 

“I love you.”

He stared at her in shock for a moment. Did she really just say what he thought she said? Surely he misheard because she was her and he was him. Judging by the look on her face, which was quickly falling, he heard her correctly. 

“I love you, too,” he replied, knowing in every bone in his body it was true. A smile broke out across her face and she threw herself into his arms. He held her as tight as he could, basking in her warmth, and her love. 

“I just know,” she mumbled into his chest. “I am nothing without you, Draco. Not only were you my main source of joy this year, you also didn’t give up on me. You pushed me to be better when I didn’t want to be, and even though I think we would’ve done perfectly fine smoking and shagging, you held me to a higher standard that you knew a version of me would want myself held to. You saved me. I love you.”

He took her face in his hands and kissed her as fiercely as he could, pouring every ounce of love he had into it. He could feel her respond to him, as well as tears sliding down her cheeks. He pulled back and wiped them away. 

“You did not give up on me,” he told her. “I am the last person who deserves your forgiveness, let alone your love. But just as you say I save you, you saved me. I would truly be nothing without you, I love you more than you could ever know.”

That night they made love. There was no mistaking it. His soft touches and her gentle caresses. Every move was in sync, every breath exchanged was euphoric. The sounds she made under him were like a symphony of angels. He wanted there to be nothing left unsaid or unfelt between them. When she came with a cry around him, he held her even tighter through his release, wandlessly cleaning them but staying inside her, where he belonged, as they both fell asleep. 

Though their evening was filled with love and passion, the sharp light of the morning brought forth conversations they both knew were coming. He was already awake when she stirred, her warm amber eyes opening to find his immediately. 

“Good morning, love,” he said. 

“Good morning,” she replied, snuggling closer into his side. She rested her head on his arm, looking up to him with warmth. “We should talk,” she said. 

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow. 

She nodded, “About after graduation… I’m not sure what you want to do, but I don’t know if I can be away from you.”

“I feel the same way,” he reassured, bringing out a bright smile on her face. 

“Harry wrote asking if I would be coming to live with him at Grimmauld Place,” she told him. Draco couldn’t help but make a face. He had no desire to live with Potter. “I had a feeling that wasn’t going to appeal to you,” she chuckled, “So I was hoping we could talk about getting a place together? I don’t want to move to quickly or-“

“No,” he interrupted what was bound to be an anxiety fueled monologue. “I think us getting a flat would be a great idea,” he watched the light reflect in her eyes. “This may be too forward but I do own a property in Diagon Alley that I would be happy to show you.”

“You own a property?” She asked. 

He smirked. “It was the first thing I bought with my inheritance when I turned 16 and a madman was living in my home.”

“And you’d want me to live there with you?”

“Of course,” he nodded. “There isn’t much there now, but I’m sure the two of us could make it a proper home.”

As he said the words out loud he realised there was nothing he wanted more than to build a home and a life with Hermione. Though he could feel her physically in his arms he couldn’t help but think she would vanish at any moment. He wanted to keep her and wanted her to want to keep him just the same. He loved her. 

“What’s the flat like?” She asked. 

“Three bedrooms, a lot of natural light because there’s quite a few windows,” he told her. “One of the bedrooms has been converted to a laboratory for brewing,” he watched her light up at the sound of that, “There’s plenty of books, and quite a large kitchen even though I’ll admit I’m useless in there. There’s also a lovely balcony,” he told her, imagining her pink nose in the cool mornings as they drank their tea together. 

“I promise I’ll teach you to cook,” she smiled at him. He bent down to give her a kiss. “What about the colours? All black and green?”

He chuckled, “No,” he shook his head. “Mostly white. Trust me when I say it’s bare at the moment. It definitely needs a witch’s touch.”

“I’d be happy to be that witch’s touch,” she giggled as she ran a hand up his bare chest. 

“Would you now?” He smiled back before ravaging her with his mouth. 

He quickly moved so she was pinned under him. He was grateful there was nothing to remove between them as her gentle hand guided him to her entrance. He entered her quickly, relishing in the gasp that left her mouth. 

The feel of her thighs as they tightened around his hips, and the scratch of her nails down his back as she pulled him closer, made him drive harder and deeper into her. There was no better feeling than this. Then being here with her. Fuck he loved her. 

“I love you,” he murmured into her ear. 

“Draco, fuck,” she panted, he could feel her walls begin to constrict around him, “I fucking love you too- Ah!”

As she came, he followed quickly after, all of his thoughts leaving his head as he poured himself into her. He collapsed and pulled her on top of him, feeling the heaving of her breath on his chest as they both regained control. 

He could only hope that living with her was going to be like this everyday. He knew realistically it couldn’t be, but it would be close enough. And to him that was perfect. She was perfect. 

———

April moved quickly into May. It wasn’t as much of a battle as it had previously been to get their assignments completed. They were actually staying on top of their work, and were ahead in every class they could be ahead in. Things were going well and Draco was happy, and honestly a bit relieved, to not have to stress over school work. It made all of his free time with Hermione much more enjoyable. The two of them fell into a routine of classes, studying, and shagging, that felt easy and right for both of them.

On the Anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione had been whisked away for press conferences and photo shoots with Potter while Draco stayed in his dorm room. During that time he couldn’t help but itch to smoke weed and ease the tension in his body and brain. But he didn’t. He forced himself to remain sober, even abstaining from alcohol, making sure he fully felt all of his emotions regarding that day last year. He knew he had come far, and Hermione reminded him of such, but it was still brutal. 

In Mid-May they both received letters in response to the various applications they had sent out. While Hermione had positive replies from every inquiry she submitted, including from Brellacy Glisworth, Draco had two maybes and a fat pile of ‘No Thank You’s. By the end of that week he was also yearning for weed, or something stronger, but he resisted, and Hermione seemed more than willing to be his outlet of emotions that he couldn’t voice. 

He was happy that one of the maybe replies was from the program at St. Mungos. He would have to provide two letters of recommendations, as well as attend an on-site interview that the letter had scheduled for four hours that upcoming Thursday evening. He had secured one letter already, from McGonagall, and while Hermione had been adamant that she should write the second, he decided to ask someone else. 

When Thursday rolled around, he was anxious to say the least. Hermione did not come with him to floo from McGonagall’s office, but promised she would be there when he got back. He had donned his most professional dress robes, and had his letters in an envelope in a monogrammed briefcase his mother had given him. He had also spent quite a bit of time studying his various potions texts, in case there would be a test portion. He tried to be prepared for anything. 

When it came time, the Headmistress wished him luck and he headed through the floo. The floo at St. Mungos was in the main lobby, and he politely asked for directions from the mediwitch at the desk. She gave him a sharp look but pointed him to the office he was to head to in the basement. As he waited for the magical elevator he calmed his thoughts thinking of Hermione, and imagining not only her here with him, but what she would do in this situation. The answer to that was that she would prove herself, like she had done for years, regardless of what people thought of her. He could do that. 

He arrived at the office of Head Healing Potioneer, Daius Flinely. Draco knocked twice, and then stepped back as he waited. When the door opened he was met by a stocky balding wizard, and extended his hand immediately. 

“Hello Mr. Flinely, I am Draco Malfoy,” he said politely. 

“Of course you are,” The wizard smiled and took his hand, “Come in.”

The office was modest, and most of it was filled with what looked like rare potions ingredients. All of the texts on the wall were clearly Potion texts, including many that Draco had only ever seen before in his family library. The wizard gestured for him to take a seat across a large mahogany desk, and took his own as Draco sat. 

Draco immediately produced the two letters of recommendation and handed them to the man. The wizard looked over them and raised his eyebrows. 

“The headmaster of Hogwarts and Harry Potter himself,” Flinely nodded, “I also received another today from a Ms. Hermione Granger,” Draco blanched, “Two thirds of the Golden Trio vouching for you is quite the feat. Needless to say, I am impressed.”

Draco wanted to be in disbelief that Hermione would have done that without telling him, especially after he told her he was going to ask someone else, but he was not surprised. This was very on brand for his witch. He had to admit he was currently thankful that it had gone so well, but he would still need to talk to her later about going behind his back. 

“It has clear you have spent this past year doing considerable work on yourself,” the wizard gave him a warm smile, “I personally believe in forgiveness, and the growth of children, however,” of course, Draco thought, “There are some people here who are hesitant about offering a position to someone of your background.”

“Of course,” Draco said, knowing that that was coming, “Honestly, I am still a work in progress-”

“Aren’t we all,” the wizard chuckled. 

“And I have no doubts that forgiveness and acceptance in society will take time,” he said. “I will not lie to you and say that is not one of the reasons I have left the family business of... politics behind, and am here with you. I love potions and after the destruction I watched, and at points contributed to, I want to dedicate my life to helping others.”

“That’s admirable, son.”

“I have always been top of my potions class, and have quite the familiarity brewing healing potions,” Draco told him. “I have also been working on developing potions of my own.”

“Tell me more about those,” Flinely gestured. 

So Draco did. He spent nearly an hour and a half in the man’s office chatting about potions and the experiments he had been both successful and unsuccessful in. Mr. Flinely seemed impressed and was not nearly as judgemental as Draco had prepared for. 

At the end of the evening the two shook hands, and Mr. Flinley walked him to the floo. 

“I do think there will be a place for you here in the Potions Ward,” Mr. Flinley told him. 

“Thank you so much, sir,” Draco replied. 

“Keep an eye out for my owl in a few days.”

Draco extended his hand and the two men shook before Draco was off back to Hogwarts. He felt like he was on cloud nine as he landed back in the castle, letting the Headmistress know of his promising meeting. 

He had to stop himself from running back to his room where his favourite witch would be waiting. She was reading when he entered his room and put her book down as soon as she saw him. 

“How did it go?” she asked. 

“He was very impressed that I had two letters from Golden Trio members,” Draco raised an eyebrow at her and she flushed a deep red. 

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I just really wanted to help and I know how much you have done and grown this year, and how badly you wanted this position.”

“Mr. Flinley did make it sound promising,” Draco said. 

“Yay!” Hermione threw her arms around him as he plopped on the bed next to her. “I knew it would go great. I am so proud of you,” she kissed him deeply. 

For once, Draco was also proud of himself. 

———

Weeks later two great things happened to Draco. 

The first being how he woke up the morning of his birthday. The light was streaming through the window warming his chest, and he was having the most delicious dream. He was dreaming of Hermione’s sweet perfect cunt, his favourite thing to dream about. As he roused, he imagines he could feel the warmth of her around his cock. 

When he opened his eyes, his witch wasn’t next to him, but between his legs. 

“Fuck, Hermione,” he said groggily, watching as her mouth worked him expertly. 

She smiled and glanced up at him, taking him in her hand for a moment, “Happy Birthday, Draco,” she placed a kiss on the tip before taking the whole shaft into her mouth again. 

“Happy indeed,” he groaned as he watched her. He put a hand in her hair so it wouldn’t block her face. He never wanted to miss a moment of this. She was a goddess. 

The way she was currently using her tongue made his eyes want to rollback in his skull. Her hand started to feather his bollocks and he could feel his eye twitching as he tried to hold on. When one of her hands slipped a little lower, and her finger slipped inside of him, he opened his mouth to stop her, but then she pressed somewhere inside of him that made him nearly shout with pleasure. 

“Where do you want to finish?” She asked. 

“Everywhere,” he grunted. She smirked and deep throated him again, doing that magic thing with her finger, and then knowing when he was close, she removed him from her mouth. He grabbed himself in his hand and watched as she opened her perfect mouth with her tongue out, as he sprayed her tits, then up her neck, across her tongue, shorting out at the bridge of her nose. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighed watching her close her mouth and swallow some of his seed. He made sure to take a mental picture of Hermione like this, covered in his seed, before he threw his head back and she vanished what was left. 

She curled into his chest and he tiredly rubbed her back as he caught his breath. When he opened his eyes again she was smiling up at him. 

“Happy birthday,” she said again.

“Mhmm, this is probably my best birthday ever,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her perfect mouth. 

“We haven’t even left the bed yet,” she chuckled. 

“We don’t have to,” he waved his eyebrows at her. 

“I’ll remember that for next year,” she told him, “But this year, I do have some things planned.”

“I’m holding you to that next year,” he replied. 

She kissed him happily then asked, “Are you ready for breakfast?”

He sighed, “I guess.”

The two of them changed and went down to the Great Hall where the second amazing thing happened to him. Among the letter and gifts from his mother, was one from St. Mungos. Hermione was clearly just as eager as he was to know its contents. 

“What’s it say?” she asked, watching him skim it. 

“I got it,” he breathed. He could not believe this. Hermione threw his arms around him and for the second time in a long time, he was proud of himself. 

Chapter Text

Everything was sorted. 

Exams were over. 

She had a job. 

Draco had a job.

Graduation was this weekend. 

She tried not to think too hard about what this next year was going to look like. She wanted to enjoy her last week in Hogwarts, in the bubble she and Draco had created. It would not be long until she was officially an adult. Sure she was ‘of age’ but once she left the castle walls, she would be on her own. Sure she’d be moving in with Draco, and would likely be truly alone very little, she couldn’t help the pull at her chest knowing that she would be doing this all without her parents. 

At Graduation, she knew she was going to have to confirm her relationship with Draco to Harry and the Weasleys. Sure they likely knew, but it was still scary that the people who felt the most like her family could still reject her. She knew Ginny was fine with it, but that was partially because the witch had had the majority of the school year to come to terms with it. Not to mention having to formally meet Narcissa Malfoy.

Her internship with Brellacy Glisworth did not start until July, but Draco was set to start almost immediately after school. They would have less than a week together, setting up their new flat, before they would be on different schedules. From Hermione’s conversations with Ms. Glisworth, of which she had two, she learned that she would be travelling about one week per month securing ingredients, another week delivering said ingredients, and about two weeks working on experimental potions that Brellacy had been anything but forthcoming about. She was looking forward to her work but was definitely going to miss Draco on the days she was travelling. She was not sure when exactly she became so dependant on him, but knew it was probably sometime around when she stopped smoking weed in order to keep fucking him. 

At dinner that evening, they were given their results from their exams, and both she and Draco had top marks in everything. She felt a weight lifted off of her chest that not only was this year over, but she was able to end on a high note. 

When McGonagall had requested to see her after dinner, and Hermione already knew what it was about. The headmistress confirmed it when she informed Hermione she would be giving the valedictorian speech at the ceremony. 

Hermione had no clue what she was going to say. 

———

The day of graduation Hermione couldn’t help but be filled with a deep feeling of melancholy. 

Maybe it was the fact she was no longer a student at the only place that has felt like home since her actual home. Maybe it was no longer being in a bubble with Draco. Maybe it was the fact  she hadn’t prepared a single thing to say for her Graduation speech. Maybe her work on herself just wasn’t done. 

Draco was being supportive but also trying to politely give her space and distance to process the huge transition they were both about to make. Though they were leaving with each other, they were leaving into the unknown. The only thing they both knew was that this next chapter wouldn’t be easy. 

Draco left before her to head to the Great Hall. Though they had both packed everything, Hermione needed another minute before she officially left her sanctuary. When she was alone, she took a deep steadying breath, tried not to think about taking a toke to ease her nerves, and then closed the door on who she used to be. 

When she arrived there was no time to see anyone before the proceedings started. Then before she knew it she was standing on the stage looking out at her friends. 

“I know it’s going to shock quite a few people in this room, but I haven’t prepared a thing to say,” she said. There were murmurs but also a few laughs in the crowd. “I understand, logically, why I’ve been bestowed this honour,” she said. “However I do not feel worthy of it.”

There was an audible gasp in the room. 

“I’m going to be honest, I’ve slacked off this year,” she said. “Though my marks may not show it, I know I didn’t put in the effort I should have. Following the War, we were all affected in some way. Whether that be crippling grief, new anxiety at any loud noises, starting to have more than a glass or two with dinner… for me it was giving up. My whole life, when things became too heavy or overwhelming, I always had books. Though answers are found in the world, books and knowledge shaped my world. I left the war angry and jaded and there was no book that could fill the void created in me. There was nothing that I could read or learn that would make me less upset at my circumstances, especially when I was part of the side that was victorious. No one can prepare you for war, nor the aftermath.”

In the crowd she should see the raised eyebrows of her best friends, and a few rows up the soft eyes of her boyfriend. She kept going, his soft grey eyes reassuring her.

“This is all to say that when I thought I lost myself, I realised that I do not have to be defined by my marks. If you all want to call me a stupid moniker originated by those hacks at the Prophet-“ to this the headmistress cleared her throat, “You can. I don’t care. I don’t. I spent most of this year thinking I didn’t care about anything. But that’s not the truth. I care about my friends. My family. My boyfriend.” Another gasp, this time from her friends, but a knowing smirk from George.

“I care about me. And that took a long time. A lot of us feel defined by other people and how people view us. I’m here to tell you that that is a waste. You’re allowed your anger, your grief, your uncertainty, your magic, your happiness, your love. All of it is important to making you, you,” she took a breath. 

“This year I tried to find my purpose, and let me tell you that was not easy. I am not the same person I was this time last year but none of us are. And that’s okay. Rather than trying to be who I thought I was, I can only be me now. That’s my purpose. Me now is so gracious for every moment, well almost every moment I spent in here at Hogwarts. Me now is excited but honestly scared for my next chapter. And me know is so thankful for each of you. Everyone here. All of the professors, my friends, parents, people who want what is best for us. Thank you. As we all begin the next chapter of our lives, I hope you all give yourself the space and grace to care again. Thank you.”

The room erupted into applause and shouts and hollers. Hermione was very overwhelmed and tears began to stream down her face as she went to take a seat. This was it. She was officially done.
McGonagall announced that year’s Hogwarts class, all of them threw their hats into the air, and she felt complete. Draco pulled her in for a kiss and this chapter officially closed. 

———

Her friends took the news of her and Draco much better than she had expected. They could see the growth she had made and knew through her speech that was not done alone. It was probably also to her aid that Ron has begun to see Katie Bell who Hermione could tell loved him in all the ways she couldn’t. She was happy for him and he was happy for her. 

Ginny and Harry were engaged and moving into Grimmauld Place together, which made Hermione’s heart swell. She was so happy for them, but when Draco talked were her about them getting engaged, though her heart skipped a beat, she made him promise to wait at least a year. 

Their first night together at their new place they indulged in one last joint together before promising to officially give it up and become only social drinkers. They shagged in every room, on most surfaces, and when they finally came up for air and to finish their last joint, they then ordered muggle take away which Hermione made them walk to go pick up. After their filling meal they once again christened almost every room from potions lab to their shower. 

Only weeks into her job with Brellacy did she even begin to really think about what smoking weed everyday had done to her mindset. Though she definitely didn’t regret it, and did miss it from time to time, she knew she didn’t need it. She was clearer without it. 

She still held contempt for the Ministry, the Prophet , and just about every other Wizarding power, she felt more confident that over time she could create change. Though she loved travelling and potioneering, she could tell she wanted to do more advocacy work. She wanted to make things better for witches, wizards, and creatures, permanently. But she was still a work in progress, probably always would be, and for now, she was happy. 

———

Ten years later, Hermione and Draco were both 29, and found their real purpose. They welcomed into the world Orion Granger-Malfoy who was all smiles and blonde curls. 

She was right that she had missed smoking, and to be honest, the night her and Draco conceived was one of the rare times they decided to partake after George had given them a joint as part of his wedding gift. They had put it away until their third anniversary where they decided to try it for old times sake and after a chat and a snack, his hands were on her waist, the tingles in her body became overpowering, and they were back to when they were teenagers. 

They had made the decision for Hermione to stop muggle birth control they year prior when she’d been on it for over ten years and her doctor had suggested taking a break to try another method. She felt she was organised enough for Natural Family Planning, but that went out the window that night. 

It was funny to her that they were different from who they were but still very much the same. Especially that night. 

Their lives were in different places though. Draco was in a leadership position at St. Mungos, focusing on researching experimental potions, leading a team of about 15 witches and Wizards. Hermione had eventually transitioned into a leadership position at the DMLE after working with Harry on a case that involved trafficking of rare potions ingredients. 

They whispers about her becoming the first Muggleborn Minister had started, but she had to ignore them for the time being. Maybe that would be her focus in the next ten years, but for now, she was doing the most important thing she could with a man who loved her more than anything. 

As she held her sleeping baby in her arm she couldn’t help but smile at the miracle before her. From Burnout to First Time Mum. She was forever changed, and thankful for it too.