Hermione knocked a sharp, confident three times on Draco's front door. She'd never visited him at home before; a home that was very much not Malfoy Manor.
She didn't have to wait long. Draco opened the door with a grim, resigned look.
"Hi," she said.
"I suppose you want to come in to talk?"
"You weren't at work."
Draco frowned and pulled the door wider. Hermione accepted the unspoken invitation and brushed past him.
His house in the countryside, while as secluded as his former manor, was more cottage than castle. Everything felt light and open; pastel and cream decor and large windows to let in plenty of sun.
Hermione strode boldly into his sitting room and perched on the sofa, hoping he would follow.
"Tea?" he sighed more than asked.
"Yes, please."
She allowed him privacy and silence while he prepared two cups, knowing he wouldn't even need to ask how she took hers.
He set a steaming cup in front of her and then sat on the furthest point of the sofa away from her. Hermione sipped her tea, allowing the warmth to calm her nerves.
"I came here to thank you."
"Thank me?" he scoffed. "You should be hexing me instead."
"I'm sorry. Draco, I'm so sorry, I—"
"Don't."
"You saved me from—"
"Stop."
"But you did, you saved me and I—"
"Fucking stop Granger!"
She clamped her lips shut.
"It was my fault, all right? I should never have left you alone with it, not when I could tell..."
He broke off and stared down at his hands.
Hermione didn't know how to breach this rift, not when he didn't even want to address what had happened between them. This man had made her come with his voice, fingers, and tongue. And now he wouldn't even look her in the eye.
"Harry said you figured it out," Hermione said, breaking the tense silence. "How the device worked and how you could enter it."
Draco still wouldn't look at her, anchoring his palms on his thighs.
"Yes, you'd absorbed the entire curse, so I was able to enter undetected. It didn't want me so long as I played along."
"It was more powerful than we realised," Hermione said. "It had been feeding off us the entire time we worked on it. Wading through our thoughts and... and desires until one of us made contact."
Her. The weaker one.
Discussing the device as they normally would at work seemed to mollify him.
"It's meant as a parlour trick. But this one had gone dodgy. I think it tried to leech off your magic so it could imbue your power. It thought it could make you feel safe and comfortable enough by surrounding you with familiar faces. By surrounding you with people you... the people you love."
"But it got it wrong."
Draco finally looked at her and she tried to hold his gaze, tried to make him understand why it had gotten it so wrong. Why he hadn't been initially included in her ideal comfort bubble.
"It underestimated you. Your mind is too strong. You're too strong. All those awful things that happened to you was your body trying to shock you out of it, trying to tell you it wasn't real, that this was a nightmare," said Draco.
Hermione knew all that already. It wasn't hard to plot out: while part of her mind was dulled into submission with the safe fantasy, part of her had fought back. Despite all that had gone on, she couldn't deny the slight feeling of pride that her own mind had sought to snap her back to reality.
But she needed Draco to understand an important detail.
"You weren't in there because I didn't feel safe around you."
"I see."
"No. You don't. I was never afraid of you, I was afraid of what I feel for you."
Draco opened his mouth, then closed it again with a headshake. Hermione chanced moving closer to him. They sat almost thigh-to-thigh, but she resisted touching him.
"I didn't... please tell me I didn't force you to... to do anything you didn't want to."
"No," Draco said swiftly. "No, my actions were mine. You weren't controlling me. There were some limitations on where I could go, time dependent things. Once your mind decided where I fit in the script, the box took care of the rest. Where to put me, how to dress me, that sort of thing. But everything I did... was of my own volition. For which I am so, so sorry."
Hermione let out a relieved exhale. But a new worry took hold.
"But you were just tempting me to um—it was all... what we did... you were just playing a part?"
He faced her now, looking pained.
"I... I tried everything not to, Granger. The first time I went in I ran straight up to you but you were too entrenched in the fantasy. I scared the daylights out of you and your magic pushed me right out. On my second attempt I knew I'd have to work with the hand I was dealt. A world where you... where you didn't know me as you do now."
He'd misunderstood the meaning behind her question.
"Clever of you to adopt a mysterious, aloof presence that only existed to annoy me," she said in a desperate attempt at levity.
"I just had to make you curious because I knew if I got you questioning things, if I got you interested in a theory you'd want to chase it down. Because I know you, Granger, and nothing gets you going quite like a mystery, like a puzzle to solve," his response faded into a mutter. "As despicable as my actions became to achieve that goal."
"Please don't call it despicable."
"I hope you know that... that if I thought... I tried to get you to see another way. I tried to have you look, really look, at the life around you and see how none of it made sense. The filler details that you would have normally questioned for their lack of specificity."
"Like my untitled job, or my nondescript office."
"Yes. But the device gave you just enough to appease you and I was so worried it had lulled you efficiently. That we'd lose you before..." He trailed off, unable to articulate any further morbid outcomes.
"You were brilliant," Hermione said quietly.
Draco grimaced and shook his head. "You trusted me and I... fuck, you barely batted your lashes and I caved."
"Don't, Draco." She placed a hand atop his. "Please don't make it out to be so... I... I enjoyed that part."
She expected him to look slightly relieved, possibly even grateful.
"So you want him, is that it?" He ripped his hand away.
"What do you mean 'him'? He's you! You said so yourself! Just an act, was it?"
"An act," he scoffed. "Is that how you want to be treated? This is the real world Granger, you have to do more than just want it. Use your words."
"You're angry with me."
"No, I'm disgusted with myself."
"You saved my life."
"And I'd do it again, but what does that make me? Is that how you see me? This dark, twisted, dangerous person? Am I interesting to you because of this?"
"No. You're human. That duality makes you human, Draco."
He let out a shuddering breath and leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes.
"Yes, and some of us are a little more fucked in the head than others. Or maybe can tap into those darker tendencies too easily."
Tell him tell him tell him. He'll understand.
Hermione brushed aside the power. That bit could wait.
"That... that version was... I won't let you make me feel guilty for being sexually attracted to you. But he wasn't—you weren't—the man I know. The stupid device stripped everything from my brain that I knew to be the real you. It made me forget everything about our friendship, our work, all our time together. You may have worn the same face, inhabited the same body, but you weren't... mine."
His eyes snapped open.
"Oh believe me Granger, I was fucking yours."
"You weren't the man I'm in love with."
Frustrated and embarrassed, Hermione rose quickly and headed for the door. She'd almost made it out when a hand pushed the top of the door shut over her head.
"Absolutely fucking not. You're going to leave after saying something like that to me?"
Hermione swallowed as she turned to face him. "It seemed like you needed space."
"Liar," he said with a sneer. "You were running away. I had to confess through a damn door thinking you were about to die."
"I hardly call that a confession. What's stopping you from telling me now?"
"What always stops me in the real world. Guilt."
"Draco. We've discussed this. What could you possibly feel guilty about?"
She thought he might stalk off angrily, resentful that she would confront him on this topic. Instead, he moved closer, crowding her against the door. If he didn't look so miserable, she would have pressed against him; fallen into him with passionate actions instead of inadequate words.
She attempted comfort anyway with a palm against his cheek. Touching him here, now, outside of a dream's confines, felt imbued with heavy meaning, free of false intent or motive. Draco seemed to struggle for a moment; raising his hands but then thinking better of it and dropping them. Simultaneously, his head chased her touch, almost nuzzling her palm.
"Every single time I want something I get saddled with a twisted, sick version of it," he whispered. "Have you ever noticed that? I have. You want power and prestige Draco? Throw your lot in with the Dark Lord, become a mindless servant to do the bidding of others. You want a respectable Ministry career Draco? Here, we'll graciously allow you to try and turn your name around by putting you in contact with Dark artefacts every day."
"But you're good at it. You're good at what we do."
He snorted derisively. "Of course I am Granger. That's what the Ministry wants. Keep me in my corner, on a leash, tempt me with fascinating objects I'm not allowed to use, but they need me to pick them apart. And then you."
Hermione dropped her touch. "Me?"
"Merlin help me. I wanted you. And oh," he let out a dark chuckle, "wasn't that the cruellest twist of all. A universe where you finally look at me as more than a colleague. And it wasn't real. It wasn't fucking real. You have no idea what kind of torture that was for me. To have you look at me, to have you want me, and to know it was all just a twisted fantasy. Gods, it was the worst temptation of my life."
With the door at her back, Hermione had nowhere to go but him. But she was not the party responsible for closing the distance. Draco stepped closer, bringing them almost chest to chest. Every inhale and exhale fraught with tense indecision.
"Well now we're even then," Hermione whispered, voice weak for wanting him.
"Even? What are you talking about?"
"You drive me absolutely mad every day at work."
His eyes widened and something other than misery and self-deprecation finally shone in them: hope.
"Part of me wondered if it—it was me. The thing you shouldn't want. The thing you were compelled to chase."
Hermione shook her head. Raising both her palms, she brought them just short of his shoulders.
"Please Draco. Let me show you now. It's all right."
He nodded and Hermione surged ahead. She gripped his shoulders then pulled herself to him, winding her arms around his neck and nestling against his chest.
They breathed in sync for a few quiet moments.
Though he'd partially given in, Hermione knew he needed more reassurance before he could fully reciprocate. Tipping her head back, but keeping her arms looped, she forced him to look at her.
"Aside from some Ministry paperwork regarding a romantic relationship between colleagues and my own insecurities... I hardly considered you forbidden."
She slid her hands down to his front, curling his shirt fabric between her fingers. "Please, please you can touch me now," she begged.
Draco warred with himself for another moment before surrendering. He finally put his hands on her. Not inhibited, not fleeting. He was sinking into her with no defences in place.
She knew these hands, just not like this. They traced slowly up her back, this time sans wings, and then wrapped tightly around her entire body. His hands wandered up to the back of her neck, anchored within her hair.
"This is how I want it to be. How I always wanted it to be with you," he quietly confessed.
"You don't have to hold yourself back anymore, please."
Hermione leaned her face up and met willing lips in a brief kiss.
"Never again, Draco. It's real now, okay? I promise it's real. I've wanted you for so—"
He didn't let her finish as he brought their mouths together again. There was still a shaky desperation to his touches, to his kisses. It wasn't quite the measured confidence she'd seen in that one mirror, but she knew with time and practice that they could achieve that vision. First, they needed to exorcise each other's guilt. Absolution through touch, forgiveness via kiss.
Hermione arched into him, gratified when he welcomed their bodies moulding to one another. Draco groaned when she ground against him and moved his lips down her jaw.
"I'd do anything, you know that right?" He panted into her neck. "Anything—anything, for you I—"
"I know," Hermione said, tilting her head back so he could kiss more of her. "And I want everything."
Her encouragement spurred Draco to more impassioned heights. His hands roved her entire frame, Hermione revelling in each new part of her he explored. Hesitation obliterated and in its place, a fervent need to grope and caress everywhere, all at once.
When he tried to slip a hand down her trousers, Hermione grabbed his wrist. "If you plan on doing that, it's only fair I can have you in a bed this time."
Draco lifted her immediately, hooking her legs around his waist. "Imagined this so many times," he mumbled, walking them back down the hall. Hermione hoped he knew how to navigate his home with impaired vision, because she had no intention of stopping kissing him.
No more one-sided affection. They would always be more powerful together. In this aspect and every other.
He laid her gently on a soft bed, his face hovering over hers. Grey eyes raked up and down her body, followed by deft fingertips. He traced a path over lips, to her chest, and further down.
"I love you."
Hermione locked her legs tighter around him. "Show me."
"Following you into a life-threatening dark object wasn't enough?" he drawled as he unbuttoned her blouse.
"Not nearly," she said, rocking her hips into him.
"Fuck Granger," he hissed as he met her movements. "Let me at least undress you before you make me come."
"That close, are you?" she taunted.
"With you, always," he said and impatiently fished out his wand and vanished all her clothes. He tossed the wand aside and Hermione was finally treated to the sight of Draco undressing.
He had so many more scars than she anticipated. The silvery lines criss-crossed his entire torso, beginning at just above his beltline and stretching up to his jaw.
"I knew you'd be beautiful," she said. Now with Draco on his back, she made him groan and writhe as she took her time tracing each and every line with her tongue. Hermione had never meant anything more than when she'd told Draco earlier that she wanted everything.
She wanted it all and more from him, with him.
She wanted hungry kisses that prioritised tongue contact over finesse. She wanted him a begging mess when she stroked his cock. She wanted him gasping for air when she wrapped her lips around just the tip. She wanted his frantic sputter of: "Next time, Granger, fuck," as he pulled her off by her hair. She wanted long fingers that curled inside her while their owner kissed her through the first orgasm.
Wanting was wonderful. But taking was even better. She took another climax astride him. Then he flipped them over and took her to another state of bliss as he drove into her at a relentless pace. His pale flesh mottled pink with exertion and Hermione knew no fantasy version could compare with this moment.
More than just the need for release stirred within her. A throbbing euphoria drumming to crescendo and though Hermione resisted at first, allowing the power to saturate her veins heightened her pleasure.
She was her magic. Where did she begin and this feeling end? Was Draco experiencing this too?
"Gods," he breathed, gazing down at her in awe.
"Draco," she whimpered as he thrust her through release before succumbing to his own. He collapsed atop her, then rolled to the side, clutching her tightly.
"Promise me," he said into her skin. "Promise me you'll only call me that from now on."
"I promise."
"And no more ignoring protocol for the sake of your own curiosity."
"I promise."
"And—and you'll stay. You won't leave."
"I won't leave you. I love you."
His whole body spasmed and with a ragged inhale, he burrowed further into her curls.
"I'm sorry. I only ever wanted you this way. When were inside the damn device I had to—what I did—I tried—"
"Shh, please," Hermione pried his face back so he could see her. "It's done and I'm here with you, because of you. For as long as you want me."
He laid his head on her chest and Hermione stroked his hair until she felt his body slack as he fell asleep.
And as Draco slept on, Hermione raised her free hand.
A tiny burst and she gathered up all the discarded clothes. A little flick and they'd separated into piles—his and hers—and folded themselves.
She'd left her wand on the floor. No need for it now.
Likely no need for it ever again.
-------------------------------
Draco slept for close to three hours. Hermione hardly minded; she valued the trust this signified. With tangled, dormant limbs and relaxed breathing, she would have let him sleep on into the evening, but her full bladder and empty stomach both bid for her attention.
As Hermione freshened up in his bathroom, she teased out more of her ability. A Summoning Charm. Vanishing. Conjuring. Duplication. Reduction. Engorgement. Light. Flames.
Simple charms to be sure. But ones that absolutely required both a wand and a verbal or non-verbal incantation. Hermione had done none of those things. Her magic had simply obeyed her will, heeded her commands. As easy as flexing a well-toned muscle.
Much like that night at the fake gala, Hermione regarded her healthy, dewey reflection. The sheen to her skin, the glow to her eyes, the power oozing from her pores and shining like an aura.
It's time to tell him. Let him in, let him see.
Draco awaited her in bed still. She wondered if he noticed the difference in her. Hermione confidently took her place at his side and leaned into him. He tilted her chin up and kissed her. She took the initiative in deepening it and he pulled away with a chuckle.
"Dinner first. Don't think I didn't hear your stomach growling earlier."
Hermione huffed in brief disappointment but couldn't deny her hunger. Perched on a stool in his kitchen while he prepared a simple stir-fry, she thought about how best to bring up the topic of her core magic.
Astute partner that he always was, Draco beat her to it.
"What's on your mind?" This is a question he'd normally ask with his hands clasped behind his back, an appropriate collegial distance away from her. Now he was shirtless, chopping ingredients and throwing heated glances her way every few minutes. It could be that wearing naught but one of his shirts had him a bit distracted.
"I keep thinking about your theory about what the device was doing to me," Hermione said. "And I don't think it was draining me of my magic. It felt like it was... bolstering it."
She toyed with a shirt cuff then ploughed ahead. "Should I still feel it?"
"Feel what?"
"That power. Or rather, the control I had."
Draco put down the knife and faced her fully. "Show me," he said.
Without looking away, she summoned his knife into her hand. She put it onto the counter and with a movement of her palm, transfigured it into a scythe. The scythe became a harmless boomerang, which she had fly around the room. Then she vanished it and conjured his original knife back.
He took it from her carefully, alternately examining the blade and her face.
"What else can you do?" he asked.
This was why she loved him. Any of her friends might have been afraid, hesitant. But Draco and she shared a deeper appreciation for all magic. Neither judged the other for their curiosities or predilections.
But Draco's question brought forth every guilty, self-indulgent thought she'd had since leaving St. Mungo's. Testing her strength would of course be the obvious next step, but part of Hermione held herself back. Now with Draco's encouragement, perhaps she could take that final plunge and fully explore everything within her veins.
"I haven't attempted much beyond basic spells and charms," said Hermione. But oh how her imagination had dreamed of her doing more. Her darkest hopes and fantasies where she could mend the unmendable, work actual miracles. Tearful, joyful reunions with her restored parents....
Perhaps even a reunion for Draco and Narcissa...
"We could test you more back at work," suggested Draco.
"Hmm, maybe," said Hermione. She slid off the stool and looped her arms around Draco.
"Something else?"
"When I was inside the device... it was... I probably shouldn't have but I... I enjoyed it. Pushing the boundaries of magic with you. Did any part of you enjoy it too?"
He smiled guiltily. "Yes. A little too much perhaps. But I always had you, the real you, in the back of my head, reminding me to pull back. To not sink into the thrill."
Hermione brushed some hair off his forehead. "You try to hide it. Most days you succeed. But understand when I said I was in love with you, I meant every part of you."
He kissed her with gratitude then resumed cooking.
So close. Very close.
They ate together in companionable silence. When Draco finished eating, he put down his silverware and regarded her thoughtfully.
"What if one of us goes too far again?" he asked.
"Then the other one will be right there."
"To pull them back?"
Now his eyes displayed a grey gaze of foggy mist. The conflict between his own inner drive to discover new things together and his resistance to succumb to darker desires was evident.
Hermione took his hand and interlocked their fingers.
"It doesn't matter. We'll be together."
Draco stared at her for another beat then made a decision. "Come with me."
He led her outside to his back lawn.
"I'll try to duel you. We haven't seen if your magic can defend or attack. Or both. Wait here."
He walked thirty paces and faced her in a duelling stance. "Ready?"
Then Draco raised his wand and cried, "Impedimenta!"
She didn't even have to think the word "Protego." Hermione only knew that she did not want his spell to hit her, to hurt her, and so a shield materialised around her. Undeterred, Draco shouted "Stupefy!"
Nothing. She merely raised an arm to defend herself. He became merciless then, in both speed and curse type. He even tried casting non-verbal attacks and yet as Hermione felt the brush of magic nearing her body, she simply envisioned it disintegrating into harmless bits of air.
Brow furrowed and panting, Draco shouted for her to stop any efforts on her part.
"And you felt nothing?" he asked.
"Nothing," she confirmed.
With a grim look, Draco raised his wand again. "Then let's see if you're just as skilled in offence. Don't hold back."
He parried her first attempt at disarming him. When he blocked her second, third, and fourth attempts, Hermione realised her error. She'd been mouthing incantations as she raised her hand, too used to duelling with a wand and spoken word.
She closed her eyes. Hermione focused all her concentration inward, as she had when she'd solved her own paradox. She filtered out noise, smell, sentiment, any senses not associated with her magical reserve.
It began as a ripple. With some coaxing, the ripple spanned out, grew, multiplied until Hermione had a veritable tsunami brewing inside. This time, she didn't feel one bit of pain; the genesis didn't involve hurt or suffering in any way. Her untethered magic knew no limits, no restraints. It poured out of her in a blinding rush and headed straight for Draco.
He was knocked flat on his back as his wand soared into her open palm. Before he could move, the ground rose up, Hermione letting a chunk of earth lift and support him. Vines slithered up too, winding and tightening around his legs, up to his torso, then chest, and stopped just below his neck. Draco struggled in vain against his bindings as Hermione walked towards him.
"You're—you're magnificent," he panted, still squirming against the vines.
"I could ignite them. And you," Hermione said as she circled him. Her trap was impeccable. Her prey rendered immobile, wandless, helpless. "It would be quite easy."
Yes, easy. Let's end him now, we can always bring him back if you like.
No, thought Hermione. She wanted Draco at her side as she learned all she could accomplish, as she cut down any obstacle in her path.
Very well. So long as he remains a useful ally.
With a flick of her wrist, a push of power, the vines vanished and Draco dropped to his knees.
"Granger... Merlin, come here."
She obeyed and Draco stood and took her face between his hands.
"You feel all right? Not tired or in pain or—?"
"I feel wonderful," she said. "Draco, I feel—I feel everything."
He kissed her fiercely. "Now what?"
Hermione didn't hesitate. "Remember the book I tried using in the device? It's a real book, you know."
"Secrets of the Darkest Arts?"
"Yes. I wonder if the chapter text was real or if the device conjured that for me."
"We could find out."
"Hmm," she hummed and brought her head to his chest. "I also wonder if all the warnings were real too. About the costs to my soul in exchange for this power?"
"What sort of costs?"
Hermione shrugged. "I only skimmed and again, I'm not sure if it was a legitimate part of that text. But I do think I recall something about infiltration? Or sharing? It's all a blur, really."
Draco held her close and whispered sweet words of love in her ear. But his coveted promises weren't enough to drown out the other voice.
So much to learn, so much to know. Oh what fun we'll have.
FIN
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