Hermione had never felt more lost at work.
When she Flooed into the Ministry the Monday after returning from Romania, it was like stepping back in time. To a different version of her life. To a different version of her.
The emerald tiles shimmered just as brightly, the updated Statue of Magical Brotherned flowed just as brilliantly, the lift to her windowless office rocked just as bumpily. Harry escorted Hermione through her department where the same people behind the same desks completed the same monotonous paperwork.
"I'll be right outside," Harry said after he unwarded her office.
The door-to-door protection was overkill, but Hermione didn't have the energy to argue. It's standard Ministry protocol, Harry and Ron had both insisted. But since when did standard protocol have to remain the norm? What happened to fighting against what the Ministry said when it didn't make sense? Hermione was perfectly capable of defending herself. What could Harry and Ron do that Hermione couldn't?
Nothing. Nothing was the answer. But Hermione also knew that Harry and Ron were so alarmed by what had almost happened to her that they made it their mission to follow every guideline that the Romanian and British Ministries had established to prevent the Seven Brothers from enacting revenge. They guarded her door while she worked, cast protective charms on her flat, and read the updated Auror reports from the sanctuary.
Neither Harry nor Ron had yet to mention Draco.
After Robards had personally escorted her from the British Auror office back to her flat, Hermione had awoken to a disgruntled delivery owl who had not appreciated her unexpected absence the past several days. She paid the owl nicely then unfolded the Daily Prophet , only to discover her face on the front page. The headline had made her skin crawl.
Villainry in Verdell: War Hero Hermione Granger Thwarts Attacks Against Romanian Dragon Sanctuary
It shouldn't have surprised her. The Prophet's sources inside the Ministry always seemed to work quicker whenever she, Ron, or Harry was involved. Of course they'd plaster her name in big letters every opportunity they got. Nevermind the fact that such a headline despicably minimised the role everyone else had played. Charlie, Julia, Markus, and Aurel weren't mentioned as participants in the battle. Yet the article hadn't waited to mention Draco. His name was prominently featured—though with none of the reverence the Prophet had given Hermione.
Seeing his name so inextricably linked back to his Death Eater past made her heart feel like it had been stomped on by a Ukrainian Ironbelly. But what struck Hermione most was the image they chose.
There, in black and white, was Hermione on her knees, scrambling to stop Draco's bleeding. Even in the grainy photograph, she could see the desperation in her eyes. The urgent need to keep Draco safe, to keep him alive, now on display for the entire British Wizarding population to see.
Her eyes scanned the rest of the page with its accompanying sub-headlines. The Daily Prophet was having a field day.
Dragon Sanctuaries: Institutionally Important or Dysfunctionally Dangerous?
Strong as Ever: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley Vow to Protect Other Third of Golden Trio
And, of course:
Draco Malfoy: The Complete Post-War Timeline of the Infamous Death Eater
The timeline, predictably, was nowhere close to complete. It recounted his acquittal (despite public dismay) due to minor status when assigned the Dark Mark, his return to Hogwarts while his father awaited trial, and his sudden departure from British society without an apparent trace. All the things Hermione had known about Draco prior to arriving at the sanctuary. But the Prophet dug deeper, uncovering old public records and turning bombshells out of trivialities. They called into question the legitimacy of the Wizengamot for permitting Draco to complete his N.E.W.T.s early. They speculated what other former Death Eaters Draco may have contacted and what heinous intentions he had for working with dragons. They accused him of still being a potential threat, claiming ulterior motives for saving Hermione Granger's life. Because how could the public believe that maybe, just maybe, Draco Malfoy was no longer the enemy they once perceived him to be? Why ask the people involved for their accounts when the Daily Prophet could continue to spin together loosely woven tales that unravelled with any semblance of honest research?
Nowhere in the timeline did it mention how Draco had run to avoid a loveless marriage despite it fitting his pureblood expectations. Not a single word about the Dark Mark he had covered less than a year after the war had ended. No description of how he cared for the dragons. How he had spent the past four years devoid of his wealth to escape the pain of his past. How he shed his old persona like an outgrown skin and accepted complacency as the closest thing he'd ever find to true happiness. No friendship with Charlie Weasley or Muggleborns Markus and Aurel. No helping Walker so that he, too, could be a dragon keeper without magical powers of his own. No actual depiction of who Draco Malfoy was today. Those truths were immaterial in the prospect of profit.
Each word made her ache, made her want to barge into the Daily Prophet and set the record straight , made her understand why it had been easier for Draco to escape everything he'd ever known when this was the welcome party the world had awaiting him. The coverage went on for days. Each minuscule aspect of the night's events was stretched and expanded until every last Knut was wrung out of the story. Co-workers glanced her way; Ron and Harry exchanged furtive looks.
Hermione didn't mention Draco either.
Harry and Ron were waiting for her to bring it up. Hermione understood that. They were letting Hermione be the one to share what had happened between her and Draco—the moments not disclosed in the Auror reports. To explain what in Merlin's name would cause him to take that curse for her. But it was none of their business. At least, not yet. Not while she and Draco had matters they still needed to discuss themselves.
The only person to bring him up was Daphne, and even then, it hadn't been by name. Hermione had been in her office a grand total of eighty-seven minutes on Monday morning when Daphne barged past Harry and flung open the door to Hermione's office.
She held Friday's edition of the Daily Prophet in her lifted grip. "Dare I ask what this is?"
At the insistent look on Daphne's face, Hermione felt her first smile in days. Leave it to Daphne and her garrulous interests to be the first one to crack. But unlike Ron and Harry—and despite the dubious history between Draco and the Greengrass family—Daphne was, perhaps, the person who could possibly understand the situation best. After all, at one point, even if only briefly, she and Draco had been friends, too.
So Hermione told her everything. Their abrupt first encounter and his subsequent avoidance of the bonfire. The initial peace offering by means of a single four prong fork. His appeal to her for help. The insistence that she stay. The tattoo that covered his Dark Mark; the conflict he felt for abandoning his family, London, and Astoria without a single goodbye; the strides he made to prove he was a better man.
By the end of it, Daphne was staring at her in pure amazement.
"Draco's been in Romania this entire time?"
Hermione nodded.
"Doing physical labour?"
Another nod.
"And you fancy him?"
Hermione frazzled. "I— What?"
Okay, so maybe Hermione hadn't told Daphne everything. But from the undeniable blush that scorched her cheeks, Hermione knew Daphne had tricked the whole truth out of her. There was no denying it. Even if the picture hadn't spoken countless volumes, Hermione knew how she felt about Draco.
While it had taken eighty-seven minutes for Daphne to barge into her office, it had only taken thirteen for Hermione to submit her two-week notice.
It was the easiest decision she had ever made. Now, however, came the difficult part.
In the eleven days since submitting her notice, Hermione utilised every spare moment she had to read through the fresh stack of books on her desk. There was so much to learn. So much to study. So much to navigate if she had any hope of being successful.
Yet burying herself in work did little to alleviate what continued to plague her underneath. Neither she nor Ron had heard from Charlie. And Hermione had yet to hear anything from Draco. Her letters came back undelivered and her charmed coin messages faded from the surface before they transmitted. Whatever protections the Aurors had on the sanctuary clearly prohibited all forms of communication both in and out.
The next time Hermione laid eyes on Auror Stoica, she was going to hex him.
Still, she did not give up. Each day, Hermione submitted multiple requests for an international Portkey. Daphne leveraged any Romanian connection she had. Every request was denied.
"For your continued safety..."
Hermione cast an Incendio on the latest interdepartmental memo. Same words, same rejection, same immediate filing of another request.
The only thing that gave Hermione any semblance of peace was the knowledge that in twenty-four hours, she would no longer be a Ministry employee. This time tomorrow, she would be on a plane from Heathrow to Bucharest. The Romanian Ministry could keep denying her international Portkey request, but they had no way of tracking her Muggle travel. Soon, she'd be back at the Dennfyre, ready to run straight into the sanctuary the second the Aurors lifted the extra security wards. She'd deal with the ramifications of sneaking away from Harry and Ron later. And if the Romanian Ministry ended up punishing her with more restrictions, so be it. She was done waiting.
It was half past five when Hermione began wrapping up for the day. Her desk was a scattered mess of parchments for her to deal with before leaving the Ministry for good. Projects that needed to be completed, open cases that needed to be passed off to other employees, final meeting notes to be filed and archived. She was never one to leave matters to the last minute, but Hermione allowed herself some grace provided how distracted she had been with other, more important matters.
While her chapter at the Ministry was coming to a close, her next chapter was just about to begin.
Hermione stashed Dragon Species of Europe, Advocacy for Advancement in the Modern Age, and Records and Reports of Romanian History into her work bag frustratingly not reinforced with an Undetectable Extension Charm. Her job at the Ministry may be close to finished for the day, but there was still plenty of work to do tonight.
Two knocks sounded against her door and Hermione heard Harry crack it open. She didn't look up from her chaotic desk.
"Almost ready, Harry. Give me fifteen more minutes, and then you can escort me home."
"There's, uh, something you're going to want to see."
Hermione picked up a quill to scribble down a note. "Can't it wait? I'm in the middle of a thought."
"Yes, but—"
"It's all right, Potter. I survived the last two weeks. I think I can deprive myself just a little longer."
Tiny jolts ripped down Hermione's spine like she'd been caught in a Thunderbird's storm. It sparked all her senses to a crisp, numbing her completely. But with one look up to reveal a sight for very sore eyes, her senses came flooding back, drowned in a waterfall of relief.
Draco perched against the doorframe, smirk wide and confidence booming. So much of him was the same as the mental picture she'd clung onto the past two weeks. His bun was still poised on the back of his head, partnered with his usual black long sleeved shirt and olive trousers. The only difference was the walking stick.
Hermione's heart instantly clenched. "But the Prophet said you had fully recovered!"
She ignored Harry's passing glances as Draco pushed himself upright and walked forward. Harry closed the door behind him, leaving her and Draco alone in the office.
Draco snorted. "I came all this way and that's the first thing you say to me? Not even a hello?"
"I—" A flash of embarrassment tainted her cheeks. "Hi."
He smiled. "Hi."
Her heart picked up speed when Draco stepped closer, only relying on the walking stick for minimal support. It was thin and slick black like his father's had been, except with a silver dragon on top instead of a fanged serpent.
"It's only here if I need it," Draco said once he reached the opposite side of her desk. "Mother's insistence after news of the attack got to her. She owled it directly to the Head Healer of the Verdell Hospital, along with an obscene donation to make sure I was treated by their best Healers. But I'm fine. Promise."
His final word lifted her insides like a Feather-Light Charm. He was fine. He promised. And Hermione believed his word more than anything.
"I was going to come back," she said, desperate for him not to be disappointed with her. He had kept his word when she had seemingly failed. "I have a Muggle plane ticket for tomorrow night."
She rummaged in her desk drawer to find the ticket, but Draco stopped her mid-search.
"I don't need anything more than your word to believe you, Hermione."
And she didn't need anything more to believe he sincerely meant it. It wasn't often that Draco used her given name, but she knew that whenever he did, it was with purpose. For special occasions, he had once said. Or, in this case, to assure her that two weeks apart hadn't changed anything between them.
Nerves lessened, Hermione's stare didn't stray. "But how?" she asked, still stunned by the fact that Draco was here. In her office. In London. "The Ministry kept denying my Portkey requests. And I highly doubt you know how to navigate Muggle transportation on your own."
"I had other obligations in the area," he vaguely answered.
"Another Gringotts trip?"
"Wales."
"That's hardly in the area!" Hermione said. "What were you doing in Wales? Did you need to meet with Llewellyn? Does this mean that the Aurors have completed their investigation and the sanctuary is open again?"
He chuckled, still not giving a direct response. Instead, he reached for his dragon hide pouch and pulled something out.
"I thought you'd like this back."
Hermione forgot all about the unanswered questions when he revealed her trusted beaded bag. Some of the beads were missing from its exterior, but the fabric had no rips. The strap, however, was split and tattered.
"An Auror found it when sweeping the sanctuary for evidence," Draco explained while Hermione rifled through its contents. "You must have dropped it while we were patrolling the grounds with Ivayr."
By that point in the night, Hermione had been so focused on finishing the case, it wasn't surprising that she must not have noticed when the strap broke. Thankfully, a simple Reparo would do the trick. She was purely grateful to have the bag back in her possession along with its contents. From her quick perusal, everything seemed to be intact, only with one new addition.
She pulled it out, and Draco's grin found a way to stretch even wider.
"Ah, I see you found my gift."
In Hermione's hand rested a teacup-sized, pearl white dragon, complete with scars and all. The miniature Ivayr padded across her palm before releasing a small puff of fire. She delighted at the magical representation. While not a day had gone by without her thinking about how much she missed the sanctuary, holding a charmed model of Ivayr made her feel that much more homesick for the mountains Hermione never truly got to call home.
She stroked a finger down the model Ivayr's neck and the little dragon let out the world's softest roar. "She's perfect."
"I planned on giving her to you before you returned to London," Draco said after the miniature Ivayr flew from Hermione's palm onto the desk to explore the new terrain. "So imagine my shock when I woke up to find out someone abandoned me mid-recovery before I had the chance."
A pit immediately formed in Hermione's stomach. "I tried to convince Auror Stoica to let me stay, but he was insistent that I had to leave for my safety!"
Draco raised a brow in challenge. "And you didn't curse him right on the spot?"
"At the time, I thought it was in my best interest not to upset the Romanian Auror department. In retrospect, though, that sounds like a very excellent option," Hermione said with a barely contained huff. "It was difficult enough to persuade him to temporarily let me back on the grounds to leave you the note and green ribbon."
"You mean this?" From his pocket, Draco teased the edge of the green ribbon but quickly slipped it back into place. "I saw it shortly after I woke up, not long before I realised you were no longer at the sanctuary or in Verdell. Which, I assume I don't have to tell you, was about the last thing I wanted that morning."
He maintained a casual expression, but Draco couldn't hide the traces of hurt that poked through. She never wanted to be the reason for his hurt. Not then, and not now either.
Hermione glanced downward. "And I assume you know how much I deeply regret not being there." Her voice broke on the edges. "I truly hated leaving you like that."
"I know you did," Draco said, taking her hands into his. She looked back up to see his grin had returned. "Although, I will be filing an official complaint to Auror Stoica for unnecessary mental duress on a key witness. Not only did I have to suffer with your departure, but my week also would have been far easier if I hadn't been forced to single-handedly explain to Julia why I had a copy of her budgeting notebook stashed under my mattress."
She flushed. "Oh, Merlin. I completely forgot we took that."
"Yes, well, it turns out people don't love it when their boyfriend tells them that you suspected them of multiple crimes," Draco said with a dismissive wave. "And now, for the next six months, Julia has claimed rights to my fork whenever I have a four pronged one and she doesn't."
"Then I guess I'm going to have to teach you a proper Geminio charm to show you just how sorry I am," Hermione said.
All her lingering concerns vanished when Draco's grin beamed brighter. "It would be an honour to learn from the Brightest Swot of our Age."
Hermione made to swat his shoulder, but Draco caught her wrist and pulled her body into his. The space between them slivered to nothing, and Hermione lost all further thoughts when his lips sealed with hers.
The room melted away as the serene sensation flooded Hermione's veins. His kiss revitalised her. She hadn't realised until that moment how much the past two weeks she had been sucked back into her own version of complacency. Each day, Hermione woke up, Floo'd to the Ministry, signed paperwork, researched articles, completed tasks, but something was missing. Something had always been missing. She had gone to Romania to escape this monotony, and now, with Draco back in her arms, she remembered all over again how alive she felt not just by being in those mountains, but by being with him.
Her hands framed his face, and they both sunk deeper into the kiss. His lips were warm like he'd been fueled by a dragon's breath: hot and insistent, with no intention to break any time soon. Draco gripped her waist and pulled Hermione flush against him. The warmth spread through her, a pleasant heat Hermione never wanted to diminish.
His hold around her waist tightened and Hermione let out a soft squeak of surprise when Draco lifted her onto the desk. His lips were instantly back on hers, a second without his kiss already too long. Never before would she have considered something like this at work, but in the current moment, her mind couldn't care less.
Draco was here. Here. He was safe, he was here, and he was all hers.
A burning desire blazed behind her ribcage. Never again did she want to go so long without this wizard. And if all went to plan, she never would.
Draco leaned in for another deep kiss but cut short when something seemed to distract him.
"Well, well, what do I see here?"
Not entirely willingly, Hermione followed Draco's stare. She pressed her lips together with a small, embarrassed smile when she landed on the vase of preserved pink and white lilies.
"They were too pretty to let go to waste, okay?"
Draco laughed. "Mhmm, sure." He kissed her again. "Or you could just admit that you missed me."
Hermione's chest constricted but the words were easy on her tongue. "I missed you."
"I missed you, too."
The tiny Ivayr trotted around the desk, leaving small, inconsequential crumples across the parchments. Draco piqued with interest at one of the stacks.
"This is quite the collection."
He picked up the newspaper clippings Hermione had accumulated over the past two weeks: some from the Daily Prophet, others from the Raport Românesc, but all pertaining to the dragon attacks. Draco flipped through them—his face souring when he scanned over the supposed "complete timeline" of his life—then frowned when he reached Doru's picture in the Romanian newspaper.
"I still can't believe it was him."
Hermione took a deep breath then pushed herself off the desk. "It makes sense in retrospect, but it doesn't make me feel any better knowing it was him."
Draco dropped the newspaper clipping. "No, it doesn't." He sighed, still looking at the picture of Doru staring back. "But in other ways, I, unfortunately, understand the situation he found himself trapped in. He got involved with the wrong crowd. Was compelled to do things he didn't think himself capable of. Wanted out."
"Most things in life aren't strictly black and white," Hermione said, coming up behind him to wrap her arms around his torso. Draco turned inside her hold so she was staring up at him. "Just because someone did something bad, does that make them a bad person?"
"I'd like to believe not."
"I definitely believe not."
Hermione's eyes skirted to the newspaper clipping cast with a Translation Charm. In the article, it detailed how Doru was collaborating with Aurors to locate the remaining Seven Brothers. So far, two more had been arrested and the severed Romanian Longhorn horn had successfully been magicked back onto the harmed dragon. It didn't fix all the crimes Doru had committed, but it was something.
Hermione rested her cheek against Draco's chest, savouring his earthy scent even this far from the sanctuary. Her appreciation was short-lived when Draco let out a long, over-dramatic exhale.
"To think, even after all of Doru's scheming, Charlie still didn't become senior dragon keeper."
Hermione pushed herself off of him, surprised. "He didn't?"
Draco shrugged. "After everything that happened, Llewellyn decided to terminate his transfer, making him senior dragon keeper and Charlie taking on the role of assistant."
"That's still remarkable!" Hermione said, confused when Draco, for some reason, looked as if there was more he wasn't telling her. "How is Charlie taking the change?"
"He was overwhelmed at first, especially while sorting out business with the Aurors, but he's elated now that we're back to dragon keeping as usual," Draco answered with a casual breeze. "I don't think he was ready for that big of a change, regardless of how much he loves the dragons."
Hermione tilted her head. "And Llewellyn?" she asked. "Is that why you were at the Wales Sanctuary? Won't they still need someone to help with their growing dragon pop—"
Her sharp gasp cut her short when it finally clicked. Her heart stammered as Draco beamed.
"Ahh, there it is."
Hermione stared at him, a tsunami of emotions swirling inside her. "You're transferring to the Wales Sanctuary?"
"Got there eventually, did you?" His smile was unrelenting. "The Romanian Sanctuary will still be my home base, but the Wales Sanctuary has recently found themselves in need of a Norwegian Ridgeback expert after they recently acquired a new baby dragon."
Something illuminated even brighter behind her chest. "They found Norberta's missing egg?"
"Doru's account of the trade helped the Aurors locate her," Draco confirmed. "Some rich arse outside of Manchester had bought her with the intention to raise her as a pet then sell her valuable parts once the dragon grew too big to keep at home."
"That's vile!"
"One of the more despicable things I've heard in a long time," Draco agreed. "But she's safe at the Wales Sanctuary now, thankfully unharmed. Since the period of imprinting has passed, both sanctuaries agreed it's best for her to stay there. And when she's old enough, we hope to breed her to cultivate a new Norwegian Ridgeback population in Britain."
"What's her name?"
"Haven't decided yet." Draco seemed incapable of wiping his grin. "I thought we could name this one together."
Hermione matched Draco's smile, her brain already reeling with possibilities, when they cut short at the disturbance on the other side of the door.
"I don't think you want to go in there right now."
"Whatever Hermione's doing can wait."
"But—"
"Lower the wards, Potter, or I'll do it myself. Again."
No less than two seconds later, Daphne burst through the office door with rolls of parchment cradled against her chest. She lifted an eyebrow at the scene in front of her.
"Well, well, well. Look what the Kneazle dragged back to London."
"Daphne."
"Draco."
Draco took half a step back. "How are you?"
"Not in the mood for small talk, so I'll cut right to it," Daphne stated. She wielded a pointed finger at him that seemed more ominous than if she had pulled out her wand. "If you so much as think about abandoning Hermione like you did my sister, there won't be a corner of this planet you can run away to without me finding you, is that clear?"
Draco's fleeting glance made Hermione feel like she was the only witch in the room.
"I can assure you that I have no intentions of ever doing anything of the sort.
"Good." Daphne dropped the scrolls on Hermione's desk. "Then I'll let you know that I'm only choosing to help Hermione because a, she'll be brilliant at it, and b, she told me all about how you took that curse for her. So you damn better well be worth it."
When the door flung shut behind her, Draco immediately stepped back to Hermione, now with an air of curious confusion.
"Helping you with what?"
Hermione bit the inside of her lip, fighting the glowing smile begging to push its way up her cheeks. "I quit the Ministry. Tomorrow's my last day."
"You— Granger— Thank fucking Merlin," He grabbed both cheeks and kissed her hard. His eyes were wide and sparkling when he pulled away. "You deserve so much more than a job that makes you feel so worthless."
While she didn't know that a few weeks ago, Hermione certainly knew that now. With or without Draco, it was time for a change. But she'd be lying if he hadn't played a role in where she decided to enact her next steps.
Draco looked at the scrolls. "So what are these? What does the brilliant Hermione Granger have planned next?"
Hermione grabbed the scroll closest to her. "After I came back from Romania, I spent all weekend thinking about, well, us," she said, cheeks flashing momentarily hot, "but also my future. I knew I couldn't stay at the Ministry. I refused to go back to how I had felt before. But I also knew I didn't want to be a dragon keeper."
"Was that a possibility?" Draco said, interest keen. "You would have heard no objection from me."
Hermione snorted. "As much as I love those dragons, I don't think that's the long-term career for me."
"Ah, see, but that's where you're wrong," he seemed to only partially tease. "You already proved yourself highly capable with the Diagnostic Charms. Not to mention how hot you are in dragon keeper gear."
He pulled her in by the waist as Hermione giggled. "Oh yes, because that's what I'm looking for in a future job."
"It sounds reasonable to me," Draco continued to tease. "But if you must break my fantasy of spending every day in the sanctuary with you, then what are you planning to do?"
Excitement pricked Hermione's skin. "I'm establishing my own lobbying firm, independently advocating for the rights of magical creatures and the people who work with them." Her whole body perked, bursting to tell him everything she'd been mentally planning since they'd last seen one another. "Instead of working for the Ministry, I'll be meeting with magical creatures and their caretakers to learn more about their communities, their needs, and how to advocate for them inside and outside of legal settings.
"It's obviously still in the very beginning stages," she said, thinking about the books in her bag she was still in the process of annotating, "and it will certainly require a lot of work, but for as long as I've been in the magical world, this is what I've been passionate about. I'll start by trying to resurrect my Merpeople Outreach program through independent donors. Then after that... I want to lobby for the establishment of a Magical Creatures department at the Romanian Ministry."
Draco's look of reverence turned to one of hope. "Romania?"
She made a small, blushing shrug. "They can't be the home to Europe's largest dragon sanctuary without the proper government support."
Hermione didn't think she had ever seen Draco look so buoyant. He actually looked optimistic. "You'd be working in Romania then. And living here?"
"Only a couple days a week, and likely not for another few months," Hermione said, hoping she wouldn't deflate Draco's elation, though that didn't seem possible. "First I'll need to actually establish my firm, not to mention all the money I'll need to raise to support my programs, plus the logistics of finding temporary housing here. And then I'll have to get in contact with all these Romanian Ministry employees Daphne got for me and—"
His lips crashed onto hers. While flames still danced inside her with each kiss, touch, and caress, this kiss was something else entirely. No longer was this the first kiss after too long without; this was the first kiss of a realised promise.
They could actually make this work.
His fingers dug deep into her curls as their kiss deepened. Her lips parted and Draco used it as an invitation to slip his tongue into her mouth, stoking her internal fire higher. She never wanted to go so long without him again. Be it London, Wales, Romania, or anywhere else. With his weight pressed against her, it was like the last two weeks had never happened. No unexpected departure, no stolen goodbyes, no denied Portkeys, no hapless waiting, and certainly no distance. All that remained was the two of them. A witch and wizard who had found rekindled happiness where they least expected it.
His open mouth kisses trailed downward. Her neck, her clavicle, her barely exposed chest. The kisses left wildfire in their wake, a conflagration Hermione didn't want to extinguish. Her thoughts grew fuzzy. Forget the Ministry. Forget their plans for the future. All that mattered right now was this.
A moan escaped them both when their lips met once more, their bodies flush with one another. Draco thread his fingers through her hair and held on tight, as if he, too, wanted no possibility of them splitting. Kiss after bruising kiss, Hermione felt herself slip further into his touch as Draco rolled his hips forward. The minor friction stirred molten inside her, yearning, pleading for more.
"We should stop," Hermione breathed against his parted lips. "Harry— He's— He's right outside."
Draco's soft chuckle rumbled against her skin as he moved to the spot just below her jaw. "I have eyes, Granger."
He kissed and sucked the sensitive flesh, no trace of concern when Hermione sharply gasped. Her head knocked back at the mindless bliss.
"I haven't told him yet. About us," she managed to say through her rapidly deteriorating logical thoughts.
"Surely Potter's Auror training has improved his observation skills." Draco pulled away with a grin. "But if you're truly concerned, I know a way around him."
A silver coin slipped out from Draco's pocket and Hermione perked at the sight of the embossed dragon.
"I thought the Portkey magic of those coins only worked when they were activated in an emergency."
Draco's grin shifted into a smirk. "I may have made additional modifications on this new one."
Hermione didn't need a single second to consider. She linked her fingers with Draco's as he pressed his thumb onto the embossed dragon. Moments later, she was surrounded once more by the idyllic landscape of the Carpathian Mountains.
They zipped past the mess hall, the supply shed, and the circle of cabins, only to seal away the rest of the sanctuary the instant they reached his cabin. Draco pinned Hermione against the door—walking stick be damned—and slammed their lips together. Her hands scrambled for purchase. Fingers through his hair, palms against his chest, grip around his arms. She wanted all of him at once. Nothing was enough.
Draco trapped her bottom lip between his teeth, and she sank into their connection. He was a man unsated. His growing arousal pressed into her as Draco kissed her against the door, across his cabin, on the bed. The kisses were relentless. Unyielding. As if he was making it his personal mission to kiss her once for every second they had been apart.
Desire hummed in her bones as Hermione craved more. Craved everything he could possibly give her. Their clothes peeled away, shedding the final layers that separated them. His fingers seemed just as desperate as hers to memorise every inch of skin. If he was anything like her, which Hermione suspected that he was, the time apart had made them both realise that they needed to commit to memory each curve, dip, and scar on the other's body. A mental topography to the most desperate degree.
Her hands roamed his torso. The pale expanse bore familiar scars, the same shallow valleys that crossed his pecs and spanned his abs, but now with a new addition. Below his rib cage stretched a jagged purple line: the residual aftermath of Dark Magic.
A slight tremor overtook her hands as Hermione brushed her fingertips over the scar, but the feeling quickly dissipated. Both of them had more than their fair share of scars, the ones that still marred their bodies or the ones they chose to cover up. But their scars spoke of stories that had ultimately brought them here today—a today made all the sweeter with the promise of tomorrow.
She kissed him deep. "You're moving back to Britain."
"Part time." He dropped kisses along her breasts. "And you're moving to Romania."
Her touch travelled downward. "Part time."
His touch followed, finding the wet arousal between her thighs. "Then it's decided."
She gasped at his caress along her slit. "What is?"
"That we're dating. Full time."
His fingers sunk into her core and Hermione buried her whimper in the crook of Draco's neck. Exhilaration dripped through her like a potent potion, filling her with a euphoric haze. She kissed his shoulder, his chest, his dragon tattoo. Anywhere she could get her lips on him.
"Yes. Yes, Draco. Yes."
The cabin was filled with a flurry of frantic touches and breathy vows.
"I'll coordinate my days in Wales."
"I'll be flexible with my days in Romania."
"Weekends at the sanctuary."
"Portkey every Sunday."
"You're going to be a brilliant Magical Creatures advocate."
"The Wales Sanctuary is lucky to have you."
"I'm lucky to have you."
Draco eased his length inside her, reigniting the sparks she'd only gotten to experience with him once before. His mouth descended over hers as he thrust deeper. Hermione muffled a soft keen against his kiss, her cries growing incrementally louder with each movement. One hand clamped to her hair while the other busied itself between her thighs, moving in firm circles. Hermione's vision behind clamped eyelids began to speckle. Lucky didn't begin to cover how she felt about being with Draco. Not even an entire vial of Felix Felicis could feel this good. Hermione was sure of it.
Their hips rolled together in a concordant cadence. Draco groaned loudly as she clenched around him, the feeling of their conjoined bodies spurring equal rapture from them both. When Draco took a budded nipple into his mouth, her lungs ached for more. More of this. More of him. More of anything and everything Draco would give her. Not just today but all the days left to come.
The speckles bloomed into stars as Draco's thrusts intensified, their bodies slick with sweat and her repeated call of his name bouncing off the cabin walls. Her pleasure reached its precipice and orgasm rocked through her. Draco maintained his rhythm as the drugging waves crashed over Hermione, pulling further fervour from her body until he spent himself within her still pulsating heat.
Harsh breaths passed between them as they rested on Draco's bed. Hearts pounding, neither one said a word for a long time, enjoying the simple quiet of their close embrace. There was no need to rush anything. From now on, she and Draco could have as much time as they wanted. A week was infinitesimal compared to how long Hermione intended to stay with him.
After several blissful moments, Draco wrapped Hermione closer in his hold and slowly exhaled.
"So tell me, what will be my brilliant witch's first order of business once she successfully lobbies for a Romanian Care of Magical Creatures Department?"
Hermione felt as if a jar of bluebell flames flared inside her ribcage. His witch. They were really doing this. She was his and he was hers.
She peered up and him at smiled, thinking about the long list of action items she had outlined within her first forty-eight hours of leaving the sanctuary. But one item of the list stood out more than the others.
"Well, I think dragon keepers deserve a living wage, don't you?" It was something Hermione hadn't stopped thinking about since she'd first brought up the idea to Charlie in those twilight post-battle moments. "Doru shouldn't have been so financially strained that felt like he had no other options."
"No, he shouldn't have," he said before kissing a gentle kiss to Hermione's curls. "Although I must also admit that I wouldn't mind a few extra Galleons."
"Oh?" Hermione glanced up at him. "Anything in particular you'd do with them?"
Draco grinned. "Take you out on a proper first date sounds like a plan if you ask me."
With a flourish of wandless magic Hermione hadn't seen him use before, Draco summoned the green ribbon out of his trouser pockets. It moved easily through his long fingers as Draco raised Hermione's wrist and secured the green ribbon with a loose knot. Hermione smiled at the new adornment, but when she looked back up at Draco, his gaze dimmed with a dash of remorse.
"I may not have much to give you right now," Draco said, taking Hermione's hand in his. "But I promise to one day give you the world."
"Draco." Her voice came out hardly louder than a whisper. "I don't need anything more than what we already have," she assured him. "Besides," she added with a smile, "I think this might look better on you."
Hermione slipped the knot free and tied the green ribbon around Draco's bun. The resulting sight made her heart flutter. Merlin, she truly could not believe that this wizard was now properly hers.
Draco pushed himself out of bed and stepped in front of the mirror. Hermione grabbed the top blanket off his bed and followed after, surrounding them both with the blanket as they examined his reflection. The ribbon was crooked and several strands were out of place, but Hermione still thought he was the most attractive wizard she had ever seen.
"How about this," Draco said after sufficiently surveying how it looked. "I'll agree wear this for the rest of the night as long as you promise to teach me a proper Geminio tomorrow morning."
Her heart made another flutter. "Saturday. I still have my final day at the Ministry tomorrow."
"Fine. Saturday," Draco agreed. "But then you also stay here the rest of the weekend."
Hermione quirked a brow. "Are you sure I'm allowed to stay on sanctuary grounds again?"
Draco smirked. "Lucky for us, I happen to be best mates with the new assistant senior dragon keeper, so I'm fairly positive I can call in a favour or two." He pulled Hermione in for a kiss then glanced at the clock. "But regardless of how much I want to forget about all that and get lost shagging you the rest of the night, we should get going. Dinner starts soon and we better hurry if we want forks."
After a few quick Cleansing Charms, they re-entered the circle of cabins where the setting sun had almost disappeared behind the mountains. Hermione paused for a moment, allowing the symphony of colours to swirl around her in melodic peace. There was something about these mountains that Hermione would never be able to properly express. They held a magic that even she and Draco couldn't produce. An ephemeral beauty with an everlasting pull. And while London was where she still lived, Hermione knew one thing was certain: the Carpathians were her home.