Devil Doesn't Bargain

The Secret

By the time Hermione made her way up to Draco's room, Theo and Pansy were long gone; she assumed they'd filled in Draco on their previous discussion. The manor was quiet, the lights off. She didn't know how long she'd sat on the dais, shaking, but it must've been hours. Only now had she found the strength to travel back through the tunnels.

When she reached their hallway, she lightly knocked on his door before stepping inside. Draco was sitting up in bed, waiting for her. For a few seconds, she just leaned against the door looking at him. He was so lovely, how had she ever thought differently? All the harsh angles and rough edges were softened in the dim lighting, and then he smiled.

Gods, she was a goner.

"Come here, love." He opened his arms, and Hermione padded over to the bed and crawled into his embrace. She didn't need to explain her fear to him, or her bone-weariness. She didn't need to say anything at all because he just knew. He didn't ask her to speak, only placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before pulling her close. This was it. This was home.

There was something about this that she relished, this idea that despite all of the trauma this house had facilitated for her, she had bested it. Instead of crumbling, she had not only survived but lived. Yes, there was still a war being waged every second, there were still things to do and danger to avoid, people to protect. But here, now...well, she deserved a second to breathe.

So she breathed. Draco slid his fingers around her neck, threading his hand into her curls. With her eyes fluttering shut, she pressed her lips against his jaw.

Draco chuckled softly. "You smell horrendous."

She wriggled herself even closer. "Sod off, Malfoy."

"It's true," he laced his other arm around her back, "if you weren't so bloody beautiful, I'd shove you off of the bed. These are Persian silk sheets, you know."

Hermione waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. I'll move in a minute."

"Don't you dare," he threatened, tightening his grip.

She chuckled. "Draco?"

"Mmhmm?" He mumbled into her skin. He sounded so sleepy; Wiggy must have given him some sort of potion after finishing the healing. Something about his whiny tone was so endearing she could die. She doubted many people had the privilege of witnessing an exhausted, recovering, drugged Draco Malfoy. She counted herself among the lucky.

"You know," she whispered, running a finger over his lower lip, "I've been thinking about our deal."

His breath stuttered a bit as she placed another kiss along his jawline. "H-have you?"

"I have. And I still don't understand it completely."

"Oh?" His eyes fluttered shut. Voldemort's most fearsome soldier, reduced to this. Where his chest was pressed against her own, Hermione could feel his heart racing. Interesting. She raised herself to her elbows with a smirk. Malfoy frowned at the distance now gaping between them, but let her continue.

"Yes. I was thinking how utterly stupid you were."

"What?!" Malfoy pushed himself up a bit and Hermione barely withheld a laugh. She pressed her lips together to hide her smile and prodded him back into the pillows.

"Yes," Hermione carried on, "it was a rubbish deal. Well at least for you. You healed my arm as well as all of my other injuries in exchange for...me, one week every month. What the hell is that? Who makes a deal like that? Honestly, you Malfoy men are so dramatic."

"Hey!" He swatted at her arm. "You can't blame a guy for being bored out of his mind in the manor. I had no better company than my putrid aunt."

"Even so, it was an odd bargain to strike. What made you do it? I thought you hated me."