The Silver Envelope

Honeyed Flowers

When Draco's eyes opened, he saw little beyond a sliver of bright light pouring in from the dark curtains on his windows.
Blinking, he raised his head, trying to remember the previous night. He'd slept like the dead.
His whole body was gloriously warm and comfortable. He had almost decided to go back to sleep when he realized why he was so comfortable.
And where his hands were.
Hermione was curled up next to him, her round backside pushing into his hips. He couldn't see her face, but she must still be asleep; her body was completely relaxed.
He almost stopped breathing, for fear of waking her up. He knew that the moment he moved his hands, she would wake.
The problem was, he needed to move his hands.
He'd promised her she was safe. He'd sworn to her that she would decide when or if their friendship became something more, and that she would have to make the first move to do it.
But apparently, Draco's subconscious disagreed with him. For during the night, his hands had wrapped around her, grasping places that were definitely not friendly.
She was laying on one of his arms, which was curled around her hip, slightly dipping underneath the waistband of her pajamas. His other arm was thrown over her waist, crossing over the skin of her midriff. That hand rested underneath her soft shirt, fingers barely grazing the underside of her breast. She had settled deeply into his embrace at some point in the night.
Her breathing was slow and even. Perhaps he could extricate himself without her knowing.
Draco kept himself flawlessly still as he tried to think what to do.
Unfortunately, the glorious feel of her skin was interfering with his ability to think.
Especially because there was one part of his body which he could not keep perfectly still. And if she woke up now, she would feel it hardening, nudging itself between her thighs.
Hermione's breath hitched. Draco tensed while her body shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips. After a moment, her breathing returned to its slow, even pace.
She smelled like warm, honeyed flowers and restful sleep. He longed to run his hands along her body, memorize the shape of her before she could wake up and push him away.
No, no. He had to let her go.
Slowly, extremely slowly, he shifted one of his fingers away from her skin.
Her breath abruptly stopped. She stilled.
Draco panicked. Should he push himself away from her? Should he apologize? Should he stay still and let her decide how to handle it?
Eventually, he settled on feigning sleep. She couldn't blame him for making a move on her if he was unconscious, could she? Draco made his breathing even, trying to quietly mimic how she'd sounded just before she woke.
Hermione's body was becoming tense against his. Clearly, she was beginning to realize exactly how they had been sleeping. Any second now, she would rip herself away from his grasp. He
waited for her to make a move.
Her breathing was becoming deeper again. Had she gone back to sleep? No, she was still tense. He felt her shift slightly and...oh god. Her backside pressed harder into him. She arched her back a bit, pushing her arse into his erection. He nearly broke and let out a groan at the delicious pressure.
Slowly, with miniscule movements, Hermione rolled her hips against his. It took all Draco's strength not to push himself against her.
He wanted so badly to move his hand up, to feel the way her heaving breaths made her breasts move. And as if she read his mind, Hermione's hand slipped over his, and brought his hand over her nipple
Draco couldn't hold back a slight gasp at the feeling of the soft curve in his hand.

Surely, she knew he was awake now. At any second, she would wrench herself away from him.
She didn't. Instead, she was arching into his touch eagerly, panting softly.
That would have to be it, he decided. That was the signal he'd been waiting for.
Finally, he let go of his unyielding self-control. He grasped her tighter to his body, relishing the small whimper she let out. He rolled her hardening nipple between his fingers. Her breath came in short gasps. She leaned her head back against his chest, rolling her hips against him.
"Good morning, Granger," he said in her ear, his voice rough with sleep.
She shivered against him.
Still under her shirt, he slipped his hand upward, reaching to lightly place his palm at the base of her throat. The vibration of her moan rumbled through their contact.
His fingers wrapped around her neck, using light pressure to tilt her head away, leaving him enough room to place his lips just above her collarbone. He tasted her, teasing and sucking at her neck as she cried out and ground her hips against his
She was perfect. The lush scent of her, the sounds she made it was far beyond what he'd imagined. They were so close this time. Only two flimsy layers of fabric away from finally taking what they both wanted most.
A shrill ringing sound struck their connection like lightning, jolting them apart. Hermione wrenched away from him, sitting up and looking as though she'd been dumped into a cold bath.
Her eyes were wide and she shivered slightly as she pulled her shirt down firmly.
"That's probably Harry," she said, hurriedly getting out of bed and leaving to go answer the phone.
When she was gone, Draco sighed, flopping back onto his pillows.
"Maybe the Dark Lord had a point about Potter after all," he muttered bitterly to himself.
It was a long while before Draco was calm enough to get himself ready for the day. By the time he emerged from his room, showered and dressed, he discovered that Potter was in his sitting room, looking uncomfortable as he surveyed Draco's living space. Hermione had on her work-appropriate attire again, her hair pulled up into a tight bun. Draco missed her wild, loose hair. He badly wanted to drag her to bed and turn her back into the soft, flushed, untamed woman she'd been when they'd woken up.
Later. Just now, they had work to do.
"I have a meeting with the head of my department at eleven," Hermione was saying. "Do you think we'll be done by then?"
"I dunno. Hopefully," Potter responded. "We've contacted him about the situation. I'm sure the meeting can be pushed if necessary."
Hermione nodded. Draco sat himself next to her on his sofa, leaving Potter to choose one of the chairs across from them both.
"I have so much to do," Hermione moaned, making a list for herself in a little notebook. "I have to pack while I'm there, then I need to have some leaflets made up for Midgen about the missing elves. Oh, and I should interview Topper's family again, see if I can figure out why only his notes were stolen. And I suppose I need to catch up with Johanna's show," she muttered with a disgusted
expression.
"I think you can safely skip that one," Potter said. "Her episode last night was mostly about some warehouse fire in Southampton. According to her, it was started by a goblin gang." Harry paused while Hermione rolled her eyes at that. "She did mention your engagement, though. She insinuated that the timing was odd, and that maybe you were trying to distract everyone from what's 'really going on. But our counter-attack article ran this morning, so hopefully she'll shut up about you after this."
Hermione nodded, still writing in her notebook.
"Oh, and we have news about the poison," Potter added, pulling out a bit of parchment to read
Trom.
Draco's brows rose interestedly. Hermione tensed.

"It was mainly powdered toadfish liver, mixed with a few other things. The analysis concluded that it could result in death, but if you were to only make one cup of tea, it would more likely cause permanent paralysis instead," he said. "So either it was a poorly executed attempt on your life, or it wasn't meant to kill you."
"Paralysis?" Hermione said, sounding breathless.
Draco leaned back, thinking.
Why would someone want Hermione paralyzed? And who would be desperate enough to try?
Obviously, Johanna Wolcroft was at the top of the list. But for some reason, it didn't quite fit. For all he could tell, she didn't have a motive. Then again, what was her motive for lying about Hermione on her radio show? There was something they were missing.
"We're looking into every possible lead at the moment," Potter said. "Unfortunately, the list of people who have recently sent you threats is not exactly short."
"About that." Draco interjected. Potter and Hermione both turned to look at him in surprise. "I may have a lead. But I'm not sure it's worth the trouble."
Hermione blinked.
"Who?" she asked.
Draco looked at Potter as he said, "Earlier this week, I went to visit my father in Azkaban." Potter's shock was short-lived.
"What about him?" he asked, taking out a notebook of his own.
"He told me that he saw me in the papers with Granger," Draco said. "Said that he'd heard she was in danger and wanted to warn me. But," he added as Potter opened his mouth to ask more, "he told me that he wouldn't say any more about it until I filed a petition for his early release." Hermione's mouth fell open.
"What did you say?" she asked.
"I left him there to rot," Draco said coolly. "I assumed he was making it up, trying to leverage nonexistent information for his release."
"When was this?" Potter asked.
"Monday," Draco answered.
"And he didn't say anything else? No names?" Potter prompted.
"Nothing," Draco confirmed. "Just that she had a target on her back, and wouldn't last long. Oh, and he said that she couldn't hide behind Potter this time."
Hermione's eyes were as wide as saucers.
"And you didn't think to mention this to me before now?" she gasped.
"As I said, I thought he was lying," Draco said. "You've been in the news nonstop for weeks, almost all of it negative. He could have deduced that you were receiving threats. I figured he was using my recent association with you to pressure me into petitioning for him.
Potter was scribbling furiously in his notebook now.
"I think you're probably right, Malfoy," Potter said. "But this is good to know. I'll ask around, see if I can learn anything about rumors around Hermione in Azkaban."
Draco nodded.
Hermione was still staring at him as if she'd never seen him before. He was starting to get a bit uncomfortable. He looked away, noticing that Crookshanks had jumped up onto his mantle and settled in to judge them all from a higher vantage point.
"Okay," Potter said, getting to his feet. "Are you ready to go, Hermione?" She seemed to be jolted out of a trance.

"Let me just get my coat," she said, making for the hall.
"It'll be in your room," Draco said as she passed, just in time to see her blush.
Potter watched the interaction with curiosity.
"Alright, Potter?" Draco said, casually crossing his sitting room. He opened the window to retrieve the paper.
Potter nodded stiffly. "Are you coming with us to Hermione's flat?"
Draco shook his head.
"There's no need for me to be there," he said, overlooking Potter's obvious relief. "I'll be spending the day looking for Ignoma.
"Oh, right, your elf is missing," Potter said. "I should mention that to Kreacher. See if he knows anything.
"I would appreciate it," Draco said. "You should also warn him. Lots of elves are going missing these days, it seems."
Hermione walked back in, wearing her coat and shoes. She handed a piece of parchment to Draco.
"I've made a list of leads for you. There are more, but these are the ones I think you should look into first," she said. Then she hesitated for a moment. "Do you want to come with me to see Midgen this afternoon?"
There were only two things in the world Draco truly wanted: Ignoma home safe and sound, and for Hermione to get back into his bed, preferably naked.
"I'lI meet you there," Draco said anyway.
Hermione nodded, making to leave with Potter.
The moment they were gone, Draco felt the bleak emptiness of his flat closing in upon him.
After last night, his attachment to her had become borderline unhealthy. He felt insane, thinking about spending the entire day away from her, knowing she was in danger. But he hadn't been able to come up with a good excuse to stay by her side all day. She would be safe with Potter, at least, even if it was only going to be a short time. Draco gritted his teeth, breathing deeply, trying to rid himself of the horrible gnawing feeling in his gut telling him that something would go wrong.
Not too long ago, Hermione had told him she'd assumed he would be the possessive type. She was
more correct than she knew.
However, she was not his to possess.
The gnawing feeling became hollow and aching.
He had to distance himself from her. He couldn't go on like this, obsessing over her safety half the time and trying to get in her pants the rest of the time. It wasn't good for either of them. Aside from that, he had no right to.
Draco picked up the list Hermione had left him. He tried to read the names, but for a long while, all he saw were the neat slopes and dashes of her familiar handwriting.