The Silver Envelope

Another Kind of Family

Truly, Draco hadn't meant for it to happen like that.
He'd had plans. Soft, candlelit plans that would ease them both into things. Things between them were so new, so uncertain. He'd planned to go slow and take precautions. He certainly hadn't meant to simply shove her against the nearest wall and luck her until she nearly blacked out for their first official time.
But, he supposed, Hermione had had plans of her own. Not that Draco was complaining.
She nestled into him, her mussed curls cushioning her head where it lay on his arm, completely passed out.
Draco rested his head on a pillow, watching her sleep while he got lost in thought.
He'd lied to her earlier, outright and to her face. He absolutely did want to lock her up here forever as a means of keeping her safe. The sheer amount of charms, protection runes, and soil enchantments imbedded in this building were ridiculous and that was before he'd added Hermione as a resident. Little did she know, after she'd come to live with him, he'd increased the invisible security measures threefold. Only those who were specifically invited could even make it to his front door, and then he'd have to manually lower more defenses before they could step foot over the threshold. That muggle boy who sometimes delivered their dinner had no idea how special he was to be able to enter the lift and successfully press the button for Draco's floor.
Draco had taken a certain malicious pleasure when designing the special wards against Weasley-as if the idiot would be able to get past any of the rest of it anyway. But it was satisfying to know that even if Weasley somehow procured an invitation into Draco's home, he wouldn't even be able to come within a mile of the building. If Weasley ever decided to test that boundary, he would not only find himself bodily thrown back with great force, but also discover himself to be the victim of a particularly stubborn balding curse. On more than one occasion, Draco had been tempted to send Weasley his address just for the satisfaction of watching it happen. Although, perhaps it wasn't
prudent to provoke him on purpose. The ginger git certainly had a temper, plus an alarming gift for finding other ways to force his company upon Hermione
For that reason and many others, Draco somewhat regretted his promise to Hermione that he wouldn't confiscate her wand or bar her inside his home for her safety. Earlier, he had almost gone insane at the thought of her rushing back to Diagon Alley to confront Selwyn and his thugs.
He wouldn't break the promise, though, whether he came to regret it or not. The concession she'd made in return, about speaking to him before running off headfirst into danger again, was more valuable than any protective enchantment. As a result, Draco felt that his lie about not wanting to lock her up was benign. He would gladly keep his promise if she kept hers.
The phrase "exchanging vows" surfaced in his mind, causing his stomach to flip nervously.
He was getting in too deep with her. Just this very morning, he'd had a similar crisis involving this same concept. Commitment to Hermione was.. inconceivable. Their lives weren't at all compatible. Practically everyone in her circle hated him, with good reason. And he didn't even
want to think about how she would be received by his crowd. Then again, it wasn't as though he was hanging around them much anymore.
Actually, now that Draco thought about it, commitment to her wasn't nearly as impossible-sounding as the idea of leaving her. The prospect of a thousand quiet nights in spent reading and petting her scrutty orange cat sounded strangely wonderful
Perhaps it was far too early to be imagining permanence and domesticity with her, but he couldn't help it. His heart leapt at the thought of what Ignoma would say when she came home. She would be so happy for him. The three of them would be like a little family, of sorts. The sweetness of it
made him want to simultaneously laugh and vomit. Healer Connelly would be so proud of him
His mother, however, would react very differently to the idea of her son thoroughly committing himself to a mudblood. Dear god, how was he going to tell her? Briefly, he considered lying, telling her that they were only doing that fake relationship thing that she had suggested over Christmas. but it was no use. She would find out eventually that he was in..well. that he wasn't going to give Hermione up. He might as well get it over with when the time came.
"What are you thinking about?" Hermione murmured, causing him to start slightly. He hadn't noticed she'd opened her eyes.
"Nothing," he said evasively, ignoring her too-knowing look.
Her hand slid along his bare chest, down over the ridges of his abdomen, making him shiver.
"Do you want to know what I'm thinking?" she asked, her voice lilting flirtatiously.
Draco smirked. He loved this side of her. She was unexpectedly mischievous and playful, so different from the high-strung know-it-all he'd thought her to be growing up. Although, if he were honest with himself, that version of her had the ability to get him hard just as quickly.