Castle Guard by greenflowerpot

Chapter 11

- NOT MY STORY!! ALL CREDITS TO @greenflowerpot ON A03!!
-

After everything, Malfoy made Hermione breakfast, as promised.

It was a surprise to learn he could cook. But Hermione supposed that, given his rakish ways, Malfoy probably had a fair bit of practice feeding hungry women in the morning. Ordinarily she might have teased him for this but for some reason this time it did not seem very funny—after the sweet morning they'd shared, complete with orgasms and pillow talk, it was a little painful to imagine him regularly sharing such tender moments with anyone other than her.

She tried not to dwell on that sentiment. There were plenty of other wonderful things happening to focus on instead. For instance, Malfoy was evidently the type of man who cooked breakfast shirtless. His pajama bottoms hung slack around his narrow waist in a very pleasing way, his muscled stomach bared. He smiled when he fed her bits of jam and toast with his fingers before licking the sweetness from her lips.

"You look thoughtful," he said. "What are you thinking?"

"Oh. Just—I'm just really liking this. That's all."

He hummed.

"That's it?"

She paused for a moment.

"I don't want to go back yet," she said finally. "That's all."

"Why not?"

"I don't want—to not be like this with you anymore."

"You have me for as long as you want," he said, smiling. "Here. Back in West Haven. Anywhere."

"But once we go back, it will all be... back to normal."

"Is that what you want?"

She shook her head.

"Good," he said, kissing her. "I like our new normal better."

She giggled, leaning into his kiss. He caught her jaw and moved her face slightly to the side, deepening the contact.

"I'm going to ask your parents for permission to court you when we get back," he said against her mouth.

Hermione pulled back a little, alarmed.

"Draco—they're going to take that really seriously."

He laughed, to her surprise.

"I know," he said, his mouth curved into an amused smile. "I know that."

Hermione opened her mouth to say more but then Malfoy was pulling her closer again, his thumb running soothingly over her cheek. She had no experience with other men and did not know how to tell if his intentions were really serious; but he said he knew. So she believed him.

She let him pull her closer, let herself smile into his chest. A bright burst of joy blossomed in her.

The joy blended headily into nerves as they prepared to leave for West Haven, but still it remained in her—true and solid. Like a warm light she carried.

Malfoy seemed as happy as she did. Hermione hoped—really, really hoped—her parents would be able to see how much she liked him. She wasn't sure what reaction to expect from them. A soldier—even a highly-decorated one like Malfoy—was certainly not traditionally appropriate for a princess. But Hermione didn't have it in her to embark on more stuffy courtship rituals with more problematic princes, not now that she knew what it was like to be with Malfoy.

She carefully practiced her plea, wording and rewording the nature of her explanation in her mind. As fate would have it though, Hermione needn't have worried about all that careful planning. They arrived in the throne room to find none other than Prince Arlo already there, talking to Hermione's parents.