And Everything Nice

chapter 2 -Part 1

Part 1 of chapter 2– it was very long

Slipping inside the bedroom, Hermione shut the door and smiled. Draco was lounging on the sofa, ankles crossed, his shirt untucked, one arm curled behind his head as he read. His feet were bare, something that had always struck her as startlingly vulnerable. Perhaps it was the juxtaposition with the rest of his clothing, how his crisp, grey trousers brushed the tops of his naked feet, but it just felt...intimate, more so than if he'd been reclining fully nude.
Or maybe that wasn't right. It wasn't more intimate, but a different sort. A quiet intimacy, the type that came from knowing, like how she knew what the scar on his chest felt like against her lips, raised and smooth, or how the inside of his left knee was ticklish, so ticklish than even breathing against it would make him jerk, startled laughter falling from his lips.
There was an excitement to the discovery—and no doubt she had more to discover—but knowing was its own kind of joy. Less about sparks and more like a simmering warmth, kindling that kept a fire roaring past an initial burst of flame.
Draco's grey eyes flicked up, lips curling as he marked his space and set his book aside, all without taking his eyes off her.
A knot of tension she hadn't realized she'd been carrying unfurled in her chest. "Hi."
Draco cocked his head, gaze sliding down her body, one pale brow hiking up. His lips twitched. "You're home early."
She didn't mean to, really, but the twinge of her facial muscles drawing into a sharp wince was involuntary, a phantom pain lancing through her ankle.
Draco sat up, brow pinched. "What's wrong?"
She sighed. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him, it was just that the greatest wound had been to her pride and there was no spell to heal that. None she knew. "It's—okay, it's not nothing, but it's fine."
"Are you okay? Where's Theo? Is he okay?"
He looked like he was about to jump off the couch and perform a thorough analysis of her person. Rather than let him, she crossed the room, thighs beginning to go sticky. She muscled through and perched on the arm of the couch beside him. "Everything's fine and Theo's still

at the manor. He and I agreed it would probably be best if I sit the rest of the curse-breaking out."
"Theo and you agreed, oh?" he asked, sounding skeptical. "Well..." she paused. "In the end, yes."
"Granger," he bit out, massaging his temple. "Out with it."
Best to rip the plaster off, maybe? "There was a tiny incident with an illusion spell, a compulsion curse, and erm, some daggers, but I'm fine. It's just—Theo and I agreed it was an unnecessary risk."
The confession grated. Even knowing it was true, a tiny, unreasonable part of her brain whispered that leaving meant defeat and made her weak. Rubbish, yes, but her wounded pride said otherwise.
Draco stared. "A tiny incident?" Oh boy. "Mhm."
Draco said nothing. Instead, he stood and crossed the room to the bar cart where he proceeded to pour himself two fingers of firewhisky he quickly tossed back. Wincing at the burn, he hissed through his teeth and opened his eyes, shaking his head in abject disbelief. "Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? Watching you put yourself in harms' way and only narrowly escape danger? Or worse, hearing about it after the fact?"
She bit back a smile at the fondness coloring his words, intentional or not. "You both should've known what you were signing up for. I am a Gryffindor."
"As if I could forget." Draco crossed back to the sofa. "You make it impossible, constantly flaunting your utter disregard for your own well-being. Merlin help me, you are in desperate need of a lesson on the meaning of self-preservation." One hand curled protectively around her knee, while the other brushed along his jaw where a shadow of pale scruff covered his skin.
"Not so. I already received that lecture from Theo." Her face burned. "Erm, speaking of that, I have something to...tell you. But first I want to hear about how your day went. Tell me about the Ministry."
Draco's face darkened. "I'd rather not talk about it." "Draco—"
He held up a hand. "Look, it's fine." It was less fun being on the receiving end of that word. "They spent most of the time grilling me on my knowledge of competitive market regulations and the—"
"Isn't that their job to know, not yours? And it's a moot point. You'd be a nonprofit; it's not as if you plan to create some sort of potions production monopoly. You're filling a gap in the