Draco Malfoy has become a stripper since graduating from Hogwarts, living by one rule: never take anyone home. One night, just before performing, Draco sees his one weakness in the crowd. He snatches a mask to hide his face, and steps out to perform...
I waved my wand over the stove, preparing a fine breakfast for two. Though the perfumes wafted towards me were delicious, my mind was elsewhere. Last night had been incredible, definitely the best night of my life, but something had made me worry. Just after my dinner had come, Hermione had stirred.
She had cuddled herself closer to me, reaching her hand up to rest on my collarbone.
"Draco..." she had mumbled. "This is Draco's house... Bellatrix and... and Draco..."
My heart had stopped and I had lost my appetite. I later stayed awake, my heart beating quickly. When I awoke this morning, I had shimmied out of Hermione's clutch to sneak downstairs and make us breakfast. Today would be the day. I had to tell her, she deserved to know the truth.
I stared into the grease of the bacon and was lost once more in thought. I couldn't loose Hermione, but the mask had long since lost its magical seal. When I had tried to bewitch it to come off only when she truly loved me, the mask had fallen straight off my face. But now I had shared an experience with her that had brought us closer together. I had to tell her.
I had a feeling she knew. Maybe she was just in denial. I couldn't blame her. If I thought I was in a relationship with my grade school bully, I'd deny it. Or maybe she knew and was just waiting for my mask to come of to see if she was right.
The stairs began to creak behind me as I slid the second omelet onto a plate. I turned, wishing I had a mirror. All I wore was a worn white t-shirt and some old blue jeans. When I saw Hermione, I began to smile, despite all that was on my mind.
She looked beautiful. She had nabbed another one of my mother's robes, this one long, white, and laced. Her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, and she wore a huge smile on her face.
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I stepped forward to take her hand as she stepped away from the stairs.
"Good morning," she whispered, reaching on tip toes to press her lips to mine.
"Good morning," I responded when she pulled away. "I've made us breakfast," I said, summoning the two plates with a wave of my wand.
I chuckled, despite my foul mood, and sat down at the kitchen table next to her. Sun streamed through a window to our right, catching stray strands of red and gold in her hair. She cut into her omelet and quickly took a bite, chewing and swallowing as if she were famished.
Several times, I caught myself staring, my fork only halfway to my mouth. I loved Hermione like I had never loved anyone or anything before. As a child, I grew up with everything. The war made me realize just how precious life was. As I looked at Hermione now, I reflected on how precious she was to me. I'd give up anything- my fans, my stage, my manor, my freedom, my life to make her happy or keep her safe. If she left me, I wouldn't stop her. I didn't deserve her. Not by a long shot. If leaving me would make her happy, then I would die alone for her.
