FIC: 8/? (Draco/Hermione) NC-17
Chapter 7: I need you so much closer
I didn’t know if you wanted to when I came to pick you up. You didn’t even hesitate and now you and me are on our way. Don’t look back. Don’t think of the other places you should have been. It’s a good thing that you came along. You’ll shine like gold in the air of summer. - Kings of Convenience, “Gold in the Air of Summer” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0gbl7N9fds4)
He was still the most handsome man that she had ever laid eyes on.
Hermione sat at her dresser, her fingers gently tracing over the angles of his face, lingering on the curve of his lips and his smile. She smiled sadly back at him. She knew she should’ve returned the photograph. After all, it had clearly been taken at a point in his life that she didn’t remember and it had been a gift from him to her when they had been lovers. Every time she set her eyes upon it now, she felt as if she were doing something she shouldn’t. His smile was for a person she could no longer remember.
After all, it wasn’t just Draco that she couldn’t recall. She also had no memories of herself when she was with him and that was what bothered her the most. What kind of person couldn’t remember a part of themselves? Did she really love him in return? What were her feelings? What were her dreams? What were her aspirations? Did she want to marry him? Have kids? Settle down?
Nothing. Her mind was a complete blank and Hermione could feel the familiar pounding pain in her head once again as she tried to see what was not there.
She touched the worn edges of the photograph and shook her head. She knew she would never be able to give it up. She felt like it was the one thing that she possessed from her previous life with Draco. It was the only thing that wasn’t ripped away from her when she disappeared. She knew it was stupid, non-sensical, and illogical but a part of her felt like if she kept the photograph, there would always be hope. Here in her hands laid the one piece of concrete evidence that at some point in her life, she had remembered him and felt deeply for him and that he returned those feelings with equal fervor. He was happy and he smiled so naturally and with genuine emotion that she knew it was not a fabrication. It was true. It was real. His love for her had been real.
It was not something as fleeting and fragile as a memory. This was something solid. She could feel it her hands and she would never let it go.
It was the only thing she had left.
-*-
He couldn’t believe how fucking nervous he was. He was an adult, damn it. He was not supposed to have sweaty palms before picking a girl up for a date. He was acting like a bloody first year. Draco stood in front of the door to her flat, a bouquet that the florist had guaranteed would sweep her off her feet in his hand. He simply stared at it in confusion. Why women always loved flowers so much was beyond him. They were expensive, attracted insects, and died all too quickly. At least with the aid of magic, these flowers would never die.
He had the sudden urge to scratch his neck and loosen his tie. He felt like all the air had escaped from his lungs and refused to return. His shirt was constricting and the temperature in the hallway seemed to have escalated to a near-tortuous degree.
This was absolutely ridiculous. He was going mad. He knew it.
Slowly, he brought his hand up to the wooden door and knocked, letting out a slow breath, hoping to calm his nerves.
As soon as she opened the door, he felt the air rush out of him again but this time, for another reason entirely.
She was wearing a light pink dress and a loose black cardigan. Her hair fell down around her in soft curls and he could tell that she had put just a hint of makeup on.
She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. And, it killed him that she was no longer his. She was so close but he needed her closer. He had always needed her closer.
Braving a smile, he handed her a bouquet, surprising even himself at how calm and composed he sounded when he finally spoke, “You’re beautiful.”
Hermione blushed prettily, thanking him softly for the flowers before she welcomed him in.
“It still looks the same,” he glanced around, “I’m glad you kept it that way. I always thought it was the perfect flat for you.”
“I really haven’t had much of a chance to do any rearrangements to be perfectly honest. Working on this case has kept me pretty busy,” she looked around the flat and shrugged, “I rather like it the way it is though.” She moved into the kitchen, reaching for a glass vase before filling it with water, “This bouquet is gorgeous. I thought I needed a bit of color to liven up this place. I love purple.”
“You always did,” he whispered, more to himself than her. He felt another strong pang in his chest as he watched her busy herself with arranging the flowers in the vase. He was being an idiot. Why was he brooding and upset? She had been completely upfront with him and he knew that she didn’t remember anything about him or about them.
Yet, every time she said anything or did anything that reminded him of the past, he couldn’t help but hurt and yearn for it desperately. He did still love her, he told himself. He would always love her. But, that love was for a person that no longer existed, it seemed.
She was so different yet still the same. She still bit her lip when she was intensely concentrating while reading. She still played with her hands when she was nervous. She still hummed softly as she did some mundane task, as she was doing right at this moment.
But, he never heard her laugh anymore. Never truly laugh - one that consumed her entire body and lit up her entire being. She never looked at him with one of her gentle, “I love you” glances whenever their eyes met. She never smiled at him for no reason whatsoever.
He knew it was bound to happen. Two years changed a person and yet, he would be lying if he said that he didn’t think they would just pick up where they left off. He knew that he should be happy she was even giving him a chance but he had never been a patient man. He always got what he wanted and damn it, hadn’t he waited long enough?
It was all so frustrating.
Yet, she was worth it. She always had been.
-*-
Hermione giggled and took another sip of her white wine, “You know it helps to breathe through your anger.”
Draco simply huffed back at her, over-exaggerating his annoyance as he threw his hands up into the air, “I can’t believe you don’t think he’s one of the most brilliant men today.”
“I think his theory is absolutely absurd. I refuse to believe that magic is something that can’t be perfected and learned given time and effort. What William Abbot proposes puts an end for the necessity of education and practice. You might as well shut Hogwarts down if you truly believe that,” Hermione rolled her eyes and nibbled on a breadstick.
“It’s perfectly logical. How else do you explain the innate ability that certain wizards have over others?”
“I’m not disagreeing on that account. I do believe that certain wizards do have more talent for magic than others but to say that one’s entire magical power is bestowed upon them at birth? Absolutely preposterous.” She shook her head, “I find that I am the perfect textbook example against such a claim. From firsthand account, I know that my magic has improved because of my reading and endless practice.”
“See, but that’s where you’re wrong, Granger,” he teased, “You’ve always had that magical power within you. With reading and practice, you’ve simply been polishing it, making it better but not necessarily stronger or increasing its power.”
“Are you saying that you at age three were just as powerful as you are now?”
“At age three, I hadn’t tapped into all of my magical power yet. Even at age thirteen, I hadn’t but now, I have.”
She looked at him incredulously, “I can’t believe you don’t think he’s a quack.”
“I think you’re a quack for not believing him.”
Hermione laughed, almost snorting on her wine which only caused her to laugh even harder, “You certainly know how to charm a lady.”
“I do my best,” he smiled back at her, basking in the glow and sound of her laughter. God, he had missed her so much. He missed this.
Yawning, Hermione began clearing the plates, “I have to say, this was all quite delicious. I would never have pegged you for a cook.”
“I decided to take cooking lessons last year. It was on a whim,” his voice was softer, tinged with a hint of pain, “I needed something to pass the time.”
“I should take cooking lessons,” she smiled at him, touching his elbow gently, hoping to convey her feelings though she couldn’t bring herself to actually voice them, “Though I doubt they would help.”
Draco turned towards her, placing his hand on top of hers and brought her body closer to his. She still smelled exactly the same. Absolutely divine. He leaned in closer, his eyes stormy, his mind a mess of emotions and softly, pressed his lips against hers.
She was surprised at first but after a moment, returned his kiss with equal passion. She opened her mouth to his, their tongues playfully fighting back and forth, her hands running all across his body and up into his hair.
It just felt right. He felt right.
Draco pulled back gently, placing one last kiss on her temple, still keeping a hold around her. Hermione looked up at him, almost shyly and laughed, “Would you like to have dinner tomorrow night as well?”
He simply nodded, placing his forehead to hers.
-*-
Pansy’s heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she approached him. She slammed her hand down onto his desk, her body shaking slightly from the impact.
“How much longer will this go on? How much longer will you make me do this against my will?” She spat at him.
“I would think you rather enjoyed these little trysts with him. Have you not always pined for him?”
“He is my friend,” she said in contempt, “And he loves her not me. It is something that I have accepted and I have moved on,” she stepped closer, her sense flooded with the smell of alcohol and tobacco. It sickened her. “It is time that you do the same,” she yelled at him, “It has been nearly three years since she’s died. Your revenge against him will not bring her back. When will you-“
He had his hand around her neck before she could even finish her sentence. He merely smirked at her, tightening his hold, “Do you know how easy it would be for me to snap your neck right now?” His fingers dug into her skin, “Perhaps I should snap your mother’s neck. Would that make you more compliant?”
Pansy’s eyes immediately clouded with fear. Her protests came out as gurgles as she struggled against his hold.
His smirk deepened and he let her go, throwing her to the side, her body slamming against the bookcase, “I thought as much.”
“Don’t you dare touch her.”
“I don’t believe you’re in the position to be giving threats, Ms. Parkinson” he said lazily, taking a sip of an amber liquid, “Unlike you, I remember the terms of our agreement. Your mother’s life will be safe as long as you continue to carry out my demands,” he narrowed his eyes at her, “Without question.”
She coughed and rose up on her feet, her balance wavering, “I hate you.”
He laughed, his rich and deep baritone ringing in the room and reverberating off the walls. Pansy cringed and looked down, ashamed of herself.
“I have no task for you tonight.” He waved his hand in dismissal, “Leave me be.”
Pansy pushed herself off of the bookcase and began to walk out of the room with as much dignity as she could muster.
“Oh, by the way,” he called out, “Delightful shoes.”
She looked down at the red heels she wore and swore to burn them as soon as she got home.
-*-
Hermione pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face as she stared down at the red wax seal in frustration. It was so familiar. She knew she had seen it somewhere before but she just couldn’t place the memory.
She let out a sigh of frustration, not even hearing as Harry walked through the door.
“Everything alright?”
She looked up at him and smiled, loosening her shoulders, “Just a bit annoyed. I know I’ve seen this seal before but I can’t seem to remember where,” she pointed at the piles of books of her desk, “I can’t seem to find it anywhere either.”
He sat at the edge of her desk and touched her shoulder gently, “You’ll get it, Hermione. It just takes time.”
“I just feel as if time is running out against us. Whoever is sending these notes won’t send them forever. I can’t help but feel as if one of these days something terrible is going to happen. It’s like an impending doom.”
Harry nodded, his green eyes darkening with worry.
Hermione let out another sigh and leaned back against the chair, “So, any luck with Viola’s flat?”
“Nothing. I sent a full team of Aurors to do a sweep and check but we came up with nothing. No magical trace and no other detectable presence besides your own. If that book hadn’t been there, I would say that no one had entered that flat since the last time you left.”
Her brow furrowed, “I wonder why he decided to place the book in my flat. Why is he giving us the answer? I mean, if we hadn’t figured it out before then we definitely would have at that point. Why is he helping us?”
“Maybe he’s getting impatient? Maybe it’s just another step in his plan. Perhaps those notes were never meant to confuse us all along. Perhaps he wanted us to figure it out and come after him. I don’t know.”
“I wish I could remember. I feel so useless. All the answers should be in my head instead I’m-“
Harry immediately stood up and grabbed her by the shoulders, “Don’t ever say that. You have been amazing, Hermione. We would have absolutely nothing to go on if not for what you do remember and your help with cracking several mysteries in this case.”
She smiled unconvincingly up at him and shook herself out of his grasp, ignoring the pained look in his eyes, “I should get back to researching.”
“Yes,” he nodded, “I’ll keep you updated.” Without another word, he left the room.
Hermione rubbed her temples before pulling another book from the stack in front of her, this one a history of pureblood families.
Letting out a heavy sigh, she opened the cover and began reading.
-*-
Draco sat in confusion at his desk, the contents of the letter splayed out in front of him. It had arrived in the same fashion as the notes always did-mysteriously and suddenly out of nowhere. He tore through the same red wax seal, expecting another few lines from Shakespeare and yet, the letter was completely blank.
Instead, two pressed and dried flowers laid against the old parchment. One blood red and the other a light pink.
-*-
Author’s Note: So! Some more pieces to the puzzle. I’m guessing that this story will have another four or five chapters so lots of secrets revealed soon! Most exciting. Just adding a little plug for my new story, “Fête Galante”. If you like art, romance, and seduction - check it out!
I didn’t know if you wanted to when I came to pick you up. You didn’t even hesitate and now you and me are on our way. Don’t look back. Don’t think of the other places you should have been. It’s a good thing that you came along. You’ll shine like gold in the air of summer. - Kings of Convenience, “Gold in the Air of Summer” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0gbl7N9fds4)
He was still the most handsome man that she had ever laid eyes on.
Hermione sat at her dresser, her fingers gently tracing over the angles of his face, lingering on the curve of his lips and his smile. She smiled sadly back at him. She knew she should’ve returned the photograph. After all, it had clearly been taken at a point in his life that she didn’t remember and it had been a gift from him to her when they had been lovers. Every time she set her eyes upon it now, she felt as if she were doing something she shouldn’t. His smile was for a person she could no longer remember.
After all, it wasn’t just Draco that she couldn’t recall. She also had no memories of herself when she was with him and that was what bothered her the most. What kind of person couldn’t remember a part of themselves? Did she really love him in return? What were her feelings? What were her dreams? What were her aspirations? Did she want to marry him? Have kids? Settle down?
Nothing. Her mind was a complete blank and Hermione could feel the familiar pounding pain in her head once again as she tried to see what was not there.
She touched the worn edges of the photograph and shook her head. She knew she would never be able to give it up. She felt like it was the one thing that she possessed from her previous life with Draco. It was the only thing that wasn’t ripped away from her when she disappeared. She knew it was stupid, non-sensical, and illogical but a part of her felt like if she kept the photograph, there would always be hope. Here in her hands laid the one piece of concrete evidence that at some point in her life, she had remembered him and felt deeply for him and that he returned those feelings with equal fervor. He was happy and he smiled so naturally and with genuine emotion that she knew it was not a fabrication. It was true. It was real. His love for her had been real.
It was not something as fleeting and fragile as a memory. This was something solid. She could feel it her hands and she would never let it go.
It was the only thing she had left.
-*-
He couldn’t believe how fucking nervous he was. He was an adult, damn it. He was not supposed to have sweaty palms before picking a girl up for a date. He was acting like a bloody first year. Draco stood in front of the door to her flat, a bouquet that the florist had guaranteed would sweep her off her feet in his hand. He simply stared at it in confusion. Why women always loved flowers so much was beyond him. They were expensive, attracted insects, and died all too quickly. At least with the aid of magic, these flowers would never die.
He had the sudden urge to scratch his neck and loosen his tie. He felt like all the air had escaped from his lungs and refused to return. His shirt was constricting and the temperature in the hallway seemed to have escalated to a near-tortuous degree.
This was absolutely ridiculous. He was going mad. He knew it.
Slowly, he brought his hand up to the wooden door and knocked, letting out a slow breath, hoping to calm his nerves.
As soon as she opened the door, he felt the air rush out of him again but this time, for another reason entirely.
She was wearing a light pink dress and a loose black cardigan. Her hair fell down around her in soft curls and he could tell that she had put just a hint of makeup on.
She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. And, it killed him that she was no longer his. She was so close but he needed her closer. He had always needed her closer.
Braving a smile, he handed her a bouquet, surprising even himself at how calm and composed he sounded when he finally spoke, “You’re beautiful.”
Hermione blushed prettily, thanking him softly for the flowers before she welcomed him in.
“It still looks the same,” he glanced around, “I’m glad you kept it that way. I always thought it was the perfect flat for you.”
“I really haven’t had much of a chance to do any rearrangements to be perfectly honest. Working on this case has kept me pretty busy,” she looked around the flat and shrugged, “I rather like it the way it is though.” She moved into the kitchen, reaching for a glass vase before filling it with water, “This bouquet is gorgeous. I thought I needed a bit of color to liven up this place. I love purple.”
“You always did,” he whispered, more to himself than her. He felt another strong pang in his chest as he watched her busy herself with arranging the flowers in the vase. He was being an idiot. Why was he brooding and upset? She had been completely upfront with him and he knew that she didn’t remember anything about him or about them.
Yet, every time she said anything or did anything that reminded him of the past, he couldn’t help but hurt and yearn for it desperately. He did still love her, he told himself. He would always love her. But, that love was for a person that no longer existed, it seemed.
She was so different yet still the same. She still bit her lip when she was intensely concentrating while reading. She still played with her hands when she was nervous. She still hummed softly as she did some mundane task, as she was doing right at this moment.
But, he never heard her laugh anymore. Never truly laugh - one that consumed her entire body and lit up her entire being. She never looked at him with one of her gentle, “I love you” glances whenever their eyes met. She never smiled at him for no reason whatsoever.
He knew it was bound to happen. Two years changed a person and yet, he would be lying if he said that he didn’t think they would just pick up where they left off. He knew that he should be happy she was even giving him a chance but he had never been a patient man. He always got what he wanted and damn it, hadn’t he waited long enough?
It was all so frustrating.
Yet, she was worth it. She always had been.
-*-
Hermione giggled and took another sip of her white wine, “You know it helps to breathe through your anger.”
Draco simply huffed back at her, over-exaggerating his annoyance as he threw his hands up into the air, “I can’t believe you don’t think he’s one of the most brilliant men today.”
“I think his theory is absolutely absurd. I refuse to believe that magic is something that can’t be perfected and learned given time and effort. What William Abbot proposes puts an end for the necessity of education and practice. You might as well shut Hogwarts down if you truly believe that,” Hermione rolled her eyes and nibbled on a breadstick.
“It’s perfectly logical. How else do you explain the innate ability that certain wizards have over others?”
“I’m not disagreeing on that account. I do believe that certain wizards do have more talent for magic than others but to say that one’s entire magical power is bestowed upon them at birth? Absolutely preposterous.” She shook her head, “I find that I am the perfect textbook example against such a claim. From firsthand account, I know that my magic has improved because of my reading and endless practice.”
“See, but that’s where you’re wrong, Granger,” he teased, “You’ve always had that magical power within you. With reading and practice, you’ve simply been polishing it, making it better but not necessarily stronger or increasing its power.”
“Are you saying that you at age three were just as powerful as you are now?”
“At age three, I hadn’t tapped into all of my magical power yet. Even at age thirteen, I hadn’t but now, I have.”
She looked at him incredulously, “I can’t believe you don’t think he’s a quack.”
“I think you’re a quack for not believing him.”
Hermione laughed, almost snorting on her wine which only caused her to laugh even harder, “You certainly know how to charm a lady.”
“I do my best,” he smiled back at her, basking in the glow and sound of her laughter. God, he had missed her so much. He missed this.
Yawning, Hermione began clearing the plates, “I have to say, this was all quite delicious. I would never have pegged you for a cook.”
“I decided to take cooking lessons last year. It was on a whim,” his voice was softer, tinged with a hint of pain, “I needed something to pass the time.”
“I should take cooking lessons,” she smiled at him, touching his elbow gently, hoping to convey her feelings though she couldn’t bring herself to actually voice them, “Though I doubt they would help.”
Draco turned towards her, placing his hand on top of hers and brought her body closer to his. She still smelled exactly the same. Absolutely divine. He leaned in closer, his eyes stormy, his mind a mess of emotions and softly, pressed his lips against hers.
She was surprised at first but after a moment, returned his kiss with equal passion. She opened her mouth to his, their tongues playfully fighting back and forth, her hands running all across his body and up into his hair.
It just felt right. He felt right.
Draco pulled back gently, placing one last kiss on her temple, still keeping a hold around her. Hermione looked up at him, almost shyly and laughed, “Would you like to have dinner tomorrow night as well?”
He simply nodded, placing his forehead to hers.
-*-
Pansy’s heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she approached him. She slammed her hand down onto his desk, her body shaking slightly from the impact.
“How much longer will this go on? How much longer will you make me do this against my will?” She spat at him.
“I would think you rather enjoyed these little trysts with him. Have you not always pined for him?”
“He is my friend,” she said in contempt, “And he loves her not me. It is something that I have accepted and I have moved on,” she stepped closer, her sense flooded with the smell of alcohol and tobacco. It sickened her. “It is time that you do the same,” she yelled at him, “It has been nearly three years since she’s died. Your revenge against him will not bring her back. When will you-“
He had his hand around her neck before she could even finish her sentence. He merely smirked at her, tightening his hold, “Do you know how easy it would be for me to snap your neck right now?” His fingers dug into her skin, “Perhaps I should snap your mother’s neck. Would that make you more compliant?”
Pansy’s eyes immediately clouded with fear. Her protests came out as gurgles as she struggled against his hold.
His smirk deepened and he let her go, throwing her to the side, her body slamming against the bookcase, “I thought as much.”
“Don’t you dare touch her.”
“I don’t believe you’re in the position to be giving threats, Ms. Parkinson” he said lazily, taking a sip of an amber liquid, “Unlike you, I remember the terms of our agreement. Your mother’s life will be safe as long as you continue to carry out my demands,” he narrowed his eyes at her, “Without question.”
She coughed and rose up on her feet, her balance wavering, “I hate you.”
He laughed, his rich and deep baritone ringing in the room and reverberating off the walls. Pansy cringed and looked down, ashamed of herself.
“I have no task for you tonight.” He waved his hand in dismissal, “Leave me be.”
Pansy pushed herself off of the bookcase and began to walk out of the room with as much dignity as she could muster.
“Oh, by the way,” he called out, “Delightful shoes.”
She looked down at the red heels she wore and swore to burn them as soon as she got home.
-*-
Hermione pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face as she stared down at the red wax seal in frustration. It was so familiar. She knew she had seen it somewhere before but she just couldn’t place the memory.
She let out a sigh of frustration, not even hearing as Harry walked through the door.
“Everything alright?”
She looked up at him and smiled, loosening her shoulders, “Just a bit annoyed. I know I’ve seen this seal before but I can’t seem to remember where,” she pointed at the piles of books of her desk, “I can’t seem to find it anywhere either.”
He sat at the edge of her desk and touched her shoulder gently, “You’ll get it, Hermione. It just takes time.”
“I just feel as if time is running out against us. Whoever is sending these notes won’t send them forever. I can’t help but feel as if one of these days something terrible is going to happen. It’s like an impending doom.”
Harry nodded, his green eyes darkening with worry.
Hermione let out another sigh and leaned back against the chair, “So, any luck with Viola’s flat?”
“Nothing. I sent a full team of Aurors to do a sweep and check but we came up with nothing. No magical trace and no other detectable presence besides your own. If that book hadn’t been there, I would say that no one had entered that flat since the last time you left.”
Her brow furrowed, “I wonder why he decided to place the book in my flat. Why is he giving us the answer? I mean, if we hadn’t figured it out before then we definitely would have at that point. Why is he helping us?”
“Maybe he’s getting impatient? Maybe it’s just another step in his plan. Perhaps those notes were never meant to confuse us all along. Perhaps he wanted us to figure it out and come after him. I don’t know.”
“I wish I could remember. I feel so useless. All the answers should be in my head instead I’m-“
Harry immediately stood up and grabbed her by the shoulders, “Don’t ever say that. You have been amazing, Hermione. We would have absolutely nothing to go on if not for what you do remember and your help with cracking several mysteries in this case.”
She smiled unconvincingly up at him and shook herself out of his grasp, ignoring the pained look in his eyes, “I should get back to researching.”
“Yes,” he nodded, “I’ll keep you updated.” Without another word, he left the room.
Hermione rubbed her temples before pulling another book from the stack in front of her, this one a history of pureblood families.
Letting out a heavy sigh, she opened the cover and began reading.
-*-
Draco sat in confusion at his desk, the contents of the letter splayed out in front of him. It had arrived in the same fashion as the notes always did-mysteriously and suddenly out of nowhere. He tore through the same red wax seal, expecting another few lines from Shakespeare and yet, the letter was completely blank.
Instead, two pressed and dried flowers laid against the old parchment. One blood red and the other a light pink.
-*-
Author’s Note: So! Some more pieces to the puzzle. I’m guessing that this story will have another four or five chapters so lots of secrets revealed soon! Most exciting. Just adding a little plug for my new story, “Fête Galante”. If you like art, romance, and seduction - check it out!