Chapter Text
“You call this a cottage?” Hermione stands at the entrance to the Malfoy summer residence in awe. The gates open on a winding road through a dense collection of oak trees. Through the foliage, she can see the red brick of the house and she can tell, even from this distance, that it’s quite large.
Draco picks up Hermione’s trunk along with his own and starts walking. “We’re late, Granger.”
Hermione rolls her eyes because she’s had enough of his sour mood, which started precisely the moment he arrived to pick her up that morning, to last till Christmas. “I understand that you’re nervous, but you don’t need to be rude.”
“You know what’s rude?” he retorts. “Being late.”
“I can carry my own luggage.” She reaches for her trunk, but he pulls it away.
“Just watch your step, Granger. Don’t touch the green stones – dad’s got some nasty shields up to keep out unwanted guests.”
“Like me?” Hermione chuckles.
Draco throws her a bitter glance.
“Two more weeks of this charade and then it’ll all be over,” she says lightly, trying to cheer him up.
He makes a noise that sounds like a combination of a grunt and a confirmation.
“Wow.” Hermione stops in front of the house. There’s a wooden porch that stretches around the back, and a white bistro set in the front, flanked by two giant lounge chairs and about a dozen potted plants. Peonies bloom under the lower windows and the garden below is bordered by a stretch of bushy lavender.
Draco stomps up the stairs and drops the trunks at the front door. “Let’s go around,” he says. “The house-elves will take care of these.”
Hermione follows him along the mossy path toward the back of the house, admiring the leafy clematis climbing the left side of the cottage.
“Draco, dear, you just missed lunch. Shall I have something prepared for you?” Narcissa’s voice chirps around the bend.
Hermione rounds the corner and smiles at Narcissa and Lucius, who are sitting at a small table on the deck, drinking tea.
Draco turns to Hermione. “Coffee?” he asks.
She gives him a tight smile and nods. He knows that she’ll never refuse a cup of coffee.
“Your cottage is spectacular, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,” she says, walking forward when Draco holds his arm out to beckon her onward. “And I haven’t even been inside yet.”
Narcissa directs a piercing gaze in her direction. “We should remedy that, then,” she responds, standing. “Draco, call for lunch. I will show Miss. Granger around.”
“Granger!” Lucius exclaims. “That’s it! Couldn’t put my finger on it.”
“Come off it, father.” Draco looks over at him coolly. “You know exactly who she is.”
…
“This is the dining room.” Narcissa waves her hand to indicate the room with enormous windows looking out onto the steep slope toward the bay.
“It’s lovely.”
Narcissa shrugs. “We often dine outdoors when we’re here, actually. Lucius enjoys listening to the birds.”
Hermione lifts her eyebrows but doesn’t respond. She can’t quite picture Lucius as an avid ornithologist.
“Here we have the library.” Narcissa leads her down the corridor. “Draco mentioned that you may be interested in that.”
Hermione grins, poking her head into the room. “He knows me well,” she says, playing the part of the blissful girlfriend perfectly. The smile isn’t difficult when she sees the enormous collection of books.
Narcissa heads up the stairs and Hermione follows. “Here is your room,” she says, opening a door to a spacious room with a large, bay window.
Hermione’s eyes widen as she takes in the beauty of the space, from the decorative, wooden trim of the walls, to the flowing, white curtains, to the brick fireplace opposite the bed.
The bed.
The one bed.
Hermione steps inside, swallowing anxiously. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes. She glances back at Narcissa, who is standing in the doorway. “Thank you,” she says. “This is perfect.”
Narcissa nods. “Miss. Granger,” she says. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable.”
Hermione blinks at her in shock. Surely, Narcissa did not just threaten her.
“I just mean,” Narcissa continues. “Don’t get your hopes up only to have your heart broken. I only have your best interest at heart, dear.”
Hermione stares at her. “Mine isn’t the only heart that stands to be broken,” she replies coldly.
Narcissa gives her a small smile. “Don’t take it personally, dear. I just see how you look at him. The way he used to look at Astoria.”
Narcissa walks out of the room, leaving Hermione staring after her as she goes. When the door is shut, Hermione lowers herself into one of the armchairs at the foot of the bed. Draco hadn’t mentioned any history with Astoria and, for some reason, Narcissa’s comment makes her somewhat unwell.
…
“Why am I here?”
“I beg your pardon?” Draco looks up after closing the door behind himself.
They have just finished their lunch and gone up to their room for an “afternoon rest”.
“Why am I here, Malfoy? The truth.” Hermione folds her arms.
Draco lets out a sigh. “She’s said something again, hasn’t she?”
Hermione cocks an eyebrow. “Is there something you’d like to tell me about your parents’ guests that will be arriving tomorrow?”
Draco narrows his eyes. “Such as?”
“Such as your history with Astoria, Malfoy! Did you date her?”
Draco brings a hand up to his forehead. “Just for a minute.”
“Why would you keep that from me? I was blindsided by your mother today, despite having read nearly fifty pages of your bloody autobiography!” Hermione exclaims in frustration.
Draco’s eyes widen and he brings his finger to his mouth. “Shh!” he hisses. He takes his wand out of his trousers and casts a Muffliato charm to offer them some privacy. “What does it matter if I dated her?”
“Don’t you think that, as your girlfriend, it’s something I should have known?”
Draco watches her irritably. “Seeing as how you’re not actually my girlfriend, I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”
Hermione narrows her eyes. “Pardon me,” she says contemptuously. “So, I’m girlfriend enough to drag to your family’s estate for two bloody weeks, but not girlfriend enough to share the most basic of information with? Please, show me your rulebook, because I’m a bit confused as to the particulars of this arrangement.”
“It slipped my mind, alright?”
Hermione shakes her head and lets out a scathing laugh. “There is no way in hell that it just slipped your mind. You left out that detail on purpose, and I want to know why.”
“You want to know why?” Draco’s voice rises. “You want to know why?”
Hermione’s eyebrows soar near the middle of her forehead. “You don’t have to yell.”
“You know why I didn’t tell you?” His voice drops as he suddenly steps toward her until his face is close enough that his breath stirs the curls around her face. His eyes dart between hers, waiting for a response.
Hermione stares at him, incredulous at his audacity, but doesn’t back away. She’s had encounters with far more dangerous things than the likes of him.
He sucks in his cheeks and retreats slightly, straightening his posture and adjusting the collar of his shirt. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think you’d agree to this ordeal knowing that Astoria and I were once engaged to be married.”
“What?” Hermione exclaims.
Draco rakes his hand through his hair and turns away. “It was years ago. It was only for a few weeks. And it was a mistake.” He turns to look at her as though he half expects her to walk out the door.
“I don’t understand,” she says. “What happened?”
“We dated for a while after Hogwarts. When we got engaged, I asked our parents to keep it out of the papers. Probably because I knew I’d never actually go through with it.”
“Why did you propose? If you knew it wouldn’t work out?” Hermione asks.
Draco sits on the bed and then lays down on it, staring up at the ceiling. “I thought I had no choice.”
“How so?”
Draco lifts his head slightly. “Our families are very close. Not to mention, our parents were pushing for it. I’d taken her virginity and she wanted to move in together. I felt like I’d be letting everyone down if I didn’t propose.”
Hermione sits on the opposite side of the bed. “I still don’t understand why you thought keeping this from me would be a good idea.”
Draco drops his head back and covers his face with his hands, groaning. “It wasn’t supposed to get to this point. It was meant to be one afternoon – the anniversary party. That was it.”
“But, when you realized there would be more, you could have told me.”
Draco’s hands slip down his face and he lifts his eyes to look up at her sitting behind him. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I think I was afraid that it would scare you off. You were already very reluctant.”
Hermione lowers herself until she’s lying parallel to Draco, except upside down. He turns his head to look at her side profile as she blinks up at the ridiculously extravagant canopy over the bed. “Do you have feelings for her?” she asks. “Are you trying to make her jealous?” She glances at him and realizes too late how close they are to one another.
Draco doesn’t move. “No,” he says, but his tone sounds suspiciously uncertain for a Malfoy.
Hermione sighs, turning away. “No more secrets, Draco,” she warns.
“No more secrets,” he agrees. After a moment, he adds, “Just an assortment of lies.”
Hermione chuckles. “Right.”
Draco sits back up and Hermione cranes her neck to look up at him. “You know,” he says, “you were right about Poison.”
Hermione squeals. “I told you! Who was your favourite?”
Draco smirks at her. “Guess.”
Hermione scrambles to sit up. “Two truths and a lie – go!”
Draco thinks for a moment. “Two lies, one truth,” he says. “Number one,” he gives her a pointed look. “Bon Jovi.”
Hermione laughs. “No way!”
Draco maintains a passive expression. “Number two: Warrant.”
Hermione bites her lip, not thinking about how much Draco Malfoy looks like a young Jani Lane.
“Number three: Guns N’ Roses.”
Hermione smiles. Of course, he would relate with the most notorious band of the ‘80s. “GN’R,” she responds. “No question.”
Draco stands. “You’ll never know.”
“What? No, you have to tell me!”
“Maybe.” He shrugs, not looking at her. “One day.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt and turns to look at her over his shoulder, winking.
“Er, what are you doing?” Hermione says, quickly looking away.
“I’m going swimming,” he responds, dropping his shirt onto one of the armchairs and heading for the dresser. “You coming?”
Hermione swallows. “I think perhaps I’ll have a peek at the library.”
“Suit yourself,” he says, pulling a pair of swimming trunks out of a drawer.
…
After dinner, Lucius retires to the library and Narcissa heads upstairs while the house elves clear the table. Hermione is reluctant to return to the bedroom because that is where they will need to address the matter of the bed, and she’s not quite ready for that conversation. So, when Draco suggests they sit out in the garden, she happily takes him up on his offer, considering she can’t very well share the library with Lucius.
“I’m not looking forward to tomorrow,” Draco admits, sitting in one of the lounge chairs facing the water.
Hermione looks out at the lake after taking the chair beside his. “It’s so beautiful here,” Hermione remarks, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air.
He looks over at her and smiles. “Thought you might like it,” he says.
Hermione watches the sun sink slowly below the horizon, painting the clouds in a rosy glow. “You know,” she says after a while. “I’m surprised that nobody has questioned this relationship. I mean, your parents didn’t seem all that surprised that we were together. We didn’t have to try very hard to convince anybody.”
Draco chuckles. “Are you saying you wish it would’ve required more effort on our part?”
“I’m saying we’ve already put a lot of effort into it, learning so much about one another, and for what? Nobody’s quizzing us, nobody’s suspicious. Nothing.” She shrugs. “Even Harry wasn’t overly shocked.”
“Were you hoping to shock him?”
“Well, no. But I suppose I was hoping for a reaction. I mean, you and I as a couple is ludicrous! How does nobody see that?” She glances at him with an incredulous smile.
He laughs. “Can you imagine?”
She shakes her head. “We couldn’t be more incompatible.”
“Completely and utterly incompatible,” he agrees.
“Right? I mean, do we have anything in common?”
“Well, that depends,” he says. “What’s your favourite hair metal band?”
She grins. “I’m being serious. Look at this place. Look at your world!” She gestures around herself to indicate how ridiculously extravagant even the deck is, with its carved railings and collection of luxurious furniture.
Draco looks around and shrugs. “I don’t think my world has any bearing on the subject.”
Hermione leans her head back, looking up at the palette of pastels in the sky. “Pansy says we both have massive egos.”
“You absolutely have a massive ego,” Draco responds.
Hermione twists in her seat. “Me? Of the two of us, you positively have the bigger ego.”
Draco cocks an eyebrow. “Let’s just agree to disagree.”
Hermione rolls her eyes. “You just like to disagree because you like having the last word.”
“Says the woman who never passes up the opportunity to argue.” Draco watches her with a smirk. “Tell me you don’t think you’re the smartest person in nearly every room.”
“Alright, fine,” she concedes. “We are both egotistical egomaniacs with massive egos.”
Draco shakes his head, still chuckling. “Yeah, Granger, you and I are just a couple of arsehats.”
She laughs. “I suppose that’s what we have in common.”
“It’s good to know I’m not alone in this world.” Draco leans back into his chair, smirking.
…
After spending several hours chatting, and then reading, Draco and Hermione rise to head upstairs. They’re moving slowly, both reluctant to face the inevitable obstacle of the bed.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Draco blurts out the moment they walk into the room, as if he’s been rehearsing the words for some time.
Hermione glances at him awkwardly. “It’s your house, take the bed.”
Draco stares at her. “I persuaded you to come, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”
Hermione sighs. “I feel bad taking that giant bed all to myself.”
Draco starts collecting throw pillows off the bed and tossing them onto the floor. “Nonsense,” he says. “You’re sleeping on the bed. End of discussion.”
He starts arranging his makeshift cot while Hermione approaches the canopied bed. She finds her nightgown in a dresser drawer and heads into the bathroom to wash her face. When she comes back out, Draco looks like he’s already asleep. She tiptoes to the bed and climbs onto the tall mattress. She slips her feet under the covers and nearly gasps at the softness of the cool sheets. With a quiet sigh, she settles under the blanket, her head resting on the softest pillow she’s ever slept on.
…
“Draco! Are you decent?”
Hermione’s eyes fly open and she lifts herself up on her elbows to look at her surroundings in confusion. On the floor, Draco has sat bolt upright at the sound of his mother’s voice, the muscles in his bare back tightening.
There’s a rapid knock on their door.
Hermione sits up in a panic, grabbing her wand from the bedside table and sending all of the pillows making up Draco’s sleeping area into the partially open wardrobe across the room, leaving Draco scrambling up to his feet in his black boxer briefs.
He looks up at her in a panic when the doorknob begins to turn. “I’m coming in!” Narcissa calls from outside the door.
In one swift motion, Draco skirts the bed and hops under the covers beside Hermione. Together, they throw themselves backward into the mattress and pull the covers up to their chins, just as Narcissa enters the room.
Narcissa holds a hand over her eyes impatiently. “May I come in?” she says.
Draco shakes his head. “You’re already in, mother!”
“Well, you weren’t responding and I need the guest towels. Lolly keeps them in the wardrobe in this room.” Narcissa marches across the room and Hermione claps a hand to her mouth while Draco closes his eyes resignedly, letting out a slow breath.
Narcissa opens the wardrobe and five pillows and a quilt fall at her feet.
Draco bites into his bottom lip, watching his mother cock her head at the mound of bedding cascading out of the wardrobe. Narcissa clears her throat and reaches up to collect the guest towels. “I don’t want to know,” she says, making her way back out of the bedroom.
Hermione lifts her eyebrows as the door shuts, pressing her lips together tightly to keep from laughing. She turns to her left and, upon seeing Draco’s slightly open mouth, lets out a cackle. She slides deeper under the covers and then pulls them entirely over her face, squealing.
Under the blanket, Draco’s arm tenses as Hermione’s eyes adjust to the darkness. Suddenly, she feels very exposed lying side by side with a shirtless, trouser-less Draco in nothing but a nightgown that barely reaches her knees. She pulls down on it self-consciously just as Draco lifts the covers to duck his head underneath them.
He blinks at her for a few moments while she stays impeccably still.
“Hi,” he says.
‘Hi,” she breathes.
Draco watches her for another couple of seconds before speaking again. “That was close,” he says.
“Mm-hmm.” She nods. Her palms are pressing down on the skirt of her nightgown tightly, as though she expects it to lift of its own accord.
“It’s very warm under here,” he says.
“Mm-hmm,” she responds again.
A knock on the door interrupts their profound conversation.
“Draco! Hermione! The Greengrasses will be arriving in half an hour! Please be ready to receive our guests!” Narcissa calls.
Draco lifts his eyes wearily. “Give us a minute, mother!” he calls.
Hermione gives him a sideways smile and he smirks back at her.
“You ready to face the day?” he asks.
“Are you?” She raises her eyebrows.
Draco’s eyes slip over her face and linger for a split second on her lips before returning to meet her gaze. “How did you sleep?” he asks.
Hermione laughs. “Stop stalling.”
“What?” Draco scoffs in mock outrage. “I really want to know!”
“Well, in that case,” Hermione lowers her voice, as if she’s about to divulge the deepest of secrets. “I haven’t slept this well in years.”
Draco looks pleased. “I’m glad.”
“You?”
His smile wanes minutely. “I don’t sleep well anywhere.”