The Black Rose

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/50446330.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Categories: Multi, F/M, M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Theodore
Nott, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott, Pansy
Parkinson/Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini
Characters: Original Characters, Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown, Gawain Robards, Padma
Patil, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Nott Sr. (Harry Potter), Rita Skeeter
Additional Tags: Ron Weasley Bashing, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Dom
Draco Malfoy, Switch Theodore Nott, Sub Hermione Granger, Light Dom/sub,
Light Bondage, Suicidal Thoughts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD,
Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Murder Mystery, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex,
Auror Draco Malfoy, Healer Hermione Granger, Obliviator Theo Nott, magical
torture, Crucio | Cruciatus Curse (Harry Potter), Found Family, Oblivious
Hermione Granger, Mutual Pining, Soul Bond, Possessive Draco Malfoy,
Protective Draco Malfoy, MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States
of America, Cock Warming, Cinnamon Roll Theodore Nott, Draco and Theo
have a lot of trauma, Friends to Lovers, I'm not British and I don't know the
slang, I'm Sorry, Character Death, The killer isn't who you think it is....or is it?,
Past Abuse, Nott Sr. is a dickhead, Bisexual Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Theodore
Nott, Praise Kink, NSFW Art, Tattooed Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy in
Glasses, HEA
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of Rose Series
Stats: Published: 2023-10-01 Completed: 2023-12-23 Words: 166,486 Chapters:
25/25
 The Black Rose
by DarkCloud190, Rijaya83

Summary

After years of a rocky relationship, Hermione Granger is single again, and for the life of her she
cannot stop staring at her two friends. Draco Malfoy and Theo Nott both work with her at the
DMLE and she is analyzing everything they say, do, or breathe. Surely, she is just imagining it.
They have been dating each other for a year now and couldn't possibly be interested in her.

Hermione's troubled love life aside, there is a killer targeting a specific group of people, putting
both Hermione and Theo at risk.

This fic was inspired by Sugar and Spice and Bring Him to His Knees (so my deepest thanks to
both those authors and their amazing stories) and this is an amalgamation of those two and my
manic writing - please enjoy <3

Art by Nadia Polyakova - nadiapolyakova_art on Instagram

Notes

Welcome all to my new Dreomione, The Black Rose. This fic will update once a week on Sunday's
for the time being. It will end around 150,000 words and 25-26 chapter (one of those being an
epilogue). While this is being posted as a WIP. The full story is almost written. I am currently
working on the last five chapters. Once the story is fully written and edited (looking like early
November). I will add a second weekly upload to Wednesday's.

Thank you all for being here - I hope you love it as much as I have writing it.

See the end of the work for more notes

Chapter 1 Glass
August 2003

Door locked and with her nose buried in a report from the previous night’s raid, Hermione was
content to pretend like no one and nothing else existed. It had been six months, and Godric help
her, she still had days where she felt worthless, and she hated that. Today was proving to be
particularly difficult, she blamed the lack of sleep, and she didn’t feel like pretending like
everything was fine.
Back in April everything had come crashing down around her and the most difficult part about it
was she didn’t quite feel how she thought she was supposed to. She had gone out to dinner with
Harry and Pansy that night; Ron was working late with George at the shop. The three of them went
back to Hermione’s flat for a bit of a catch up before calling it a night.

It was still rather early when they walked through the floo, so Hermione was surprised when she
heard what sounded like Ron’s voice. She had expected him to be out late doing the end of the
month numbers with George. Once she entered the living area, unobliterated shock choked her.

Ron was starkers on the lounge, but worse yet, he wasn’t alone. A pale faced brunette that she
instantly recognized as Lavender Brown was squirming under him when Hermione cursed loudly.

“You bloody arse, Ronald Weasley! On my couch! Really?”

Pansy and Harry rushed into the room once they heard Hermione’s elevated tones carrying back to
the floo. In quick succession, Ron tossed a throw blanket over Lavender’s naked form. Harry’s
mouth was so far agape that his wife closed his jaw, while she appeared to be shooting embers
straight at Ron.

“Ron seriously?” Harry mumbled.

“Always knew Weasley was a git!” Pansy shouted.

“I should go,” Lavender whispered.

The embarrassed witch wrapped the blanket tightly around her as she gathered her discarded
garments that were strewn about. Everyone watched in stunned silence as she quickly scurried out,
hearing the sound as she exited via the floo. That foul git added her to their floo and possibly their
wards as well.

“We should go,” Harry muttered, guiding Pansy back towards the other room.

“Sod off, Harry. I’m not going anywhere. I want to see the show,” she crossed her arms. “Light ‘em
up, Granger!” Pansy yanked her arm out his grasp while her wand was clutched firmly at her side,
ready to strike.

There should have been fireworks, uncontrolled sparks of magic and screaming, but instead
Hermione was silent. Concerning as it was to find Ron cheating on her, she was more bothered
about them ruining the sofa.

She stared as he hastily pulled up his trousers and threw on a discarded shirt. Mad, she was
certainly angry with him but there was also this weird sense of relief that washed over her. Being
with Ron had always been like an obligation, but this gave her an out. But mostly, she was just
embarrassed. Not only was he cheating on her, but she had no idea and their friends had witnessed
it.

Things with Ron had been forced for the last couple of years, but they were in a comfortable
routine and neither seemingly wanted to rock the boat, until now. The color drained from her face
as the lifeless words fell from her lips.

“Get out,” she whispered.

“’Mione,” he pleaded. “Let’s talk,” he glared at Pansy. “Privately.”

“No, Ronald. We’re done,” she crossed her arms. “Get out of my flat.”

“This is our house, you can’t just kick me out,” he hissed.

A rather unladylike snort emitted from Pansy in the background when Harry tried to shush her with
no luck. The uncomfortable tension radiating off the pair of them was easily eclipsed by Hermione
and Ron’s back and forth.

“The bloody hell I can’t,” she sneered. “Last I checked, I paid for the flat. I paid for everything in
it. We’re not married Ronald; you’re entitled to nothing. So, get. Out!”

Before Ron could respond a loud buzzing noise came from behind them. Harry’s auror badge was
flashing, indicating a call that required immediate attention.

“Pans, I have to go,” he kissed her on the cheek and disappeared through the floo.

Only moments later, Hermione’s healer pin vibrated, seemingly calling her to the same situation
that Harry had just run off to. It may not have been ideal timing, but she was happy about the
escape route, she had nothing more to say.

“Don’t be here when I get back,” she said to Ron. “Pansy,” Hermione turned to her. “Can you make
sure he’s not here when I come home?”

A cocky smirk graced her lips, “With pleasure.”

Hermione wiped the sleep and exhaustion out of her eyes, she had worked quite late after the
disastrous raid from the previous night. A group of auror trainees went into what they thought was
a small camp of niffler smugglers; it turned out to be a part of a much larger magical creature
smuggling ring.

As one of only two healers on staff for the DMLE Hermione was summoned to the site after the
situation was contained. In the background she could hear Malfoy berating the trainees who had
botched the entire thing. What was even worse was that there were muggles involved; once
Hermione had finished tending to them, Theo was onsite to complete the necessary oblivations. It
was an utter disaster. The sun had just started to rise by the time she was able to go home and get a
couple hours of sleep before dragging herself back to the Ministry.

The events created a heady combination of emotions that bubbled to the surface. Normally, she
would have been thankful that it was at least Friday, but no. There was a mandatory Ministry gala
that she had to attend tonight. It was a fundraiser for the DMLE, the whole department would be
there. And as usual, Kingsley was looking forward to showing off his prized ponies, the Golden
Trio, to elicit the largest donations.

Being forced to be around Ron, and even more so, to be cordial was tiresome. By some miracle, the
press hadn’t caught wind of his infidelity, even though they had been quick to report on the golden
couple’s breakup. In true Skeeter fashion, she had been quick to blame her for their falling apart;
she was too domineering, prudish, quarrelsome and all the other buzzwords her quick quotes quill
loved to use.
Ideally, there would be no articles, but she preferred these to ones as opposed to ones about Ron
cheating on her, that would be worse somehow, so she did her best to ignore them. If the public
knew the truth, it would only add fuel to the fire that she was clearly the problem. There were far
fewer articles in the last couple of months. But she imagined with the gala tonight, they would
spring up again.

With the final touches to her report from last night completed, she realized she would have to leave
her office to deliver it to Robards; he had always preferred them to be delivered in person. She
could only hope that everyone was too busy or exhausted from last night to pay her any mind.

Once at Robards office she gave a knock before he told her to come in, surprisingly it was empty,
save for him, when she placed the parchment on his desk.

“Were there any major injuries last night?”

“A handful, most I was able to treat in the field, but I did have to send Sparks and Jensen to St.
Mungo’s for additional overnight care. They both needed bones regrown and that’s a longer
process,” she paused. “I also had to reattach an arm on one of the trainees and a foot on the other,
but it was relatively simple.”

“Alright, that will be all,” Robards shooed her out with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Working for the wizard was decent enough, Hermione considered him fair, but he did not hide his
emotions. She was glad to leave his office relatively quickly because the vein that was throbbing in
his neck looked like it may burst at any moment, and she did not want to be on the other side of his
ire when it happened.

As she closed the door behind her, she ran headlong into something she could only describe as a
brick, an immoveable wall as she almost tumbled to the ground. Long fingers curled around her
back and shoulders, steadying her when she looked up.

Draco Malfoys signature smirk greeted her along with his grey eyes that shimmered under his
glasses. Her palms pressed against his chest as she righted herself before smoothing down her
robes.

Merlin, he had no right to be that attractive. The wizard was all muscle and looked devastatingly
handsome even with the worn-out circles under his eyes. She smelled hints of oak, whiskey, and
apples whenever she was this close to him, it reminded her of Christmas morning. Her mother
would be making an apple pie and dad would pour a splash of whiskey in his coffee and that would
all blend together with the woodsy scents from the decorations.

“You should really watch were you’re going, Malfoy,” she huffed.

“Aren’t you just a little ray of lumos,” he dropped his hands. “And it was you, who walked into me,
Granger.”

The wizard rarely wore robes, at least from what Hermione could tell. Instead, he wore a simple
white oxford with the cuffs rolled up, paired with black trousers. His wand holster was slung
around his chest, and she couldn’t help but stare at the tattoos that decorated his forearm, all but
hiding the faded Dark Mark that lived there.

“See something you fancy?” he chuckled.

Of course, he would catch her staring, she couldn’t help it. At least when she wasn’t as tired, she
was able to do a better job of hiding her fascination. The pepper-up potion she had taken hours ago
had most certainly worn off and she had no interest in giving Malfoy some sort of smug
satisfaction.

“Most certainly not you,” she sneered, poking him in the chest. “Where is Theo anyway?”

“You wound me,” he clutched his chest. “Little bugger probably snuck off to the archives to get a
nap in.”

Robards voice penetrated through the door and echoed out into the hall. “Malfoy! Get your ass in
my office, now!”

Draco pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose before settling them back in place.
“Bloody Sparks and Jensen when they’re released from St. Mungo’s I’m going to destroy them. See
you at the gala, Granger.”

Without another word he disappeared into Robards office, and she swore she saw their boss cast a
silencing charm because she could see the spit flying out of his mouth, but not a sound could be
heard. Not wanting to get caught in the crossfire she quickly made her way back to her office and
shut the door behind her.

Hard to imagine the world she was now living in, one where she and Draco Malfoy were friends.
But they were, and they had gotten close over the last couple of years. Much to Ron’s dismay while
they were together.

Her gaze drifted to the dress that hung from the back of the door. It was a rather revealing red dress
with golden bronze strappy heels to match. Pansy had picked the dress out and said the effects were
threefold; it would elicit big donations, piss off the red-haired prat, and could catch the eye or two
of a certain wizard. Her friend was far too perceptive for her own good.

It had been four months since she called off things with Ron. Not long after, her gaze started to
linger at their weekly dinners. Draco and Theo had always been fit, but now she allowed herself a
proper look, and had been caught one too many times by Pansy.

A quiet knock on her door concerned her until she looked up and saw that it was just Harry. He
nodded from the other side of the glass and raised what looked to be a coffee in his hand when
Hermione motioned for him to come in.

Harry looked about as equally exhausted as she was. He put the hot coffee down on her desk before
plopping down heavily in the chair in front of her. His legs were outstretched, ankles crossed while
he sipped on his own mug. Hermione tucked her wand back into the bun on top of her head before
taking a gratified sip.

“Looks like you need that,” he offered.

Ever since the Ron debacle, Harry had rallied around her more fiercely than before. While he
hadn’t cut his friend off completely, he made it clear that he supported Hermione fully and that if
push came to shove, he would put the redhead aside for her. To no one’s surprise, Ron didn’t
particularly like Harry’s wife and little to hide it.

“How long do you think I’ll have to stay tonight,” she murmured.
“Depends on how quickly we can get Kingsley to make his rounds,” he shrugged. He pulled his
glasses off and rubbed his eyes before returning them to their place. “Pansy said to tell you
something,” he shifted in the seat.

“What is it?” her brow arched.

“Bloody witch,” he murmured. “I don’t want to say it.”

A soft chuckle passed her lips, knowing Pansy it was something lewd. It wasn’t that Harry was
necessarily a prude, he was just always a little uncomfortable talking about those things around her,
which she understood.

“This is Pansy,” he reminded her. “And I quote, ‘tell Granger we’re getting her dicked down so
good tonight she won’t even realize the weasel is there’ avada me now please,” Harry sighed.

Every part of Harry’s face had turned a bright shade of scarlet as he looked anywhere but at her,
now incredibly interested with the cup in his hands. She was accustomed to Pansy’s antics by now.
And ever since breaking up with Ron, she had only become more emboldened in her quest to get
Hermione ‘shagged proper’ as she put it.

Much to Pansy’s dismay, she hadn’t slept with anyone in the last four months, let alone gone out on
a date. It was hard to want to do those things when she didn’t feel desirable or attractive. Ron never
particularly made her feel sexy. Him cheating on her didn’t help matters either, despite Pansy’s
attempts to remind her how attractive she was.

“I’m sure your wife will end up disappointed,” she smirked.

“I can do my best to try and run interference,” Harry offered, as he tried to change the subject.
“Although, Skeeter will be there, and I don’t think I can’t get you completely out of her barrage.”

“It’s fine,” she mumbled. “Thank you, Harry.”

The pair ordered lunch and decided to eat in while going over last night’s disastrous raid. Harry
picked at the sushi like it was going to bite him back which made her chuckle.

“You got a California roll, there’s no raw fish in it,” she smiled.

“I know,” he said sheepishly as he swallowed a piece. “Malfoy was in Robards office for at least
two hours this morning and got absolutely demolished for what his trainees did. They are lucky no
one died.”

Hermione nodded solemnly; he wasn’t wrong. The mess was catastrophic, and Malfoy knew based
on the way he ripped into the young aurors on the field.

“On my way here, the door to Malfoy's office was closed and he must have cast a Muffliato
because Jones, Howard and Austin looked to be in tears in his office. I swear I could see the vein
pulsating in his throat from the hall.”

“Can you blame him? What if it had been your trainees that did that when you were a Sergeant?”

“Just glad I didn’t have to chew Malfoy out myself, he passed right on to Robards,” Harry nodded.
Within the last couple of years both Harry and Malfoy had catapulted their careers forward in the
Auror office. Harry had accepted the role of Captain within the last year, and with his promotion,
Malfoy was offered the vacated Sergeant role, which he was a natural at it seemed.

After lunch Harry left and she was content to stay locked in her office for the rest of the day. The
entire department was clearly on edge after last night and with the impending gala that evening.
The day was close to wrapping up when she saw Malfoy in the hall outside of her office. His silver
strands were mussed as he ran his fingers through his hair.

When Harry and Pansy started dating, Hermione found herself thrusted into a new friend group.
Frequently, she was in the company of Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini. Around
the same time, Ginny had started dating Blaise.

She couldn’t have picked a more perfect match for Ginny. After the war, Harry and her drifted apart
when they realized they were better as friends. Blaise doted on her endlessly, it was almost
sickening how he worshiped her. The friendship between the group blossomed, but she got
especially close to Draco and Theo, bonding over a love of books and mutual trauma.

It was now six and the fundraiser was due to start in an hour down in the Ministry’s grand
ballroom. Reluctantly, Hermione closed the shades on the window and summoned her dress and
shoes over her. She stared at the gown as her fingers danced over the heavy satin fabric, it was soft
to the touch, and she smiled.

With a bit of complex magic, she transfigured the coat rack into a mirror, looked over herself and
allowed a beaming smile to pluck at the corners of her mouth. Putting on the dress and shoes had
been the easy part. The glamour to cover the scar on her arm only took moments given how
practiced she was with it now; but her hair was another story. That had taken almost the full hour to
tame through a combination of sleekseasy and some charm work.

Although she hated to admit it, Pansy always knew how to make her look stunning. The dress hit
just above her knees and the red popped against her pink, freckled skin. The neckline was slightly
suggestive in a v cut that showed off just enough of her cleavage. The sleeves of the dress slouched
demurely off her shoulders, resting on her upper arms. Despite the cushioning charms, she already
knew her feet were going to be screaming in the golden heels after an hour or two. Hopefully, she
would be well on her way home by then.

She looked every bit the Gryffindor Princess that everyone claimed her to be. Golden Girl,
Gryffindor Princess, The Brightest Witch of Her Age, and Potter’s Mudblood, her nose twitched at
the memory, no one had called her the last one in years, at least to her face. Although, she was
confident that it was still popular in certain circles.

It was like Hermione Granger ceased into being at these events and turned into the mythical
heroine that everyone wanted some part of for their own selfish reasons. To latch on to a little bit of
the fame or glory that came with her. When in fact, all she wanted was to be left alone. It had
always bothered Ron that she and Harry wanted nothing to do with the limelight when he was
starved for it.

With a calming breath, Hermione tucked her wand into her perfectly coifed curls that were tamed
into some sort of half up, half down style. A quiet whistle echoed off the walls making her freeze,
only to visibly relax once she saw Theo strutting towards her with his classic whimsical smirk on
his face. His black dress robes were only accentuated by the white oxford underneath that poked
out. His chocolate curls framed his face while his equally dark almond eyes sparkled at her as his
gaze trailed over her slowly, making her blush.

“Hermione, love, you are one in a million in that dress.”

Theodore Nott had no right to be as kind and gentle as he was. To some, he was the quiet reserved
boyfriend of Draco Malfoy. To others, the son of a wizard some thought crueler than Voldemort
himself; and they weren’t wrong. But to his friends, he was charming, warm, and comforting.

The details eluded Hermione but growing up for Theo had been tremendously difficult. Pansy
didn’t even know the full extent of the brutality Theo faced; Hermione doubted that anyone besides
Draco ever would.

“Won’t Draco be cross with you, if you don’t let him show you off?” she smiled.

“He had to head down early, so I am on my own for now, as it appears so are you,” he winked.

About a year ago, Draco and Theo went public with their relationship. While she didn’t pry, she did
have a feeling that they had been together or at least close for much longer than just the past year.
There was something endearing and insufferably sexy about the two of them together. They were
perhaps the most attractive wizards Hermione had ever laid eyes on and Merlin, when the two of
them held hands or kissed, it made her stomach flutter and her heart race.

“Shall we,” he offered his arm.

“I suppose,” she teased, hooking her arm through his.

His forearm was taut under her touch, and she noticed the way it flexed slightly with each step they
took. Theo was easy to be around with his controlled confidence. Hermione tried to hide the
grimace that was on her face as they got closer to the ballroom, wanting to run away and go home
to her flat.

“You couldn’t look any more thrilled if you tried,” he snickered. “Don’t worry love, it will be done
before you know it.”

In that moment she was thankful to have Theo’s calm, steady presence surrounding her as they
stepped into the lavishly decorated space. There were far too many people, it was almost choking
and consuming her when his callous hand found hers. He gave her a reassuring squeeze sensing
that she was uncomfortable.

“Let’s find Pans and Potter, yea?”

Hermione nodded silently as she followed his lead through the throngs of people until they were
finally next to them, and she exhaled. Theo patted her hand as he dropped his arm. Pansy was
wearing a black and emerald dress that had a long slit straight up to her thigh, while Harry wore
simple black dress robes.

“Harry, have you seen Draco? And, by chance, is he in a better mood yet?” Theo snorted.

“I would certainly call it a mood,” Harry laughed. “Better or not could be debated. He was over by
the floo entrance last I checked though.”
With a nod Theo walked away, a knowing glint in his eye. Hermione tried not to stare at his arse in
his robes as he sauntered off but failed miserably. She caught Pansy’s gaze only to see a condensing
smirk on her face.

“Oh, shove off Pans.”

“I didn’t say a damn thing, Granger,” she snickered with an arched brow.

The plan of hiding in the crowd didn’t last for long. Trying to hide with ‘The Chosen One’
probably wasn’t her brightest idea. As much as she hated to be known by all those monikers society
had given her, that went doubly so for Harry. Kingsley had quickly swooped in and was steering the
pair of them from one group to the next. Where they painted on their fake smiles and friendly nods
until enough time had passed where they could leave.

Hermione and Harry were engaged in a rather dull conversation with the Canadian Minister of
Magic. He was drawling on and on about the skill of the UK’s DMLE and how their offices were
working to mimic what was being done here. It was all fine until he insinuated that he wanted to
request the pair of them to come spend a month or two in Canada to help set up their Auror and
Healer divisions. Her face visibly blanched when a loud voice pulled her away from the
uncomfortable conversation.

“Ah, yes, the missing piece,” Kingsley boomed.

The momentary relief was quickly replaced with dread when she saw the tall, broad-shouldered
redhead confidently making his way towards the Minister’s outstretched hand. Harry shot
Hermione an apologetic glance before he smiled at Ron and the others.

Never did she think she would rather be talking to the Canadian Minister, but here she was, this
close to agreeing to spend a year in Canada, all to avoid having to even look at Ron. It was all
going so well until Kingsley wrapped an arm around her, steering her right in his direction.

“Britain’s very own Golden Trio,” he smiled broadly.

Ron preened like a bloody peacock under all the attention while she and Harry wanted nothing
more than to dissolve into the floor under them. She didn’t even know who they were talking to at
this point after being shuffled around so much, her feet were throbbing, despite the cushioning
charms. She looked around the room trying to spy Pansy in the crowd, hoping for some sort of
saving, but no luck.

But what she did see was Draco and Theo off from the crowd standing close together in a corner,
talking amongst themselves. Both men were tall, granted compared to Hermione, most wizards
seemed tall. Draco had a bit of an edge on Theo though in that regard. She watched as Draco
wrapped an arm possessively around his waist, holding him close. He smiled up at Draco when his
hand swiped through his curls before pressing a tender kiss to Theo’s temple.

At the sight of them Hermione all but melted into the floor, watching as his hand never left Theo’s
middle. It was unfair how unattainably attractive both those wizards were, and most of London
agreed. They were photographed together in Hogsmeade, leading to a Witch Weekly article that
confirmed two of London’s most eligible bachelors were off the market.

It was only when Harry cleared his throat that she realized she had been staring far too long and
turned to see Skeeter next to the trio, eliciting an audible groan from her that she didn’t even
attempt to stifle. She knew this was coming, it always did, but still, she had no desire for the
witch’s interrogation of her love life or lack thereof.

“Lovely to see you as well, Miss Granger,” Skeeter sniped.

Casually, Harry slipped in between Ron and Hermione, settling himself firmly in the middle and
she had never been more appreciative of her friend than in that very moment. She did nothing to
hide the disgruntled look on her face as Skeeter’s quill danced furiously behind her even though no
one was talking.

“Mr. Weasley,” she turned her attention to Ron while Hermione tried to ignore the aching burn in
her feet. “How fares the budding relationship with Miss Brown? I have been itching to snap a photo
of you two, but it seems you have rarely made time to wonder about town,” she winked at her own
insinuation.

While Hermione made no attempt to keep up to date with her ex’s love life over the last four
months, Harry had informed her that his relationship with Lavender was rocky at best. It was
subtle, but she caught the way Ron’s nose twitched at the question and his shoulders slouched.

“Oh Skeeter,” he laughed before he tapped her on the arm. “You know how new love is,” he
winked, and Hermione tried to swallow the gagging noise that was choking her in her throat.

She tried her best to zone out throughout the rest of Skeeter’s interrogation of Ron, choosing
instead to focus on the two cozied up wizards in the corner that looked effortlessly handsome. The
warmth in her cheeks made her blush harder when a small smile curled on the edges of her lips.
Not only did they look comfortable together, but she also envied how they were left alone, no one
bothered them. Hermione could barely go two steps without someone clamoring for her attention.

“Miss Granger,” Skeeter said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“What?” she snapped a bit harsher than she intended.

“My apologies, you missed my question. What young wizard or witch has claimed your
affections?”

“No one as of yet which I’m sure you are aware of,” she hissed.

“Well, one never really knows. You have always been the reclusive, bookish type. I thought maybe
you had a lover stashed away from the world.”

Ron let out a laugh that caused Hermione to glare at him when he spoke. “Hermione?! Have a
secret lover, you’re barking Skeeter.”

It was infuriating how the two of them started to speak like she wasn’t even there after that. Harry
tried to squeeze her shoulder when she yanked her arm away, feeling when her blood boiled close
to the surface, threatening to reach its tipping point.

“……is that why you broke up? Hermione was just too prudish for your lifestyle.”

Her arms shook silently at her sides, her hands clenching and unclenching in fists. It took every
ounce of restraint not to pull her wand out of her hair and hex, that redheaded menace in front of
everyone.
“We’re brilliant as friends, but the sexual compatibility just wasn’t there.”

“Excuse me, but I need to use the loo,” Hermione squeaked out before strutting hurriedly towards
the exit.

What was once anger was quickly being replaced by self-doubt. Ron had said everything that she
already knew, at least she assumed she did. That it was her fault that he cheated, that she wasn’t
attractive enough or didn’t please him enough sexually. Other failures in their relationship, she had
no issue putting the fault on him. But she had always had trouble orgasming with him, making him
frustrated when it took too long.

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she found a deserted room off the hall to lock herself in.
She slumped to the floor in a muddled pile of limbs as she clumsily took off the heels and rubbed
her aching feet while the tears started to slide down and stain her flushed cheeks. Her chest and
shoulders shook with the sobs that she tried to force back down not wanting to look like an utter
mess on the floor.

She failed miserably, only feeling more tears stream down her face. She wrapped her arms around
her shoulders trying to apply pressure across her body, wishing the sadness to dissipate. At this
point, she just wanted to gain enough control to get herself to the floo so she could go home.

“Hermione?”

Her name was said like a question, and the voice that spoke it was low and warm. The word
wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. When she looked up, she had expected to see Harry
in front of her, but to her surprise it was Theo. She studied his face for a moment, expecting to feel
worse at seeing the pity that was surely etched there. But no, his face was soft and pliant, his eyes
twinkled when he blinked at her.

Slowly, he moved closer until he was standing next to her. She sniffled, trying to wipe away the
tears and snot from her face.

“Can I sit here?” He indicated the spot next to her when she nodded.

Gracefully, he crouched down and tucked his long legs in on themselves before leaning in closer to
the mess that was Hermione Granger. He waited patiently and smiled until it was quiet enough for
him to speak again.

“I saw you with Weasley. Was it him? Do you miss him?” he asked genuinely.

The most undignified snort escaped her mouth as she clapped her hand over her face to try and hide
it when she laughed properly.

“Absolutely not,” she forced out. “Not even a little bit. I’m lamenting more the way I’ve let him
make me feel about myself. The doubt I’ve allowed to creep in because of him. The years I wasted
on someone who obviously never loved me, or cared for me,” she paused. “Or found me
attractive.”

“What?” Theo almost shouted. “Love, you’ve looked in a mirror, right? Did Weasley say you were
unattractive?”
“Not in so many words,” she shrugged. “We didn’t just break up because we drifted apart. Ron
cheated on me. I walked in on him fucking Lavender Brown in my flat.”

Hermione was vaguely aware of the way her shoulders were shaking, there was a chill in the room
and her arms were still wrapped around herself protectively. Theo shrugged his jacket off before
draping it over her and rubbing the sides down.

“You think that means you’re unattractive?” he said plainly. “The weasel is a git. You are singularly
the most stunning witch I have ever seen,” a hint of pink creeped up his cheeks. “And that goes
doubly so for tonight.”

A quiet, watery chuckle crackled in her chest as she pulled the lapels of his jacket tighter around
her like a protective cloak. It was hard not to be entranced by his words, they were honest and
confident. For the first time since he sat down, she looked over at him.

He was far closer than she realized, and she could smell the hints of smoked cedar, fresh clove, and
warm embers, it was comforting. His eyes were round and unblinking back at her, grazing over her
slowly. She watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips; his thumb rubbed over the spot that his
tongue had just crossed. Was it, was it what she was thinking, no she had to be misreading his body
language. There was this pull, she wanted to lean in, to press her lips to his. She wanted to know
what he tasted like. In warning, her head buzzed as her brain seemed to click back.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m dumping all of this on you. I’m ok really, I think I’ll just head
home. I showed my face enough. You should get back to Draco, I’m sure he’s worried about you.”

Right, Draco, his boyfriend. The man that he lives and works with and here she was thinking about
touching him, kissing him. Self-loathing crept up on her, knotting deep in her abdomen.
Unceremoniously she shucked off his jacket before pressing it back in Theo’s arms, his brows
knitted down at the drastic change around her. Before he could object or get a word in, she spoke
again.

“I really should get going, I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“You’re never a bother,” he said softly as he stood. Once on his feet he extended his hand out to
help her up, which she cautiously accepted. “At least let me escort you to the floo. If you’re with
me it’s unlikely anyone else will try to bother you as you leave.”

As much as she wanted to put as much distance between the two of them as possible, he was right.
Generally, people shied away from engaging with Theo. While Draco had been tainted as a Death
Eater, he was outgoing enough that people didn’t balk around him. Theo on the other hand was
more reserved with his affections and words, and to that end, people tended to not come up to him
unless they already knew him. A blessing and a curse perhaps.

“Can’t forget these,” Theo said with a smirk. He summoned the gold heels into his hands. When
Hermione reached for them, he pulled away. “Do you really want to put these back on? It looked as
though your feet were quite sore.”

“No,” she bit her lip. “I was going to carry them while we walked to the floo.”

“Allow me,” he said nonchalantly while offering his arm to her once more.
With a sigh she gave in and decided it was easier to let Theo play the gentleman than to argue with
him. Besides, the lack of sleep from the night before, the long day, and the throbbing in her feet had
made her positively knackered and the sooner she got to the floo the better. She threaded her arm
through his and allowed him to steer her to the floo room.

“Careful Theo, you keep treating me like this and you’re going to make Draco jealous,” she
smirked. “I see how possessive he is of you.”

“Perhaps,” he paused. “But he won’t be jealous for the reason you think Hermione,” he winked at
her, and she choked.

Clearly, she was delirious from sleep deprivation. She had read about this; it was akin to being
drunk when you reached certain levels. There was no way that one of the wizards she fancied was
insinuating what she thought he was.

Theo had always been a flirt, this wasn’t different, but in a way, it was. Or at least, she wanted it to
be. The way he looked at her, the words he was speaking, Draco’s jealousy not of her, but him.
Why would he be jealous of Theo? It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with her, that made
zero sense. They were together and obviously loved each other. She knew Theo well enough to
know that he would never do anything to hurt Draco.

Sleep may have overtaken her before they even made it to the floo, her eyes were fluttering heavily
as she struggled to keep them open. She was thankful to have Theo dragging her along at this point,
she doubted she would have been able to make it on her own. Hermione knew it was a bad idea, but
she allowed her head to fall to his arm as they walked, too tired to hold it upright anymore. He
brushed a curl off her face, and to her relief, he didn’t say a word.

Unsurprisingly, they ran into no one, and she found herself standing weakly in front of the floo, her
eyes barely open.

“Love, are you alright?”

She nodded.

“Are you safe to floo? I don’t want you to hurt yourself. We could sidealong, it might be a better
idea.”

There was no way she could let him take her home, she wasn’t in a clear state of mind, and she
didn’t want to make a mistake. She wasn’t worried about Theo taking advantage of her, but the
more likely scenario was that she would do something. If she mucked it up, all the worst cases
scenarios ran through her head. Draco would be furious, she would be banished from their friends,
Pansy would hate her, she was spiraling.

“Ok, Hermione. We should sidealong, you look like you’re disintegrating in front of me,” he pulled
her arm through his. “I’ll drop you off at your door and come straight back here once I see you
made it inside. Is that alright?”

“Fine, yes,” she whispered.

They wandered to the nearby apparition point before she tucked in close to Theo while she inhaled
his scent. It reminded her of camping with her parents growing up and made a soft smile curl on
her lips at the memory, he smelled like home. There was the familiar tug behind her navel when she
landed back on her feet outside her flat.

He leaned in so close that she could feel his breath on her lips, and she stifled a whimper. His finger
wrapped around a stray curl before he tucked it back behind her ear.

“You are beautiful love,” he whispered. “Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise; downright
delectable,” he beamed. “Now, hurry inside. I can’t keep my tall, dark, and brooding man alone for
much longer or he will most certainly be cross with me. Granted, that may play into my favor for
the evening,” he waggled his brows.

“Theo,” she gasped, smacking him on the chest.

The warmth on his hand enveloped hers as he clasped around her fingers, it was so small in his
grip. He pressed it tight into his chest for a long pause before he brought her knuckles up to his lips
and brushed a tender kiss across them; his eyes never leaving hers. Embers crackled over her hand,
she knew she should pull away, but she wanted to get burned.

“Sweet dreams, Hermione,” he purred.

“Goodnight, Theo.”

Reluctantly, she removed her hand from his grip and stared at him as he watched her with rapt
attention while she disappeared behind the door to her flat. Once she locked the door, she heard the
crack of him disapparating and slunk to the floor, back pressed against the frame.
 Chapter 2 Gone is the Golden Girl
Chapter Notes

Enjoy chapter 2 a little early!! ;) I have a wedding this weekend, that I somehow forgot about
lol. So, I wanted to make sure I got this chapter up. *Add a little bit of spice* in the beginning
for you all!!!

Thank you for all the lovely reactions to the first chapter! So many sweet comments and all
the kudos!

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

While she shuffled towards the bedroom, Hermione slid out of the dress and let it pool into a pile
by the kitchen when she pulled her hair free to let it dangle down her back. She looked around and
realized she forgot to grab her shoes back from Theo and accepted he would probably bring them to
work on Monday.

In a stupor of exhaustion, she collapsed on her bed and tossed her wand on the end table. She was
asleep before she could put on her sleep clothes, still in her bra and knickers.

“Look at our witch, Theo. So beautiful and perfect for us.”

Hermione whimpered and pulled at the restraints around her wrists while her hips bucked into the
air. Her curls were wild behind her head as she chewed on her lip and stared at the wizards in front
of her.

Draco and Theo were still fully clothed while she was bare and flushed on the bed, displayed for
them. They talked about Hermione as if she wasn’t there when Draco palmed the back of Theo’s
head and pulled him up and in for a bruising kiss that turned her into a dripping mess on the
sheets.

Theo moaned into Draco’s mouth when his hand rubbed over the outline of his cock straining
against his trousers. With a nip, Draco pulled away and dragged his thumb over Theo’s swollen
lips before tilting his head up to look at him.

“Our girl needs attention Theo, go, and take care of her. You don’t get to come until she does,”
Theo nodded and moved towards the bed. “Would you like that, darling? For Theo to devour that
desperate cunt of yours? I can see you glistening from here.”

A garbled moan escaped her lips as she squeezed her thighs together, searching for any friction she
could get. Staggered breaths moved in and out of her panting mouth as she pleaded with Draco.

“Please,” she whined.

“Draco asked you a question, love. It would be rude not to answer.”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Yes, what?” Draco ordered.

“I want,” her blown eyes looked at Theo and then back to Draco. “I want Theo between my legs,
please!”

“Good girl,” he praised. “Theo, take good care of our witch.”

A loud whimper woke Hermione up; it came from her own mouth. Her fingers had slid down under
the lace of her knickers and were rubbing steadily over her clit. There was a tight coiling behind her
navel as she was already teetering on the edge of release. She dipped one finger into her entrance,
quickly followed by a second and set a steady rhythm.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned, bucking her hips into her palm.

The tight, burning ball inside of her snapped as her walls clenched down around her fingers while
she rode out the waves of her orgasm. Her body writhed and shook while her breathing was ragged.
Slowly, her chest began to rise and fall in a familiar pattern as she removed her fingers and let her
limbs lay loosely at her sides.

An orange glow was streaming in through the window of her bedroom as the sun had just started to
crest over the horizon. The clock on the wall showed it was just a little after six in the morning
when she huffed.

Saturday was spent alone in her flat as she tore through three books throughout the day. Anything
to keep her mind occupied and to stop it from wandering. She had always been aware of how fit
Draco and Theo were, even during their time at Hogwarts. But her life during those years had left
little time for personal pleasures. And then, after the war, she was with Ron, like it had always
been. Now that the haze from their breakup had cleared, Hermione was left confused by the
thoughts and feelings that roamed freely.

Perhaps she just needed to get out there and have a good shag, like Pansy and Ginny had been
pushing for. She had only ever been with Ron, and it had been months since they split, she was just
pent up and latching on to the first men she had found sexually attractive. She had wished Merlin
had been a little kinder to her and not made it to wizards who were in a committed relationship, it
made her feel like a slag, even having those thoughts about them. She enjoyed their friendship and
didn’t want to do anything to ruin that.

On Sunday morning a small tawny owl clicked on the window of Hermione’s flat with a copy of
the Daily Prophet tucked in its beak. She deposited the sickles into its pouch and with a soft caress
of its head sent it back on its way. The coffee in her mug was not going to be strong enough if the
headline on the cover was any indication.

Gone is the Golden Girl

By: Rita Skeeter

Trouble in paradise? During the fundraising event for the Department of Magical Law
Enforcement this past Friday it was my pleasure to speak with Britain’s very own Golden Trio.
Rumors had swirled over the past months after the breakup of darling Ronald Weasley and
Hermione Granger, when most were assured wedding bells were in their future.
Faces were strained and uncomfortable during the short interview when the Golden Girl herself
looked to be frustrated by her former lover’s newfound affections for one Miss Lavender Brown.
Jealousy was evident on her face when she sneered and scoffed at the conversation before storming
off not to be seen for the rest of the night.

A warring of emotions raged inside of her, and she wasn’t sure which one of them would win out.
While she shouldn’t have been surprised by the dastardly, negative spin Skeeter had given her, it
still made heat rise throughout her face to her ears. Despite that, tears still gathered in the corners of
her eyes that she quickly wiped away with the sleeve of her sweater. She knew she should stop
reading, that nothing good came from it, but as usual, curiosity got the better of her.

While Hermione Granger looked ravishing in a red gown that screamed Gryffindor’s Princess.
There was certainty that the outfit for the evening was perfectly coordinated by none other than
Pansy Potter in an effort to save Miss Grangers reputation.

Reputation? What about that needed to be saved. Also, she adored how they never commented on
what Harry and Ron wore to these events, it was only ever her that got critiqued and picked apart.
Who cared if someone helped her pick a dress? Why did it even matter? It didn’t seem like she
could do anything right! She should have stopped there because what she read next shattered her.

Not yet confirmed, there is reason to believe that the falling out between the two golden lovers was
more than just a mere drifting apart. Rather it is likely due to infidelity. Hermione sought out
affections from other wizards, seemingly unhappy with her plain appearance. When discovered,
Ron Weasley quickly ended their relationship.

It didn’t seem to pan out for her, as now Ron appears to be in a loving, committed relationship with
Lavender Brown and Hermione Granger has not been seen with anyone since her disastrous
misstep in her relationship. And what’s worse, was she left Harry Potter to pick up the pieces,
looking strained between the two all evening.

“Incendio,” she whispered.

So, it was her that had cheated and ruined their relationship. Granted, that may not have been the
best choice of words, it had been falling apart long before she walked in on Ron and Lavender. It
was just the catalyst she needed to see things clearly and step away. Any anger that lingered was
quickly engulfed in hurt as quiet tears slid down her cheeks. Hermione wrapped her arms tightly
around her chest trying to provide some sort of self-soothing comfort.

Skeeter knew how to poke her right where it hurt. Hermione sought out affections from other
wizards, seemingly unhappy with her plain appearance. It didn’t matter how often Pansy or Ginny
reminded her of her beauty or appeal. She was constantly trapped in the mind of the girl with the
bushy hair and buck teeth from Hogwarts.

Maybe they were right, Pansy and Ginny had been pushing her for weeks now, to have a good shag,
to let a wizard worship her body. That if she let herself go like that it would replace her doubts. But
if she didn’t feel attractive in her own body, how did she expect someone else to find her desirable?

Another owl knocked on the glass window, this one she recognized with a sigh. The barn owl flew
and stared at her until she opened the letter that was written in Pansy’s neat, bold script.

Hermione,
I have told Harry that he and I are going to the Prophet immediately. How dare they try to tarnish
you like that!

That red-headed git was always the problem and a cheating wanker. I will end this little charade
before it begins. I may even give a phial of my memories so the whole world knows how you
destroyed him!

With Revenge,

Pansy

Hastily, Hermione wrote a quick letter back to her hot-headed friend, not wanting her to do
anything rash. The last thing she wanted right now was conflicting stories about her and Ron’s
falling out, playing out in the press. Better to just let it die down and be forgotten. While she
appreciated Pansy’s protectiveness and veracity, it was not needed.

Pansy,

While I adore your thirst for revenge, please refrain. It’s not needed, and I would prefer for the
whole thing to fizzle out on its own.

Thank you,

Hermione

She tucked the letter back into the beak of the barn owl that cocked its head towards her, apparently
judging her for going against his mistresses’ desires.

“Pansy will be fine,” she reassured. “I’ll let her take me out to find a wizard soon and all will be
forgiven.”

With a soft hoot the owl left, once again leaving Hermione alone to her own thoughts. She curled
up in bed with a book for the rest of the day looking forward to the distraction that work would
give her during the week and wanting desperately for it to come faster.

It was two hours before she was expected at the DLME, but Hermione found herself standing in the
one place she had never ventured in the Ministry for the entirety of her time working there, the
training facility.

While it was open to anyone who worked in the DMLE, it was used almost exclusively by the auror
office. She wasn’t even sure why she was here and had no idea what she was doing. It was still dark
out when she woke up and tucked her work robes into her bag. Hermione pulled on a pair of tight
muggle leggings and a black fitted top before tucking her hair into a messy ponytail where she
stored her wand.

Thankfully, the facility was empty when she arrived. She didn’t imagine many people would
willingly get up that early on a Monday morning, which she had been hoping for. In her discovery
of the area, she became increasingly overwhelmed, it was far larger than she anticipated.

There was a wide-open area that was a charmed dueling arena, for practice of course. The charms
could be tweaked to set a location and even provide a dueling partner if you didn’t have one with
you. Next to that was another smaller, enchanted room. This one consisted of different options for
running trails and paths without leaving the space.

The magic and charm work was exquisite; certainly some sort of extension charm. Hermione
wondered who had crafted the rooms because she was intrigued and lost in the spell work. But now
she found herself standing in front of a large mirror that spanned the entire back wall. The floor
was cushioned under her feet and surprisingly some very muggle looking things lined in front of
the wall that Hermione recognized as dumbbells. The tips of her fingers trailed over them, not even
knowing where to start, maybe the charmed room for runs, that seemed like a safe bet.

“What are you doing here, Granger?”

The unexpected voice of another person jarred her and had her reacting instinctually, rather than
logically. Without a second thought her fingers wrapped around her wand that was stowed in her
hair before she turned and had it drawn on the wizard who walked in.

Even after all the time that had passed, Hermione still struggled periodically with residual PTSD
from the war. Thankfully, the nightmares were infrequent at most, but still found herself jumpy and
quick to draw her wand, it was one of the big reasons she never wanted to be an auror. She didn’t
feel like she had the right temperament for it anymore.

“Easy,” Malfoy smirked. “I come in peace.”

His hands were flayed out to his sides, palms out and open to try and reassure her. While she could
clearly see Draco Malfoy in front of her, she did not immediately lower her wand, still feeling the
fear and uncertainty firing off in her brain.

The playful smile that was on his face slowly morphed into one of concern as he noticed that she
didn’t relax upon seeing him in front of her. When he had gotten close enough to stand next to her,
she wasn’t sure. His hand laid across hers, lowering her arm silently, burning her with his touch.

“Everything is ok, Hermione,” his voice was soft and controlled. “You’re safe, you can lower your
wand.”

Her eyes snapped open as she blinked back and realized what had happened. She quickly tucked
her wand back away in her ponytail and looked properly at Draco Malfoy. He looked much
different than the usual in command auror that she was used to seeing up on the DMLE floor. He
wore black trainers, lightweight joggers and a fitted black t-shirt that hugged and accentuated every
muscle on his chiseled chest and arms. It was a concentrated effort from Hermione not to run her
hands over every ripple of his torso. She admired the sleeve of intricate florals that decorated the
length of his arm.

Very few people knew about her struggles this long after the war. Ron had been quick to tell her to
get over it and the last thing she wanted was for Malfoy to now know as well.

“Sorry, Draco, you surprised me, and I was just,” she paused. “Tired was all, early you know.”

The expression on his face was blank while his grey eyes roamed over her face making her
unsteady. The air between them was quiet while he assessed her for far too long. Hermione choked
on a cough when his hand curled around her shoulder, pulling her close.

“You fought in a war,” his voice echoed low. “There is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Instantly, Draco had managed to calm her, something that Ron had progressively failed to do over
the years. At first, he was supportive, but as time went on his patience deteriorated into nothing.
Hermione had done all the right things; she had seen a mind healer and took all the steps. But there
were some reactions she couldn’t shake and being snuck up on, was one of them. Her healer had
told her it was perfectly normal, but she never felt supported, until now.

Not knowing what else to say she squeaked out a quiet, “Thank you.”

Acutely aware of his arm still wrapped around her, she shrugged away, putting some distance back
between them. For a minute she swore she saw a flash of disappointment on his face, but it was
gone just as quickly as it had appeared. After clearing his throat, Draco spoke again, this time
sounding more his normal self.

“Back to the original question,” he smirked. “What are you doing here, Granger?”

“Anyone from the DMLE is allowed to use this space, Draco,” she parked her hands on her hips.

“True,” he chuckled. “But I have been coming here every morning before work for the last five
years and I have not seen you once. So, I must admit,” he paused. “I’m curious, what has changed.”

“Nothing,” she swallowed hard. “Perceptive prat,” she mumbled.

It was almost impossible to not fold under his piercing, knowing gaze. Merlin, that wizard could
dismantle her like no one else and it was unnerving. She hated how being around Draco Malfoy
simultaneously left her feeling safe and exposed. He arched a single brow and removed his glasses
and levitated them over to his discarded bag.

“We both know it’s not nothing,” he mused. “You look lost. What is it you’re looking to
accomplish? I can help,” he paused. “If you let me.”

Hermione had to fight the base desire to snort at his comment, which was entirely genuine. It was
heavier though, like there was insinuation there that far surpassed just what he could help her with
in the facility. Godric, she was in such a compromising position. Draco looked fit and downright
edible in that tight shirt, and she did her best to push the thoughts aside; he loved Theo. Draco and
Theo were together, they were perfect together. Instead, she brought her focus back to why she
came here in the first place.

“It’s a bit overwhelming here, I just wanted to get a bit fitter, really.”

“How?” his face softened. “Do you want to run faster, be stronger?”

The points of her teeth grazed over her bottom lip as she worried it. How did she explain to Draco
that she wanted to be prettier, to have a body that would attract a wizard, not necessarily thinner,
just shapelier. Merlin, she didn’t even know. This was a terrible idea.

“Um,” she paused. “A bit more toned, curvier,” she whispered.

“I’m not following,” Draco tilted his head, clearly confused.

“Don’t make me say it,” she sighed, head falling back. “I want to feel sexy. I want a wizard to look
at me and think I’m the most alluring witch he has even seen.”
Hermione hadn’t expected to feel emotional when she said that but swallowed back the immediate
urge to vomit having said it out loud. The snide comment or sneer that she expected Draco to make
never came. She dared to look at him and he looked confused, defeated perhaps, she couldn’t quite
place the expression on his face. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his fingers tapping
rhythmically on his elbow.

“Is this about the article in the Prophet on Sunday? Or what happened at the fundraiser?”

Of course, Theo would have told Draco what happened, why wouldn’t he. Just because she had
never had a healthy relationship with communication, didn’t mean that others didn’t. Theo had
escorted her home and was warm and kind and understanding that whole evening. She tried to
change the subject, not wanting to get into her emotional baggage with him.

“What did Theo tell you?”

“Not much,” Draco shrugged. “That you were upset and that he apparated you home. Oh, I also put
your shoes in your office,” he smiled.

“Oh,” she looked down. “Thank you,” she sucked in her lip. “Look, this was a bad idea. I’m going
to get changed and go.”

When she started to walk away, long fingers curled around her wrist gently. Draco tugged her back
closer, a burning spark in his eyes. Her throat bobbed uncomfortably, she could not have this
conversation with him, it was too intimate, and he was well, too him. Unattainable.

“I don’t know who, or what gave you the impression that you are not attractive, Granger. But they
are categorically wrong,” he smiled, a genuine, warm smile. “You are perhaps the most stunning
witch I have ever laid eyes on.”

“Draco,” she snorted. “No offense, but your opinion is a little biased, being that you’re attracted to
men and all.”

He looked like he wanted to say something in a comeback but changed his mind at the last second.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a beautiful witch,” he mused. His eyes roved over her slowly,
trailing down the length of her body. “Hermione,” he dropped down an octave. “Follow me.”

There was a subtle command in his tone that left little room for compromise. That and the fact that
his hand was still wrapped around her wrist as he guided her into one of the rooms off the main
facility. Once inside, she recognized it as the dueling area.

“You don’t need to change a thing about yourself to attract,” he arched his brow. “Or keep a wizard.
But I think you could benefit from a bit of a release.”

Hermione failed to choke down the audible whimper that escaped her and it didn’t go unnoticed by
Draco who flashed her a small smirk before he continued.

“Dueling practice is a far better workout than anything else you could be doing anyway. Duel with
me, Granger.”

“You mean get destroyed,” she laughed.

There were a lot of things that could be said about Draco, and one of them was that he was
arguably the most experienced duelist on staff at the DMLE. More so than Robards or Harry; he
rarely failed to apprehend anyone if it came down to sheer skill.

“You are a capable duelist, Granger. Were you not the one who killed Yaxley in a one-on-one duel
during the Battle of Hogwarts?” Before she could ever answer, he continued. “I know everyone
raves about that brain of yours or your unmatched healing skills, both accurate. But you are also
quite fierce if memory serves.”

“I was lucky and that was years ago,” she murmured.

It had been years since Hermione had participated in any sort of combat or defensive magic, her
line of work didn’t call for it. And Ron had always been resistant to her being, what was the word,
too masculine, because apparently only wizards should duel, she shook her head at the memory she
had all but forgotten.

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Draco admonished. “Yaxley was arguably one of the Dark Lord’s
most powerful Death Eater’s behind Bellatrix. You wouldn’t have won with just luck, there was
power and skill behind it. Stop being modest.”

The chastisement left a genuine smile on her face. How did Draco know about the duel with
Yaxley, very few did. Those stories about Hermione never made it into the press, they didn’t fit
their narrative of her. The only person who could have possibly told him was Harry, which she
couldn’t wrap her head around.

“Here.”

Draco’s hand removed his wand from the waistband of his joggers and with precise movements the
room around them twisted and morphed into what looked like an open valley on the edge of a
forest. Lush grass appeared beneath her feet, with boulders and flowers that decorated the wide-
open space.

“Something simple to start. I won’t use any offensive magic until you feel more comfortable. Also,
I’ll keep my glasses off, so go easy on me, Granger.”

Part of her wanted to be offended at all the handicaps he was giving himself, but then she
remembered if he didn’t this wouldn’t last long at all. Merlin, she was distracted though. It wasn’t
going to be the years of rust that kept her from succeeding. It would surely be her unabashed
staring at his toned body or the way that one strand of hair hung in front of his eye.

“See if you can stun me?” he said with a cocky smile on his lips.

Gods she wanted to be the one to wipe that stupid smirk right off his beautiful face. Draco was tall
and muscular and surprisingly agile given his size. He moved effortlessly around the field dodging
her attempts to stun him. Frustratingly, he hadn’t even used his wand once to block her, simply
dodging on foot like he was taking a lazy stroll.

“I can read you like a book,” he called. “Try to feint your spells, look or think one way and then go
another.”

Hermione tried to do what he said, but she was obvious about the whole thing, making a show of
looking to the left only to cast her spell to the right. At least this time, Draco did her the courtesy of
 using his wand to block. A lazy flick and a silent protego had her stupefy bouncing off.

“You can use nonverbal spells?”

“Wandless magic too,” he smirked.

All she wanted to get out of today was landing a spell on him, but the arrogant wizard was likely
too practiced for her to have any luck. After an hour he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat that
glistened over his face and made his shirt cling to his chest. Her mouth was agape when she stared
at him before forcing it to close.

“Thirty minutes left before we’re due back upstairs,” he chuckled. “Just knock me out once,
Granger.”

A knowing grin curled on the corner of her mouth when she came up with an idea to finally knock
him down. She did a full body feint to the right when she collapsed to the ground and grabbed her
ankle, letting out a shocked squeal in pain that matched the grimace on her face. Immediately
realizing what had happened, Draco rushed over and crouched down next to her. Her wand was still
clutched in her hand and when he reached out to touch her leg, she flashed her own version of his
cocky smile.

“Stupefy,” she uttered.

Unprepared for her spell, it hit him squarely in the chest and he fell to the ground stiff and
unmoving. She toyed with the idea of letting him wake up naturally from the spell in fifteen
minutes or waking him back up herself. She quite liked the idea of seeing the look on his face when
she brought him to.

“Rennervate,” she murmured with the tip of her wand on his chest, crouched next to him.

Grey eyes flicked to life under her, and they burned her from the inside out. They were molten and
if she didn’t know any better, lustful. No, absolutely not, as usual, she was seeing what she wanted
to see and nothing more.

A growl rumbled low in his throat. “Cheeky little witch,” a proud smirk on his face.

They were frozen, both staring at each other. Hermione’s heart dropped into her stomach as her
chest rattled with each breath she took. A hand was on her face, a finger tucking an errant strand of
hair behind her ear. Warning sparks frizzled over her brain, and she jumped up quickly and backed
away from him. There was no confusing it, there was no way. The way he touched her face and the
hair, it was too tender.

“I have to go; I need to shower and get dressed for work.”

She turned on her heel and moved quickly towards the exit when his voice drifted back.

“Come back tomorrow if you want more practice, Granger. I’ll be here every morning.”

Chapter End Notes

A big focus in this story will be not only the development of the triad relationship, but you
will also see a lot of focus put on the individual relationships as well. How they got there etc...
There is the main murder mystery plot with a couple of sub plots going on. But the Dreo
pairing and how they got there will be a big factor throughout the story and how that affects
the other relationships!
 Chapter 3 Damn Theo Nott
Chapter Notes

I recovered a bit faster from my weekend wedding than I anticipated. Here enjoy chapter 3 -
things are moving in the right direction for our three lil nuggets ;)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

While Hermione had convinced herself that it was a categorically bad idea to go back, she did so
anyway, every morning that week she was in the training room at 6am sharp. And every morning,
Draco Malfoy was waiting for her. Whatever fictitious moment that she had created between the
two of them had long been forgotten.

Over the course of the week, Hermione had learned fast, finding Draco a skillful teacher. What was
even more helpful was that with the outlet for some of her anger, and the pleasant distraction that
was Draco, she hadn’t noticed any of the gossip about her and the alleged infidelity that she never
did. Outside of the first day, Draco didn’t bring up the article in the Prophet. She was curious as to
why he hadn’t asked her if it was the truth or not, maybe he just didn’t care either way. Or perhaps
he was trying to be nice and not pry in a situation that she wanted nothing to do with.

On Friday morning she walked in and saw Draco already working out while waiting for her. On a
sharp inhale she sucked her lower lip all the way into the mouth. Godric help her, he was shirtless
and she could see the sweat dripping down his back from where she stood. It glistened and gleamed
along the ripples of his muscles and the scars that decorated his body. His bloody arse was
perfection, looking like it was poured into the joggers that hung low on his hips.

She tried to get it together, it wasn’t like she had never seen a shirtless wizard before. He dropped
the weights he was using, cast a quick scourgify and then turned to catch her in her stupor. Her eyes
blinked and then trailed down, staring at the line of muscles that pointed right towards his groin.
She choked back a whimper that threatened to escape.

To her relief, he didn’t say anything and simply pulled on the discarded shirt that was next to him
before he sauntered next to her.

“Good morning,” he hummed.

“Why haven’t you asked me if it’s true?”

The words tumbled out of her mouth before she fully realized what she had said. Her stubborn,
insatiable curiosity would be the death of her one of these days, she was sure of it. She watched as
his eyes moved from side to side as if dissecting what she said.

“Care to elaborate on what it is I am supposed to be asking you if it’s true?” he raked a hand
through his hair.

“The article in the Prophet.” She said it as if it was the most obvious thing ever.
“Why would I need clarification on something I already know the answer to.”

“Pansy or Theo told you?”

It wouldn’t shock her if Pansy had spilled the beans to Draco and Theo at one of their Slytherin
nights about walking in on Ron shagging Lavender. Or the more likely answer, his boyfriend. At
the fundraiser she had all but dumped her emotional baggage in Theo’s lap, it wasn’t out of the
realm of possibility that he had relayed that story to Draco.

“No,” he paused. “Hermione. Most of what the Prophet reports about you specifically are
falsehoods,” he moved far too close. She desperately sucked in a breath, feeling like all the air had
left her lungs. “I also like to think that I’ve gotten to know you well enough over the last couple of
years to know that is not you.”

Silver sparkled behind his glasses. Ever since Pansy and Harry got married two years ago, she had
spent more time with Theo and Draco, but never outside of the group. Draco had been quick to
apologize for everything that had happened during their time at Hogwarts and during the war, in
particular that day at the manor. Hermione appreciated his candor but found that he struggled with
what he believed he allowed to happen to her.

Never once did she blame Draco for his aunt’s torture, there was nothing he couldn’t have done.
The word mudblood was a permanent fixture on her forearm, but the scar didn’t bother her
anymore, not like it had in the first year or two. The only reason she still covered it up at formal
events was to avoid the repetitive conversations that surrounded it.

Since the Potter’s marriage, Hermione had learned more about the two wizards. Draco couldn’t see
very well without his glasses. His eyes had been damaged from a confringo curse during the war
and the healers had repaired it as much as they could. Not that Hermione minded, that was
something determinedly attractive about Draco Malfoy in glasses. Tattooed arms, glasses, and that
smug little smirk he did made her knees buckle no matter how much she fought it.

While she didn’t know the whole story, Draco was extremely protective and possessive regarding
Theo. Draco was quick to stand close to him with a hand slung around some part of his body
whenever the pair of them were out in public. She wasn’t entirely sure whose benefit that was more
for, but they mutually appeared to enjoy it, not comfortable around people they didn’t know.

Draco and Theo still both played quidditch, mostly through the DMLE. Draco stubbornly wanted to
be in seeker form but found he had morphed more naturally into a beater and lamented it. Theo was
a chaser and preferred to play opposite Draco as opposed to on the same team, if only to push his
boyfriend’s buttons.

Theo was reserved with his words and emotions and only opened up to a select few people. He was
relatively quiet out in public places. But when surrounded by his group of friends he was warm,
outgoing, and vibrant. Hermione didn’t doubt that earning the trust of Theodore Nott was a rare
occurrence. But if his relationship with Draco was any indication, it was worth its weight in
galleons.

“Today,” Draco had a devilish grin. “I want you to subdue and restrain me, like you would in a real-
life situation.”

“I’m no auror, Draco.”

“So? You’ve adapted well over the last week, and I’d like to see what you can do, Granger.”

Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that he had no intention of just letting her win. If she had to
guess, he was never the one that ended up restrained. Pink crept up of her neck at the thought. He
hadn’t been wrong though, over the last week, her natural ability for dueling had kicked in.
Yesterday even, Draco had started using offensive spells again in their spars. She was not deluded
in her expectations though; she knew he was still holding back.

He was an impenetrable occlumens and a talented legilimens as well, the only one in the auror
department at that. If he wanted to use those skills, there would be nothing that Hermione could do
to avoid it. On top of that, while he was using offensive magic, it wasn’t anything more than you
would expect to see at Hogwarts. She knew he was capable of much more aggressive and
dangerous magic.

After an hour she was physically spent, her chest burned with each painful breath that heaved from
her. The physicality involved with dodging and blocking Draco’s spells was demanding. No
wonder he considered dueling the best form of exercise. At least, he was looking, if not equally
exhausted, somewhat drained from her assault.

Her fake injury tactic had only worked once and disarming him had proved to be pointless, she
found out. Not only could he use wandless spells, but he could do it nonverbally as well. A small
triumph had been yanked out her hands the other day when she disarmed him only to be hit with a
silent and wandless petrificus spell to Draco’s delight.

While she tried to think of a plan in the moment, she lazily blocked the halfhearted spells he slung
her way when an idea came to mind. Draco was a powerful wizard, it was unlikely she could take
him out head on, she needed to be sneaky.

“Accio glasses.”

The rims around his eyes flew and landed easily in Hermione’s hand. In Draco’s confusion she took
the moment to cast a disillusionment charm on herself. While someone with good eyesight would
be able to see her, without his glasses it was unlikely that he would. She stalked up towards him,
until she was only a few feet in front of him.

“Petrificus totalus.”

The spell connected with him directly in the chest and his entire body went rigid while his eyes
bore into hers in a mix of pride and reprimand. Once next to his frozen body she removed the
charm, revealing herself to him once more. The tip of her wand pressed to his wrists.

“Incarcerous.”

Thin ropes of black and gold erupted from her wand and bound his wrists together in a magical seal
that only she would be able to remove. Happy that the restraints would hold she removed the body
bind curse with a confident smile.

He leaned forward before pushing himself onto one knee and then up to his full height with his
wrists still bound behind his back. He stood so close to her that she could hear the way his heart
thumped in his chest, his towering form loomed over her. She may have been mistaken assuming
that she had the upper hand, her heart stuttered against her ribs.
“Impressive,” he mused. “You know Hermione. Not once has anyone restrained me successfully,
not even Potter, much less a trainee auror. And look at you, a DMLE healer, and me at her mercy.”

The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip while his incisor dragged along the spot his
tongue had just traveled. There was a dangerous, mischievous glint in his gaze that made her
equally uneasy and excited.

“Just lucky,” she uttered.

“No,” he boomed low. “Hermione, you didn’t need to overpower me, you outwitted me, what is
even more important, is that you were able to do it on the fly without leaving yourself exposed. You
truly are a wonder, Hermione Granger.”

Blush crept up her face at his words, making her cheeks warm and burn under his praise. Hermione
always worked to excel at everything she did but knowing that she impressed Draco was another
achievement that she never realized she wanted, or more so, needed - craved.
Art by Nadia Polyakova

“Now be a good little witch and release me,” he growled.

“What if I didn’t? I think your day could be quite interesting. I would like to see you explain that to
your team,” she chuckled.

There was a wordless threat or maybe a demand on his brow that had Hermione quickly removing
the ropes around his wrists. She wasn’t too keen to find out what that look meant if she didn’t
comply; her mouth turning dry and ashy. With the binds removed his hands massaged each wrist in
turn, the rings on his fingers glinting in the light.

Time was running short, and Hermione slipped into the showers and changed into a set of royal
blue robes. When she walked back out to the main floor of the training center, she caught Theo and
Draco locked in a passionate kiss. Draco had one hand snaked around his lower back while the
other palmed the back of the man’s head, holding him firm to his body. Theo relented into his touch
so effortlessly, like there was no other place he belonged.

She was not inclined to announce her presence. While she had seen the wizards kiss before, never
with such unguarded lust before. A quiet whimper slipped past her lips, enamored with the scene
that was unfolding in front of her, she was practically a voyeur. Theo’s arms were wrapped around
Draco’s shoulders and were slowly making their way down his back.

Theo broke away from the kiss first and turned his head just slightly. A warm smile was evident
even from the small glint of his profile.

“It appears that we have an audience, Drake,” he spoke loud enough for Hermione to hear.

She curled in on herself knowing that she had been caught. Before either wizard could stop her, she
hurried out of the room and to the lifts, locking herself in her office for the rest of the morning.

Throughout the morning she saw Draco and Theo walk by to see if her door was open. They made
no attempt to disturb her while it was closed at least. She wasn’t solely hiding from them, but that
was a nice added effect. There was a new healer starting with the DMLE on Monday that had just
completed their two-year apprenticeship with St. Mungo’s that she would be training; mostly she
was working on preparing for that.

An indomitable force stormed into her office later in the day. Hermione was not shocked to see
Pansy Potter glowering at her. For what, she wasn’t entirely certain, but it was her signature scowl.

“I believe you barged into the wrong office, Pansy,” she smirked. “Your husband’s is around the
corner.”

“Don’t play with me,” she huffed. “I’m cross with you.”

“Why, may I ask?”

“You have locked yourself up either in your office or in your flat for weeks, Hermione! Enough is
enough. We’re going out to lunch and some shopping, no is not an option so get up and I’ll
apparate us.”

After landing in the middle of Diagon Alley, Pansy was all but dragging Hermione behind towards
a small pub by Gringotts. Once they had settled into a booth and ordered their food all she could
see was Pansy’s perceptive eyes trained on her.

“I have been patient enough,” she flipped her raven hair over her shoulder. “Tonight, dinner at
mines, Ginny and Blaise are coming,” her brow arched. “And so are Theo and Draco.” Before
Hermione could even get a word in, Pansy was at it again. “And then tomorrow night, we’re going
out and getting you shagged Granger,” she huffed. “It’s a crime that you haven’t had a proper lay in
months, for Salazar’s sake, years more likely. We both know Weasley lacked, well, the skills.”
“Pansy,” Hermione blushed.

“What excuse is it this time?” she sipped her drink.

“None,” she huffed. “I’ve been thinking that I need to get out there again and I want to.”

Pansy’s dark eyes sparkled almost like enchanted fireworks. Her perfectly manicured nails tapped
softly on the table, lost in thought for a long moment before her face shifted into something more
questioning.

“Spit it out,” she sneered. “Why the sudden change? Did the batteries on that archaic muggle
vibrator you use give out or something? You’ve been avoiding everyone for weeks now.”

The friendship between Hermione and Pansy just worked for some unexplained reason. The raven-
haired Slytherin could be domineering and downright frustrating at times, but she was one of the
most loyal people that Hermione had ever met, and she was so pleased when she and Harry ended
up together, they just fit. And by extension, her, and Pansy as well. But she really wished Pansy
wasn’t so perceptive all the time, that witch could sniff out a story a mile away, it was shocking that
she wasn’t a reporter. Instead, working as a sommelier for one of the most exclusive French
restaurants in London.

“I’m pent-up Pans,” she sighed. “Is that what you bloody wanted to hear?”

“Finally ready to give in to your needs, Granger? Good!”

Lunch turned out to be a much-needed adventure. While Pansy slightly exaggerated Hermione not
leaving her flat for weeks, it wasn’t completely wrong, even if not intentional. To her chagrin
though she had all the details about Ron’s failing relationship if it could even be called that. Harry
was still friendly with Ron, and apparently Lavender had been cheating on him the entire time.

“Serves the prat right,” Pansy sneered, stabbing at a piece of chicken. “He has been dragging her
out in public more trying to get photographed even though they’re both miserable.”

A far too happy smile played on her lips while she ate. To no one’s surprise Ron did nothing to
quell the Prophet’s story of Hermione’s infidelity after it ran. If anything, he seemed to lean into it,
showing his face more in public and trying to project the image of a healthy and happy love life
after Hermione’s supposed elicit behavior left him broken.

After they finished eating Pansy steered Hermione into arguably what was the most expensive shop
in the Alley, and she did her best to stifle a groan. She knew this reckoning was coming after she
squashed Pansy’s plan to give her memories to the Prophet showing Ron cheating. When she saw
the painful look on Hermione’s face, her dainty hand waved in a dismissive fashion.

“I don’t want to hear it, Hermione. Consider it an early birthday gift.”

When she tried to protest, mentioning she only had an hour for lunch and they had already spent
half of it at the pub, an unsettling smile curved on just one side of Pansy’s mouth that instantly
made Hermione groan.

“Oh,” she laughed. “Failed to mention it. You have the rest of the day off! Signed off by Robards
himself, save for any emergency calls.”
It would be like her to work in the shadows and already have all this planned. Hermione rubbed her
fingers over her brow, she still had her training plan to complete for Monday and hadn’t intended to
take the rest of the day off. Though she supposed she could find time to do it either Saturday
afternoon or Sunday.

Two long hours at the store had turned Hermione into a doll for Pansy to play dress up with, though
she didn’t lament it as much as she used to. Pansy had a knack for building up her self-esteem
which was something that she desperately needed. She didn’t even want to think about how much
Pansy had spent and she would never mention it to Harry. Two new dresses, three new pairs of
heels, three blouses, a set of outer robes, and two pairs of trousers later, Hermione could say she
almost had an entirely new wardrobe.

“I’ll leave you to it. I need to get home to prepare for tonight. Arrive no later than six,” Pansy
directed. “Also” she smirked. “Wear the high waisted cream-colored trousers tonight paired with
the burgundy silk blouse,” she winked.

“Pansy,” she huffed. “It’s dinner at your house, with our friends. Why does it matter what I wear?”

“Just trust me, Hermione.”

It was half passed five and she knew Pansy would hex her if she was late. Hermione stood in front
of a mirror, her hands smoothing down the outfit that she had been directed to wear, head cocked to
the side. For once, it would have been nice if Pansy was wrong, but not apparently this time.

The trousers hit high on her waist, gold buttons on each side. They gave the illusion that Hermione
had long legs and that she was much taller than she was. The blouse had long sleeves and was
flirtatiously low cut with a single scrap of fabric that wrapped her neck. Her eyes roved over her
reflection and traced a line from her neck, down to her legs and back again before she smiled. She
had tamed her curls in a plait that hung easily over one shoulder that she tucked her wand into
before stepping into the floo.

Once she arrived at Pansy’s and Harry’s she stepped out of the fireplace and wiped off the excess
soot and ash before cleaning it with a quick wave of her wand. It appeared that Ginny and Blaise
had arrived just moments before her, still righting themselves in Pansy’s floo parlor.

“Hermione,” Ginny nodded. “Keep letting Pansy dress you like that, and wizards will be on their
knees just to speak to you.”

The compliment sent a flood of blush straight to her cheeks, but she knew Ginny was right. It was
impossible to lack confidence when she had seen how she looked before coming. Blaise leaned
back against the doorframe, waiting patiently to escort Ginny, that man was besotted with her, even
ten months later.

“How are you?” Hermione asked Blaise.

“Busy as ever. With Gin’s quidditch schedule and my travels for the winery, I feel like we barely
get to breathe lately.”

The quidditch season had started and Ginny was named the new captain of the Holyhead Harpies.
They were favored to take the cup this year and with the World Cup happening next year she could
only imagine how intense Ginny’s training schedule was. Blaise had catapulted himself to the
forefront of an international wine distribution chain, keeping him equally as busy. Hermione
wondered; she didn’t think that she had ever seen the wizard look tired which was shocking.

“Oi!” Pany’s voice carried over from down the hall. “It’s rude to socialize by the traveling floo you
lot. Get your arses in the living room proper.”

Preferring to avoid angry Pansy was in everyone’s best interest. Blaise placed his hand on the small
of Ginny’s back and guided her down the hall, but only after pressing a tender kiss to her cheek.
Before following them, Hermione cast a cushioning charm on the heels that she wore. She knew
she never would have heard the end of it if she ruined the carefully coordinated outfit with a
hideous pair of flats. While she had gotten better at walking in heels over the last year, there was a
certain finesse to it that she still lacked, having to stay focused to not fall on her face half the time.

As she moved down the hall, she caught a glimpse of Harry in the kitchen looking positively
domestic, helping Pansy with the meal and appetizers. Distracted by the sight in the kitchen,
Hermione tripped and lost her balance and started to tumble forward.

“Bollocks,” she murmured.

An arm swathed around her waist and caught her before she could fall on the ground. The familiar
notes of cedar and clove wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Both of her hands gripped the
arm around her as she steadied herself and stood up. Once righted she turned to see Theo.

When their eyes connected his mouth fell open, only for a moment before he realized and quickly
shut it again. His dark eyes twinkled in her direction as he moved close enough that their arms were
touching.

“Hermione,” his voice was quiet. “Just wow, not that you don’t always look stunning, but you
certainly outdid yourself tonight.”

She watched as he raised his hand briefly and then shook his head before tucking each hand away
in his pockets. There was a tug behind her navel, a fondness, a longing, that she squashed down.

“I think you mean to say Pansy outdid herself,” Hermione chuckled.

“She may have picked out the clothes,” he leaned in close. “But you are the only witch who could
look that captivating in it,” he winked.

Damn Theo Nott for being so flirtatious. So handsome. His words sent a delicious shiver down the
column of her spine that pooled between her thighs. Theo’s thumb trailed over his bottom lip, much
too close to her, his breath pulsed over her ear.

“Theodore, get in here,” Pansy called. “I need your opinion.”

She released the breath she didn’t even realize she had been holding.

“Duty calls, love.” He wiped her plait off her shoulder with a smile. “Catch up with you later.”

Unabashedly, Hermione stared at Theo’s arse as he walked into the kitchen. The wizard was
wearing a fitted pair of black trousers that she couldn’t pull her gaze away from. They molded to
him tightly showcasing his perfect arse. Her gaze flittered up taking in the casual cream jumper he
was wearing when her eyes locked with Pansy’s who laughed and shook her head having caught
Hermione ogling Theo.

Desperate to avoid Pansy now, she changed direction and headed towards the sitting room where
Blaise, Ginny and Draco were having a conversation. Blaise was seated on a large, overstuffed
chair with an arm latched around Ginny’s waist while she was perched on the armrest next to him.
Draco leaned on the mantle of the fireplace, engrossed in what Blaise was saying, swirling a
crimson liquid.

His eyes flickered beneath his glasses while his fingers tapped on the stem of his wine glass. With
each tap of his fingers the veins on his exposed forearms flexed and pulsed. Merlin was there
nowhere she could go without getting much too hot. Her tongue darted out wet her lip while her
fingers tangled in on themselves. Draco was distracted for a moment when he saw her standing in
the hall, his reaction similar to Theo’s when he saw her. Silver eyes blew wide, mouth slightly less
agape than Theo’s had been.

Hermione pulled at the collar of her blouse about to turn around and take her chances in the kitchen
when Draco called out.

“Granger,” he jutted his chin. “Come over here and tell Blaise that he’s wrong.”

He rolled his eyes at Draco, shaking his head incredulously while Ginny snorted before giving
Blaise a chaste kiss and draining her wine. Not having an out anymore, Hermione made her way
into the sitting room and sat down on the sofa opposite the fireplace. Draco was silent while he
looked to be weighing a slew of options in his head.

After an almost unnoticed tilt of his head, he rocked forward off the mantle and sauntered over to
the spot where she was, sitting down next to her, his long legs stretching out in front of them. There
was nothing wrong with him wanting to sit down, but there was a plethora of options, why on the
sofa and why so close to her? She was already pressed into the end of the couch and couldn’t
scooch any further. Her eyes closed, enjoying the memories that his scent brought, the whiskey, the
oak, the apples.

It still hurt, thinking about her parents. They had no idea that she existed, still living in Australia.
Hermione had not been able to restore their memories after the war. While she didn’t regret what
she did, she was responsible, and she had accepted that this was her penance. Knowing that there
were alive, but that she would never know their warmth again. Draco was like Christmas morning,
and it was comforting and painful at the same time.

Before she could slip any further into the abyss that was her mind a hand splayed on her thigh. Her
head snapped fiercely at the feeling before she looked down to see the Malfoy signet ring
accentuated on the pale color of her trousers. Gods. Did she just audible whimper? Did they all hear
it, or was that just in her head? She had to remind herself that Draco and Theo were gay, they did
not find Hermione attractive, not in that way anyway. Their touches were just friendly affection,
nothing more, not to them anyways. He tapped her thigh twice before his hand pulled away, leaving
her breathless.

“Blaise seems to think that the new occlumency potion that the Department of Mysteries has
developed is pointless.”

“I didn’t say it was pointless,” he corrected. “I said that it was unlikely to be a suitable replacement
for a true occlumens,” he put his glass down. “Does this potion allow the user to call forth false
memories? I don’t believe it does from what I read. Without that, any legilimens worth their wand
will see right through it.”

Blaise made a compelling argument. Hermione had heard of the breakthrough that had come out of
the DoM only a couple of weeks ago. It was certainly promising, learning, and mastering
occlumency was notoriously difficult for most witches and wizards and if a potion could aid that, it
would be at the forefront in the auror office. But to Blaise’s point, simply occluding wasn’t enough,
something a lot of the Slytherin’s were intimately aware of, she was sure.

“Blaise isn’t wrong,” Draco scowled at Hermione’s comment. “Although, it seems rash to write
something off immediately with so much potential. I have no doubt the DoM will develop it further
to give the user that ability to falsify memories,” she turned to face Draco. “Surely you can see the
value in what Blaise is saying though, you more so than most.”

After a gruff grumble and a wave of Draco’s hand, he nodded and shrugged in a defeated sort of
acceptance. Ginny and Draco fell into an easy conversation about quidditch while Blaise drew soft
circles on his girlfriend’s skin, periodically kissing anything he could, wrist, neck, cheek.

Draco’s arm sprawled out along the back of the sofa behind Hermione, his knees bumping into hers
casually. Every touch sent a shock to her chest that made it hard to breathe. Ginny sent her a small
smile without breaking her conversation with Draco while Hermione shifted uncomfortably feeling
like her heart may jump out of her chest.

“Dinner you lot,” Pansy called from the dining room.

Elegantly, Draco rose to his feet before he wordlessly extended his hand, indicating with a silent
nod for her to take it. Cautiously, she placed her palm into his and it instantly dwarfed her. She was
thankful for the help, finding herself unsteady on her feet after sitting for so long. As if it were the
most normal thing ever, his hand slid over until it rested on the small of her back, guiding her into
the dining room.

Heat bloomed on her back and spread through her abdomen and core when her stomach dropped at
the contact. Her fingers covered her mouth as she attempted to hide the raspy breaths that were
escaping from her. Theo was borderline beaming at the pair of them when they walked in. No not
her, he was beaming at his boyfriend, she just happened to be in the way. Draco pulled out a chair
for her next to Theo before he took his place on the other side of the wizard, greeting him with a
tender kiss on his temple.

For someone with such a tough outer shell; he touched Theo with such warmth and reverence.
Gods it made her knickers wet.

It hadn’t taken her long to realize she was the only one at the table not paired off; it was more
obvious at the dinner table as the couples spoke among each other. Her mind wandered during the
meal, only half paying attention to the conversations that swirled around her. She pushed the food
on her plate around with her fork, not feeling hungry suddenly – feeling lonely in a crowded room.

“You should eat, love.”

Theo’s voice was soft like honey when she heard it. How long had he been watching her push her
food around, she wondered. The bridge of her nose scrunched up at the thought, not enjoying that
she had been caught. She poked at a green bean and popped it in her mouth before flashing Theo a
forced smile as she swallowed. He leaned in closer and whispered for only her to hear.

“Is everything ok, Hermione?” he squeezed her thigh once, making her jolt.

Had Draco and Theo always been so open with their touches or was she just more attuned to it
tonight than she had been in the past? Merlin, she really did need a good shag. She couldn’t keep
thinking about them like this and she was hopeful all this tension she had created would go away
once that happened.

Hermione, Ginny, and Pansy were hovering around the island in the kitchen after dinner, working
on a bottle of merlot that Pansy had brought home that was decadent. The wizards were in the
sitting room still talking about the breakthrough at the DoM. Pansy spun her wand in her free hand
while sipping her wine smirking.

“Granger, you know I’m surprised,” she chuckled. “I’m surprised that you didn’t burn a hole into
Theo or Draco’s arse the way you stared at them tonight.”

A loud choking noise emitted from her when she coughed and sputtered as the wine moved down
her windpipe making her eyes water. Her face was hot with the instant blush that appeared at
having been caught.

“What? No. I just, I’m just tired.”

“That was the most pathetic excuse I’ve ever heard,” Ginny laughed.

“You’re siding with Pans?” Hermione asked, incredulously.

Ginny levitated the bottle of wine over, topping off her glass. “It’s not siding, it’s a fact. Hermione,
every time I looked your eyes were glued to Theo or Draco,” she sipped. “I don’t blame you; they
are fit. If I was single, I’d stare too.”

“Nothing wrong with having a bit of fun, Granger. That’s what I’ve been telling you.” She
summoned over a small tray of cakes. “I just hope you keep this same energy when we go out
tomorrow night.”

“It’s not just a bit of fun,” Hermione lamented. “They’re in a relationship, Pans, it’s wrong.”

“Trust me, Hermione. Draco and Theo aren’t going to care if you’re ogling them. We all know they
are attracted to you. They almost stared at you tonight as much as you gawked at them.”

“They’re gay Pansy, I doubt attracted, is the correct word.”

Ginny snorted and coughed when she choked on her wine and Pansy spit hers out before quickly
cleaning up the mess with a flick of her wand.

“You are not that dense. Red, tell me that Granger seriously doesn’t believe that right?”

Ginny shrugged with a perplexed look at her face while her brows knitted in towards the bridge of
her nose.
“They’re not gay,” Pansy rolled her eyes. “Theo and Draco are interested in attractive people,
whether that happens to be a wizard, or a witch never really mattered much to either of them.”

The revelation still didn’t change the fact that they were together, but it did make Hermione think
harder about the touches they had been so open with. During their time at Hogwarts neither of them
dated much, which Hermione had always meant to believe that they had been together
monogamously during that time. That they just kept their relationship quiet, she couldn’t see Lucius
Malfoy or Nott Sr. being supportive of their sons. But she did remember seeing them with witches
from time to time.

“You’re allowed to have fun, Hermione.” Ginny acknowledged. “Shag one wizard, shag two
wizards, a witch, whatever makes you happy!”

“Shag Theo and Draco,” Pansy cackled, Ginny joining in.

“Absolutely not,” Hermione echoed.

“Why not? They’re fit and you’re obviously attracted to them.”

“Because I’m not going to have a good time shag with two of my friends who are in a relationship
with each other,” she huffed.

“What if it didn’t have to be just a good time shag?” Pansy spit back.

Before Hermione could question her, Theo and Draco strolled into the kitchen and settled next to
Pansy. Hermione kept her focus on the glass of wine in her hand, too strung out from the evening to
deal with whatever emotions those two were capable of eliciting from her.

“Who’s not just a good time shag?” Theo quipped.

Hermione wanted to disappear into nothingness. Godric, please don’t let Ginny or Pansy open their
mouths. Pansy seemed to be toying with the idea.

“Going to get Granger shagged senseless tomorrow night at the Leaky. Just saying she may meet
someone who is more than just a one-time thing,” Pansy winked.

The wizards exchanged a quiet look that made Hermione even more uncomfortable, if possible.
She was ready for this night to be over.

“We’re going to head out, Pans,” Draco kissed her cheek. “Dinner was spectacular as usual.”

Hermione gasped when Draco was next to her, kissing her cheek just as he had Pansy’s, that was
new. He frequently pecked Pansy on the cheek goodbye, but never her.

“Oi,” Ginny raised her chin. “Where’s my kiss then? You kissed Pansy and Hermione, what about
me?” she snorted.

“Kissing you would be like kissing Potter or Blaise, Weaslette.”

An accepting smile curled at the corner of Ginny’s mouth as she gave the wizards a small nod of
acknowledgement instead. She had always been a bit of a tomboy and got on well with wizards
more than witches, save for Pansy and Hermione that was.
Once she was certain that the wizards were gone Hermione was quick to floo home. She could hear
the laughter that radiated from Pansy and Ginny all the way down the hall to the floo parlor. After
getting back to her flat Hermione was quick to crawl into bed.

“Please,” she moaned.

“Please what, darling?” Draco cooed, while his hands caressed the swell of her arse.

“I need you to fill me.”

“Be a good little witch and suck Theo’s cock,” he ordered, dipping a finger into her soaked cunt.
“Then maybe I’ll fuck you.”

Draco was lined up behind her, supporting the majority of her weight by holding on to her hips.
Theo was kneeling in front of her, a gentle hand cupped her face while his thumb ran over the apple
of her cheek.

“Open, love.”

Hermione did as Theo said and opened her mouth while Draco pumped a singular finger too
slowly into her. The barely there stretch did nothing to alleviate the burning that coiled inside of
her abdomen. The head of Theo’s cock rested in front of her face, a bead of precum pearled at the
top. Hermione dragged her tongue up the length of him, swirling along the top before closing her
lips around just the tip, eliciting a strained hiss from Theo. Taking his noises as encouragement she
hollowed her cheeks and swallowed him whole, inch by inch until he was tapping the back of her
throat.

“Look up at Theo while you suck his cock,” Draco commanded from behind her.

Her eyes fluttered up through her lashes, focused on Theo while she pumped her mouth and tongue
over him, watching him build higher.

“That’s my good little witch,” Draco praised, adding a second finger.

A garbled moan puffed out her cheeks as she hummed around Theo’s cock. She could see the way
his muscles spasmed in his legs, his hands buried themselves in her curls, desperate for purchase.
She reveled in the way she was bringing her wizard to the brink.

Draco continued the slow build of her pleasure, not wanting to rush it. His thrusts came in at an
even and steady pace when he curled his fingers slightly and started tapping a spot just behind her
clit that made her jolt.

“Make Theo fill that tight throat of yours and I’ll let you come.”

The low, gravelly timbre of Draco’s voice reverberated up her spine making her melt at his words.
Her body was pink and flushed, she wanted to be good for him, for them. She wanted to come; she
wanted Theo to empty himself in her mouth. Hermione took Theo as deep as she could with a
singular goal in mind.

Draco was keeping Hermione on the brink, her cunt would clench around him, and he would relent
for a moment, only to build her back up again, she wanted to sob but couldn’t. Theo was close and
so was she.
 “Fuck, love,” Theo hissed.

An empty feeling made Hermione moan as Draco removed his fingers, but in an instant, he sank
into her, her cunt molding around his cock. He didn’t waste time letting her adjust to the stretch and
instead set a punishing pace that had her seeing stars – about to crash over the cliff that she
hovered on.

Healer Granger

Healer Granger

Healer Granger.

Hermione was disoriented when she woke up to her hand in knickers. The reality that it was only a
dream washed over in a wave of disappointment. With how vivid the dream was, it was a good
minute before she realized that her DMLE pin was vibrating with an active call.

Healer Granger – Dispatch – Injured Auror on site – Scene secure.

“Bollocks,” she muttered.

She jumped out of bed and got dressed quickly before disapparating off to the location indicated on
her pin.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for the warm reception of this fics - lots of really sweet comments and kudos <3.
Chapter 4 will probably be out on Wednesday since I'm editing the last few chapters now.
 Chapter 4 A Black Rose
Chapter Notes

Enjoy - thank you for all the love as always. The kudos and comments are just lovely! I am
wrapping up editing on the last couple of chapters. So, we will be sticking with the twice a
week upload schedule until it's done!

Uploads on Sundays and Wednesdays <3. I'll leave a note if there's a chance where it looks
like it would be delayed for any reason.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

With a pop, Hermione arrived at a much less chaotic scene than she had anticipated. Rarely was she
called directly to a site, as was more often the case, she would be summoned to the healer ward at
the DMLE directly. Usually when she was called to a scene, it was mayhem and involved down
aurors. But at first glance, she wondered if they had called her by mistake.

Not quite sure where she was, she scanned the area for the lead auror who would have called her to
get a rundown. She had arrived at an open valley that was dimly lit by the sun that had just started
to poke over the horizon. A defeated sigh escaped when she realized that it meant it was considered
morning. At least it was Saturday, and she could hopefully get a nap in before going out that night.
She was never a morning person, not in the years since Hogwarts. Routinely, it would take her two
cups of coffee before she could function.

Along the tree line she saw the familiar shimmer of wards and shields that must have been thrown
up to prevent muggles from stumbling into the scene. Without issue, Hermione passed through the
wards and saw a small contingent of aurors milling about the wooded area. It didn’t appear as
though anyone was visibly injured, at least not enough to drag her out of bed at the crack of dawn
on a Saturday. When she couldn’t spot a senior auror she sauntered up to Sparks with narrowed
eyes and a furrowed brow.

“Healer Granger,” he spoke softly. “You’re looking lovely this morning.”

The trainee knew from the look on her face that she wasn’t thrilled to be there and more so
frustrated by the apparent lack of reason for it. He flushed and averted his gaze when she arched a
brow at his comment.

“Sod off, Sparks. Feigned flattery will get you nowhere,” she huffed. “Who is the lead and where
are they?”

“Sergeant Malfoy,” he sputtered. “Beyond the grove, over that way,” he pointed. “You may want to
wait here for him though, we have a dead body on our hands.”

“I’ve seen bodies before, more than you have most likely,” her hands notched at her hips. “I don’t
need your,” she paused. “Chivalry.”
An exasperated roll of her eyes was sent straight to the young auror, who was eighteen at most. The
cocky misplaced confidence most of them had was discouraging. The wizard had enough sense to
cringe at her comment and turn away, finding anyplace else to be.

“Healer Granger,” Draco’s voice echoed. “Are you scaring the trainees again?” he chuckled.

Not him. She had been so distracted by the last half of Sparks’ statement that it didn’t even register
with her that he said Malfoy was the senior auror. Her thighs squeezed together at the stolen dream
she had been rudely pulled from. And was now equally frustrated to see that it was entirely Draco
Malfoy’s fault. She couldn’t decide who she was angrier with, dream Malfoy or the flesh and blood
one standing in front of her.

“Sergeant Malfoy,” she quipped. “Why in the name of Circe am I here? I don’t see anyone injured,
it’s a Saturday and I’m bloody exhausted.” He opened his mouth with a retort, but she quickly cut
him off. “Not to mention I was having a fantastic dream that you ruined.”

She could not fathom why on Godric’s grave she uttered that last part, most likely because she was
left on the edge, and it was entirely the blond wizard’s fault, both in her dreams and in reality. He
adjusted the frame of his glasses before his thumb trailed over his lip.

“Apologies,” he bowed playfully. “In a whirlwind arrival Jensen twisted his ankle and his dope
kneazle of a partner made it sound worse than that, and that’s when I called you.”

“A bloody ankle,” she tossed her head back. “I’m going home, Malfoy.”

Hermione turned on her heel and strolled towards the apparition point while her curls bounced in a
haphazard ponytail. Footsteps grew louder behind her when fingers curled around her wrist
stopping her before she could reach the barrier ward to leave.

“I’d like you to stay.”

“Why? I’m not needed and,” she turned with a defeated pout. “And I would really like to go back
to bed, Malfoy.”

Her bottom lip jutted out like a petulant child, and it pulled a lighthearted laugh from Draco when
he dropped her wrist.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I do need you,” he paused. “I need help talking through this
scene.”

“I’m not an auror, Draco. Talk through it with one of your trainees,” Hermione huffed, arms
crossed over her chest.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “You mean pygmy puff one and two over there; they share about
half a wand between them.”

“If you needed someone intelligent to talk through the scene with, why not just bring Theo?”

Quick witted and bright, Hermione loathed to admit it. But he was one of the few people that was
able to keep up with her on most things. Even during their time at Hogwarts, while they weren’t
close, he always pushed her to be better. One small slip up would have had Theo or Draco getting
top marks instead of her. Even then, they challenged her.
The ridges of his eyes softened. “Theo,” he paused. “He had a difficult night, I wanted to let him
rest.”

The immediate reaction of what about her possible difficult evening, was replaced with a different
emotion, worry, sympathy or maybe, curiosity. Did he struggle with flashbacks or nightmares like
she had? There was an empty tug behind her chest that lurched uncomfortably at the thought of
Theo hurting.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he smirked, jiggling a coffee cup in his hand. “Come on, Granger. I
need that big brain of yours.”

“Fine,” she sneered, snatching the cup. “Lead the way, Sergeant Malfoy.”

Whether a coincidence or not she wasn’t sure, but Draco had managed to produce a coffee the exact
way she took it. A vanilla roast with just a splash of milk and one sugar. She sipped on the perfectly
warmed brew as she followed Draco deeper into the words until they stood in front of a pale body
on the ground.

Draco hitched his trousers on his thighs before he crouched down next to the corpse, legs wide. He
had rolled up the sleeves on his oxford and pulled his wand from its holster on his chest. He
muttered a charm over his hands first and then indicated to Hermione to give him hers. She
levitated the coffee and held her hands out while he repeated the incantation and there was a warm,
almost wax like feeling that encased them. Nothing appeared different but she tossed a questioning
glance to him before yanking the brew out of the air.

“Anti-contamination charm, can’t interfere with any evidence.”

He tucked his wand back away and then rested an elbow on his thigh while his thumb and
forefinger rubbed over his jaw, lost in thought. Not quite sure what he expected her to be able to
help with, Hermione looked over the body to see if there was anything recognizable about it,
outside of the fact that it was a woman.

“Do you know who this is even yet?”

“No,” he shook his head. “All I’ve been able to deduce so far is that she’s a witch.” He pointed to
the wand that was partially exposed in her waistband.”

“Can you just trace her wand to see who she is?”

“Tried that,” he murmured. “It came back unregistered.”

“Can I touch her at all?”

“Yea that’s fine, the spell will prevent you from interfering with anything.”

A twinge of sadness plucked at Hermione’s heart when she saw two sets of rings on the woman’s
left hand: a plain gold band with a diamond engagement ring. Someone loved her. She was
classically beautiful, pin straight black hair and olive skin. The woman had a narrow frame and
looked to be on the taller side. The clothing though didn’t scream witch, it was muggle attire.
Hermione thought that perhaps this woman was a muggleborn. Hermione brushed the long hair off
the witch’s shoulder and face and saw something on her neck, it was small, just behind her ear. A
serpent with the word ‘pure’ through it.
“Draco,” she whispered. “Look at this,” she indicated the spot. “What is that?”

Once he was next to Hermione he crouched down again, his brows knitted in towards his eyes.
Draco removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes briefly in disbelief before he appraised the apparent
tattoo again. His palm covered the faded Dark Mark that was still on his arm, hidden under the
more vibrant artwork.

“I’m not certain,” His fingers traced the serpent on the woman’s neck. “I know I’ve seen this
before, but I will need to look into it more, I can’t quite remember.”

There was an uncertain worry that plagued Draco’s once playful features. Everything else
abandoned, he seemed lost in the mark on the witch’s neck.

“I also think she may be a muggleborn.”

The words snapped him out of his haze. “What makes you say that?”

“She’s wearing denims and a hoodie. I rarely see other wizards in clothing like that unless their
muggleborn’s.”

Hermione had a good chunk of muggle attire, but Pansy had all but cleared most of it out of her
closet. She had been able to salvage a couple of pairs of denims and one hoodie, but most of it had
been lost to Pansy’s outrage.

While Draco was still lost in his revere, Hermione saw a white piece of paper poking out of the
pocket in the denims. She reached for it and pulled it out. It was crumpled and torn; she pressed the
tip of her wand to it.

“Repairo,” she muttered.

The paper returned to its original state in her hand, and it looked to be some sort of receipt. The
name was clear at the top and it only took her a second to put the pieces together.

“Draco,” she shoved the paper in his hand.

“What?” He looked it over, turned it around and back again, trying to understand the obvious
meaning of the receipt but came up empty. “Spill it, Granger. I have no idea what this is supposed
to mean.”

“The name at the top. It says, ‘Peabody Essex Museum.’” She paused expectedly and shook her
head when he didn’t say anything. “That’s a famous museum in Salem, Massachusetts,” still
nothing. “Draco Malfoy. That’s a place in the States. That may be why the wand is unregistered
with the Ministry. This witch is from the States. Possibly. That would mean her wand would be
registered with MACUSA or should be at least.”

While Draco seemed to pour over the revelation, Hermione pulled her wand out of hair and cast a
diagnostic over the witch on the ground. She was certainly dead, but she was curious if the spell
would show anything else. Perhaps injured areas that they didn’t visibly see. Hermione directed the
spell with her wand over different parts of the body. She rotated the spell and enlarged different
areas, but nothing stuck out.

“Do you know how she died?”

“Killing curse,” he murmured.

That would explain the diagnostic being blank. That unforgivable didn’t hold the same vitriol for
her that it once did when she was younger. The act of killing someone was abhorrent, but in all the
ways someone could go, it was one of the least painful methods. She had seen true horrors during
the war, and the killing curse kept falling lower and lower on the list or inexcusable dark magic.
Hermione moved the diagnostic over the witch’s head when she paused. There was a faint pulsating
on the charm, not quite an injury but something stuck, maybe, an obstruction.

“Draco, there’s something in her mouth.”

With a flick of her wand, she canceled the charm and stepped back while he carefully opened the
witch’s mouth and levitated the item out. It was a black rose that appeared enchanted as it retained
all its splendor. It could have been beautiful if it wasn’t so ominous.

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, rotating the flower with his wand.

“Sergeant,” Sparks said, bounding towards them. “The techs have arrived and are ready to sweep
the scene and remove the body when you give the ok.”

After a stiff nod, he put the rose, the wand, and the receipt in an envelope he conjured. He sealed
and signed it. “Sparks. Take this and return it to the Ministry and check it in as evidence. Do not
stop anywhere or tell anyone. Do you understand me?”

Draco returned to his full height, shoulders squared, and eyes narrowed. The seriousness of his tone
was unmistakable, and Sparks didn’t miss it.

“Yes, Sergeant. I’ll send word once it’s completed.”

The young auror moved with haste beyond where Hermione could see him. Draco summoned the
techs in so that they could get to work. A small group of witches and wizards gathered around them
diligently collecting samples and covering the body. A spark of electricity shot up the column of
her spine when his palm brushed over her lower back.

Calmly he steered her towards the edge of the wards. It had been long enough that the sun had fully
risen over the horizon casting a warm yellow glow over the valley. It could have been pretty,
romantic even if the situation was different. They reached the apparition point that she had arrived
at when his hand fell, his face looking somber.

“You should go home now, Hermione.”

Someone was dead. But it wasn’t the first murder case Draco had seen. It may have seemed cold to
most, but it rarely affected him. His ability to remain detached led him to have the highest closure
rate in the department. Something was different, what they had seen shook him.

“What’s wrong?”

The corners of his eyes were strained from the thin slits that they had been in for the last hour.
Worry lines were etched over his brow, even visible behind the strands of stray silver hairs that fell
in front of his beautiful, pale face. His eyes kept flashing down at the mark on his arm before
flicking back to her. Not sure what drove her to do it, Hermione wrapped her hand around his, as
much as she could, covering the mark that was hidden below an array of inked florals.

“It doesn’t define you, Draco.”

The warmth of his hand encased hers. Both remained silent, staring at each other, waiting for the
other to do or say something. His fingers curled around her hand and brought it up to his mouth
when he brushed a kiss along her knuckles, his lips lingered before he softly dropped her hand.

Her hand was burning, her stomach plummeting, her eyes looking everywhere but him. All she
could smell was the sweetness of apples, the spice of whiskey and the warmth of oak. She wanted
to let go, wanted to wrap her arms around him, to feel his body pressed against hers. Part of her
thought he wanted that too. But the memory of Theo echoed strongly in her head. He had a rough
night. And she only would have made that worse by crossing a line with his boyfriend. She cared
about Theo, just as much as she cared about Draco, she didn’t want to hurt either of them, ever.

“Thank you, Hermione,” he paused. “I need to get back and escort the body and work on whatever
all this means.”

A soft smile was all she could muster for him as he returned it with his own strained grin. After he
disappeared back beyond the wards she disapparated back to her flat.

When she got back from the scene early that morning, she immediately downed a dreamless sleep
potion, desperate for a restful nap. To her delight she had slept straight through for four hours and
was ready for her plans that evening.

At 8pm sharp she was set to meet Pansy and Ginny at the Leaky. And for once, Hermione was
feeling optimistic, excited even at the idea of going out. She had been all out of sorts for weeks
now and had convinced herself that a shag was all she needed. One of the dresses that she had got
at Diagon was perfect for the evening. It was a simple black dress that hugged every curve on her
body and left little to the imagination while still retaining some sense of decorum. After she
shrugged on her black cloak, she traveled to the apparition point and vanished with a pop before
arriving at the top of the alley.

With her hair flowing freely behind her, she struggled as to where she would stow her wand for the
evening. She decided to tuck it into the pocket of her cloak while she strolled towards the Leaky,
not thrilled with the inconvenience of her wand’s location.

When she walked in, Pansy and Ginny were already perched at the bar, drinks in hand. An
approving nod from Pansy at her outfit and a pleased smirk from Ginny was enough to solidify that
she made the right decision in wearing that dress.

“Granger,” she slid a glass over that appeared to be straight Firewhiskey. “Drink that first one
quickly while we work on snatching you a wizard.”

“Pans, you could make it sound less kidnappy,” Hermione scoffed, knocking back the drink with a
burning hiss.

“Trust me. The way you look in that dress with your hair down like that. You can have your pick of
the lot,” Pansy quipped. “Tell me what you want tonight, and we’ll get it for you. Tall, skinny,
brunette, wand matches wood sort of wizard?”
Hermione snorted at that last bit and choked on the end of her drink before dropping the glass to the
counter with a hiss. Casually, she sipped the second glass as her eyes roamed over the crowd at the
Leaky that night. There was a large assortment, to be expected for a Saturday night she supposed,
but it had been so long since she’d gone out, she didn’t know what to expect.

Never had seen really done a casual hookup. After the war, she and Ron were just together. She was
painfully aware that Ron was the only wizard she ever shagged.

There were attractive wizards milling about, that much was certain. But apparently, she wasn’t
supposed to engage with any of them, and rather, let them come to her, as Pansy assured her, they
would. She just had to pick one at the end of the night. As if on cue, a shorter wizard with sunken
eyes and an untamed scruff came up to them. Without any pretense he immediately reached out for
Hermione’s hand when she yanked it away and let him know she wasn’t interested. When he
slinked away, she looked up at the entrance to the pub and watched as Theo and Draco walked in
and settled in a booth together.

Theo flashed her a tender smile when Draco leaned in to kiss him, making her stomach do
somersaults. Gods they were fit. Draco looked like he was poured into the fitted black oxford he
was sporting while Theo looked casually handsome in a burgundy knit jumper. A thumb trailed
across Theo’s lower lip before Draco pulled him into a brief kiss, making Hermione whimper.

She watched while the two wizards engaged in conversation, worrying her lip, glass frozen there
while she stared until Pansy’s voice broke her out of it.

“Or maybe what you really want is two wizards, a charming brunette and a brooding blond
perhaps.”

Hermione did her best to ignore her comment, but the persistent witch didn’t seem inclined to let it
go. It didn’t help matters that she couldn’t stop looking at the pair of them.

“I know you said you wouldn’t consider a fling with them, but relationships don’t always just have
to be two people, Granger. There are plenty of triads, well known ones too, in the wizarding
community. Are they not prevalent in muggle society?”

They were out there, but the muggles didn’t flaunt it and it was rather private for most involved it
seemed. Granted, she knew that Pansy was right. Viktor Krum had been photographed heavily with
his two girlfriends and Witch Weekly reported on their soon to be nuptials as well. Before she could
answer Pansy’s question, Ginny chimed in.

“Triads tend to be more common in pureblood circles,” she mused. “Apparently a strong bond can
heighten one’s magic, so you can imagine the appeal for some. The Black and Burke families in
particular, I think they even proposed marriage contracts only with triads in mind. You see them
more with two witches and one wizard, better chances for an heir.”

A hum in agreement left Pansy’s lips as the two women stared at Hermione expectantly. In an effort
to ignore their eyes on her, she drained the last of her whiskey and grabbed a glass of wine from the
bartender, staying noticeably silent.

“Nothing wrong with being with two people, Granger.”

Hermione snorted. “Is this your way of trying to butter me up Pans? Want me in with you and
Harry?”
An undignified cackle echoed out of Ginny while Pansy remained unbothered by the strange shift
in conversation.

“I knew you needed a good shag; didn’t know I was an option. But no, sorry. While you are,” she
paused. “Delectable. Potter can barely handle me, can’t imagine him trying to take on a second
witch or wizard for that matter.”

The tips of her fingers dragged across her brow as she tried to wipe away the frown lines etched
there. She should have known better than to try and spin it around on Pansy. Now the image of
Harry was in her mind, and she wanted nothing more than to incendio her own memory at the
thought.

“Can we please stop talking about triads, Draco, and Theo and for the love of Merlin, Harry.”

Before either of the witches could bite back with another witty retort, a familiar face that she
couldn’t quite place had walked up to the bar with a smile that appeared to sparkle just for her. The
wizard took his refill from the bartender before giving her his full attention.

“If it isn’t Hermione Granger. London’s very own Golden Girl.”

Strike one, she thought. If that was the first thing anyone could think of saying to her it already
didn’t bode well. Although he was fit and like they had said, it didn’t have to be more than one
night, who cared if he called her the Golden Girl. She was certain she knew the man though. He
was a fair bit taller than her with broad shoulders and short hair.

“Ernie?” she questioned.

“Good to see you,” he hummed.

Ernie Macmillan had been in the same year as her at Hogwarts and was a Hufflepuff. She
remembered seeing an article about him in the Prophet, he was a chaser for the Falmouth Falcons,
and certainly had the form for it. The conversation with Ernie flowed easily and was pleasant
enough, he didn’t heavily focus on Quidditch, which Hermione appreciated. He appeared genuinely
engaged in what she had to say, whether she was talking about work or personal life.

The night flowed on and so did his touches. First it was his knee bumping against hers, and then a
brush of his hand over hers. After her second glass of wine, Hermione cut herself off, she was tipsy
but still aware and wanted to keep it that way for the rest of the evening. The wine had gone
straight to her cheeks that were now hot and flushed. When she looked around, she saw that Ginny
and Pansy had left, satisfied enough that she was well on her way to leaving with Ernie.

Truth be told, it was a better prospect that she had imagined. She knew Ernie well enough to feel
safe and comfortable, but also if it ended up being a one-time thing, she doubted there were
chances that she would randomly bump into him, making things awkward.

“Have you enjoyed working for the DMLE?”

“It’s a good balance,” she hummed. “I get to do what I love and still feel like I’m involved in the
whirlwind of it all.”

At some point he had moved close enough that their bodies were touching. His hand drifted down
until it found her hip and rested there while they continued to speak. A burning pulse radiated from
the spot down to her toes and fingers setting her on edge. With his free hand, he tucked a stray curl
behind her ear and smiled fondly down at her. There was a ball of uncertainty that settled in her
stomach when she saw his eyes bear down at her.

He closed the distance and pillowed his lips into hers, his kiss was gentle and kind, but nothing
special, it was safe. Hermione returned the kiss when his hand cupped her cheek with a tender
reverence that felt much too romantic for the situation. He tasted like smoke and whiskey when he
pulled away and planted a parting peck on her temple.

“My flat, it isn’t too far past the apparition point,” he groaned against her temple. “You could come
back to mines, and we could talk more.”

Hermione had to bite back the urge to laugh at the comment. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in
going back to his place, she was. It was the pretense he laid of them going back to talk, it was just
the social expectation. Like his kisses, he was trying to be a gentleman, which was fine, she
supposed. It certainly was her only prospect for the evening.

“Give me a minute to freshen up, then we can head out.”

Beaming at her like he had won a prize, she returned the smile before she turned to head to the loo.
After a quick scan of the pub, it did appear as though Ginny and Pansy had really left, but her eyes
locked with intense grey ones that made her heart catch in her throat. Her feet stopped while she
and Draco stared at each other. His face was a blank expression but when she looked at Theo next
to him, his hazel eyes were soft and reserved. A heavy weight sank in the pit of her stomach like
she was doing something wrong.

Once in the loo, her hands gripped the sink when she looked up into the mirror. Her makeup had
held up and her hair was still tamed when she sighed. This was exactly why she needed to leave
with Ernie, she couldn’t keep getting wrapped up in the unattainable. Her shoulders shook with the
deep breath she took before her hands smoothed down the front of her dress. She pulled her cloak
on and gave it a grounding tug before walking back out to meet with Ernie.

The crowd in the Leaky had thinned out as the night went on and Hermione glanced at the bar but
couldn’t find him. She scanned the rest of the pub, but he was nowhere to be seen, he had left,
apparently changing his mind about her.

A cold pang of self-doubt crept up her body, clawing at her throat that made it difficult to breathe.
The walls around her were closing in and the room was getting smaller and smaller. Pins and
needles tingled over her face and hands; her eyes darted around in a panic when she rushed out of
the front door, desperate for air.

The cool breeze calmed the heat that rose inside of her when she doubled over, hands on her knees
trying to breathe. Each time she inhaled it would get stuck in her throat and never fully inflate her
lungs, making the panic inside her swell more.

“Hermione.”

Theo.

“Granger.”

Draco.
Fuck. One of them ended up on each side of her, someone’s hand rubbing soothing circles on her
back. They were too close, she couldn’t breathe, she needed room. They needed to go away; they
couldn’t see her like this. Why was she freaking out?

“Give me some space,” she huffed. “I can’t breathe.”

Both wizards backed up, putting some distance between them. Her nails clawed at the soft fabric
that covered her thighs. Her vision was hazy around the edges, and she was moments from passing
out.

“Hermione, love,” Theo’s voice was gentle. “You’re having a panic attack.”

“Astute observation, Theodore.”

Any decorum or social graces she normally would have offered were lost. Nothing else mattered
and she just wanted it to stop, people were going to see her. Or worse somebody from the bloody
Prophet would snap a photo. On top of being a deviant adulteress they would now be able to call
her mentally unstable.

“Can I come closer? I promise I won’t touch you,” he added. “I can help you.”

All she could muster was a nod. They were still parked in front of the Leaky, but she heard Draco
muttering notice-me-not and silencing charms around them. She was still hunched over, eyes
trained on the ground in front of her when a pair of leather loafers drifted into her field of view.
Theo crouched down by her face, but true to his word he didn’t touch her.

“Hermione, breathe in and don’t stop until I tell you.”

She sucked in through her nose.

“Good now hold it and don’t exhale until I say so.”

After a few seconds Theo spoke again. “Good. Now exhale through your mouth, slowly.”

A long, steady breath pushed through her lips. It was the first real one that she had taken in hours it
seemed. Theo coached her through sets of deep breathing until she was standing up again and could
feel the blood flowing back to her extremities. The first thing she saw was the softness of Theo’s
face welcoming her. Just behind him was Draco, whose eyes were hardened around the edges, his
mouth pressed in a narrow line.

“Is that better?” Theo asked.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Thank you, Theo,” she looked at Draco. “Both of you,” she nibbled her lip.

“Granger, what triggered you?”

Of course, Draco would be familiar with PTSD. She didn’t doubt that Theo, him, or both suffered
with it in the past or possibly still. Although, she wasn’t sure it was a true trigger, more of an
anxiety attack. She would worry about the intricacies later.

“It was stupid, I’m fine now, thank you. I’m just going to apparate home and go to bed.”

“Nothing that could cause that reaction is stupid.” Draco reassured her.
 “I was supposed to leave with Ernie. I went to the loo and when I came out and he had left. And I
guess that made me think of the Ron debacle. And it doesn’t matter. I’ve had panic attacks before,
but not in a long time and not over something so trivial. I’m just tired. I’m fine.”

Draco lifted his glasses to rest them on his head when his fingers rubbed over his brow. They
trailed down his face to his chin before he shrugged and looked back at Hermione, his face softer
than she had seen it all night.

“Macmillan leaving didn’t have anything to do with you, Granger,” he huffed. “I may have scared
him off while you were in the loo,” he palmed the back of his neck.

The tips of her brows knitted in towards the bridge of her nose while her eyes darted back and forth
registering what Draco had said. Her hand hesitated over the pocket of her cloak, hovering over her
wand, she wanted to hex the pretentious prat. Hexing an auror was not ideal, but cursing Malfoy
sounded like a brilliant idea. Before her brain could stop her, she took her wand out and pointed at
him, debating which spell would be best.

“Hex me if you want, I’m sorry,” Draco conceded. Theo stood back and watched the two with a
bemused smirk, content to see how it played out and whether she would actually curse him.

“Why would you do that, you arrogant prat?”

“You didn’t want some second-string chaser who was more boring than parchment, surely.”

“And you thought you could just waltz in and make that decision for me? What gives you that
right?” she hissed.

“Hermione,” he lowered his voice. “I,” he paused and looked at Theo. “We.”

“You know what,” she hissed. “I don’t want to hear it.”

She hurled a well-placed stinging jinx right at his face that had it swelling and bruising instantly.
The pained hiss that Malfoy made caused a smirk of satisfaction to curl at the corners of her mouth
before she tucked her wand away again. Theo was howling in the background, trying to control his
snorts of laughter at his boyfriend’s expense.

As she walked away towards the apparition point, she could hear the distant veiled threats that
Draco lobbed at his partner. Hexing Draco had been oddly satisfying and put her more at ease with
the events of the evening. Although, she was not thrilled at the prospect of telling Pansy she was
still sans shag.

Chapter End Notes

I like to think that Theo paid for making fur of Draco getting hexed by Hermione.......but only
in the best of ways ;)
 Chapter 5 Forget Me Nott
Chapter Notes

One - this is early. Why is it early? Because apparently, I neglect to remember any sort of
plans, I have at any given time until my husband reminds me haha. So, I'm posting this early
so it doesn't get missed this weekend in my inevitable chaos.

Thank you for all the lovely kudos and comments!!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Monday morning at the Ministry was nothing short of a fiasco. The new DMLE healer trainee, Isla
Cromwell arrived, and it was a bloody nightmare. The witch was about Hermione’s age and kind
enough, but it surely must have been a prank, no one was that daft. Isla mentioned attending
Beauxbatons and then taking some time away after the war before completing her healer
apprenticeship at St. Mungo’s. All relatively normal and unsurprising.

The witch had a bubbly personality with pin straight black hair that was pulled into a plait that
hung low along her back. Hermione had been quick to escort her around the Ministry, giving her
the lay of the land, her coffee unfortunately forgotten on her desk. When they got to the small ward
that was onsite for aurors they stopped so Hermione could go over a few things and assess her basic
skills.

“If injuries do not require extensive work, we can transport the auror here as opposed to St.
Mungo’s. We try to avoid that unless it is a catastrophic injury, all hands type of situation.”

“Is it often that we are sending aurors to St. Mungo’s?” Isla asked inquisitively.

“Not often,” Hermione sorted through potions in the cabinet, taking stock of the inventory. “Up
until recently there hadn’t been many situations that called for it.” After taking in Isla’s quizzical
look, she continued. “A couple of the auror trainees were a bit out of their depth,” she paused.
“And with this killer….”

Isla cut her off. “Oh, I heard some of the aurors mumbling about that up by the bullpen. A bit scary,
isn’t it?”

After offering the witch a small smile, Hermione changed the subject.

“Protocol for healing within the DMLE is a bit different than the standard that is taught at St.
Mungo’s. Go ahead and cast a basic diagnostic and I’ll show you what we look for first in a trauma
situation.”

A concerned grimace plucked at the corners of Isla’s mouth when she brandished her wand and
gave it a sort of halfhearted flick that barely produced anything. Hermione quirked a singular brow
at her when the witch attempted the spell again just for it to fail once more.

“Fiddlesticks,” she hummed. “Sorry. I must be nervous. New job and all.”
Hermione maybe would have believed her if it was just the one time, but it persisted throughout the
morning. She had to walk her through how to cast the charm like she would with someone who had
never done it before. It was peculiar, even untrained wizards and witches knew how to cast a basic
diagnostic. Isla did seem to pick it up and after a few tries, but Hermione was frustrated, her
training plan all but thrown out the window: that and her caffeine deprivation making her
increasingly more irritable.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to teach her, but this wasn’t what she expected. Someone coming to
the DMLE after completing their apprenticeship; there was a certain level of competency expected.
She had half a mind to write St. Mungo’s and demand to know how in the world a witch that
couldn’t cast a simple diagnostic completed their program. Also, she had half a thought to storm
into Robards office and ask why he hired her in the first place.

To top it off, complaining to Robards was out of the question seeing as he was overseas at
MACUSA for the foreseeable future. Harry was left in charge of the DMLE in his absence,
effectively making him, Hermione, and Isla’s boss. It was one thing to march off to Robards and
ask why he hired such an incompetent healer; it was another to accost her friend. Not that she was
above it; but Harry surely had enough on his plate. So, she would do her best to get the healer up to
snuff as fast as she could. And save berating Harry only if the situation became dire.

After depositing Isla in her own office with enough reading on DMLE and healer protocols to keep
her occupied for days, Hermione shuffled dejectedly to her own office, slumping down in her chair,
exhausted. Her fingers tapped along her desk until they collided with the forgotten cup of coffee
from earlier that morning. One sip and her nose scrunched up in disgust at the now cold drink. It
never tasted quite right if she tried to use a warming charm on it to bring it back to its earlier glory.
Instead, she slid it aside with a depressed huff when there was a soft knock on the ajar door.

A beaming smile stared back at her when Theo ran his ring clad fingers through his already tousled
curls. He jiggled a cup of coffee in his free hand, a contrite sparkle in his eye at seeing Hermione.

“I come bearing a peace offering,” he taunted, sitting in the chair opposite her.

“And why may I ask, is it you, bringing this,” she flicked her eyes at the to-go container. “Bribe,”
she smirked. “As opposed to your brooding blonde boyfriend.” Her fingers strummed on her
elbow; arms crossed over her chest.

There hadn’t been a peep from Draco or Theo since the debacle at the Leaky on Saturday night.
That combined with Draco’s increased workload from the case, they hadn’t been meeting up in the
training center in the mornings anymore. Although she had thoroughly enjoyed hexing him that
night, she ended up spending most of the weekend confused. She wasn’t angry, even though she
feigned it before apparating off. Draco had started to say something but she neither gave him the
opportunity nor wanted to be swallowed up by the words that threatened to fall from his lips.

Theo placed the hot coffee on her desk and slid it towards her with a mischievous glance. A
questioning brow arched at him while her hands palmed the brew cautiously, giving it a sniff before
her lips pressed to the lid.

“Planning to poison me, Nott?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, love,” he smirked.

Hermione scoffed quietly and shook her head softly as she tipped the hot coffee back, vanilla with a
splash of milk and sugar. Part of her knew she should have found it slightly disconcerting that Theo
and Draco knew exactly what roast and how she took her coffee, but all she could do was relish the
way it warmed her insides like a hot bath, soothing over her frustrations from the morning.

“Draco should be the one graveling,” he offered while she drank. “But he barely has time to eat,
with his caseload. So, I have humbly come on his behalf.”

“Does he know that you’ve come here?” she cocked her head. “On his behalf.”

“He will tonight,” Theo mused. “You’re too bloody perceptive for your own good.”

That elicited a small laugh from them both. It wasn’t the first time that Hermione had been called
too much of something. Whether it was too smart, too bossy, too perceptive, there was always
something. A leather clad shoe crossed over Theo’s thigh as he rested his leg there, leaning back
into the chair, more comfortable as the air in the room eased around them. Strands of hair fell in her
face that she attempted to blow out of the way without any luck, instead choosing to let them
obscure her vision versus brushing them away.

“How has your morning been? Based on the way you’re slumped in that chair, the way you’re
chugging that coffee, and the general disarray of your hair, I would guess poorly.”

“Now who is being too perceptive for their own good,” she snorted. “I’ve been training the new
healer, Isla,” she sighed, flicking her wand at the door closing it. “Theo, the witch is dumber than a
box of gobstones, honestly. I don’t know how she completed her apprenticeship. She couldn’t even
cast a basic diagnostic, even you can do that.”

“Excuse me,” a pout on his face. “I resent that. I’m quite good with magic, you know.”

A blush crept up her neck and cheeks, she hadn’t meant to insinuate otherwise. Just that Theo
wasn’t a trained healer, and he could still do it and now she had gone and bollocks the whole thing
up. Her lips pursed together as she sucked in the bottom lip, thinking of how to apologize when she
caught his dark eyes. They flickered from hazel to dark brown. They were crinkled on the corners
while a smile tugged on his lips that she could see he forced down with each twitch of his nose.

“You’re incorrigible,” she chucked the empty cup at him playfully.

Easily, he caught it out of the air and settled it back down on the desk with a triumphant smirk on
his face.

“It’s not just Draco that’s been busy,” she changed the subject. “You’ve been spending all day for
weeks in the DoM, I’ve barely seen you on the DMLE floor. What have you been up to? Last I
checked you were an Obliviator, not an Unspeakable. Looking at taking up a new profession?” she
asked in earnest.

“No,” he laughed. “My time in the DoM is directly related to my current role,” he planted both feet
back on the ground and leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. “They have been developing
improvements I guess you could call it, to memory charms and I have been working with them to
perfect the technique” he said unbothered by the whole thing.

That was news to Hermione. While there was a level of secrecy in what was done in the DoM,
improvements on current spells or charms were not one of them. A heavy ball of uncertainty settled
in the pit of her stomach that was making her nauseous.

She blamed herself, that she had done the charm poorly and that it was entirely her fault for what
happened to her parents. But logically, she knew that wasn’t true. Not being able to reverse the
spell was always a risk, there were no guarantees, but she had done it anyway knowing the dangers.
Foolishly, Hermione assumed that it wouldn’t happen. When the war was over one of the first
things, she did was locate her parents in Australia to reverse the memory charm and return them
home to London.

No matter how hard she tried, there was no progress to be made, it was gone, all of it. Everything
that Hermione had washed away, lost forever. Her parents remembered nothing of a daughter, or
their lives in London. For all intents and purposes Jean and David Granger were now Emily and
Paul Scott, dentists running their own practice in Brisbane. And they were happy. That stung some
much, that they were happy without her. A daughter they never knew they had. To them she had
just been some handsy patient with frequent appointments for a few months.

Devastated, didn’t begin to describe how Hermione felt when she returned home without her
parents. She had sobbed and shook in Ron’s arms who was rather flippant about the whole thing,
making it even worse. Harry had been far more understanding and consoling then her boyfriend at
the time. While the pain dulled over the years it never went away; days of marked importance
always hurt the worse, birthdays, holidays, but she had trudged on. Always reminding herself that if
she didn’t do what she did, they would likely be dead.

But hearing Theo talk about memory charm work being done in the DoM sparked a light of hope
that had extinguished years ago. It flickered cautiously like the wick of candle. The tip of her
thumb dragged over her bottom lip, lost in thought, afraid to ask the question that was buzzing so
wildly inside of her that she might implode.

Hope was a fragile thing – to reignite after accepting defeat would be dangerous.

“What kind of improvements?” she tried to ask with an air of nonchalance.

“Making it a more targeted and a safer spell with less adverse side effects. All but removing the
chances of affecting untargeted memories. Also, allowing the reversal of the spell without chance
of permanent damage.”

The small twinge of hope was quickly extinguished at Theo’s words. It was possible she
misunderstood, but she didn’t think so. It sounded like the DoM was working on a new memory
charm completely, not a way to counter effects from the current one. But she had to be certain, this
wasn’t something that she could leave to chance.

“So,” she whispered. “It wouldn’t be able to help someone currently suffering memory loss from an
errant obliviate. Only, once the new charm is perfected?”

“I imagine not,” he said softly. “It’s more a new way to perform the spell to prevent the issue from
ever occurring.”

The fragile composure that was holding Hermione together unraveled at his words, fraying like a
worn rope at the edges, she didn’t want to believe them. In the last hour, she allowed that flicker of
hope to take root and having it so rudely snatched away had undone the years of progress she had
made. Her body vibrated and shook as she fought against the sobs that threatened to pour out of
her. Not in front of Theo, not again. She didn’t want him to think of her as some emotionally
unstable witch. The panic attack, the crying at the fundraiser, not here, not now, he needed to go.

“Theo,” she squeaked. “Leave, please,” she sniffled, burying her face in her hands.

“Hermione.”

From his lips, her name sounded like a plea, she lost it. Her body hunched forward towards her
desk, her shoulders heaving with each pained sob that escaped her. She wrapped her arms around
herself, willing the ache to stop, to leave her. It was as if Devil’s Snare coiled around her, squeezing
her tighter and tighter until she might burst. There was a faint noise of scratching and a thud that
sounded like a chair had toppled over.

Soon she was enveloped by Theo’s arms around her, strong and tight. The sudden scent of him
reminded her that he was there. Without thinking she clutched the front of his robes when he
palmed the back of her head, gently pulling her into his abdomen. His fingers tangled in her curls
while he was quiet as she soaked the front of his shirt with her tears. They stayed that way for a
long time, he ran his fingers tenderly through her hair until the sobs all but stopped.

He crouched down so he was eye level with her. His hands cupped her face while his thumbs
stroked softly over the apples of her cheeks, wiping her tears away.

“Please,” he pleaded. “Tell me what’s wrong, love. Let me help.”

“You can’t help,” fresh tears falling at the reminder.

“While that may be true,” he choked. “Can you please tell me what’s wrong?”

Tightly, she snapped her eyes shut, afraid to look back at his. Afraid of what she might see in them,
pity, concern, annoyance, fear, none of that sounded appealing. After a deep breath, she
remembered the fundraiser and how Theo had looked at her so openly and without pity. She
decided to risk it and opened her eyes and saw a tender look of comfort, nothing more. Soft almond
eyes, with flecks of green in the brown. A watery chuckle stuck in her throat.

“You must think I’m some hysterical witch,” she sniffed. “Every time you talk to me, I’m crying or
having a fit or something.”

“That’s not even close to accurate,” he said soundly. “I think you know that.”

She nodded, his hands still cupping her face. The warmth from his thumbs grounded her, she
focused on the soft patterns he drew there, resting his forehead on hers.

“I obliviated my parents just as the war started. I erased all memories of me,” she whispered. “I hid
them in Australia under the false names of Emily and Paul Scott, dentists with no children,” her
shoulders shook for a moment. “After Voldemort was dead. I found them, to reverse the spell,
but….” her chin fell to her chest, unable to finish the rest.

“You couldn’t restore their memories,” Theo said somberly. A barely there nod was all she offered
when his arms wrapped so tight around her, she thought she might pass out. “I am so sorry,
Hermione,” he whispered into her curls.
“It’s ok,” she murmured. “Honestly, I had accepted it over the last few years. But when you started
talking about the DoM’s work with memory charms. A little bit of hope weaseled its way back in
and then having it yanked away again, it just reopened the wound. I just need a minute.”

“You probably need more than a minute,” he hummed. “Take the rest of the day. Go home and rest.
I can tell Potter; you know he won’t object.”

Under normal circumstances Hermione would have fought against taking a day off from work, but
Theo was right. She was going to be in no fit state for the rest of the day; not to mention having no
patience to deal with her moronic trainee. Silently, she agreed when she was finally able to stand up
and gather her things to make way to the floo.

“I can owl Pans. Have her meet you at your flat if you’d like?” Before Hermione could object, he
spoke again. “I don’t really like the idea of you being alone right now. Please let me send Pansy
over.”

It was hard to argue with Theo when he looked like that. So compassionate and understanding
without belittling her. What if she asked him to come over? She didn’t want to wallow in the
sadness and if she was left alone that would be exactly what would happen. Being alone with Theo
in her flat, as enticing as it sounded, probably wasn’t a good idea. Pansy would for certain not
allow her to slip into a pit of despair.

“Fine. Yes,” she acquiesced. “She can meet me at my flat. I’ll floo there now,” she wrapped her
traveling cloak around her. “Thank you, Theo.”

He leaned forward and gently placed his lips against her temple, as if he didn't want to scare her
away; but when his warm lips caressed her skin, it was like a jolt of electricity coursed through her
body. She could feel the heat radiating from his lips and drawing her closer. The feeling was
indescribable and lingered as he whispered tender words while his lips brushed along her burning
skin.

“Anything for you, love.”

How the wizard managed to work so fast was shocking. Hermione arrived home to find Pansy
already sitting on her couch with two glasses of wine, flipping through one of the muggle
magazines she kept on the table.

“Cheers, Granger,” she tipped her chin back. “Distractions or solutions today?”

This is what Hermione had come to appreciate about Pansy in the last couple years, her ability to
cater to any situation. While she adored Harry, he could smother her a bit and always wanted to fix
everything, not unlike Theo it seemed. Pansy on the other hand, accepted things as they were and
worked within the confines of whatever that was.

Unceremoniously, she plopped down on the sofa, kicked her heels off and took a large sip of the
white wine that was smoother than she anticipated.

“Distractions,” she purred against the glass.

“Just what I was hoping for,” she sipped. “Granger, I’m about this close,” she squeezed her thumb
and forefinger almost together, “To shagging you myself. But let’s try this first before I have that
conversation with Harry.”

Hermione wasn’t entirely certain that she was joking. Pansy rummaged around in her bag and
pulled out what looked to be a book that she had shrunk down. Quickly, she returned to its normal
size and tossed it in Hermione’s lap, a knowing grin on her face. Reading the title made her choke
on her wine and stare back at the raven-haired witch.

The Power of Three in Magical Bonds

“Where did you get this?”

“Let’s just say that Narcissa was only too happy to lend me a copy,” outwardly Hermione started to
panic. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, she doesn’t know it’s for you. In fact, she thinks it’s for
me and Harry,” she snorted. “Next time we have tea with Cissa I’m going to watch Potter squirm
and turn an awful shade of pink when she brings it up.”

“You have an odd relationship,” Hermione said flatly, as Pansy chuckled at the thought.

“Those are the best kinds,” she put her wine down. “Read through that, I think you’ll find it
illuminating,” Hermione groaned. “None of that,” she pointed a boney finger at her. “If you’re
determined to sabotage…”

“I was about to go home with Ernie, when Malfoy blundered in and scared him off on purpose,”
Hermione chimed in.

It was hard to place the look that had settled on Pansy’s face, but for once the witch was silent, lost
in her own thoughts.

Thankful though she was for the distraction that Pansy offered, Hermione relaxed fully once she
was alone again just after dinner. She found herself curled into bed under a large quilt staring at the
book she had been given like it might bite her. She was never against a bit of research though and
perhaps this would offer some insight into what both of her friends were so pressed on.

The book was certainly written with pureblood families in mind and must have been authored quite
some time ago as the language and terms were outdated. Despite that, the information was valuable
all the same. It did focus heavily on pairings with two witches and a singular wizard and how that
could be used to procure multiple heirs, specifically a male heir.

Outwardly she rolled her eyes at the sexist nature but plugged along. Apparently, if the book was to
be believed, bonding with more than one partner, three specifically, strengthened everyone’s magic.
It was fascinating, the number of three was always believed to be powerful, but the magical
component was entirely different. Finding the right match was also talked about in great length.

When a bond of three was formed between the right partners their magic would react in a way that
was indescribable. The word made Hermione’s nose twitch, how was she supposed to know it was
happening if it couldn’t be described. The term Anima Trium came up a few times, but she couldn’t
decipher the meaning as it was an obsolete dialect of Latin.

Realizing how late it had become, she tossed the book on the nightstand and tried to sleep. A smile
crept on her lips knowing that the wizarding world was at least more open than the muggle one
was. They didn’t care who you bonded to or how many, as long as everyone consented to it. None
of it mattered though unless Draco and Theo were interested. It wasn’t something that she would
have even entertained with any other witch or wizard, the complexities alone. Did they want that?
Were they interested in that, with her?

Pansy and Ginny seemed to think so. Fingers trailed the spot on her temple, the one that Theo had
kissed earlier. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the memory; her lips curling in a unguarded smile.

On top of being shite at diagnostics, Isla was also apparently a slow reader. Having only gotten
through a quarter of the documents Hermione had left with her yesterday. Only slightly annoyed,
she told Isla to continue working on getting through the materials today. At least it meant that she
would be left alone and wouldn’t have to babysit.

Barely had Hermione sat down with her cup of coffee when Draco’s eagle patronus swooped in,
landing elegantly on her desk.

Granger, my office as soon as you can. There’s a MACUSA auror here looking to speak with you
about the first victim we found.

With the message delivered the silvery creature dissipated into nothingness. After a short stroll,
Hermione was outside Draco’s office and gave a soft rapt on his slightly ajar door before poking
her head through and walking in.

The first thing she saw was Draco, looking unfairly handsome in his white oxford and crisp
pinstriped trousers. That stupid wand holster strapped to him, framing his chiseled chest
meticulously. A pathetic little moan died on her lips as she dragged her teeth along the bottom one.
Only when she realized she had been staring for too long again, did she look around to see another
man - muggle, that surely couldn’t be the auror from MACUSA.

Standing opposite Draco was a man dressed rather casually in dark washed denims, a fitted black t-
shirt with a red checkered flannel shucked over it with the sleeves rolled up. A well-maintained
beard framed his strong jaw and the kind smile he gave her when their eyes locked probably made
most witches swoon. He was certainly handsome, but it was in stark contrast to Draco.

“Hermione,” he said warmly. The man outstretched his hand, which she took in a firm shake. “The
papers certainly did not do justice to your beauty.”

The simple compliment surprised her, making her eyes wide as pink crept up her cheeks. She put
all her attention on the coffee cup in hands, sipping it for the distraction.

“My apologies,” he added quickly. “I’m Jackson Price, detective from the Auror office at
MACUSA.”

It was subtle, but she didn’t miss the scoff from Draco as Jackson introduced himself. His eyes
were narrow behind his glasses, his lips pressed in a thin line. He was leaning against the edge of
his desk, arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed in front, focused solely on Hermione as if he
was cataloging her every reaction.

“I have to admit Hermione,” Jackson appeared to like saying her name, and took every chance to
do it. “I’m a little surprised you’re not actually golden, the way the phrase gets so thrown around.”
It was a ridiculous comment, but she caught it for what it was, the way the humor danced just
behind his eyes. She laughed freely at the comment, about to speak when Draco interjected, his
voice low and bored sounding.

“Price, I thought you were here to discuss the case,” he arched a brow. “Not to shamelessly flirt
with my healer.”

My. Since when was she Draco’s anything. The immediate indignation morphed into an
amalgamation of want and anger. Technically they were colleagues, equals, what was he getting at,
using her to have some pissing match with the other wizard. She folded her arms and glowered at
him, not caring that Price was there, about to remind him of her stinging hex when she was
interrupted.

“Of course, I’ll cut to the chase then.”

Hermione resigned herself to having that conversation later as Price plunged ahead talking about
the case. It was remarkable how quickly he shifted from the warm, flirtatious wizard that greeted
her, into the gruff auror that she now saw. He was meticulous and left no section unturned as he
talked through her and Draco’s original victim.

“The tattoo,” he nodded. “The snake with the word pure. It was a mark that was put on Death Eater
spouses in the States.” Catching the confused look on her face, he took an extra moment to explain.
“There were, or more there are Death Eaters and wizards loyal to Voldemort’s cause in America.
They took the Dark Mark,” his eyes shifted to the tattoo on Draco’s exposed forearm and then back
to Hermione. “But they took it a step further, marking their partners with that tattoo so that
everyone would know they were a part of the cause.”

“So, this witch was a revenge killing?” Hermione asked.

“Possibly. Her name was Emily Stafford, her husband was Erik Stafford, and he was a merciless
wizard. He was killed in a raid a few years back, not long after Voldemort’s death over here.
Everything we knew about Emily though, she was reserved, forced into everything by her husband.
After his death she dedicated all her time to good works, her death was a sad one. So, killing her for
revenge, would be misguided at best.”

That was why the tattoo looked familiar to Draco, it distantly had something to do with Voldemort
and the Death Eaters, even if overseas. Apparently, Price also knew of Draco’s past, the way he
eyed the covered Dark Mark. The tattoo hid it perfectly. Most people knew of Draco’s history, but
she was a little surprised that even those from the States knew. Perhaps Price only knew because he
worked for MACUSA.

After another long hour of going over more or less the same information, it seemed the questions
had come to a welcomed standstill.

“If that’s all,” Hermione said. “I really should be going. I have quite a lot going on today.”

“Of course, I appreciate your time.”

It looked like Draco hadn’t moved once in the two-hour conversation, still perched against his desk,
his face still twisted in that forced expression of blankness. More aware of the awkward
uncomfortableness than before, Hermione gave a soft smile and turned to leave the room. Just
before she crossed the threshold a hand wrapped around her wrist.
 “Excuse me if I’m being forward,” Jackson dropped her hand. “Would you like to grab dinner with
me this evening, Hermione? After your day is done of course.”

A lump bobbed in her throat before her mouth dropped slightly ajar. Jackson Price was charming
and handsome and apparently very interested in her. The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lip
when she saw Draco standing once again at his full height. He said nothing but glowered at her in a
silent challenge. Two can play this game. She flipped her braid over her shoulder and turned her
attention back to Jackson.

“That would be lovely,” she said sweetly. “I’m done at five. Meet me at the floo for quarter past?”

“I look forward to it,” he smiled broadly.

Without sparing another glance at Draco she swept out of his office and returned to hers feeling
victorious. I’d like to see how the blond git scares this one away.

Chapter End Notes

I PROMISE - I'm almost done edging you - I swear......like really. Next chapter ;)
 Chapter 6 Is This a Date?
Chapter Notes

........drops chapter and runs.

No - really. Hope you all enjoy - we're not quite out of the woods for a little more of oblivious
Hermione. But I can say we are certainly on the other side! Thank you for all the lovely
comments and kudos. Glad you are all enjoying it so much! I did update the final chapter
count to 25. Nothing was cut - just in editing I ended up combining a couple of chapters into
one for better flow.

Chapter 25 is an epilogue. And as long as we stay on schedule the final chapter will be posted
on Christmas Eve.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Hermione laid her robes over the back of her chair, choosing to forego them for the evening. That
left her in a simple black dress with stockings, perfectly acceptable for wherever Jackson planned
to take her for the evening. The wizard had been wearing a flannel shirt and denims earlier, she
didn’t anticipate anything fancy, which was a relief. She let her plait down, allowing her curls to
flow freely behind her.

Once at the floo, she found Jackson waiting for her, having swapped out the flannel for a burgundy
jumper, but otherwise looking the same. A broad smile greeted her when she saddled next to him.
He pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek and stepped back, letting his eyes roam over her.

“I don’t understand how a witch like you is single. Smart, beautiful, and witty. I guess I’ll just
thank Merlin for the opportunity.”

Oh, he was good, and charming, and polite. The two of them arrived at the Three Broomsticks in
Hogsmeade and settled down at a small table in the corner of the pub. The conversation flowed
between them easily while Jackson was open with his compliments and fleeting touches without
being overbearing. Hermione couldn’t help but be enraptured with him. He told her all about
MACUSA, Ilvermorny and where he lived in Massachusetts and what life was like there.

“What made you want to become an auror?”

“I wanted to protect people. Voldemort’s terror spread to the States as well; Death Eaters taking up
their own ranks there,” he sipped his lager. “Much like you, I was just finishing up Ilvermorny
when things broke out. When the dust settled, I wanted to protect people from the darkness,” a vein
in his neck throbbed. “And from the people who wielded it and those that supported it.”

It was a noble answer and sounded like something even Harry would say. But the words were
tinged with disdain and anger that sullied them.

It was very different for wizarding society there it seemed. They didn’t wear robes and defaulted to
muggle attire to blend in better, opting for suits and the like for more formal occasions. He
mentioned still finding the robes that the Brits wore was a bit of a culture shock. Overall, it was a
lovely time, but Hermione noticed the distinct lack of fluttering her chest. The noticeable absence
of stirring in her stomach – something that she was too entuned with whenever she was around two
other wizards.

They arrived outside her flat after Jackson insisted on seeing her home safely, sweet, but rather
unnecessary.

“I had a wonderful time tonight.”

Jackson had a soft, full-bodied voice that probably had most witches crumbling at the sound. His
eyes bore into hers, unblinking as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, moving his face in
closer to hers. She saw the faint glimmer of a glamour charm on his hand, and wondered what kind
of scar he was hiding.

His lips found hers in a tentative kiss that she did not immediately return. The tips of his fingers
curled at the dip of her waist in a delicate embrace. If only to avoid any awkwardness, she wrapped
her wrists around his neck, parting her lips. The ghost of a smile coasted along her face as he pulled
away and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jackson.”

“See you then,” with a pop he disappeared.

Isla was plopped on one of the beds in the DMLE medical ward, documents and books strewn out
in front of her as she flipped through the pages. Hermione had resigned herself to creating a whole
new training plan, one that started from scratch. While she could complain all she wanted about the
lack of skill Isla had, it did nothing to help her in the long run. Instead, she decided to work with
her from the ground up with her healing spells and go from there.

Granted, she still hadn’t completed the required reading, so Hermione all but dragged her to the
ward to finish while she worked on cataloging their potion stores. She rummaged through the
meticulously labeled vials, making notes of items that were low, her mind wandering to the
previous night.

Jackson was kind, smart, and easy to engage with. Merlin, he was a treat to look at too, but there
was no spark, nothing that pulled her in for more, even though she desperately wanted there to be.
She chuckled to herself, knowing she could never tell Pansy, the witch would ruin her if she found
out that Hermione didn’t invite him into her flat.

There was a creak and then the sound of the door to the supply room closing. It immediately had
Hermione’s heart racing, pounding against her chest for an escape. On instinct, her hand flew to her
wand when she turned, jutting it into the throat of the person behind her.

“Quick reflexes,” he smirked.

“Don’t you know not to sneak up on people like that?”

With a parting jab into his jaw for good measure, Hermione stowed her wand back in her curls and
all but turned away from him to pick up where she had left off. Why Draco decided to corner her in
the potions room was beyond her, but she didn’t have time for whatever game he wanted to play.
“Not going to talk to me?”

Why did he have to sound so smug? She didn’t need to see his face to know there was a cocky
smirk on it. Without stopping what she was working on, she took a vial in her hand and turned it
over before writing something down with her quill.

“I’ve been told I’m an excellent multitasker. I can work and talk at the same time. Besides, you are
the one that barged in here. So, I believe it is you that should do the talking. Unless you’re lost.”

There was a borderline painful pinch on her hip from where Draco dug in his nails when he turned
her to face him, the blood replenishment potion that was in her hand dropped to the ground with a
smash. Without a word, he repaired the damage and returned it to its spot on the shelf. He was
much closer than she anticipated, his tall form looming over her. Hermione leaned her head back to
meet his gaze that was similarly looking down at her.

“How was your date last night?”

The words licked over her like fire, burning her skin in its wake. Her cheeks flushed at the
question, like she had done something wrong. Draco didn’t ask it in an accusatory manner, but it
felt wrong all the same. If anything, his words were flat, as if he was bored by the conversation that
he initiated. His demeanor told a different story though. Shoulders were taut and rigid along the
seam of his shirt, the vein in his neck vibrated along his pulse point, his eyes hooded and guarded.

“It was nice, Jackson was pleasant.”

A palm landed on either side of her face, making her dance as Draco caged her in and leaned so
close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, the woodsy, sweet smell. She pushed
the flat of her hands against his chest in a halfhearted attempt to push him away. A soft laugh left
his lips as the corners of his eyes twinkled at the contact.

“There’s something adorable about you thinking you could move me,” the tip of his tongue licked
over his bottom lip.

She swatted at his chest. “Maybe if you weren’t so bloody heavy.”

Draco leaned back and wrapped his hands around hers to still their lackluster assault. His grip was
firm but not painful, the playful smile on his face gave way to something else, more serious.

“Granger. Just do me a favor. No more dates,” he paused. “Please,” the last word came out like a
strangled cough – as if it pained him to ask nicely.

There was something satisfying and equally disarming about the way that word sounded coming
from Draco’s mouth. It was a request as much as it was a plea, something that she never thought
she would hear from Draco Malfoy. Her brows knitted in, furrowed, and searched for what she was
supposed to say, how she was supposed to react. For once, Hermione had no idea what to do. His
hands were so warm around hers; there was the familiar flutter when she got around him or Theo.
The warm way her chest would tighten, and her heart would stutter.

It was suffocating. She couldn’t breathe or think around them.

As if he could sense her internal battle, Draco thankfully spoke.

“At least until after this Friday,” he mused. “Join Theo and I for dinner and drinks after work that
day?” the corner of his lip curled.

The room got infinitely smaller and warmer. Beads of sweat were sticking to the top of her brow,
mixing with the flyaway pieces of hair that blew in front of her face. Blood thundered in her ears as
flush flooded both cheeks; if she could touch her skin it would burn.

“What?” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could register what had happened.

“Theo and I would like you to join us for dinner and drinks this Friday. We can pick you up at your
flat at 7pm.”

Her blank eyes stared back at him, nodding slightly.

“Words, Granger,” he chuckled. “I know you have a verbose vocabulary.”

On a deep inhale, she said, “Yes. I’ll see you both then.”

A broad smile pushed on the curve of his cheeks when he dropped her hands, but still didn’t move.
There was something swirling in his grey eyes while he continued to focus on her. His fingers
brushed along the hinge of her jaw, sending a spark down the column of her spine that he surely
noticed. He tucked a curl behind her ear, leaned forward, and kissed her temple. It was the same
doting kiss she had watched him give Theo. Full of warmth and promise.

Fire and ice.

“Friday,” he mused, before he turned and left. Hermione’s back slid along the shelves until she sat
on the floor, mouth agape unsure of what had just transpired. Eyes locked on the door that he exited
through.

That evening was spent on her sofa with multiple bottles of wine, a boisterous Ginny, and a
cackling Pansy. After she had pulled herself up off the storeroom floor, Hermione bolted to her
office, shut the door and immediately owled both of her friends.

In such a rush to hear the story, Ginny all but fell out of Hermione’s floo, still sweating and in her
quidditch kit from practice. Not far behind her was Pansy with wine in tow, a devilish smile on her
painted lips.

“Finally,” Pansy huffed after she elegantly sat on the sofa. “Ok, so this Friday, where are they
taking you?”

Ginny wandered back in from the loo after a shower and a change of clothes. A permanent grin was
plastered all over her face as she poured a healthy glass of wine for herself before plopping down in
the armchair across from the other two witches.

“It’s Malfoy,” Ginny snorted. “The prat doesn’t know anything besides expensive. My bet is on
some fancy French restaurant where you can’t even read the menu.”

That thought hadn’t even crossed Hermione’s mind in the whirlwind haze that was the rest of her
day at the Ministry. Not only where were they going to go, but what was she supposed to wear.
Aside from that, who would see them? It wasn’t embarrassment, but rather, the minute Skeeter
snapped a photo of them it would be all over the Prophet, her heart sank. She just wanted the same
privacy that others were afforded. It would be twisted into something vile; she was certain. The
excitable nervousness that plagued her day morphed into concern that was etched all over her face.

“What just happened to your face?” Pansy sneered. “Don’t you dare overthink this, Granger. I have
been waiting for this moment perhaps even longer than you have. What’s running through that
brain of yours?”

“It’s nothing.”

Hermione didn’t even believe herself when she held the rim of the glass to her lips for an extended
pause before taking a large gulp of the pinot.

“You are about as convincing a liar as Blaise,” Ginny scoffed, arching her brows at Hermione.
“Like, let Pansy play dress up. You can’t really be that concerned about what to wear?” Ginny
tossed her wand on the table. “Spit it out.”

There was no getting out of anything when Ginny and Pansy were determined, it was downright
unfair, and Merlin forbid when they agreed on something. They both had a discerning glare trained
on Hermione that left her resigned. She slid her empty glass over the edge of the table and fell back
against the cushions of the sofa, strands of hair falling in front of her eyes.

“It’s not the clothes,” she paused. “I mean, it sort of is, but not really,” she avoided looking at either
witch, instead staring intently at the book on the table. “People are going to see us…...”

That elicited a questioning look from each witch before they looked at each other and back to
Hermione.

“Granger, did you not read that book I gave you? There’s nothing abnormal about it. The only
reason people are going to look at you is because they’ll be jealous of you,” she snorted. “Witch
Weekly about lost their minds when the two most eligible bachelors simultaneously came off the
market. Every witch will want to be you,” she cackled.

With an undignified snort, Hermione summoned a tin of biscuits from the kitchen and plopped
them in her lap. She unabashedly dug into them, avoiding Pansy’s comment. Nobody had any
interest in being Hermione.

Cautiously, Ginny slid a hand into the tin to swipe a biscuit almost as if she was afraid that
Hermione might hex her for daring to take one. “Is it not the two wizard’s thing, but specifically
Theo and Draco?”

They really weren’t going to drop it.

“Yes and no.”

Stress eating was apparently becoming a new habit of hers because when she looked down, all the
biscuits were gone. She shoved the empty bin to the side and picked at her cuticles, avoiding
looking at either of them.

“It’s just that,” she paused, trying to think how to explain it. “Draco and Theo have already been
through so much and they already struggle with how everyone perceives them, Draco especially,”
her nose twitched. “Should have seen it, the MACUSA auror kept eyeballing his forearm like the
mark was going to spring to life and curse him on the spot. I’m only going to make it worse.
Something about me cheating with them both and whatever,” she huffed, blowing a curl out of her
face.

“Are you daft?” Pansy seethed. “I should really hex you for making that comment. Also, why are
we not telling the Prophet the real story? I had the extreme displeasure of seeing the weasel’s,” she
tossed a glance at Ginny. “Sorry Gin, seeing Ron’s inadequate equipment. I can go right to Skeeter
and share that memory, and this is done with.”

“I just want to avoid everything getting nasty.”

“It’s already nasty,” Ginny snorted. “My brother was a cheating a git and you’re willing to just let it
all slide? Stop putting everyone else before yourself, Hermione.”

After two more bottles of wine and some poking and prodding later, Hermione calmed down
significantly. Her biggest worry of the night soon turned into what to wear on Friday, which she
sent an owl to Draco and Theo asking for clarification. Luckily, she had stilled Pansy’s twitchy
hand about going to the Prophet for now, but that likely wasn’t going to last for long.

While work was an absolute slog during the week, one little surprise that appeared on her desk
Tuesday morning turned into a constant each following day she arrived at the DMLE. Sitting in the
middle of her desk was a container with a note.

The mug is enchanted, it won’t get cold when you inevitably forget about your coffee.

Wear something slightly more than casual, nothing formal, for Friday.

DM & TN

Each morning was much the same; another mug; another note.

Wednesday:

Have a good day.

DM & TN

Thursday:

Try not to make Isla cry today.

DM & TN

Wednesday had been a bit of a nightmare with Isla. Once she had completed all the necessary
reading, Hermione brought her back into the onsite ward and became increasingly frustrated. One
thing led to another, and she snapped at the trainee for her lack of knowledge. The witch ran
through the DMLE in a fit of tears until she reached her office. Most of the aurors in the office saw
her and only a few minutes later was Harry standing in front of her.

“What?” she barked, looking at Harry’s narrowed eyes.

“Hermione, did you really have to make her cry?”

With an exaggerated flourish of her wand, she sent the ingredients back to the supply closet. The
evenness in Harry’s tone told her he was talking to her as the Auror Captain, not her friend. She
screwed a forced smile into place and cocked her head to the side, fighting the urge to cross her
arms and sneer at him.

“Listen,” she huffed. “I know you are busy overseeing everything while Robards is at MACUSA
and with a heavier than normal caseload. But Isla is incompetent, I didn’t want to put another thing
on your plate. She knows nothing about healing, Harry. I had to show her how to cast a diagnostic
charm, and it took a whole day for her to master it.”

When he looked like he was about to say something Hermione kept talking.

“Today. And today, she didn’t know she needed to use episkey for minor injuries. Good Godric
Harry! Why did Robards hire her? I’m about this close,” she pinched her fingers together. “To
calling St. Mungo’s about her apprenticeship. She is a danger, Harry! Imagine if she was called to
the field, aurors could die because of her inadequacies and sorry if I wasn’t willing to sugar coat it
to spare her feelings.”

“Is that what made her cry?”

“That I told her she was inadequate? Yes,” she threw her arms up. “Also, that it would be her fault
if someone died. Also, yes. She can decide if she wants to be here or not, but do you really want her
out there in a life-or-death situation Harry?”

“I suppose not,” he murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You have enough going on. Listen,” her voice flattened. “I can train her from scratch. I did a fair
bit of it during the last couple of months at St. Mungo’s. But she can’t go out into the field, it will
either be me or Heath in the meantime.”

“I trust your judgment, Hermione. Just maybe next time, try to keep her crying contained to an
office?”

“Fine,” she huffed.

Friday:

We’ll see you tonight at 7pm.

DM & TN

Another perfectly brewed, perfectly controlled mug of coffee waited for her. Outside of her own
chaos at work, she hadn’t once seen Theo or Draco that week besides the little soiree in the supply
closet on Monday with Draco. Theo hadn’t even been on the DMLE floor, seemingly locked away
in the DoM.

There had been another murder on Wednesday that had Draco all but out of sight. Part of her
wondered if maybe they would cancel, but seeing the note Friday morning caused a warm flutter in
her chest that had her lips curling in a small smile. Determined to get Isla up to snuff, Hermione
locked the two of them away in the ward for the day. She was smarter than Hermione originally
gave her credit for, she just had no basic knowledge. Once she had resigned herself to starting from
scratch with Isla, it got easier.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Isla asked, reviewing a diagnostic like Hermione showed her.

“Dinner tonight,” she blushed. “And then…...”

“I saw that,” Isla exclaimed! “You blushed. It’s a date! You have a date, with who?”

“Someone at the DMLE. Considering we work together I’d like to keep it private.”

It wasn’t a lie, there were just multiple someone’s. Plus, the last thing she needed was Isla in
everything before it even started. After completing a full day without making her trainee cry,
Hermione was quick to floo home, the anxiety that had been distracting her all day flooded to the
surface.

She paced back and forth across her flat, debating owling Pansy. They had said something slightly
more than casual, but she was second guessing it. Draco’s bloody idea of casual was no tie on his
oxfords. Although Theo tended to be a little more relaxed, opting for jumpers when he wasn’t in
DMLE robes.

Before she could question herself anymore Hermione pulled on a tartan skirt with a cream-colored
oversized jumper. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers dragging through her curls,
unsure how to tame them for the night. They were in a plait barely long enough for her to pull it out
again, annoyed that it looked too much like the hair she wore to work every day.

Hermione decided to let her hair down and looked at the clock to see it was only 6:30. Instead of
allowing the nervous energy to take hold of her, she busied herself in the kitchen making tea. There
was a knock on the door that made her hands shake, sending the cup to the floor with a shatter.

“Bollocks,” she murmured, repairing the glass, and putting it back on the counter.

She tucked her wand into the hem of skirt and ran her palms down the front, smoothing the garment
out. A thin layer of sweat had accumulated on her hands that she tried to rub away when there was
another knock.

“One minute, sorry,” she yelled towards the door, an unnatural shake in her voice.

Why was she nervous? This was Draco and Theo; they had been friends for years now.

When she finally opened the door, the wizards stood on the stoop; Draco’s arm slung low around
Theo’s waist, holding him close. Hermione watched, mesmerized as Draco’s thumb drew soft
circles on Theo’s hip in an adoringly sweet gesture that seemed to contrast his gruff exterior.

Immediately, she was more relaxed, about everything. The constant buzzing that was in her head
calmed once she saw the two of them. It was rare that thoughts weren’t whirring around, causing
some level of distress, but for a moment, around them it was like the waves crested into calm seas.

In a simple pair of khaki trousers and a black jumper, Theo looked every bit the embodiment of a
warm, crackling fire that he reminded her of so frequently. And then, in what must have been
considered casual for Draco, he donned grey slacks with a navy button down that accentuated his
alabaster skin and silver hair.
“Is this a date?”

The words came out in a frantic sort of shriek that had her quickly sucking her bottom lip while her
shoulders rolled in towards her chest. If only she had a time turner so she could rewind the last five
minutes. Hot blush rushed up her cheeks as her curls fell around her and curtained her face.

There was a throaty, playful laugh that was followed by fingers under her chin, lifting her face up.
Slate grey eyes found hers as the flutter in her chest threatened to escape with Draco’s touch.

“I did say no more dates until Friday,” he paused, Theo smiling at him. “But seeing as today is now
Friday Granger, I think we can classify this as a date.”

Her teeth scratched along her lip, a restrained smile released, looking at Draco first and then Theo,
who was just as close. His fingers ghosted up her jaw until they brushed through her curls, letting
them fall softly.

“I like your hair like this,” he hummed.

“Very beautiful, love,” Theo added.

Most of her life, jokes had been made about her hair; whether it was how unruly or messy it was.
Even Ron had on multiple occasions called it a ‘rats’ nest’ and never once could she remember him
complimenting it. It was one of the bigger reasons she usually kept in a braid or pulled back in
some manner, it was an effort to hide the haphazardness of it all. The looks on their faces were
genuine, they meant what they said, her body melted a little more.

One of the more redeeming qualities of her flat was its proximity to the apparition point which
Hermione was increasingly more thankful for. They walked to the spot, with Draco between Theo
and Hermione, the wizards’ fingers laced together. As they approached, fingers knocked into hers
sending a jolt up her arm and a shiver down the column of her spine. Draco knotted his fingers with
her, the metal of his rings cooling her burning skin.

He leaned down close to her. “Alright if I apparate all of us?”

After she smiled and nodded in assent, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before leaning over
to Theo and murmuring something she couldn’t quite hear, kissing him on the temple. The busy
streets they arrived at were familiar but had Hermione doing a double take.

“Muggle London?”

Effortlessly, Theo drifted behind Draco, firmly placing her in between the two wizards. Aimlessly
she followed Draco who seemed to be leading them through the town with a practiced pace, like he
had visited the area before. Theo looped her arm through his, her other hand still locked with
Draco’s.

“We thought you would appreciate some privacy. The kind that muggle London can afford,” Theo
mused.

It was incredibly thoughtful, and Hermione wondered if Pansy had said something to them about
all her incessant worrying regarding the publicity of it all. Despite all the qualms she had earlier
about the Prophet seeing them, she hadn’t thought about it once until that moment.
They arrived at a dimly lit restaurant when Draco stepped up to speak to the hostess while Theo
palmed the small of her back, guiding her. It was a cozy corner, wraparound booth. Theo gestured
for her to slide in first, each wizard settling in on either side of her.

The restaurant was serene and inviting. In the center of the table was a small candle with the menus
laid neatly by it. A soft yellow glow filled the space in the quieter than expected restaurant. There
were maybe only a dozen other tables with customers, all in their own little world, paying no
attention to the three of them.

Years, it had quite possibly been years since Hermione had been able to go out somewhere without
at least a dozen eyes staring at her. While she had more or less become accustomed to it; for once
she was truly relaxed out in public.

“You know Draco,” she giggled. “They don’t take galleons here; we’ll need muggle money.”

“Believe it or not, I weave in and out of muggle London more often than you may think,” his voice
dropped lower. “There’s a certain peace afforded here that we can’t quite find anywhere else,” he
smiled. “Besides, I have one of those plastic things.”

“You mean a credit card?” Hermione asked, shocked. “Do you remember to pay it?”

“Pay it?” Draco cocked a singular brow. “No, it comes right out of my vault. Some witch at the
muggle liaison office set it up. Galleons transfer into muggle currency and then come off the plastic
card.”

Mildly impressed, a barely there smile curled on her lips as she thumbed through the menu. There
was a wide array of options, many of them reminding her of growing up, things her mother often
made for supper. Her fingers traced over the listings, a pleasant warmth overtaking her with the
memory of her mother, it wasn’t sad, it was comforting.

A small jolt shot through her when Theo’s hand came to rest on her knee. Her heart was free-falling
into her stomach. His thumb rubbed softly back and forth over the same spot, while his signet ring
afforded a cool feeling on her flushed skin.

“Everything alright, love?”

“More then,” she hummed, trying to downplay the overload of emotions that were bubbling to the
surface.

And it really was, as Draco had mentioned, being in muggle London offered a kind of calm
serenity. Nobody knew who they were, and no one cared, they were left completely undisturbed.
Part of it made Hermione consider getting a flat in the muggle part of town, almost, if she didn’t
adore hers so much.

“Why are you in the muggle section of town so often that you have a card set up to your Gringotts
vault?” she mused.

The strands of hair that obscured his mischievous smile felt purposeful, the way they tantalizingly
hung just below his glasses. His palm splayed out on her thigh, his touch more possessive than
Theo’s, making her choke back a gasp that was pleading for escape. The feeling of them both
touching her at the same time had her squeezing her legs together. His eyes and lips narrowed as if
he had caught her little internal battle but said nothing about it.
“There are times that I need to be in the muggle parts of town for investigations. Also, Theo and I,”
his eyes flicked to the brunette. “We like being able to walk around freely without being stared at
sometimes.”

In the couple of years after the Battle of Hogwarts, people hated anyone to do with Voldemort.
There was a special vitriol for Draco it seemed, many were angry about his probation. That anger
sparked anew when he was offered an auror trainee position within the Ministry. In the last couple
of years though, Hermione had seen pieces in the Prophet and Witch Weekly about Draco and
Theo, spun in a more positive, albeit provocative light.

Had she really been naïve enough to believe that society still didn’t garner hate for Draco, and
likely Theo by proxy? Theo had never taken the mark, but his father had earned a life sentence in
Azkaban for the despicable crimes he committed. And if Draco was still dealing with prejudice, she
imagined his boyfriend struggled with some as well. She remembered Jackson staring at his
covered mark and Draco’s disquiet that day at the scene, staring unblinking at the spot on his
forearm.

Draco was a decorated auror, a well-established presence in the community. Narcissa and him had
worked tirelessly over the years to rebuild the reputation of the Malfoy name in a more positive,
endearing light. Lucius had also earned a life sentence for things he did during the war but died a
little over a year ago from Dragon Pox.

“Is it often,” she worried her bottom lip, trying to find the words. “I mean do people bring it up
often when you’re out?”

Hermione first looked at Draco, whose face was a stony façade determined not to give anything
away. When she turned to look at Theo, his expression told her everything she needed to know.
There was a tender, guarded sort of pain when he looked at Draco, his grip on Hermione’s knee
tightened as if he hoped it would tether him to reality.

“It happens enough that I wouldn’t consider it infrequent,” Draco muttered, trying to appear
unaffected.

“It hurts me that you have to deal with that,” her hand cupped Draco’s cheek. She dropped the
touch after receiving an inviting smile and turned to Theo. “That both of you have to deal with
that,” she added, pecking him on the temple.

Theo’s throat bobbed at the contact, his eyes darting to Draco’s, but his hand never left her leg. The
food was delicious, and the heavy conversation quickly shifted into a lighter affair.

“Drake bossy?” Theo chuckled. “Never.”

What started out as a laugh turned into a rather unladylike snort that had Hermione choking on her
wine that she quickly put down on the table, rubbing tears from her eyes.

“That has to be the most adorable thing I have ever heard,” Theo beamed, stroking her knee.

Hermione covered her face, flushed with embarrassment. “It was the furthest thing from adorable,”
she coughed.

“Just accept that you can’t be right about everything, Granger,” Draco admonished, a penetrative
glare aimed at her. “It was adorable,” he squeezed her thigh. His free hand snaked up her throat
until he was nestled in her curls, palming the back of her head. “And you are beautiful.”

Gently, he guided her face towards his, the smell of oak and whiskey overpowering her senses.
Everything around her vanished, usurped by the pull of Draco’s grey gaze; their lips locked
together in an all-encompassing kiss. Her hands caressed up his arms and then settled on his
shoulders as a mesmerizing feeling of safety wrapped around her. The feeling of his lips on hers
was powerful and demanding. He tasted like mint and whiskey.

He deepened the kiss, running his tongue along the seam of her lips, which she parted at his
demand. A soft moan fell from her mouth that he swallowed with a nip on her lip. His teeth grazed
along her mouth between kisses. Sobered by the intensity of their exchange, Draco pulled away,
lingering only a moment longer as their eyes met, and his smile made her heart beat in her throat.

His hand left her curls and moved to her jaw where his thumb caressed over her mouth before he
dropped it completely. A tender brushing sensation pulled her from her reverence when she realized
it was Theo and not Draco rubbing her thigh. Realization crashed over her sending her into a panic.

“Oh, I shouldn’t have,” she sputtered. “I’m so sorry.”

Her fingers danced along her bottom lip, tracing the path that Draco’s teeth had taken. It was still
warm and slightly raised from the small nips he had made in his wake.

“What could you possibly be sorry about?” Draco arched a brow at her, looking almost angry.

“I just,” she looked from him to Theo. “Theo I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

In an almost bruising grip, Draco grabbed her jaw, locking her gaze with his. “Stop apologizing,”
he uttered in a guttural tone that had her squeezing her legs together in response. Without breaking
away from her, he spoke again. “Theodore, are you upset that Granger kissed me?”

“Quite the opposite in fact.”

Theo’s fingers brushed lightly along the exposed part of Hermione’s knee, drawing small, swirling
patterns there. He shifted and adjusted in the spot next to her, his nose brushing along the shell of
her ear making her shiver.

“Did you like kissing me?” Draco asked, his grip unrelenting on her face.

All she could manage was a subtle nod in his hold. Theo’s hand settled at the notch above her hip;
she could feel his breath mixing with his smokey scent close to her face.

“Do you want to kiss Theo?”

Her eyes went impossibly wide at the directness of his question. The tip of her tongue swiped along
the seam of her lips, wetting them as her throat bobbed. An ashy and dry feeling coated the inside
her throat as she tried to swallow, a nervous excitement washing over her. She wanted to feel
Theo’s mouth pressed against hers as much as she wanted Draco’s.

“Drake asked you a question, love,” Theo chuckled in almost a whisper that brushed along her ear.
“He might get grouchy if you don’t answer. Well, grouchier than usual,” he scoffed.
Draco leveled a cold stare over Hermione’s shoulder, directed straight at Theo. The hot breath of
his shaky exhale had every nerve in her body on edge.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Yes what, Hermione?” the question harsh in its delivery.

“I want to kiss Theo.”

Theo murmured a quiet, “Fuck.”

A cool breeze past her chin when Draco released her jaw. His other hand stayed wrapped firmly
around her thigh, part of it caressing the bare skin just below the hem of her skirt. The familiar
challenge in his eyes shimmered when his words came out in a low, commanding tone that
brokered no room for discussion.

“Show Theo how much you want to kiss him.”

As if being pulled by something she couldn’t control, immediately she turned at the waist so that
she could look directly at Theo. His eyes were dark and inviting; his face framed by his chocolate
curls. The smell of cedar and clove drew her in like a siren’s song, making her want to nuzzle into
him. Her nails dug into his chest, her mouth a breath away from his, her eyes pliant and pleading up
at him.

Theo’s hands cradled her face, his thumbs rubbing along the hinge of her jaw on either side. The
ghost of a smile brushed against hers when he paused at the precipice, making Hermione whimper.

“Theo,” her voice was barely audible. “Please kiss me.”

“Anything for you, love,” he whispered.

He was decadent and tasted like chocolate and wine; his hands never leaving her face. He was slow
in his pursuit, allowing one brush of his lips to pillow into the next, unhurried, as if he was savoring
every part of her.

She sighed into his kiss, when his tongue plunged into her mouth, moving in a more demanding
fashion than before. His fingers slid back until they were tangled in her curls, tilting her head back
as he kissed a burning trail down her jaw and throat when he pulled away with a cocky smile that
he must have learned from Draco.

He broke away leaving her breathless in a way that she hadn’t allowed herself to feel with Draco;
the panic that she had done something wrong overwhelmed before she had allowed herself time to
bask in the afterglow of the moment. A smile curled on the corner of her mouth as her gaze
fluttered between the two wizards.

“Well,” she whispered breathlessly. “Aren’t you two going to kiss now?”

“Drake, I think we might have a voyeur on our hands,” Theo waggled his brows.

“A rather bossy one at that,” Draco laughed.

Being in the middle of the two wizards, Hermione leaned back so she was flushed against the
booth. The two of them moved in towards each other; their eyes flickered to her briefly before they
were focused solely on the man in front of them. Draco possessively wrapped a hand around Theo’s
throat, his thumb lazily stroking his jaw, the other resting at his waist.

Theo moaned at the contact; his hands wrapped around Draco’s neck. He brought Theo’s face close
to his when they crashed into each other. There was only a brief battle for dominance as Draco
ultimately controlled the kiss. Hermione was enthralled with watching the two of them, it sent a
rush of arousal straight to her core that made her squirm in her seat.

Her mouth was slightly agape, her cheeks flushed and her breathing uneven when they pulled away
from each other with a parting nip. They looked at her with a wild, carefree gaze that made her
breath catch in her throat.

Both leaned back until an arm rubbed up on either side of her. Theo went back to resting a hand on
her knee while Draco casually draped an arm around the back of her shoulders. A thin layer of
sweat had gathered at the nape of her neck being wrapped up around both wizards.

Her hands rested in her lap, shifting uncomfortably. She needed to ask the question, to know what
the purpose was, for them at least.

“So,” she mused. “What is it that you want?” she stared ahead, focusing on the flickering flame of
the candle on the table. “Are you just looking for a witch to shag together?”

In all honesty, Hermione wasn’t against the idea. No matter how much she protested to Pansy or
Ginny that she wouldn’t just shag Theo or Draco, it wasn’t completely off the table. Now that she
had done enough research on triad relationships and now that she knew they were both interested;
even just a shag or two could be worth it, could get them out of her system. Their friendship could
move forward after that.

“You are much more than just a witch to shag, Hermione,” Theo’s voice radiated low.

“That is not what we intended for tonight,” Draco’s fingers grazed along her clavicle. “Is that what
you want, Granger? A good time shag with a couple of wizards?”

There wasn’t anger in his tone, but a hint of resentment lingered on the last word, like she should
have known better than to think that was all they were after. That she thought of them that way.

“No,” she said confidently.

“What is it that you are looking for?” Theo asked softly.

“I’m not sure,” her face dropped. “It’s all just so new for me. This,” she gestured to each of them.
“I never really knew it was an option.”

“It could be,” Theo whispered, squeezing her knee. “If it was something that we all wanted.”

“Hermione,” Draco said. “Why don’t you take some time and think about what you truly want,
what you’re ready for. Because Theo and I, we have known for years what we want.”

The incessant chatter in her mind had returned and even with them next to her, she couldn’t quiet it.
Draco rose out of the booth and offered his hand and helped her up. They walked in a comfortable
silence; the wizards flanked her until they reached the apparition point when Draco expertly got
them to Hermione’s flat.
 Outside the entrance, Theo grabbed her by the hips and pulled her in close before brushing the curls
off her face. A chaste kiss from him left her chasing his mouth, eliciting a pleased chuckle from
him when he stepped back. Draco’s hand snaked around her waist, his palm splayed along the small
of her back, pressing her chest into his.

“Granger,” his voice dropping lower. “Do me a favor this weekend. Don’t overthink this.”

With a parting kiss on her lips, all too brief like Theo’s, he broke away. He pulled Theo in close to
him as they watched her disappear behind the down and back into her flat. She hovered there for an
extra beat when she heard Theo’s voice from outside.

“Drake,” his voice shook. “Do you think we mucked it up?”

“No, Theo,” there was a long pause. “We’ll just give her some space this weekend,” Draco raked
his fingers through Theo’s hair. Tilting his head back, Draco kissed him. “Let me take you home,”
he murmured along the soft swell of Theo’s swollen lips.

Chapter End Notes

Theo is just adorable, and I want to pinch his little cheeks!

 Chapter 7 You Are the Sun
Chapter Notes

New chapter my lovelies! As always - thank you for all the kind words and wonderful
feedback about the fic. All the comments and kudos are beautiful and appreciated!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Heavy rain rattled off the metal roof of Hermione’s flat all day on Saturday. The rhythmic tinkling
noise that echoed off the walls soothed her, one of the many things she loved about her home. It fed
into her desire to spend the day curled up with a good book, a cup of coffee and a scone that she
would aimlessly pick over for hours before realizing she should eat a proper meal.

As soon as she woke up, a familiar tawny owl flew in with an unmarked letter. Immediately, she
knew it was from Pansy, too impatient to wait to hear about what happened on her date Friday.
Hermione offered a sparse retelling of the night, choosing to hold the more intimate details close to
her chest. Luckily, she knew that the Potter’s had an engagement that evening, meaning Pansy
wouldn’t have time to dig her talons in, trying to scrounge out all the details.

Between the weather and the images that were replayed repeatedly, Hermione retreated to her
favorite book, Pride and Prejudice. The well-worn book with the frayed edges from one too many
rereads waited for her on the table while she gathered a coffee and a chocolate scone from the
kitchen. The recipe was her mother’s. After she nestled into the cushions with her favorite plush
throw tossed over her torso, she wandlessly lit the fire and rested the book across her thighs.

As predicted, she spent the afternoon blissfully thumbing through the pages, losing herself in the
tale of Elizabeth Bennet. The sun had started to set on the fall day, sending a pang of hunger
rippling through her when she eyeballed her half-eaten scone. She laid the nearly finished book on
the table and padded into the kitchen, preparing a small dinner for herself.

The mindlessness of cooking allowed her mind to wander to the previous night. Her fingers
ghosted across the swell of her lips, the taste of them somehow embedded there. It was tactile, she
could taste the chocolate undertones of Theo’s kiss, the almost sinful hints of whiskey of Draco’s
kiss. Think about what you truly want, he had said.

Selfishly, she wanted them, both of them. No one else had ever made her feel so treasured, adored,
desired even. While her experience had been limited to Ron and a terse interlude with Viktor Krum,
there was no comparing them to the two wizards she spent last night with.

Merlin, the way they looked at her was enough to have any witch on their knees. That combined
with an abundance of compliments and Draco’s almost anger, when she suggested that it was to be
just a shag. And then there were of course, the words she wasn’t supposed to hear, the ones where
Theo lamented the evening’s outcome. Where he quietly wondered, ‘…. we mucked it up?’ As if
they could. They were perfect, too perfect. And she was – well her, flawed.
Hermione shuffled back to the sofa with tea and a small helping of cottage pie. She picked over the
food while simultaneously reading, determined to finish the last hundred pages before bed. Not
long after she tucked in, there was rapping on the windowpane. A large and majestic eagle owl with
silver and black feathers sat intimidatingly there, waiting for her to open the glass.

Once she got closer there was an eerily similar scowl on the bird to a certain auror. After being let
in, it deposited a letter in her hand and rested on the armrest of the sofa, waiting for her to read it.
Hermione was written across the envelope in an elegantly tight script.

Hermione,

Please join us for lunch on Monday.

Meetings will keep us busy most of the day, but we can order in and talk.

Draco and Theo

Good Godric, they would want an answer. Technically the weekend would be over by then, a
phantom clock ticking down in the background of her mind. She knew what she wanted, what she
had always wanted, them. What she couldn’t understand is why, why her? Their stares, their words,
their touches…...their kisses – they showed how much they wanted her, adored her even. And here
she sat, alone on a Saturday night, questioning her worth. Eyes closed, fingertips drew across her
lip once more, a shudder tingled up her spine at the memory. Quickly, she penned a short letter
back.

Draco and Theo,

I’ll see you Monday afternoon then.

Hermione

It was a struggle to keep the note short; reading it back it came across as almost cold. But she didn’t
know how to say the things she wanted to say. No, she would save that when they spoke on
Monday. The owl happily took the letter and flew off with an affectionate nip on her thumb.

Not only did Hermione finish Pride and Prejudice on Saturday but she had managed to also
complete Jane Eyre before sleep warmly took her on Sunday evening.

Monday morning came and Hermione had barely shrugged off her cloak and outer robes when an
urgent interdepartmental memo zoomed in, landing perfectly in her outstretched hand. Her eyes
darted back and forth over the text before stowing the letter in a drawer of her desk. There was to
be a department wide briefing for the entire DMLE on the adequately named, Black Rose Killer.

Ridiculous name, who comes up with those anyway?

Department wide meetings were rare, Hermione could count the total that she had been privy to on
one hand in the almost four years she had been a healer at the DMLE. She was aware there had
been additional murders since that first one, but not entirely certain of how many. Jackson Price
from MACUSA hadn’t left and didn’t seem to have any plans to for a while, though they hadn’t
spoken since their date, not that she minded. Robards was still in the States.
The formality of these briefings called for the unusual need of her DMLE issued healer robes. She
pulled the heavy navy-blue robes from a hanger and shrugged them on over her black dress,
affixing her healer pin to her chest. Before she forgot, she sent her patronus to Isla to inform her of
the attire she was expected to wear during the meeting.

Her hands smoothed down the front of her robes, coasting over the silver clasps and buttons that
adorned the garment. For a work issued set, they were borderline regal looking. The Ministry did
not spare any expense in making members of the DMLE appear alluring and intimidating when
needed, even their healers apparently.

Not wanting to be late, Hermione arrived half an hour earlier and found a seat towards the edge of
the oversized conference room. No one else had arrived yet; she buried her face into her training
plan for Isla, her plait dangling down her front over her chest. She nibbled on her quill, lost in
thought when a soft throat clearing noise had her gaze sprinting up.

Unsurprisingly, Theo was the second person to arrive, he headed straight for her. It was the first
time she had ever seen him in his formal DMLE robes, not ever being necessary for the sole
obliviator in the department to wear them. His robes were a deep charcoal grey that had a bluish
tint to them with silver fastenings, his pin clipped on his chest.

There was something positively enchanting about the way Theo looked in his robes. More likely
though it was the way his hair framed his face and the bold smile that welcomed her eyes as she
stared at him.

“May I?” he gestured to the seat next to her.

“You may,” she hummed, unable to hide her own smile.

No sooner had Theo settled in the chair next to her then had Jackson Price walked in, looking much
different to the last time she saw him. Trimmed in an expensive looking three-piece suit, he would
even give Draco a run for his money. His grey waistcoat was accentuated by a dark crimson oxford.

Completely ignoring Theo, Jackson was next to Hermione, his palms flat on the table, looming
over her. His smile kissed the corner of his eyes that gleamed like he had just won some sort of
prize.

“I apologize that you haven’t heard from me since our date.”

Hermione arched a questioning brow; he hadn’t heard from her either. Bold of him to assume that
she was disappointed in their lack of communication. A displeased growl rumbled in Theo’s chest
that Jackson seemed to be unaware of, even if she could distinctly hear it. Part of her wanted to
look at the wizard but was afraid that the fragile tension between the three of them might implode if
she did.

“My job can be very taxing and it’s demanding most of my attention right now.”

What had happened to the Jackson she had gone out with, because this wizard was acting balmy.
While she didn’t feel chemistry with him, he hadn’t been so self-absorbed the last time they spoke.
Her brows knitted in, her lips parted just enough, unsure of how to respond.

“If you can be patient with me, I promise I will make it worth your while,” he leered.
A strong hand squeezed possessively over her thigh under the table, unseen to anyone else. A
surprised gasp squeaked out of her, one that she quickly choked back when her head snapped at
Theo. Normally, he was the epitome of calm and collected, but he looked almost feral. His eyes
were dilated and narrowed into thin slits; a pink flush colored his neck. The subtle twitch of his
nostrils was almost unnoticeable.

Her hand covered his on her leg, the heat radiating off it almost burning to the touch. The taut line
stretched across his shoulders gave way under his robes as her fingers caressed his, slotting
seamlessly together, resting on her thigh.

“I’m not interested in any of your attention, Jackson,” she sneered.

Whether it was Theo’s presence or not she couldn’t be sure, but the wizard was acting far
differently than when they had gone out. Perhaps he was trying to make some sort of claim on her;
or maybe this was the real Jackson, and he was done with the show he had put on so beautifully
only a week ago. None of that mattered though, regardless, she was never interested in him, and
that hadn’t changed.

“We’ll talk later,” Jackson winked, moving next to Harry.

Distracted by the odd interaction they were having; Hermione hadn’t seen the slew of others who
had flooded into the room. Approximately thirty aurors and trainees appeared as more came into
the room. Along with them were Heath and Isla, thankfully the witch had gotten her message and
donned her robes. Only when she heard Harry’s voice did she look up to see him up front with
Draco.

Drool gathered on the feather of her quill, her mouth agape, staring at Draco like her last meal.
Hermione had forgotten how devastatingly attractive the official auror robes were. Or more likely,
it was Draco who looked heartstoppingly delectable in them. Thinking back, Hermione couldn’t
remember ever seeing him in them. The robes of black with gold fastenings were fitted and –
distracting. Or maybe it was just her who was distracted. They hugged every ripple of every
muscle, and she was powerless to stop the way she shamelessly devoured him with her eyes.

“Merlin, he looks fit in that,” Theo whispered for only her to hear.

So, not just her then. All she could muster was an agreeable nod, still staring at Draco when his
eyes settled on the pair of them. Even though Jackson had left, Theo still held a claiming grip on
her thigh that was burning like wildfire through her. A small twitch on the corner of Draco’s mouth,
and a soft wink had her mouth snapping shut. Quickly, she flicked her gaze down to the table, flush
kissed her cheeks at being caught.

“And you, my witch, are positively exquisite,” he hummed, the tip of his incisor grazing her ear.

My. Warmth licked down her body from the crown of her head like a summer’s rain. Draco was
exactly what he projected; confident, commanding, possessive. But Theo on the other hand,
Hermione had a more difficult time nailing him down. Mostly, he was warm and comforting, a
romantic even. But now, she was seeing a different side to him, a possessive, protective side that
was equally attractive. The possessive implications of the word ‘my’ only a few days ago had made
her angry, but now, she wanted to be theirs.

Silence fell over the room the instant that Harry spoke.
“As most of you are now aware,” he paused. “We officially have a serial killer after the third
murder that matches the signature appeared last week. Sergeant Malfoy is leading the case,” he
gestured towards Draco, who gave a curt nod. “We also have Detective Price from MACUSA
assisting us,” he nodded at Jackson who remained motionless. “We believe that the killer began
their assault in the States and has since relocated to the London area.”

Jackson nodded politely towards Harry before he spoke to the quiet room. “There had been seven
killings in and around the New England area of the United States that had most of us at MACUSA
stumped. There would have been eight, but one witch managed to escape the suspected killer and
survive. Each one was murdered via the killing curse and every victim had ties to Death Eaters. As
you all know, at each scene a black rose had been left behind,” Jackson’s gaze flicked to Draco’s
forearm only for a moment before it focused forward again.

Draco stepped forward in an unyielding presence that commanded attention. “The last two murders
have seen a heightened level of violence suggesting that our killer has become agitated. They have
evolved beyond just the killing curse. This has morphed into an all-hands situation; all other cases
or raids are on hold until further notice.”

The quill in Hermione’s hand scratched furiously over the parchment she brought in with her.
While her involvement in the day to day of the case would be limited, she was still compelled to
learn every piece of information she could. What kind of increased violence, she wondered, that
piece hadn’t been divulged. A sinking feeling in her stomach had her shifting uncomfortably as she
wrote about the targeted victims. Her teeth pulled against her lip until the taste of copper forced her
to stop. Her flat stare was locked on Draco when Theo’s fingers flexed on her thigh, a gentle
reminder that he was still there and hadn’t moved.

A soft thud was the only sound of her dropping her quill when she started to pick at her fingers.
Theo rested his chin in his free hand, apparently engrossed in the meeting except for the subtle tilt
of his jaw towards her ear.

“Don’t worry, love, everyone is safe.”

The comfort of his words were not lost on her, even if she hadn’t allowed herself to believe them
wholeheartedly. Draco and Harry took turns speaking about different aspects of the case and the
role of different members of the department for the better part of the next hour. The careful curation
of her notes had faltered about halfway through when she had been distracted by her own
wandering thoughts. It was only when Harry began to describe the appearance of their potential
killer that she didn’t miss a beat.

“Based on the statement from the surviving victim we believe that our suspect may in fact be a
witch, and not a wizard as we previously thought,” Harry rubbed over the faded scar on his brow.
“Take all that as you will though. The killer was described as a young, petite witch. But we do
believe that the killer could have been under the effects of Polyjuice or glamoured to hide their true
appearance.”

There had been at least another hour of questions and discussions back and forth that found
Hermione feeling exhausted and drained. She had to restrain herself from leaning over and resting
her head on Theo’s shoulder, it was too tempting. Only when everyone started to file out did she
realize the briefing was over, blinking up to take in the space and gather her notes. Theo made no
motion to get up or leave. Once the room had emptied save for the two of them and Draco, did he
move towards the seated pair of them.
Draco assessed the room, once he ascertained that they were alone he tucked a wayward curl
behind her ear and pressed a tender kiss to her temple that made a shiver lick up deliciously over
her spine.

“I won’t be able to make lunch today,” his mouth turned down, his lips still brushed against her
brow.

“I understand. Do we want to try for tomorrow instead?” she offered.

“Actually,” Theo rubbed her thigh. “Why don’t you come over to ours for dinner tonight instead.”

Her throat bobbed painfully like a small knife was poking its way down as she tried to swallow.
Her heart fluttered like a trapped pixie; the two wizards must have heard it as it thumped loudly
against her ribs.

“We’ll be perfect gentlemen,” Draco added, sensing her discomfort, and putting more distance
between them. “If you would prefer, though, we can try and set up a lunch later this week.”

“No,” she said definitively. “Dinner tonight would be lovely.”

“I’ll meet you at the floo for five,” Theo kissed her cheek and stood up.

It was only once he removed his hand from her thigh that she realized how empty she was without
his touch there. It was a solid ten minutes before Hermione got up to leave, even after the wizards
had left. Blissfully, Heath had agreed to spend the day training with Isla leaving Hermione free to
wander aimlessly around the DMLE.

Before she knew it, she was standing by the floo waiting for Theo in just her black dress. Her
formal robes, long since discarded in her office. Lost in the dancing of the various flames flickering
along the wall, she didn’t notice when he slid up behind her.

“Ready to go?” he offered his arm.

“What about Draco?”

“He’s working a bit later; he’ll join us shortly. We can go get supper started,” he winked.

Hermione took his proffered arm and followed him through the floo to his flat. When they arrived,
he muttered a quick cleaning charm that had them soot and ash free. She knew they had a place not
far from Diagon Alley but had never been to it before. They had called it a flat, and nothing could
have been further from the truth. Even at first glance it was more akin to a penthouse than a flat.

There was floor to ceiling windows trimmed in black that lined the entire back wall of the main
living space. A black staircase was in the center of the room, lined with a glass railing. Despite the
modern aesthetic of the place, the furnishings appeared cozier. There were overstuffed armchairs
that flanked a matching sofa. She followed Theo across the open floor plan to a marvelous kitchen
of navy with black and white marble accents.

Merlin did the wizards have too much money.

Theo hovered near the oversized island and rolled up his shirtsleeves before he deposited his wand
on the counter. His curls hung in a sort of controlled chaos around his face, the familiar, carefree
smile shined at her.
“Why don’t you explore a bit and I’ll get supper started while we wait for Drake.”

“You two have a flat fit for a bloody king and I’m supposed to believe you don’t have an elf?”

A challenging brow arched directly at Theo as her arms crossed her chest in an assured confidence.
While she had not seen one since they arrived, she was certain there was one and wouldn’t miss the
opportunity to scold him about the archaic practice.

“Before you reprimand me,” he threw his hands up in surrender. “Yes, we have an elf. Her name is
Pippa, and she has served the Nott family for centuries. Seeing as I’m the last surviving Nott who
isn’t in prison, she had nowhere else to go.”

Hermione opened her mouth, but he interrupted her. “No, she is technically not a free elf. But we
do pay her; bloody hell that elf makes more than I do,” he laughed. “She wears whatever clothes
she likes, and she has the night off so you will not see her about the flat. Pippa is not free because
she begged me not to free her. So, we negotiated this sort of deal where I pay her a wage and she
can continue to serve the Nott family,” he narrowed his gaze. “Does that please you, love?”

“Yes,” she conceded. “For now.”

“Good. Now, go have a look around and get acclimated.”

With a dramatic sway of his hands, Theo all but shooed her away while he busied himself with
gathering ingredients from the icebox. Hermione was only a little unsure of herself, being given
free rein to explore their personal space so openly. She shuffled towards the staircase in the center
of the room having already taken in much of the first floor.

Upstairs there was a long hall lined with photos that smiled and waved as she walked by. Many of
them she recognized. There were more than a few photos of Draco and Theo together from over the
years, some of them dating as early back as Hogwarts, both in their Slytherin robes. There were
quite a few photos of Narcissa; some with Draco and some with both the wizards. Noticeably
absent were any pictures of either of their fathers, Lucius, or Nott Sr., not that she was surprised.
One photo of a woman she didn’t recognize smiled and waved more enthusiastically than any of the
others. She had long dark brown hair that was almost black. Olive skin that was dotted with
freckles and a petite frame; but her eyes were oddly familiar.

Rooted on the spot, Hermione was entranced, watching as the witch waved and smiled, over and
over again. Something about the way she smiled, the way it grew slowly until it kissed the corners
of her eyes making them sparkle. It was just like her mother. She looked nothing like her mother.
Jean Granger was fair skinned with freckles and light brown hair. But the smile was reminiscent of
her. Longing – just once more Hermione wanted her mother to smile at her like that. After what
must have been far too long, she peeled herself away from the photo.

She explored the rooms that lined the hall; there was a smaller bedroom and what looked to be an
office. In between the two rooms sat a larger than necessary bathroom. At the end of the hall was an
expansive bedroom that must have been Draco’s and Theo’s. They had clearly transfigured the bed;
it was larger than any standard size one she had ever seen. Attached was an ostentatious bathroom
with a freestanding tub that could easily fit multiple people. She wandered back downstairs and out
the door onto a terrace that was just off the dining space.

The view was breathtaking; it overlooked Diagon Alley on one side and on the other she could see
parts of muggle London sparkling in the distance. Rough hands encircled her waist from behind
and based on the subtle hint of apples, she knew it was Draco. At first, they were both quiet, his
chin resting on her shoulder while they stared off into the dimly lit streets. Her hands grazed along
her body until they rested on top of his on her belly.

His lip curled against her cheek at the contact. A low hum reverberated out of his chest. Only once
Theo called the two of them to come to the kitchen for supper did he murmur along the sensitive
skin of her throat.

“I’m happy you’re here.”

“Really?” she murmured, self-doubt bubbling to the surface.

Roughly, Draco spun her. It was so hard that she collided into his chest with the sudden rush of
movement. Instinctually, her palms reached out to catch herself – causing her to subconsciously
caress the muscular planes of his sculpted body. The fabric ruffled beneath her fingertips when his
fingers curled possessively around her shoulders, urging her body back until he caught her gaze.

“I don’t know what the fuck Weasley did to you to make you think so little of yourself, and if I
could throttle the piss out of him I would.” The words hissed out in a low growl.

Hermione flinched at the implication but didn’t look away, she couldn’t. She was transfixed by his
molten gaze.

“Hermione,” his voice was softer. Fingers dusted over her clavicle and up until he brushed through
her curls. He twirled a strand lazily and tilted her chin up. “You’re perfect. Why would you ever
question your place here, with us?”

She whimpered.

Crowding her space, his arms swathed around her body. He tugged her until he molded around her,
his scent everywhere. His nose brushed along her jaw, his breath tickling her cheek as he spoke.

“You are the sun, as beautiful and vibrant as the light that illuminates us. And fuck if Theo and I
don’t just want to be burned by you.”

Her insides liquefied, turning her pliant in his grasp. Weightless. In awe.

All she had known was criticism. It wasn’t just the cheating. It was the comments about her hair,
and how unkempt it was. It was about how plainly she dressed. It was the snarky comments about
how wide her hips had gotten, or how poor her priorities were. Nothing she ever did was the right
choice. Nothing she ever did was good enough. Not for him. Not ever.

And here were Draco and Theo. Telling her how beautiful her hair was. Comparing her to the
freaking sun. Saying she was perfect. Is this what a relationship was like? What love could maybe
feel like? What love was supposed to feel like?

Love. Certainly not. But. Hermione had always thought she loved Ron, and that he loved her. That
they were in love. But now, she questioned everything. If she really knew what love was.

Magic hummed across her skin – pulling, sizzling, drawing her in. Words escaped her. All she
could do was stare, lost in his soft grey eyes.

Large, rough palms cradled her face with an unexpected amount of tenderness.
“Do you have any idea how many people would give up their magic just for a chance to speak to
you?”

Unable to move her face, immobile in Draco’s hold, her eyes stared down at her shuffling feet.

“Answer me.” The edge to his tone stilled her.

“What do you want me to say?” Crimson stained her cheeks.

Quieter, he spoke – pulling her gaze back to him. “We’ll take it slow. Tell me you’re beautiful.”

Such a simple phrase, but impossibly difficult to utter. Fear rooted her to the spot. Her brain
pleaded to be rescued. That Theo would burst through the doors with an incredulous look on his
face that they dared to let the meal he prepared get cold.

No such savior came.

It was her and Draco. Unyielding. It was clear that they wouldn’t leave until she said it. Why did it
make her so uncomfortable?

The pads of his thumbs stroked over the swell of her cheeks, in soothing swipes. She bit down on
her bottom lip and sucked in a lungful for air, afraid that it may be her last.

“I’m beautiful,” she whispered.

“Good girl,” he kissed the bridge her nose. “Yes. You are.”

Long fingers stroked through her curls until his lips pillowed into hers in gentle strokes. His tongue
swiped against hers, soft and soothing. Her back arched while her hips cantered forward. A muscle
is Draco’s jaw jumped when a voice hissed from the other side of the door.

“Oi, if you two insist on ignoring me so you can kiss, the polite thing to do, would be to at least do
it somewhere where I can watch properly.” Theo waggled his brows suggestively, spinning a
wooden spoon in his hand.

A stifled snort puffed passed her mouth making Draco grin around her.

After a moment, his lips pulled away while his hand snaked down and palmed the small of her
back. Draco angled to the side and gestured for her to step inside; he followed in her wake. Her
body had started to crave their small touches. Whether it was a hand on her back or thigh, her
fingers laced with theirs or even their lips on any part of her. Their touches burned through her like
fiendfyre and whenever they pulled away it was like cold water had been poured over her.

True to his word, he was quite the gentleman and pulled out a seat at the island for her to sit. Theo
waggled his brows at them but said nothing. To her shock, the aroma that filled the room smelled
every bit as delectable as anything she had ever smelled at the burrow. Theo sent a perfectly roasted
chicken and vegetables to the dining table when Draco sauntered up close to him.

“My favorite,” he knotted his fingers in his curls at the nape of his neck.

“I figured you’d enjoy it after a long day,” Theo smiled.

With a gentle tug, Draco forced his head back and hovered his lips over Theo’s for an extended
pause and said something that Hermione could only barely hear.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Drake.”

The affirmations shared between them had her body humming with magic. She could feel it, almost
like it was pulsating outside of her like a shield. Their lips entwined in a tender, unhurried kiss that
had Hermione melting in her seat, unable to look away. She swore that she could see sparks of
magic flickering around them.

Supper turned into a rather quiet affair due to how delicious everything was, Theo was an
exceptional cook. Draco led them out to the seating area on the terrace after dinner and ignited the
fire. Theo sat down next to Hermione, with Draco on the other side of her while he passed her a
glass of wine.

“How did you like the flat?”

“Flat undersells it a bit, don’t you think?” Hermione snickered, taking a sip. “It’s a bloody
penthouse you posh prats,” playfully she shoved each of them. “I’m a little surprised you don’t live
at one of your,” she paused. “Two manors, is it?”

A cool breeze blew past them that sent an elongated shiver down the column of her spine. It was
only seconds before there was the dripping warmth of a spell washing over her, although she was
uncertain which one of them cast the warming charm. But Draco reached behind and procured a
small throw blanket that he wordlessly wrapped around her bare shoulders.

“Mother still lives at the manor and has spent a fair amount of gold over the last few years
renovating it, it’s unrecognizable,” Draco wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. “I have no
interest in living there. No matter how many galleons she spends, I can’t forget,” his eyes narrowed
at the scar on her arm. “The atrocities that happened there.”

Not long after his trial Draco sought out Hermione to apologize and make amends. She found him
waiting for her in the lobby of St. Mungo’s trying to carve out just a few minutes in between their
separate busy schedules. After agreeing to lunch even though she vehemently told him an apology
wasn’t necessary, he had spent a full hour saying sorry not only to that day at the manor but so
many other things that weren’t even remotely his fault.

She only agreed to absolve him if he promised to free himself from that burden. Hermione
wouldn’t speak for everyone, but as far as she was concerned, Draco, he was a product of fear, not
hatred like so many others who tried to harm her. That was the first time in years that he had spared
even a second glance at the mark on her arm that was now well faded.

Theo’s hand found hers, tangling their fingers together while she leaned into Draco. It was calming,
the way his heart beat against his chest, steady, reassuring even. He pulled at the elastic on the end
of her plait, freeing her curls.

“That’s better,” Draco mused.

“While I lacked a great giant snake and serpent like wizard living in my home for my formative
years,” Theo hummed. “I have no pleasant memories left at Nott Manor. I would burn it to the
ground if the wards allowed it.” Hermione squeezed his hand, coaxing him to continue. “As long as
my father is alive the wards will not accept me as the rightful Lord, so I’m limited in what I can do
at the estate. I cannot remove any of the dark magic or curses that infest the home until he is dead,”
he said coldly.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “For both of you. But the home you have built here, together, is lovely.”

A comfortable silence fell over the trio, all three of them cuddled up. Surely, they were going to
talk about them and what they wanted to define it as, especially after their little debacle on Friday
night. Hermione knew what she wanted, it had been obvious for a long time, well before they ever
went on that date. Finally, she would allow herself happiness. She deserved it.

Draco stroked the lengths of her hair in repetitive motions while Theo’s thumb attempted to rub a
spot raw on her hand. Instead of broaching the subject, Hermione chose to navigate through
seemingly safer waters.

“I saw all the photos lining the hall upstairs. But there was one person I couldn’t place,” she
paused. “A witch on the end with long brown hair, beautiful smile.”

“Melody Nott, my mother,” Theo whispered. “That picture is the last thing I have of hers.”
Hermione stifled the muddled yelp in her throat. “She died when I was 11, while I was at
Hogwarts.”

While he didn’t let go of her hand, his thumb had stopped following its well-traveled path.
Hermione looked up at Draco, hopeful for some sort of direction on how to navigate the
conversation with Theo. He continued to stroke her hair and kissed the tip of her nose, his eyes
hooded and somber.

“Theo. I am so sorry about your mother,” she picked her head up and nuzzled into the crook of his
arm. “If you would like to tell me about what happened I’m here. But if you’d rather not that is fine
too.”

Hermione did her best to remain neutral and avoid releasing the overpouring of emotions that were
threatening to spill out. Just the way that Theo had said she died, the pain and grief was still so
evident in his voice. That picture was the last token he had of hers. Draco had shuffled in closer, his
arm reaching over to stroke Theo’s hair, his other hand resting on Hermione’s arm.

“First year,” he started, his voice flat. “I went home for Christmas and was surprised to find only
my father there. When I asked where mum was, he ignored me at first. Only after I asked a few
more times did he finally tell me she died in early November. Got Dragon Pox and went suddenly,
the funeral was already done.”

It was obvious that Theo was struggling to keep everything together. His eyes were glassy, tears
welling up in the corners. His whole body shook softly under her, his heart was beating erratically
in his chest.

“The bloody bastard didn’t even tell me she was sick or that she had died. Barely even had a
service for her, she was cremated and not even interned in the family tomb,” he choked out. “I was
11 and I didn’t get to say goodbye to her,” he sniffled.

“Theo,” Hermione whispered.

She was unable to restrain herself any longer, it was as if her heart was going to burst from her
chest if she didn’t do something. Both her arms flung around his neck when she straddled his lap
and rested her face into the crook of his neck. After an extended pause, his arms wrapped around
her waist, and she leaned back to look at him. Silent tears were streaming down his cheeks when he
spoke next.

“She didn’t die of Dragon Pox, Hermione,” her forehead found his. “He killed her and tried to hide
it. The ministry tracks cases of Dragon Pox. When I started in the DMLE I looked it up, there was
never a recorded case of Melody Nott having the disease. He killed her and got away with it. I
always knew he was a horrible wizard and violent, but I never thought or could have believed he
would go that far.”

With Hermione on Theo’s lap, Draco had settled in the vacated spot next to the brunette. He
whispered soft affirmations in his ear that she could only partly make out. They stayed like that for
a long time, no one daring to move. Slowly, his heartbeat returned to normal when the tears stopped
sliding down. There was a burning pull behind her navel that pushed outward and turned into a
fleeting pulse that eventually vanished.

“Would you like a calming draught? I have one in my bag.”

All he offered was a nod, but it had her rushing inside to her discarded bag on the island. She
wandered inside with the small blanket still wrapped around her, no idea of how late it had gotten.
Successfully, she located the vial from her beaded pouch and returned to find Theo curled on
Draco’s chest. He readily drank the potion when she offered it. After vanishing the empty glass,
Hermione attempted to sit on the ground in front of the sofa by Draco’s feet when his fingers curled
around her upper arm, hoisting her up.

“Over here, Granger,” he indicated the empty spot next to him.

Once she was next to him, he whispered, “You don’t belong on the ground unless you’re on your
knees for us.”

The unexpected comment blew her eyes wide while Draco quietly pulled her in. After another hour
Theo had returned to his normal self, joking, and engaging like he usually did. A combination of
the potion and just time. The story he had just finished was about a rather embarrassing scare for
one of the Unspeakable’s that had Hermione flush with laughter when Draco interjected, his tone
far more serious.

“Hermione,” his gaze turned molten. “Did you take this weekend to think about what you want?
What this is or could be.”

Based on the abruptness of the question, Draco had been waiting for quite some time to ask it. Not
that she could blame him, she had been on edge thinking about it and could only imagine how they
had felt.

“Yes,” she picked at her cuticle. She was acutely aware that they were both staring at her like she
was a blast-ended skrewt that might spontaneously combust. “I’ve been attracted to you both for a
long time. Longer than I care to admit. And after I was single again, all I could think about was you
both and I was so confused. I want to be with you,” she worried her lip. “Both of you. But I just
worry about what will happen. You have both worked so hard to fix your reputation and I’m a bit of
a black sheep right now. I wouldn’t want to drag you down or make things worse for you,” the last
few words came out in barely a whisper.
Theo stood up and parked next to Hermione while Draco had taken her face in both his hands, his
grip almost bruising.

“Hermione, darling,” Draco paused. “Of all the things in this world to worry about, that is not one
of them. Do you understand me?”

The authority in his question was demanding and elicited a response from her almost
subconsciously.

“Yes,” she murmured, feeling Theo pressed against her back.

“Theo and I have both been enamored with you for years. We’re not about to let some lies the Daily
Prophet spews be the deciding factor in how we move forward with our lives, and you will not let it
dictate yours either.”

She nodded and then he continued. “With the press issues tabled. Tell us again. What do you want,
Hermione? It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. We would understand if you were only interested in
one of us.”

“No,” she blurted out. “I mean, I’m interested in both of you. I would want to see what or more
where that could lead.”

“We want that too, love,” Theo said softly.

Draco’s lips crashed into hers in a bruising kiss. The gentleness of their last one forgotten; or at
least what had most likely been gentle for Draco. He demanded access to her mouth, his tongue
swiping through her lips and claiming every part of her. A loud, breathless moan escaped her when
Theo’s mouth began trailing wet open-mouthed kisses along the length of her neck. She could feel
the press of his growing length pushing against the small of her back. Her fingers dove into Draco’s
hair, desperate for purchase.
Art by Nadia Polyakova

There were hands everywhere on Hermione’s body making her positively feral. Draco’s hands
explored her hair and face while Theo was busy caressing every nook and drip of her curves. Draco
had pulled away with a claiming bite on her lip that left her unsteady. Drunk with lust Hermione
turned and practically climbed Theo, which drew out a throaty laugh from him.

He was equally demanding in his pursuits that evening, plunging into her mouth without pretense.
She sighed into his kiss, feeling Draco’s lips moving over different parts of her body.

“More,” she groaned, straddling Theo.

Eagerly, her hips grinded against him, making him moan into their kiss. He grew and pulsed
beneath her, making her clit throb painfully.

“Theo,” Draco whispered in a warning tone, his lips caressing her throat.

She could feel the reluctance in Theo as he pulled away with a parting nip before kissing her
forehead and stilling her body against his.

“Love. Drake promised we would be gentlemen this evening. And I can assure you that we are
having some very ungentlemanly thoughts right now,” his eyes closed when he inhaled. “So, it’s
 best for everyone if you return home so we can do this right.”

A girlish giggle escaped her at the thought of it all. Hermione soaked clean through her knickers
and wanted more than anything to work their way up to the bedroom. And here they were kicking
her out, being the sensible ones.

“We’ll get your flat connected to the floo. But for tonight, let us apparate you home,” Draco said,
subtly adjusting his trousers.

Chapter End Notes

Ok - I PROMISE Chapter's 8,9,10 and 11 are SMUT filled.

Also - I use music as a huge inspiration for when I write. I added a playlist to Chapter 1 - the
songs aren't in any specific order (songs don't coordinate to specific chapters) they are more
songs that fit the overall vibe of the story. Below are the songs that I envision as each
relationship in this fic:

Sun to Me by Zach Bryan - Dramione

You Will Be Found by Natalie Grant - Dreo
Lover by Taylor Swift - Theomione
All of Me by John Legend - Dreomione

Theo in this fic is a total Swiftie. You can't tell me otherwise. I can see him, and Hermione go
to a concert and dragging Draco along. He would complain but secretly love it and exchange
bracelets ;)
 Chapter 8 Are You Cross with Me?
Chapter Notes

It's here - the smut is here. Enjoy haha! But seriously, thank you so much. The fact this fic has
only been out for a couple weeks, and I have already gotten so many lovely comments and
kudos from you all is just lovely.

I really enjoy reading your theories in the comments about who the killer is!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Work was chaotic over the next two weeks, so they barely saw each other after deciding to give it a
go. There were two more killings, and muggles had found the bodies leaving Theo and Draco busy.
Hermione was left to stand on the sidelines given that the murders didn’t leave much in terms of
injuries for her to treat. The last victim hit a little too close to home, it was Millicent Bulstrode who
had only very recently married Greg Goyle. The death sent an icy chill down her spine as brutal as
any dementor.

For the time being they refrained from being open in public, mainly since they hadn’t had time to
discuss how they wanted to handle their new relationship. Despite the hectic nature of their lives
currently, Hermione did not feel neglected. Every morning she came into the DMLE with a coffee
and note waiting for her; sometimes from one or the other, sometimes from both.

Periodically they would share a brief smile or a stolen glance as they passed in the halls. Draco
once got so bold as to pull her into a deserted supply cupboard, leaving her hair disheveled and her
blouse mussed after a thorough and brain melting kiss.

Wednesday morning came and she found more than just a note on her desk; Theo was perched
along the edge, an expectant gleam in his eye and a mug in his hand. After looking around and not
seeing anyone meandering through the halls, Theo flicked his wand and drew the blinds on the
glass and shut the door with a locking click.

With a cheeky grin he tapped on his thigh, indicating for her to come closer. Once she was settled
between his legs, she took the hot brew and sipped when his arms wrapped around her waist. An
adorable little moan left her as the warm liquid coated her throat, making her keen in his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured into her temple.

“Somebody should really tell this killer to take a sabbatical or something. The witch is really
infringing on my ability to shag my boyfriends,” Hermione snorted.

“You and all this shagging,” Theo admonished, brushing his thumb along the hinge of her jaw. “I’m
sensing the lack of it is a problem?” he snickered.

She put the mug down on her desk. “I mean, you and Draco have each other,” her wrists wrapped
lazily around his neck. “I’m getting impatient,” she huffed, blowing a stray curl out of her eyes.
A laugh puffed out around his lips that were pressed softly against her forehead. “That’s actually
why I’m here.”

Hermione was not above a quick, hard shag in her office. In fact, she was desperate for it. Draco
and Theo had invaded her dreams almost exclusively over the last two weeks. Ever since that night
at their flat when they stopped what was sure to be an explosive evening. The black in her eyes had
blown wide, threatening to eclipse the golden-brown hues when she stepped back and tugged at the
zipper on her dress.

“That’s not what I was implying, love,” he smiled, stilling her hand. Catching the disappointed fall
of her face, Theo pressed a trail of tender, warm kisses over the inside of her wrist, pulling her back
into him.

“No. It’s important that we spend time together and develop not only our relationship as a trio but
individually as well. Drake has to travel to Ireland this weekend to follow up on a lead for the case.
And I would like to take you out Saturday, just the two of us,” he purred.

Ireland. She wondered what kind of connection there could be. While it did nothing to help ease the
ache between her legs in the interim, she did quite like the idea of having some alone time with
Theo. Perhaps this time, Hermione could refrain from devolving into a weeping mess, as that
seemed to be the custom between the two of them. Although, last time it was Theo who had broken
down. She was determined for whatever they chose to do, that there would be no crying, from
either of them.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked.

“Ah,” he pecked her cheek. “I don’t wish to spoil the surprise. Meet me at our flat, Saturday at 11,”
he breathed in her scent. “We added you to the floo.”

That reminded her that she had yet to add either of them to hers and should complete the paperwork
today before it slipped from her mind again.

“It’s a date then,” she smiled.

Dark hooded eyes surveyed her while he slowly caressed her curves with a gentle yet demanding
touch that burned with the duality inside Theo. She quivered under his touch; it sent a pulse straight
to her core. His hands began to drift lower and lower until his fingers finally alighted upon the
curves of her arse. He cupped her there firmly, his fingers taking hold of her with a strength that left
her breathless.

There was a darkness in Theo that lingered just below the surface, contained, but ever present. His
movements were tantalizing in their promise, and their desperation. Her cheeks were aflame, her
eyes locked upon his own as if in silent supplication, and her lips parted invitingly. His lips crashed
into hers in a tender kiss that did not match his advances on her body. Where his hands were
possessive and aggressive; his mouth was romantic and alluring. The kiss was soft and welcoming,
pillowing each one into the next until she melted into him.

“Theo,” she moaned.

A restrained growl rumbled in his throat. “Say my name again, witch.”

“Theo.”
Fingers brushed just under the hem of her dress. A silent question hung heavy between then as he
tugged on the twill of the dress.

“Yes, please,” she smirked. “Theo.”

He nipped her lip. “Oh, love,” his eyes turned dark. In a blink he spun them until she arched against
the desk, hands flat on the oak supporting her body. “Be careful what you wish for.”

Soft palms graze up the bare skin of her thighs, bunching up the fabric until it was notched at her
hips.

There was a knock on her door followed by a soft voice, “Hermione.”

“Fuck,” she murmured into Theo’s mouth as he quickly set her dress back to rights. “It’s Isla,” she
said as he stepped back. After a quick assessment of her state, she answered. “Come in, Isla.” She
had never wanted to hex that witch more than in that moment.

Tentatively, the door creaked open. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were meeting with the
obliviator.”

Theo launched himself forward, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Thanks for the calming
draught, Healer Granger,” he accentuated her title, before walking towards the exit. “Healer
Cromwell,” he inclined his head as he shuffled past the trainee and left without another word.

There was an awkward moment of silence where Isla’s eyes darted between the doorway Theo left
through and Hermione. A question died on her lips when she was interrupted by Hermione.

“What do you need?” she asked abruptly.

“Oh. Well Heath is at St. Mungo’s and one of the auror trainees, Sparks I think it was. He came up
to the ward, got injured during a spar with another auror and we could use you. It’s a bit beyond
me, his arm and shoulder are shattered.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” she huffed, more annoyed with Sparks than Isla.

Hermione arrived at the ward with Isla in tow to find Sparks lying down in a bed, looking a might
too cheery for someone who was supposed to have a dislocated shoulder and a broken arm. Without
a word to either of them, Hermione summoned a stool over and sat down next to the bed before
casting a diagnostic over the area. Her eyes narrowed as she pinched and manipulated the charm,
more frustrated than anything by what she was seeing.

“Hello to you too, Healer Granger.”

The sarcastic smile on Sparks’ face quickly faded into a pained grimace as the full weight of his
injuries started to tax on him. She blew up and zoomed in the diagnostic to a particularly
troublesome spot by the glenohumeral joint.

“How did you manage this?” she asked, a singular brow arched.

The trainee withered under Hermione’s serve glare; one that would have made McGonagall proud.
He tried to hide the wince that happened when he moved too quickly but to no avail. He averted his
gaze, determined to look anywhere but her, becoming rather fond of a plant in the corner.
“The longer we sit here the more painful it’s going to be when I heal it. And I can’t do anything
until you explain to me how it bloody happened,” she snipped.

“Well, you see,” he paused. “We were sparring in the training center, and I took a bombarda straight
to the chest and got catapulted into a boulder, and I’m pretty sure that’s when I heard the bones
break.”

Her face was flat when she crossed her arms over her chest. “And how long did you wait before
coming up here after that happened?” Either Sparks delayed or Isla did, and one of them was going
to hear about it.

The charm didn’t lie, the bones had already started to try to mend themselves. But given the
injuries, they were healing in a broken pattern and there was only one way to fix it, and it was
going to be bloody painful. The accelerated healing that was enjoyed by the magical community
did cause some issues in cases like these. She already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from
Sparks’ mouth, so she could remind him how moronic he had been.

The young auror looked like he wanted to evaporate. “Hard to say,” he looked away. “Thirty
minutes maybe,” he mumbled.

“Thirty minutes!” she yelled. “You must be joking! Do you know how dangerous that is? You
heard your bones break and thought you could just ignore it and continue to spar? Who in the world
were you sparring with? They were just as negligent as you, to let you continue like that,” she
huffed. “Come on then, out with it.”

“No one,” he rushed out. “I was using the projection to train with me.”

“You said we,” she spit back. “So, unless you think those things are anthropomorphic, I think
you’re lying.”

“Healer Granger. Is it your life’s goal to make every trainee fear you?”

That voice. She didn’t even have to turn around to find out who was loudly making their way
towards the area. That posh, sarcastic, and frustratingly attractive voice. The air shifted around her
as a presence settled in, almost touching her, but not quite.

“No,” she sneered. “But I do want them to understand the implications of the decisions that they
make and the negative outcomes that come from it,” she faced Draco. “Your trainee continued to
duel through a broken arm and a dislocated shoulder for thirty minutes. Now, the only way to fix it
is for me to break it all over again…...”

“What?” Sparks shouted.

“I’m not finished,” she huffed. “You should have thought of that before you decided to not seek
immediate medical attention,” she turned back to Draco. “Not only was he moronic but whoever
his muppet of a partner was, is equally culpable. I was trying to get the name, but Sparks thought it
best not to tell me.”

The young auror’s gaze had turned fearful, darting frantically between Hermione and Draco.
Whether it was the knowledge of the pain that was coming in order to fix his arm or getting
chastised by Hermione, she wasn’t certain. Also, Draco could be downright harsh with his trainees
despite all the guff he gave her about scaring them.
“Trainee Sparks,” Draco dropped into a low, authoritative tone. “You will answer Healer Grangers
question and tell her who you were dueling with.”

Watching Draco shift into full Auror Sergeant mode made her knees quake for just a minute when
her breath caught in her throat. The way the vein throbbed at his pulse point and his brows knitted
in with authority had her wanting to throw herself on him right there, not caring who saw.

“But Sir,” Sparks’ voice quivered.

“Tell her,” he commanded, arms crossed, muscles rippling.

“Sergeant Malfoy,” he whispered.

There was a quiet pause when Hermione waited for Sparks to finish his sentence or what more
seemed to be a plea to Draco to not rat out his friend. The edges of her brows moved in closer
towards one another when her eyes turned wide, and she leveled a stern gaze on Draco.

“Are you serious, Malfoy?” she spat. “You?”

That stupid smug smile was enough to make her want to hex him, again. Before he could say
anything, she ripped into him, not caring that Isla and Sparks were in the room, or what they may
think.

“That was perhaps the most irresponsible thing I have ever witnessed from a senior auror,” she
poked him in the chest. “You allowed him to keep dueling, knowing the dangers if he didn’t see a
healer right away. I know you know that,” she hissed. “I should report you to Harry.”

It was bothersome how composed Draco was during her entire tirade. His face was contorted into
an expressionless mask while his arms hung loosely at his sides until she appeared to be finished
with her speech.

“Are you quite finished, darl…. Healer Granger?”

“Yes.”

“There are times when an auror will not be able to seek out a healer. When they need to apprehend
someone, sometimes through a great amount of pain they may be in. So yes, I pushed Sparks to
continue, and I would do it again,” his voice was annoyingly even. “Granger, I think you can
understand that more than most. What it means to push through the pain to achieve your goal.”

Both Isla and Sparks’ mouths were agape, eyes wide with shock due to the exchange between the
two. Hermione’s had been noticeably heated, while Draco’s was eerily calm, creating a lasting
unease in the room. Unfortunately, Draco was right. While it was Hermione’s job now to make sure
that the department was cared for and healthy, there would be times that it wasn’t in the best
interest of the case. She allowed a brief glance at the faded scar on her arm, the one she no longer
bothered to cover.

“Fine,” she resigned, and turned her attention back to Sparks. “Are you ready? It’s going to hurt; I
won’t sugarcoat it.”

“Just get it over with please.”

“Isla, please administer a pain potion.”

Hermione seated herself back on the stool while Draco stood at the foot of the bed out the way,
observing. Isla returned with the vial which Sparks drank down without protest. Hermione recast
the diagnostic and did a quick once over to reconfirm that she had to dislocate the shoulder again
before she could fix it and the subsequent breaks in the ulna and humerus. Now on her feet, she
kicked the stool away and leaned over Sparks.

“I have to re-dislocate your shoulder again. Take a deep breath.”

The sharp inhale of breath was quickly followed by Hermione placing her hands strategically on
two spots on the shoulder, places that if she applied enough pressure would give them the outcome
they needed. She pushed hard, her feet coming off the ground as she threw her entire weight behind
it. There was the pop that she desired followed by a guttural howl that lasted long after she was
back on her feet.

Stuttered breaths were being inhaled through clenched teeth when Sparks stared up at Hermione,
tears welled up in the corner of his eyes. She pressed a soothing touch to his uninjured shoulder to
reassure him.

“The worst is over now. I’ll have this mended in short work and then I can let you rest.”

Over the next twenty minutes Hermione worked diligently to repair the bones in the ulna first, her
wand moving in precise patterns over the area. The humerus took her a bit longer as there were far
more micro fractures than the diagnostic originally showed. Thankfully, the shoulder was
unharmed, minus the dislocation which would heal on its own in a week or so. Satisfied with her
work she tucked her wand back into her plait and wiped a bead of sweat off her brow.

“Isla, give him another pain potion and a dreamless sleep. Sparks, you’ll need to stay here for the
next day just to recover. I can send you home tomorrow, but you’ll need some time off to recover,
about a week or so. Wait right here, I’ll be back, I need to talk to Sergeant Malfoy about next
steps.”

Silently, Draco followed her to a private room in the back of the ward, closing the door behind
them. They both just stared at each other for an extended moment, when a soft chuckle from Draco
put a frown on her face. Cocky prat. She wanted to let him have it, to remind him how careless he
had been, but she knew he was right, and it was necessary for aurors to know how to duel through
pain. But her pride prevented her from saying anything so instead they stayed there in a battle of
wills.

“Sparks will need a week of leave to heal fully,” she mumbled.

“So, I heard,” he smirked. “Anything else,” his eyes angled inward.

“Why are you going to Ireland this weekend?”

The sudden change in subject appeared to take the wind out of his proverbial sails; the confident
smirk quickly replaced with a hardened gaze. The playfulness had left him so fast that Hermione
was unsteady for a moment before she situated herself firmly in place.

“The last victim, Millicent, has family in Ireland that I need to speak to.”

“I’m sorry if I belittled you,” she ground out.

He shook his head at her apology. To her surprise the cocky smirk didn’t reappear. “You were doing
your job, same as me. Sometimes those things won’t align and that’s ok.”

Being an auror had certainly made Draco more discerning. He was unbothered by the whole thing
while Hermione was still upset. She wanted him to rub her nose in it, not be so – congenial. While
she battled her own frustrations internally, his hands found her hips and walked her back into the
wall.

When the hardness of the brick pressed into her, she forced her gaze up to meet his. His grey eyes
had turned stormy and endless, his grip on her unyielding and severe. Her body responded to him
of its own accord; her thighs squeezed together, while a needy moan puffed passed her pursed lips,
making him chuckle.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, darling?”

“Why don’t you show me?” half her lip tucked between her teeth.

Something between a growl and a laugh rippled through Draco’s chest when his eyes glossed over
and flashed dark. His mouth latched onto the exposed part of her throat just above her clavicle.
Simultaneously, his leg kicked her feet apart, his knee resting just between her parted thighs,
tantalizing close to her core. There was a real possibility that not only would she soak through her
knickers, but her trousers as well.

“You are going out with Theo this weekend.”

It was more a statement than a question, but she responded with a weak sort of groan. His tongue
lathed over the fresh bites that he had peppered along her neck sending shockwaves straight to her
center. Her hips gyrated, desperate for any friction she could find, his thigh just out of reach.

“Be a good girl for him, will you?”

“Yes,” she said in a breathless plea.

Draco jutted his leg higher so that the fabric of his trousers was pressed into her apex eliciting a
small cry. Hermione chased the pressure she was so frantic for and grinded her covered clit
furiously against the corded muscle of his thigh. Gods, he played quidditch – and his thighs proved
it. She was like liquid in his grasp, between the flicks on her neck and the building heat in her
abdomen.

“Can you come just like this?”

It came out as a husky whisper that was barely audible. Draco hadn’t moved his leg at all, just
stood there, letting her grind against him, chasing her own release while he undoubtedly left
numerous marks on her throat. Everything burned and was alight, tingling on every extremity. It
was growing tighter and tighter, on the precipice of bursting.

“Please,” she sighed, trying to be quiet.

What she was begging for she had no idea. He had let her take control, it was in her hands if she
finished or not and she was close but couldn’t let go. With a painful bite he pulled off her throat and
replaced his mouth with his hand. It was so large that it fully encased her neck; his lips hovered just
over hers.
“Come for me, Hermione,” his fingers squeezing her throat.

The edges of her vision went cloudy as a euphoric haze settled around her. The moment the words
left his mouth, his lips crashed to hers and her orgasm ripped through her. The wails and sobs that
fell from her were swallowed by the heat of his kiss as she rode out the aftershocks along his thigh,
ruining his trousers. She collapsed, a boneless mess in his hands.

“That’s my girl,” he kissed the top of her head.

As she slowly came back to reality she looked down and saw the outline of his cock straining
against his trousers, blowing her eyes wide. Draco laughed while he shifted and adjusted himself
before speaking again.

“I’m going to go check on Sparks. You may want to heal those,” he inclined his head towards her
throat. “Before you come back out. Or don’t,” he said wistfully. “I don’t much mind everyone
knowing you are ours.”

While he walked away, she ran her fingers over the raised bruises that had formed where his mouth
had just been. She spent an embarrassingly long time healing the welts and cleaning herself up
before going back out to the ward. By the time she returned, Draco was long gone. Both Isla and
Sparks gave her a knowing stare that she chose to ignore.

The rest of the week passed in an uneventful blur. Draco barely carved out enough time to say
goodbye to Hermione before leaving for the weekend. But without fail, Saturday morning came,
she ate breakfast and got dressed for her date with Theo. Now in the throes of late autumn, she
donned a pair of simple black leggings and large oversized jumper after confirming with him they
were just going to Hogsmeade. She left her hair loose behind her, remembering how much they
both liked that.

Wild. Like her, Draco had said yesterday. Beautiful. Like her, Theo had echoed as they said
goodbye.

It was the first time that Hermione was going to use their new floo connection to travel straight to
their flat and there was an unanticipated fluttering in her stomach as she stood in the fireplace,
powder in hand. She called out their address and arrived to find Theo waiting for her on the other
side.

“Hermione,” he whispered, extending his hand. “Seeing you, looking like that. I’m not sure I want
to leave.”

She accepted his hand and stepped out of the floo with a pink tinge just on her neck. Wrapped in his
warm embrace, she tucked her head under his chin, reveling in the serenity of his scent. He rubbed
soothing patterns along the column of her spine until he pulled away with a kiss on her forehead.

“We don’t have to go anywhere you know?” She went up on her tiptoes and gave him a chaste kiss.
“I’m perfectly content to lounge about with you.”

“As enticing as that sounds, I think you might be inclined to change your mind when I tell you
what I have planned.”
Intent on keeping his surprise intact for a little longer, they walked to the apparition point. A smile
curled on her lips to see that they had arrived on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Only a few leaves
clung to the trees, most of them barren as autumn began to turn into winter. Theo cast a quick
warming charm around them before they descended on the cobblestone path that lined the various
shops.

Students flooded the streets from Hogwarts, darting in and out of the Three Broomsticks, laughing
and carefree. It reminded her of simpler times, before the war, when her biggest concern was about
the pub being overcrowded. All the pain, it had been worth it. Because it meant that the people
around her wouldn’t have to go through what she did, what they all did. They were free to spend
their days at Hogwarts, focused on lessons and friendships, and living their lives like they were
always meant to.

Fingers tangled with hers when a soft tug pulled her out of her reverence. She blinked back at Theo
who smiled wistfully at her before he grazed a soft kiss along her knuckles making her stomach
drop.

“I didn’t realize the students would be here today,” he murmured.

“It’s quite alright, pleasant even. There is something relaxing about seeing people strewn about, so
carefree.”

They walked hand in hand in easy conversation. Being around Theo had always had a calming
effect on Hermione, it was hard for her to explain. His magic soothed hers. It was a unique
experience; one she didn’t know existed.

The wizard had a way of enveloping her in all of him, giving her a feeling of ease that had been
hard to come by for years. As such, her head leaned into his arm as they strolled. His other hand
reached in front of them for only a moment to stroke her cheek, as if convincing her to stay like that
forever. And she would.

The end of the main path was in sight as the shops became more sparse and fewer students milled
about. The dusty Hogs Head sign hung overhead and part of her wondered if Aberforth still ran the
rundown establishment that she remembered being so disgusted by as a teenager.

Theo stopped, with Hermione falling in line next to him. They stood in front of a shop that she
didn’t recognize, the sign above the door said, The Inked Feather. Another sign below it noted,
Opening January 1st, 2004.

“It doesn’t look like this shop has opened yet.”

A mischievous sparkle glittered just behind his dark, almond eyes that left Hermione intrigued. His
arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her flush against his chest. His hands drifted a bit
lower, cupping her arse, giving her a playful squeeze.

“Theodore.”

The admonishment in her tone was all but lost when a giggle erupted from her, soon after she
swatted at his chest. A boyish grin appeared on his rounded features like he had won a prize, and
that prize was Hermione Granger. Despite her mock protests, his hands still gripped her arse when
he kissed the corner of her mouth before locking his lips fully with hers.
“Hermione!”

Shrill as that voice was, it ruined the moment. They pulled apart to look at who decided to invade
their tranquility. Isla Cromwell sauntered towards them, parcel in hand, brow tugged upwards in
confusion.

Bollocks. It wasn’t as if her and Theo attempted to hide anything; borderline groping each other in
Hogsmeade. Though, the three of them hadn’t talked about how they were going to handle their
relationship. With their friends was one thing, but what about work and Merlin, The Prophet would
have a field day. Hermione imagined there would be more time before all that. But no, here they
stood with Isla just staring at their entwined fingers that neither of them appeared inclined to let go.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Isla gaped at their hands. “I’ll leave you two to it then,” she scurried
away with a small smile.

“That witch made it more awkward then it had to be,” Theo huffed. “Are you alright?”

His thumbs traced a soft trail over the apples of her cheeks, searching her eyes for answers. She
was more upset that Isla ran off before they could explain everything. The witch hadn’t proven
herself to be a gossip, but she could only imagine what the DMLE would be like Monday morning.

“Yes. I would have liked a chance to explain. I fear we may have only added more fuel to the fire
that I’m an adulteress.”

The laugh that followed lacked any meaning.

“Actually. In this scenario I believe I’m the adulteress,” Theo chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“My mistake,” she huffed. “I’m the homewrecker.”

“You know that’s not true.”

There was a severity in Theo’s voice that she rarely heard. His eyes were narrowed as his brows
dipped in towards the bridge of his nose.

“I know. I just wanted it to be on our terms.”

“Lucky for you love, I have just the thing to cheer you up,” he gestured to the closed shop. “It may
not be open for everyone, but it is for us. A friend from Hogwarts has set it up and was honored to
let us be the first to peruse its shelves.”

Whatever anxiety about Isla seeing them dissipated once Theo sent his patronus into the shop to
alert the owner that they had arrived. It was the first time that she had seen it; the rambunctious fox
scurried away, and Hermione wondered what memory he used to conjure it.

The door to the shop creaked open and a familiar face beamed back at Hermione before she was
squeezed in a bone crushing hug that had her gasping for air. The laughter of Theo behind her and
the mumbled apologies in front of her had her shaking her head. The arms around her relinquished
and she sucked in a lung full of air before smiling back at the blond witch.

Hannah Abbott looked just as she remembered, though they hadn’t seen each other since the war.
This was the friend Theo mentioned. Rarely had her path intersected with Theo’s while at
Hogwarts, but she was shocked that he considered Hannah a friend. He was the reserved shadow
next to Draco all those years and she couldn’t imagine him spending time with a Hufflepuff, at least
not back then.

“Hermione, it’s wonderful to see you. Theo,” he returned her smile. “I’ll let you two poke around.
Let me know if you have any questions.”

“Hannah is a family friend, more or less,” he added, answering her unasked question.

Outside of the Abbotts and the Notts both being part of the Sacred 28, Hermione couldn’t imagine
the two families intermingling. The Abbotts and the Notts were about as different as the Weasleys
and Malfoys had been growing up. The shop was bigger than Flourish and Blotts on Diagon and
already filled to the brim with leather bound books. Hermione skirted through the rows of
mahogany shelves; her fingers danced along the spines. Periodically, she tipped a book out, flipped
through the pages before putting it back. It wasn’t long before Theo laid against her back, his arms
swathed around her waist from behind while his chin rested on her shoulder.

“Found anything interesting yet?” he hummed.

“A couple.”

With an impish grin she turned and shoved three books into his hands and kissed his cheek before
scurrying off back into the rows.

“Oi,” he huffed. “Am I just a bloody trolley now?”

“Maybe,” Hermione yelled over her shoulder.

Hours were spent in the shop. Hannah had set up a small tea and coffee nook for patrons that
Hermione was only too keen to test out. Now settled at a table just big enough for the two of them,
she sipped on her coffee while Theo opted for a tea. A not so small stack of ten books sat next to
them, and not all of them were hers. Theo had gathered up four books of his own, ranging from
potion theory, to quidditch, and even a couple on runes. After some good-natured bickering, Theo
ended up paying for all their items and had them sent to his flat, despite Hermione’s protests.

“That was everything I had planned. Do you want to stop somewhere for supper? We could also
head home, and I can make something if you’d prefer.”

“Option two please.”

When they returned Theo lit the fire and pulled her down onto his lap on the sofa. He brushed the
hair out of her face and continued to caress through the length of her curls until his hands came to
rest on her hips.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Honestly, I’m feeling a little peckish. Maybe instead of some large meal we could just scrounge up
some snacks.”

Without a second thought, Hermione thrusted herself up and waltzed into the kitchen. She sorted
through items in their pantry and icebox, pulling out a small assortment of cheeses and crackers
when a snort had her glancing over her shoulder.
“Oh.” Embarrassment bloomed in her chest, realizing her own boldness. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t
have gone through your things like that,” she nibbled on her lip.

“No. No. By all means. Continue. I was just thinking how adorable you look. Like a little mouse,
rummaging through the icebox.”

“Theodore,” she jutted her hands to her hips. “If you think calling me a dirty little rodent is your
idea of flattery then you are sorely mistaken,” she blew a curl out of her face.

“Apologies, love,” he stalked towards her like a lion. “Theodore, is it? That usually means I’m in
trouble. Am I in trouble?” Before she could answer, he spoke again. “Let me make it up to you.”

He walked her back until her hips pressed into the counter, his palms flat on either side, caging her
in. Hermione jutted her chin out and tossed her head to the side looking away from his black blown
pupils.

“I’m notorious for holding a grudge, you know.”

“I’ve been told I can be quite persuasive,” he whispered along the shell of her ear.

Hot breath hovered over the crook of her neck making her body shiver. The curve of his lips
ghosted over her clavicle while she tried to maintain her composure despite her crumbling
determination. His tongue lathed a long, languid stroke between her collar and jaw that buckled her
knees.

“Still cross with me?” he grinned.

“Yes.”

It was hard to even believe herself given the way her voice cracked when she said it. Instead of
saying anything, Theo continued his languorous assault on her throat. His tongue would trail over a
spot before his lips would close around it in the faintest suck only to be followed up by a gentle nip.
At first it was manageable, but he didn’t stop, determined to lick, and bite every exposed part of her
neck. Bruises bloomed on the thin skin.

Hermione attempted to control the hurried, stuttered breaths that threatened to escape, not wanting
to give Theo the satisfaction. It was a matter of principle at that point. The trapped whimpers she
refused to release rattled in her chest. No matter what she tried though, nothing could stop the rush
of arousal that soaked her knickers or the heat that flushed her face.

“What about now?” he whispered. “Are you still cross?”

He banded his arms around her before they gripped under her arse, lifting her up. Instinctually, she
wrapped her legs around his waist while her head fell back, his mouth still sucking a tender spot he
previously marked. His teeth scraped along the spot, making her cry out.

“Yes,” she whimpered.

Colors swirled around her when she realized that they were moving, Theo walked them up the
stairs. Taking her words as a challenge, his ministrations on her jaw became unbearable. He sucked
along the sensitive skin. Her core bucked into him, her back arching in his grasp. He turned and
backed through a door at the end of the hall when she recognized their bedroom from her previous
exploration of the flat.

A bit more aggressively than she expected, Theo heaved her onto the bed. Despite how she tried,
she couldn’t sate the thrumming in every part of her. It appeared her stubbornness couldn’t
overpower the primal need that Theo had pulled from inside her. She propped herself up on her
elbows to find that she was not the only one out of sorts.

Short breaths puffed out his swollen lips. Hooded eyes were barely visible behind the locks of hair
that obscured his face. A small oh escaped her when her gaze drifted down, his cock hard and
strained against the placket of his trousers. His hands hooked under her knees, his fingers bruising
in their grip on her thighs when he yanked her to the edge of the bed. The tip of his tongue darted
out to wet his lip as he plucked her wand from the waistband of her leggings before resting it on an
end table.

His fingers dipped into the hem of her leggings when he paused and glanced up, seeking silent
permission. A small nod was all he needed before he peeled the garment off with deft precision.
His hands moved up and tugged at the hem of her jumper this time, not waiting for permission, and
instead removing it with little ceremony.

A hoarse rumble ripped from Theo’s chest while he stared down at an almost naked witch in his
bed. Her body flushed the most beautiful shade of pink; hues of purple and blue on her throat, so
thoroughly marked as his.

“Hermione, love,” he vanished her undergarments before tossing his wand next to hers. “I want to
feel your legs quake around me as I devour every drop of you,” he sank to his knees at the foot of
the bed. “I want to pull little pleas from your mouth,” he kissed a hot trail up her leg. “I want to
hear my name on your pretty lips when you come.”

A flood pooled in her center at the delicious promises Theo made. Unable to hold herself up
anymore, she allowed her elbows to give out as she collapsed on the bed. Looking down she could
still see the way he bore into her with his dark eyes while his mouth traveled higher and higher, a
sloppy trail in his wake up her calf and thigh. Taking his time, he bit and sucked on the inner part of
her legs, adding more marks to his collection.

Heat bloomed in her chest, burning her from the inside out as Theo's tongue ran circles around her
clit sending waves of pleasure flowing throughout her body. His tongue felt like velvet against her
sensitive flesh, making her moan as her fingers tugged at his hair. His fingers dug into her thighs,
spreading her wide and holding her open as he licked a long stripe up the length of her cunt. He
wasted no pretense, a man starved and determined to ruin her as fast as possible.

His movements became more frantic as his tongue explored her depths, sending her over the edge
as an orgasm exploded inside her. She clung to his hair as he kept going, tasting, lapping, and
exploring every inch of her, never allowing her to come down from the high he had created. She
could feel the heat of his breath along her inner walls as his tongue made its way back to her clit
once again sending shivers of delight throughout her body.

Slowly, his tongue receded, allowing her a small reprieve. He pressed a sloppy kiss to the inside of
each of her legs before resting his chin on her pelvis, his face wet with her release.

“Ready for another, love?”

The ripples of her last orgasm hadn’t fully faded, and he was already preparing to bring her to the
brink again. She sucked in her bottom lip and shook her head while her body writhed on the bed
seemingly against her wishes.

Theo continued to stare at her. One hand held her open while the other traced barely there circles
around her clit. The ghost of touches along her cunt had her desperate, she needed more, more
friction. She jutted herself forward, seeking more when he laughed.

With a parting nip on her hip bone, Theo sank back between her legs. Instead of his tongue, his
fingers roved over her wet folds before he thrust a single finger into her up to knuckle causing her
to clench around him. Soft, needy moans fell from her lips as Theo watched curiously as he slowly
thrust in and out of her.

“More,” she whined.

“More of what, my love? This?” he added a second finger, making her cry out. “Or perhaps this,”
he sank down and closed his lips around her clit.

“All of it,” she wailed.

Buried between her legs, Theo worshiped her in a way she didn’t know was possible. His tongue
danced around her clit, which was enough to have her body teetering again. But his fingers moved
in and out of her, stretching and filling her in a way that made her cunt flutter with each intrusion.

Everything burned like hot embers; she had no doubt that her face was stained crimson. Sweat
trickled down her temple while strands of hair stuck there. Her abdomen was taut and yearned for
release, but she was hanging on the precipice unable to crash over. Her legs shook while incoherent
sobs rattled in her chest.

“Gods, please,” she cried out.

“The Gods can’t help you, love,” he hummed against her clit. “You are at my mercy.”

Theo pressed down with his tongue in determined, steady strokes. Her eyes fluttered and rolled
back; her fingers knotted in his hair in what had to be a painful grip. Low groans continued to fall
from his mouth when his fingers curled inside her and hit furiously against the wall just behind the
oversensitive bundle of nerves. Her whole body contracted when her orgasm ripped through her,
Theo’s name coming out in a plea as she lurched forward. Body and mind on fire.

Slowly he stroked her through the aftershocks that left her body a useless heap on the mattress. Her
vision was clouded as she tried and failed to regulate the stuttered breaths that pushed their way out
of her.

Effortlessly, Theo lifted her spent body back further on the bed and crawled over her. His knees
bracketed her hips, his palms flat on either side of her face. Wet with her arousal he collided his lips
with hers. The salty sweetness coated her mouth while her arms weakly wrapped around his neck,
urging him closer.

“Well done, my little witch,” he hummed over her mouth. “You took what I gave you so well.”

Surely, he wasn’t content to end it there. Hermione pawed at the buttons of his shirt as if it offended
her, yanking it off before tugging at the waist of his trousers. She pressed her drenched center into
his hard length, driven by a primal need to be filled by him.

“I want you to fuck me, Theo,” she moaned.

“Bossy, little thing, aren’t you?” he chuckled, letting her strip him bare.

“Yes,” she huffed, shoving his trousers down.

Theo sat back and shuffled them off the rest of the way and quickly removed his briefs, freeing his
length. Hermione observed it in silence, it was larger than any of the others she had seen before.
Her hand wrapped around the base and stroked up, wiping the pearl of precum across the tip before
dragging back down. Theo’s eyes shuttered for only a moment before he angled his hips and the tip
of his cock at her entrance, slowly stroking it.

Gradually, he slipped inside, only an inch at a time, allowing her to adjust to him. It wasn’t really
the length, but the girth that made her gasp. The way he stretched her was almost too perfect and
full, she didn’t know it was possible. Her cunt molded around him until his pelvis pressed against
hers and he was fully seated inside of her. Her nails were poised at the ridges of his shoulders, her
body already humming from the delicious fullness, and he wasn’t even moving yet.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Death by Hermione Grangers cunt.”

“Please,” she moaned. “Please move.”

She gasped as he thrust fiercely into her with each deliberate, yet powerful roll of his hips. Her
nails dragged a long trail down the length of his spine that made him hiss. All of the gentleness,
tenderness, and ease that he had shown her before had abruptly departed and in its place was an
intensity, a need that was both delightful and startling.

His hands bruise her hips as he continued to move inside her, and she began to get lost in the
pleasure and sensations that reverberated through her body. She could feel herself slowly climb
higher and higher towards unraveling and she desperately clung to the roller coaster that he had put
her on. In that moment, the thought of anything else didn't matter, except for the man who was
commanding her body.

She was at his mercy, already depleted from the previous orgasms that had drained her. Every nerve
was primed and on the edge of release. Theo’s hands angled her hips and had her crying out at the
next thrust, making her vision flash black.

“I can’t,” she sobbed. “I can’t.”

It was too much, too soon, she wouldn’t survive another one.

“Do it for me, love. I want to feel your perfect cunt clenched around my cock.”

Theo’s thrusts turned more erratic, his breaths labored and forced. Her thighs squeezed and flexed
as she started to tumble over the edge. His fingers moved between them and rubbed her clit,
wrecking her. Her hands flew to the bed sheets and yanked hard searching for purchase while her
back arched off the bed. Her pulse vibrated through her all the way to her core as it clenched
around Theo’s cock. Her body trembled and her toes curled with the aftershocks that buzzed
through her.
“Fucking hell, Hermione.”

She was so tightly wrapped around him that he emptied himself into her with one last circle of his
hips. A deep hum rumbled through him when he leaned over and kissed her sweat soaked temple.
Sweat streaked his brow and torso and only in that moment had Hermione been able to fully
appreciate his physique. All toned muscle and olive skin, the length of a scar carried over his
shoulder that had her curious.

“What about now, Hermione? Are you still cross with me?”

She shook her head and mumbled a quiet no into his chest, pulling him down into bed with her.

After a veritable buffet of crackers and cheese, Hermione crashed, hard. Later she woke up in a bed
that belonged to Draco and Theo. A bed that Theo had thoroughly shagged her in; stained with
their combined release that neither had bothered to clean.

The sun had just started to peak over the horizon, the room still shaded in hues of moonlight and
morning sun. A twinge of guilt stabbed in her chest while thoughts ran wild in her mind. The
internal war raged, while logically she knew it was a moot point. Draco knew they were spending
the weekend together. She blushed at the memory of him telling her to be a good girl for Theo.

“It is far too early for your mind to be that loud, love.”

Sleepily, Theo reached out and yanked her back into his chest. His hair was mussed, strands
hanging in front of his eyes. He swept her own messy locks off her shoulder and kissed slowly over
the length of her throat, his tongue flicking the tender bruises on her neck.

“Will you tell me what has that brilliant mind of yours in such a state?” his lips teased along the
shell of her ear. “Don’t you dare tell me nothing,” he hissed.

“I know it’s irrational. But there is a small part of me that feels guilty about what we did. Not that I
didn’t want to,” she blurted out. “More than that, this is your bed and Draco’s, and we are in it
without him.”

He said nothing and rolled to the side. Blindly, Theo searched for his wand on the end table before
he clutched it and summoned a roll of parchment and a self-inking quill. She watched as he
scribbled a hastily written note.

Drake,

Hermione is naked in my arms right now in our bed.

She’s feeling guilty that we shagged in it without you. I made her come three times last night and I
plan to have more before the day is through.

We miss you – hurry home,

Theo

“You can’t send that.”

 Hermione shoved against his chest and tried to break free but to no avail. With a flick of his wand,
he sent the quill back to the desk in the corner of the room and folded up the note before calling the
eagle owl she had seen before.

“I can,” he smirked. “And I will. Just be happy I didn’t send my patronus instead, who knows who
he could be around right now.”

The color drained from her face; the letter didn’t seem so bad in comparison.

“Come here,” he pulled her head to his chest. His chin rested on the crown of her curls. “It’s still
quite early and I don’t have enough coffee to make Hermione Granger amiable at five am on a
Sunday morning,” she huffed, but he kept talking. “Let me sleep just a little longer with you in my
arms.”

A content sigh puffed out her cheeks when she draped a leg over his and an arm over his waist.
Sleep took her again quickly as she lulled into nothingness against the steady beating of Theo’s
heart.

Later in the morning a blue-silver light streamed in, engulfing the room. It woke them with a start
when they saw Draco’s eagle patronus staring at them patiently before his voice echoed out.

I should be wrapped up here shortly and will be home tonight. Theo. Granger is not allowed to
leave until she comes three more times.

“I hope you didn’t have any other plans today,” Theo smirked. “It’s really in our best interest to do
what Drake says,” he winked.

Chapter End Notes

If you don't - feel free to follow me on tiktok @darkcloud190 or instagram @darkcloud190. I

am far more active on Tiktok.

Also - I will have a fic called The Silver Serpent being revealed as a part of Screamfest
between 10/26-10/31. It is a 3 chapter, 17k words PURGE AU Dramione fic. Very dark, horror
short story - but perfect for Halloween! Check the tags before you dive in once it's revealed!

I hope you enjoyed the mini Dramione smut in this chapter and the Theomione smut! <3
 Chapter 9 Strip Little Witch
Chapter Notes

Hello lovelies,

Enjoy the new chapter before Halloween!!! You guys are absolutely insane by the way! The
fic hasn't even been out a full month yet and it already has so many comments and kudos. You
make a gal feel special - thank you so much!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Honoring, well, request wasn’t the right word, Draco’s order. Theo did, in fact, thoroughly debauch
Hermione Sunday morning and well into the afternoon, pulling three more long, drawn-out
orgasms from her spent form. Reluctantly, she slunk out of the nest of pillows and blankets that
they had been buried in for hours, determined to return to her flat for the evening and prepare for
work the next day.

“Love,” Theo prowled to the edge of the bed like a predator. “Draco will be home soon,” his eyes
flickered like she was the prey. “Why don’t you just stay? He would love to see you.”

And she wanted to see him desperately. It was almost too much, and that’s why she had to leave. It
was like Theo had said: they needed to nurture not only the group but the individual relationships
as well. It was important to let Theo and Draco have their alone time together that evening.

Hermione reached her hands overhead in a stretch that pulled little mewling noises from her mouth
and flushed her bare skin, still naked from the day’s activities. Her fingers ran through her curls in a
soft massage, working out the knots. She blinked sleepily like a cat dozing in the afternoon sun.

“Stay.”

At the subtle urge of his command, warm hands wrapped around her waist and tugged her back into
the tussled sheets. Theo ensnared her fully. Her lackluster attempts to get away were futile as she
giggled while he kissed the dip in her collarbone.

Fingers pushed her hair aside, dusting over the bruises on her throat.

“Mine,” he hummed low, making her shiver.

“Yours,” she purred. “You and Draco should have some time together,” she sighed. “And as much
as I greedily want to be with you both. It’s good if I go, even if I don’t want to.”

The trail of his fingers was electric as his hands roamed over her belly and settled on her breasts.
Tenderly, he kneaded them, rolling her nipples while lazily kissing her throat. She bit back the urge
to submit to his ministrations.

“Theo,” she groaned. It was something between chastisement and desire.

“It’s alright if you leave, love,” he licked a long stripe behind her ear. “Just know,” he nibbled her
lobe. “Draco will be cross with you,” he chuckled. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when he takes it
out on you next time.”

“Well, the blond brute can deal,” she huffed. “I can handle Draco, and his mood swings just fine.”

“Not saying you can’t love. In fact,” he sucked a bruised spot on her neck. “I think you might enjoy
how he, well, handles his frustrations with his partners,” Theo waggled his brows. “Now,” he
smacked her bum. “Off you go. I’m looking forward to getting the cliff notes of your next
encounter. And if it’s just me and Drake tonight, I need time to recharge. Our witch is just
insatiable.”

“Really, Theo? I’m the insatiable one?”

Hermione gathered her scattered clothing and slipped it on before tucking her wand into the
haphazard mess of curls on her head. Theo had thrown on a pair of briefs and crossed the room. For
the first time, she caught a glimpse of his bare back and the scars that decorated his shoulder
blades. At first, she thought it was from her, but no. There were scratches from her nails that she
recognized, but those marks were raised, white, and old. His fingers settled on her hips when he
saw her concerned stare.

“Another time, Hermione,” it was definite. He wasn’t telling her never, but not now, which she
respected and smiled softly at him. “I will see you tomorrow,” he hummed.

The kiss between them was warm and reverent and all too brief. Theo pulled away just as
Hermione nestled her fingers in his hair. “Unless you want to stay, of course,” he winked.

Monday morning brought a chill that had Hermione reigniting her fireplace from bed and
burrowing further into the covers. There was a delicious ache that coursed through her body from
her weekend activities that brought a curl to the corners of her lips. Outside of the window, she
watched as flurries twirled their way to the ground.

After showering, she stood before the mirror, taking in the marks that adorned her body from her
escapades with Theo. Purplish bruises decorated her neck, with a smattering of them around her
hips and thighs. Many were tender to the touch, matching the soreness that plagued the rest of her
muscles. Not wanting to remove all of them, Hermione only healed the visible ones on her neck,
leaving the private ones as is.

Dressed and with a coffee in hand, she made her way to the floo, only for the flames to turn green
before her. Pansy stepped through quickly followed by Ginny, both looking determined. Hermione
had already told them about Draco and Theo, but their expressions were guarded; something had to
be wrong for them to storm into her flat early on a Monday morning.

“Hermione,” Ginny said quietly. “Have you seen The Prophet yet?”

No, she hadn’t. But the fact that she asked the question like that implied that it was inexplicably
bad, especially if they felt the need to confront her about it before she left for the Ministry.

“Harry said to take the day if you need it,” Pansy added.

“Well, are one of you going to produce a copy of said article so I can read it?” she huffed.
Hesitantly, the witches looked back and forth before Ginny procured a copy of The Prophet from
her pocket and handed it to Hermione. They both stood silently and watched as her pliant eyes
scanned through the article, her emotions contained and controlled. With a flourish, she tossed the
paper into the fire and stomped to the kitchen, inhaling the first scone she could find.

A second scone was in hand as soon as she finished the first. She picked at the blueberries on top
when Ginny perched herself on the counter, Pansy standing with her arms crossed. The article
wasn’t surprising, although she hadn’t been expecting the photo that accompanied it. Someone
must have been following them from the moment they arrived in Hogsmeade.

Whether or not Isla was a gossip was a moot point. The whole DMLE would have read the morning
edition of the Prophet. Hermione was angry more than anything. Nothing in her life belonged to her
anymore, nor had it for years. She had thought being the Golden Girl would have afforded her
certain luxuries, though it appeared to be the opposite.

Just as she had predicted, or more correctly as Theo had described, he was a cheater and Hermione
an, interloper. For once, Draco was shown a fair amount of sympathy in the story, apparently
betrayed by his lover. What was damning was the photo that accompanied the article, which was on
the front page no less. Theo’s hands were groping Hermione’s arse, their lips locked. It must have
been snapped moments before Isla interrupted them.

“I’m not hiding at home. I’m going to work,” she worked on a third scone, chasing each bite with a
sip of her coffee. “It doesn’t matter. It was bound to happen. I had hoped to be afforded some
privacy while we figured things out, but I suppose I don’t warrant that,” she hissed. “I’ll handle it.”

“Now there’s that Gryffindor spirit that I find utterly repulsive,” Pansy smirked. “Do I get to share
my memories now?” her brow arched.

“And there’s that Slytherin resourcefulness that I find curiously alarming,” Ginny rolled her eyes.
“You don’t need to torch Ron to fix the issue. The three must go public with their relationship, and
it all disappears."

Hermione glanced sharply at Ginny as she refilled her empty mug before shrugging on her woolen
outer robes.

“I wasn’t trying to minimize the fact that you deserved the opportunity to do it at your own pace,
Hermione,” Ginny added, contrite.

“No, it’s fine, Gin. I didn’t mean to snap at you. You’re right.”

She tucked her wand back into her hair after cleaning up the mess she had made in the kitchen in
the last twenty minutes. While she planned to head to the DMLE today, she was now sufficiently
late, which was okay. People were settled into their offices by now, and there would be fewer eyes
staring at her.

Pansy summoned a quill from the desk and clicked it to her tongue. “Do you want me to handle
this, Granger? Give me a statement, and I will get it run in the evening edition of the Prophet, and
the whole mess disappears.”

“Let’s hold off, Pans. I need to talk to Theo and Draco first before we make any sweeping
statements.”
With an eye roll that showed some surrender to what she was saying, Pansy vanished the quill and
yanked Ginny off the counter.

“That’s our cue, I suppose,” Ginny laughed. “If you need anything, just message us,” Hermione
smiled.

“Dinner on Friday, both of you,” Pansy added. “I expect the boys to be there as well.”

Both disappeared in a swirl of green flames; Hermione followed behind, calling out the Ministry,
leaving behind the warmth of her flat. The floo hall was eerily empty, granted it was well into the
morning routine, so it was understandable. Hermione rarely arrived late, so she wasn’t accustomed
to coming in well after everyone else.

The lift ride was empty of anyone else milling about, and she could disappear into the shadows of
her office for the morning. St. Mungo’s had sent a new protocol they wanted her input on. While
she didn’t work there anymore, they would ask for her input occasionally. The methodology was
brilliant, and she expected no less of Padma.

They had worked through their apprenticeship together, and when Hermione moved on to the
DLME, she stayed at St. Mungo’s, working exclusively in their long-term care ward. Padma had
developed a new course of treatment for patients exposed to the cruciatus curse. Padma spent much
of her day caring for Frank and Alice Longbottom among the other residents, and Hermione knew
this held a special place in her heart.

There was no way to reverse the long-term effects that plagued Neville’s parents. But what Padma
was presenting was a way of treating victims in the direct aftermath of the curse, a way to prevent it
from ever progressing to madness. While that unforgivable was seen so rarely now, knowing that
there could be an option for anyone subjected to that pain was a ray of hope.

A dull burn itched over the remnants of the scar on her forearm. The mark was exposed in her
sleeveless blouse; Hermione had stopped covering it years ago, no longer bothered by it. The word
Mudblood was just that, a word. Phantom pain ached at the memory, awoken while combing
through Padma’s research. Her fingers rested over the scar, so transfixed on the spot that she didn’t
hear the knock or subsequent squeak of her door. Only when a loud cough echoed did she look up.

An imposing figure loomed in her doorway, nearly filling the space. The hardened stare on her
auror’s face softened when he saw what had her attention. Quietly, Draco shut the door behind him
as he moved towards her. Usually the perfect collection of poise, he looked more careworn than
Hermione remembered. Faded dark circles hung low under his eyes, errant strands of hair fell
behind his glasses, and a barely-there scruff that told her he hadn’t bothered to shave. Flushed with
worry, the pain in her arm seemed to ebb.

“Draco, is everything alright?” she stood.

“Of course, darling, just a little tired.”

A genuine smile crinkled his eyes, putting Hermione at ease. He closed the gap between them and
wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush to his chest. He pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of
her curls before putting space between them to look at her properly.

“Honestly, I came here to ask you the same thing. After the Prophet this morning, no one has seen
you,” he squeezed her upper arms.
Half of her had expected them to storm into her office as soon as she arrived. She was thankful they
didn’t and allowed her to settle in, but was surprised to see Draco alone. Especially considering the
article slandered Theo even harder than herself.

“Where’s Theo?”

“Off playing Unspeakable in the DoM again,” he laughed, tugging on her braid.

“Is that what he wants, to be an Unspeakable?”

“Gods now,” Draco quickly uttered. “He just tends to have a lot of downtime whenever he’s not at a
scene. Playing in the DoM seems to be his newest way to fill it.” His thumbs were drawing circles
over her shoulders. “Now that you’ve sufficiently avoided my original question, care to return to
it?” He arched a discerning brow at her that made her gulp.

“I wasn’t avoiding it. Admittedly, I’m annoyed, a bit angry, but overall, not surprised and
remarkably fine.”

“Is that why Pansy told me you stress ate three scones in two minutes after reading the article?”

Merlin, that witch could be infuriating. Did she need to tell Draco precisely what had transpired?
Did she send her patronus immediately after she floo’d home? Bloody menace, that one.

“I’m frustrated,” she sighed, lolling her head into his chest. “Is it so wrong that I wanted time to
explore our new relationship privately? Now that Gods awful article has forced our hand. Either we
let everyone think I’m a homewrecker and Theo, an adulterer, or we go public about our
relationship and have every witch and wizard in our business. I just wanted our lives to be our own
for a while.”

Quiet tears stained the front of Draco’s white oxford. Hermione ran her fingers up and down the
supple leather of the wand harness strapped to his chest while breathing him in. One hand held firm
on the small of her back while the other brushed down the length of her plait.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting privacy, darling. I’m sorry you aren’t afforded that luxury.”

Draco neither forced the conversation nor made to move her away. Instead, they stayed like that for
a few minutes until she was sure his shirt was ruined. Only once her eyes were sufficiently emptied
did she murmur into his chest.

“How is Theo handling it?”

A throaty chuckle was the only answer she needed, but Draco explained. “Well, Granger. And I
quote, ‘Drake. Look at how marvelous Hermione’s arse is in this photo. Salazar she is Circe
incarnate.’ Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” she giggled, pulling away. “Sorry about your shirt.”

Draco looked down and fixed it with a simple wave of his wand. His hands cupped her face, his
thumbs wiping away the dried tears from the apples of her cheeks.

“You know, darling,” he paused, his voice dropping lower. “I was a bit cross when I got home
Sunday night to find you had already left.”
The tips of her teeth grazed along the thin skin of her lip. One hand stayed on her cheek while the
other trailed down her jawline before he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting
it. His thumb pulled gently at her bottom lip, parting it just enough to hold it while he spoke.

“Theo told me you wanted him and me to have to have some alone time, but what I wanted was
both of you, naked, in my bed.”

Hermione whined at the image and kicked herself for not staying. Not just because Draco had
wanted her to but she had lacked the foresight to imagine what delicious things awaited her if she
had, and Draco was only reinforcing that she had made the wrong choice. Her knickers were
drenched at the mere thought of it. Her body squirmed while her thighs clung together, trying to
starve off the ache at her core.

“Come out with me Friday night,” he growled. “Perhaps we can make up for lost time.”

Of course, he would want to go out Friday night, damn Pansy. Draco looked devastatingly
attractive, holding her attention like that. His eyes were a shade of smokey grey that smoldered just
behind his glasses, and his muscles rippled under the confines of his shirt. The smell of leather and
oak and whiskey made her weak.

“Pansy had time to tell you about my breakfast habits but not about dinner on Friday. Well, we’ve
been summoned to the Potter home for Friday night. Blaise and Ginny will be there too. All three
of us are expected,” she sighed.

He dragged his thumb over her lip. “Wednesday night, then. There’s a play at a theater in Diagon at
six. And then, on Friday, all of us will go to dinner at Potter’s.”

“I’d like that,” she kissed the pad of his thumb, making him groan.

Draco walked her back until her hips collided with the edge of the desk. The fingers on her chin fell
until they were wrapped around her throat. His other hand curled around the end of her braid, tilting
her head up. Half-hooded eyes met hers when his mouth claimed hers in a burning kiss. Draco left
no room to doubt who was in control. His lips moved between hers, kissing and tugging before
forcing his way in. His tongue pushed against hers, pulling soft moans from her throat. Only when
she was thoroughly ruined did he pull away with a yank on her lip and a smirk on his face.

“Friday night, after dinner at Harry and Pansy’s, we will head back to the flat and discuss how we
want to handle the public piece.”

A warm, tender kiss ghosted across her forehead, leaving her body in a state of shock. The
whiplash from commanding and harsh to tender and reverent left her heart fluttering and her
knickers ruined. Finally remembering what he said, she nodded. He laughed at her delayed
response.

“I have to go. I have a meeting with my favorite prat from MACUSA. Now. Be my good little
witch,” he dropped his voice to a whisper. “At least until Wednesday night,” his tongue flicked her
ear. “I plan to ruin you, darling.”

Hermione squeaked.

With a chaste kiss on her temple, he left.

The rest of Monday was spent reviewing Padma’s research, and she could not find a single flaw; it
was a masterpiece. She sent it back with a few notes, more so general comments. When leaving for
the floo hall that night, she was met with a few glances, but nothing damning. That was until she
came eye to eye with Jackson Price.

Menacing was the best way to describe how he looked. And she felt that it had nothing to do with
the story the paper displayed. Jackson did not like Draco, so he couldn’t care less that his partner
‘left’ him. No, he looked at her like he was the wronged party, and she had broken his trust. They
had gone out on one date that had ended in an awkward kiss. But the glare he leveled at her was
worse than the one she had given Ron the night she had caught him cheating. She averted her gaze
and tried to avoid him on the way to the floo with no such luck.

“Golden girl is just as tarnished as the papers always made it seem,” he mumbled. “And here I
thought that you were just getting the short end of the stick. Guess they were right after all.”

Her fingers curled into fists at her side while she tried to ignore him and keep walking. He strutted
after her, determined to see her crack. He moved in a way that blocked her path. Hands hovered
near her as though he planned to grab her before they dropped heavily back to his sides.

“Think what you will, Price,” she hissed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

With a dramatic step to the side, she moved past him without another word.

“Just going to ignore me?” he sneered.

“Are you accosting a DMLE healer, Jackson?” Harry’s voice reverberated off the walls. “I will
remind you that you are here as a guest. If our staff so affronts you, you are more than welcome to
return to MACUSA.”

“I shouldn’t be shocked that the Brits employ, what is it you call ‘em,” he narrowed his gaze on
Hermione. “Oh, yeah, slags.”

The color drained from her face as she whipped her wand from her hair and leveled it at the
wizard’s throat, not caring that Harry was right there. All Jackson dared to do was to laugh at her.

“Gonna hex me?” he winked.

“Enough,” Harry boomed. “Price, my office, now!” he softened his tone. “Hermione, please.”

Only because he was her friend did she lower her wand. Even still, she kept a firm grip on it at her
side. Heat radiated off her as she watched Harry and Price walk back towards his office, leaving her
fuming by the floo.

Wednesday eclipsed Tuesday, and Hermione was thankful for it. She hadn’t seen Jackson Price at
all since their encounter on Monday evening. Luckily, the only person who had seen it was Harry,
and he, of course, said nothing. She kept it to herself, not wanting to incense Theo and Draco with
the news, especially Draco. Considering how closely he had been working with Price and how
much he had already detested the wizard, it was a recipe for disaster.

At five, Hermione lowered the blinds and locked the door to her office. She changed into the
clothes she had brought for her evening with Draco. The air had turned frigid with a winter chill.
She slipped into a pair of black jeans that Pansy surprisingly approved of. A camel peacoat covered
her blouse, and she topped it with a red and gold scarf to push his buttons. Pansy may have
handpicked everything sans the scarf, but Hermione adorned it nonetheless.

Draco waited for her by the floo, looking delectable. He didn’t need Pansy to dress him. No, he had
been raised at the forefront of wizarding society, and every bit of that shone through. Black trousers
were paired with a fitted blue dress shirt bordering a dark royal and navy. This time, he chose to
wear a tie, all black. His shirtsleeves were cuffed up just below his elbow, highlighting the colorful
ink on his forearm. Hermione wanted to skip the play and go straight to the after-party – spending
all night tracing every line of every flower on his sleeve.

“Beautiful as always, Hermione,” his lips brushed over his knuckles.

The streets were sparse in Diagon on the innocuous Wednesday night. A few witches and wizards
milled about, dropping in and out of the various shops. No one seemed to pay them much mind;
there was a stare or two, but nothing more than she usually got.

In a gentlemanly display, Draco had threaded her hand through the crook of his arm. His hand
rested on top of hers there when they arrived outside the theater with a few minutes to spare. In a
bold move, Hermione curled her fingers around his tie, giving a possessive yank until his mouth
hovered above hers. A low growl rumbled from his chest.

“That Gryffindor bravery will be your undoing, little witch.”

“So be it.”

She pulled him in until their lips touched, his hands burrowing into her hair. Whatever control he
let her think she had evaporated instantaneously. Teeth dug into her bottom lip, his hands wrapped
around hers, forcing them behind her back. A needy whine escaped her that she didn’t fully
recognize.

A bright light flashed around them like a spark. In a confused frenzy, Draco drew his wand and
huddled her body behind his in a protective stance. Hermione scanned around them when her eyes
landed on a petite witch with blond hair, spectacles, and an irksome quill hovering next to her.

Draco lowered his wand, “Rita,” he hissed.

“Lovely to see you, Mr. Malfoy. And,” her eyes brightened. “Miss Granger charmed as always. Is
this your way of getting back at Mr. Nott?” she directed towards Draco.

“Shove off, Skeeter,” Draco hissed, steering Hermione towards the entrance.

“Draco, wait,” Hermione implored. “Rita. Are you really that daft? You think I went out with Theo,
and then, to spite him, Draco is going out with me?”

“Well, if that is not the case, why don’t you give me all the details?”

A look on Draco’s face told her he was fine with whatever she decided to do. Part of her knew they
should talk to Theo, that it wasn’t ideal, but she needed to end it now. And outside of locking Rita
in another jar, she didn’t see another option.
“We’re all together,” Hermione spat. “Draco, Theo, and me. You just happened to catch Theo and
me out alone, and now Draco and me. There isn’t any grand story. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“No. No, dear girl. This is delicious,” she cooed, the quill moving furiously beside her. “Do you not
see? Readers are going to gobble this story up. Golden Girl turned dud ensnares not one, but two
famous wizards.”

“Leave,” Draco threatened. “Now!”

When she didn’t immediately exit, his tone turned venomous.

“If you are not gone in the next ten seconds, I will arrest you on some trumped-up loitering charge
and lose the paperwork while you sulk in Azkaban for weeks until it’s found again.”

The witch darted away and disappeared with a pop at the nearby apparition point. Anger sizzled
around Draco along with a grey, hazy swirl that dissipated as quickly as it came. The bottled rage
softened when his gaze locked with hers. Hermione looked flustered by the encounter.

“Draco,” she whispered. “Would you mind? Can we skip the play tonight? Maybe get some
takeaway and go back to my flat?”

“Anything you want, darling,” the edge to his voice barely concealed.

Back at her flat, Hermione toed off her pumps and plopped the sushi they had grabbed on the
counter. Draco settled behind her, his arms banded around her waist.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. I just wanted to be alone with you.”

It was true. While the ordeal with Skeeter wasn’t something she had anticipated, it was more
productive than she imagined. For the last couple of weeks, it was like a hippogriff was perched on
her chest, heavy and unbearable. Now, it was out in the open. Undoubtedly, the article would be
categorically negative. But at least it would be clear about one thing: that all three of them were
together. She was theirs, and they were hers.

After finishing their dinner, Hermione settled on the sofa. Draco sat further away from her than she
wanted. Before she had time to have a proper sulk, he bent down and pulled her feet into his lap.
He removed her socks and tossed them aside. Deliciously, his fingers kneaded into the arches of her
feet, making her keen softly, her eyes fluttering.

Slowly, he moved his massage up to her calf, giving it the same devotion he had shown her feet.
Once he had finished with one leg, he moved to the other, showing them equal attention. Her body
melted under his expert touch, feeling weightless.

Each hand splayed over a thigh, his torso hovering just above hers. Her heart must have been
beating on the outside of her chest. It was so loud, and that was the only explanation. Hermione
battled where to look, focusing on his hands, as that seemed like the safer option. Merlin, maybe it
wasn’t safer - his bloody hands adorned with silver and platinum rings. Veins pulsed along the
ridges each time he squeezed her. She was terrified to look at him like he was the basilisk, and she
would turn to stone if their gaze connected.
“Look at me.”

If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought that he used legilimency on her. The guttural
command was issued just moments after her musings ran wild. Of course, he didn’t. She hadn’t felt
the telltale pressure of intrusion. Nor would Draco enter her mind without permission. The wizard
was a skilled auror. He didn’t need legilimency to read her. Her pulse vibrated in her throat, still too
afraid to look up.

“I won’t ask again.”

Ask. She was reasonably sure that he didn’t ask the first time, either. Merlin, that tone was
addictive. Draco always had a level of authority and command in his voice. He had to. But this was
something completely different, unyielding. Every cell in her body reacted to it, but none more than
her cunt, which throbbed desperately. Her head stayed perfectly still while her gaze fluttered
through her lashes, coupling with his.

Godric, the once grey eyes had blown black and scorched her soul when they looked at her. A
single strand of silver hair fell out of place that he didn’t bother to sweep back; his fingers squeezed
in a bruising grip on her thighs. He leaned in, his nose brushed against her cheek, his lips close but
not touching.

“Strip, little witch.”

A moan died on her lips while pure heat polled in her knickers. Theo had warned her or more
promised her that something like this awaited her when she left before Draco came home. As if
acting of their own accord, her hands heeded his command, settling on the hem of her blouse.
Draco leaned back on his haunches, his thumb rubbed over his lip, enamored by the sight before
him.

The blouse was discarded when she moved to her jeans, unbuttoning them before gliding the zipper
down. With them in a pile with her top, her fingers moved to the clasp of her bra.

“Wait,” Draco threw his hand up.

“Gods, you are bossy,” she huffed.

A smirked curled on the corner of Draco’s lip. Silently, he slid his glasses off, shuttering the
temples closed before setting them down on the coffee table. He stood, and a dangerous glare
loomed over her. An uneasy panic settled over her as her heart beat in her throat. He encased both
her wrists in one hand. The other scooped her up as he effortlessly slung her over his shoulder. Her
torso dangled against his back when a slightly painful slap landed on her bare arse, making her
shriek.

“Draco,” she hissed.

Expertly, he led them to her bedroom. Having only been in her flat a handful of times before, she
hadn’t expected him to remember where it was. He ignored her feeble swats on his back, along
with her admonishments at being manhandled. When they arrived in her room, he tossed her on the
bed.

Fully clothed, he stood at the edge of the bed while Hermione was down to her underthings. The
stern predatory glare he had trained on her softened when his arms dropped from his chest where
they had been perched.

“I prefer to be in control in the bedroom.”

“Obviously,” she snickered. Catching his knitted brow, she continued. “Are you a Dom Draco? Is
that what you’re telling me?”

It wasn’t headline news or anything; anyone who was paying any attention could tell Draco liked to
be in control and that extending to the bedroom was expected.

“No…...yes. It’s nothing really as formal as that,” he shook his head. “Theo and I have been with
each other on and off for years. So, we ebb and flow out of it so easily that I neglected to realize
that I shouldn’t just jump into it with you. We are learning each other; I want to ensure you’re
comfortable.”

There was an apologetic look about him like he had just been scolded by Narcissa herself. Rarely
did she see him like this, maybe a handful of times ever since the war. She appreciated his candor
and the willingness to stop and have the conversation, but wholly, it was unnecessary.

“Draco,” she propped herself up on her elbows. “I will tell you if you ever do something I don’t
like,” her eyes hooded. “Everything so far tonight, I have liked.” She rocked forward and perched
up on her knees to get closer to eye level. Her hand wrapped around his tie and tugged, an
expectant gleam in her eye. “Are you going to come shag me properly, or do I need to go and fetch
Theo.”

“Bloody brat,” he hissed, his hands gripping at her hips.

“What are you going to do about it?” she taunted.

“I should spank you raw,” her eyes widened. “But not tonight. I plan to savor you while you take
everything I give you like a good little witch.”

His knees planted onto the bed, on either side of her hips. Hermione arched back to accommodate
his frame now looming over her. The grip on his tie faltered as her hands dropped to the sides. He
loosened the knot with one hand while the other laid flat next to her head, his gaze never leaving
hers. The tie slipped from his collar when he took her wrists and bound them together before
charming them to the headboard with a sticking spell.

Her glossed-over eyes watched as he slowly undid the buttons of his oxford, one by one. The front
of the shirt fell open, revealing his pale, chiseled chest decorated with scars. His eyes roamed over
her body, drinking her in while he slipped off the shirt, discarding it without ceremony. He stripped
down to his briefs when Hermione saw the outline of his cock straining the fabric, looking even
larger than Theo’s.

With a silent wave of his hand, her bra and knickers vanished, leaving her bare before him. The
sudden exposure gave her the urge to cover herself, but she was unable to do so. She writhed and
pulled at the restraints but with no luck, not that she had expected any. Draco’s hands traced a soft
trail down the length of her body, exploring her dips and the curves of her waist. He followed the
same path again until he was in her curls, and his lips were on hers.

The kiss burned with unbridled desire, his tongue and his mouth possessing every part of her so
completely. His tongue danced along hers while her hips bucked wantonly into his length, chasing
the barely there friction. Clipped whines were pulled for her with each swirl of his tongue, leaving
her ruined and desperate for whatever he would give her.

His nose brushed against hers when he whispered into her swollen lips. “I’m going to take my time
with you, darling. Only once you’re thoroughly debauched will I let you rest.”

A stifled whimper responded to his words while her core throbbed at his promise, making her
squirm beneath him. A devilish smirk disappeared as he kissed his way down her throat until his
mouth hovered over her pert tits. He blew hot breaths over each pebbled nipple and snickered as
she arched at the feeling. His tongue darted out and flicked the bud, making her cry out and her
head lurch.

“Draco,” she sobbed. “Please.”

“Already begging? We’ve only just begun.” His tongue swirled around the outer ring of her nipple,
not touching it. “You will wait,” he ordered. “Just like you made me wait.”

“Fuck,” she whispered.

If he heard her, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he was content to torture her for as long as possible.
He flicked and rolled one nipple while his mouth worked dangerously close to the other but not
entirely giving in. Hermione was soaked and dripping on the bed, ruining the sheets. Her thighs
were slick with need. When he finally showed her mercy and closed his mouth around the pebbled
nub, she thought she might come right there, stars dancing behind her eyes. Her body shook as he
sucked and nipped on her, tears stinging her eyes. She needed more, more of him.

Warm, wet kisses peppered down to her belly when he paused and looked up. He said nothing and
only offered a sly snicker at her messed features before focusing on her thighs. His thumbs brushed
over the bruises that Theo had left there, still not fully healed.

“Why didn’t you heal these?” His voice was coarse and low.

Her whole body flushed; it didn’t sound like he was angry at her, merely intrigued. Regardless, the
question had Hermione feeling embarrassed, the pink tinge on her skin now proof of it.

“I liked having Theo’s marks on me,” she gnawed on her lip. “I didn’t want them to go away.”

A pleased-sounding groan rumbled low in Draco’s throat as he admired Theo’s work, the pad of his
fingers brushing over each purple bloom. “They’re beautiful, darling,” he hummed. “You’re
beautiful,” he paused. “I will add marks of my own. Will you keep them?”

“Yes,” she moaned. “Please, I want that.”

Draco kissed each of the bruises that were left there and then avoided them as he worked on adding
his own to her pink, swollen skin. His tongue lathed over the fresh bites he made, soothing the spot
before nipping down again, making her cry out. It was the perfect limbo between pain and pleasure,
and each bite sent a pulse straight to her cunt. It fluttered and clenched around nothing, frantically
searching for any relief.

Whether he attempted to outdo Theo or not didn’t matter; she needed to be filled and wouldn’t last
much longer without him inside of her.
“Fuck me, please,” she begged.

“You are so pretty when you beg, darling. But no, not yet. I’m going to taste you first.”

Undisturbed by her incoherent pleas, Draco nestled between her legs, breathing in the scent of her
arousal. A finger swiped through her folds, making her hips jerk at the contact. Everything was
sensitive and heightened.

“You are soaked,” easily one finger slipped in. Her whole body contorted at the welcomed intrusion
between her legs. He held inside her for a long pause, letting her cunt flutter and plead around the
digit. Carefully, he slipped it out, and returned with a second finger giving her the feeling of the
most delicious fullness and stretch she could imagine.

Quickly, she was reaching her peak, having been on the precipice of shattering for what felt like
hours. He slowed his thrusts, letting her body level out, making her legs quake uncontrollably.
Tears slipped from her eyes when cries mixed with moans and pleas from her lips, begging for
release.

“Hush, darling. Soon.”

The cooing of his command put her mind at ease while her body was in utter chaos, flush with
sensations and needs. When his tongue and lips found her clit, she pulled so hard at the restraints
that there were sure to be bruising. He sucked and licked with steady pressure that met in time with
the thrusts of his fingers. He curled in and tapped rhythmically on the inner wall just behind the
ministrations on her clit, making her scream. This was it; she was going to die in a sea of stars and
pleasure.

“Be a good girl and come for me.”

Shooting stars exploded behind her eyes at his words, her body plummeting. She must have
blacked out because she didn’t remember him removing the charm or the tie around her wrists.
Only now that she watched him kiss and rub the tender spots did she realize he had returned the use
of her hands. Never once had she passed out like that before. The only remnants of her orgasm
were the soaked spot beneath her core and the numbness of her body. Draco brushed the wet curls
off her face and pressed a tender kiss to her temple.

“Welcome back,” he whispered. “Are you alright?”

She nodded weakly. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“Would you like a bath, or we can settle into bed if you prefer?”

“But I haven’t even seen it yet,” she whined. “Draco, I want to feel you inside of me, please.”

“Darling, you passed out. There will be plenty of time for that. You should rest.”

“Please,” she persisted. “I want to be yours completely,” a mumbled fuck echoed out. “Afterwards,
you can bathe me or put me to bed, whatever you want. Please,” she breathed.

Draco moved her spent body back on the bed, resting her head on the pillows. With a snap of his
wrist, his briefs vanished, leaving him bare before her and painfully hard. There was no way he was
going to leave himself like that. His girth resembled Theo’s, but he was much longer, so long it
concerned her it wouldn’t fit. Fingers curled softly into her thighs, spreading her open as he settled
between her legs.

As if understanding her fear, he reassured her. “We’ll take it slow, don’t worry, it will fit. I won’t
hurt you,” he lazily stroked his length, resting the tip at her entrance. “Deep, steady breaths for me,
darling. Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

He waited for her acknowledgment before he inched the head of his cock inside her. Her cunt was
drenched and stretched from his previous ministrations making the feeling easy. Lewd noises
emanated between them as he dipped further into her. Only when he was about halfway did she
start to feel the stretch of her cunt accommodating his cock.

“Oh Gods,” she moaned once he was fully seated in her.

“So tight and perfect,” he groaned, leaning down over her.

Heat radiated between their bodies. Sweat dripped down Draco’s chest onto her collarbone, his
thrusts slow and paced, unhurried. His fingers brushed her hair, his mouth finding hers in a soft
embrace of tongues and lips. Moans and sighs passed between them as his pace didn’t falter in a
languid pursuit to claim another orgasm from her.

A slow, deep burn grew inside her, pulsing out to her abdomen. It wasn’t as hurried and frantic as
before. Hermione threw her arms over his neck, holding him close, her fingers brushed through his
hair. They knotted the strands, seeking purchase as she reached her peak around him. The slow
burn was ready to explode. Her cunt fluttered and ached desperately as the string inside her was
about to snap.

“That’s it, my little witch. You are taking me so well, come on my cock.”

A kiss from Draco died on her cheek as his lips sat there, his thrusts becoming more erratic as his
climax seemed imminent. The raw, powerful force of her orgasm tore through her on the next snap
of his hips. The pleasure rippled through her body in waves, making her quake with each shallow,
heavy breath that pulsed through her lips.

Only as the final aftershock crested did Draco empty himself inside her, painting the inside of her
cunt with ropes of his cum. They stayed like that for a long time, breathing unpredictably and
hoarse. Hermione wiped the beads of sweat off his brow and kissed along the length of his jaw in
her own version of unspoken praise.

“You did such a good job,” he praised. His cock twitched inside her.

Weakly, she smacked his chest. He caught her hand and held it there. “You didn’t do too bad
yourself,” she snickered while he silently shook his head.

Draco brushed a kiss along her knuckles before returning her palm to his chest. Each thud of his
heart grew steadier. Only when he softened did he pull out, their combined release coating the
sheets under her.

“Bath or bed, darling?” he murmured against her brow.

As enticing as a bath with Draco sounded, her body ached, her muscles were sore, and her eyelids
were heavy. Wrapping her wrists around his neck, she urged him to lay down, knowing that only if
 he allowed it would his body follow. Carefully, he collapsed next to her, guiding her head to his
chest while his fingers circled her shoulders.

He kissed the tip of her nose, smiling at her fluttering eyelashes. “Bed, it is beautiful.”

Chapter End Notes

Draco is a bit bossy! A little rude - he seems to think Hermione is the bossy one ;)
 Chapter 10 That Good Huh?
Chapter Notes

OMG - guys, seriously, just so much love for this fic. The little dopamine hit I get with all
your comments and kudos are the best. Work is sooooo stressful right now so seeing all your
excitement is so wonderful.

This chapter is a little bit of plot - if you like squint.....but mostly smut. And the glorious
Dreomione as a triad smut I'm sure you've been waiting for. The Dom Draco fans won't be
disappointed ;)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Feeling her head rolling about, Hermione woke up to a dimly lit room and light from the moon
pouring in through the window.

“Go back to sleep,” Draco’s soft voice cooed. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Draco was upright, back pressed against the headboard, a book held open between his thumb and
hand. At some point, he must have traveled back into the living room to gather his glasses. Dark
circles were more pronounced under his eyes, while wrinkles jutted out from the corners. Her head
laid on his waist, his free hand brushing the length of her curls absentmindedly.

Sitting up, she looked at him, concerned. “Draco, have you slept? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” he mused. “I promise. I have a hard time sleeping; nothing to fret about.”

“I have dreamless sleep,” she made to get up.

“Unnecessary,” he pulled her back into him. “You know, this bed is quite small. I don’t think we’d
be able to fit all three of us in here.”

“Maybe yours is just ridiculously oversized,” she huffed.

“Ah well, plenty of room for me to bed my witch and wizard in it,” he winked. He closed his book
and rested it on the end table. Sliding down, he laid flat next to her, draping her body over his own.
“Let’s go back to sleep. Still, plenty of time before morning,” he kissed her cheek.

The soothing serenity of sleep in Draco’s arms engulfed her when she was jolted awake again. A
blaring alarm pierced her eardrums when the sound screeched from Draco’s illuminated badge on
the table.

“Salazar’s rod,” he hissed, groping around to stifle the infernal noise.

With a chaste kiss, he slipped out of bed and dressed hurriedly, silencing the alarm. Hermione
followed quickly behind him, throwing on whatever she could find, ready to apparate with him.
“No,” he shook his head. “Go back to sleep, my darling witch,” he pulled her close. “Only come if
they call you,” his fingers brushed a curl off her face.

“I’m coming with you,” she hissed.

“Hermione,” his tone dropped. “No. I don’t want you there unless you have to be, please. Things
have gotten more violent, and just please.”

The forlorn look on his face was enough to make her acquiesce to him. Her heart cracked at the
pained look on his face, blended with the building exhaustion that was more than just last night.
She knew he didn’t have time, but she desperately wanted to make him at least a cup of tea before
he left. She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

“Be safe.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “Back to bed,” he encouraged with a light swat on her bum. With her
nestled back in the sheets, he asked a question. “Have I been added to your wards?”

“Yes. Both of you. Wards and floo.”

With a soft smile, he turned on the spot and apparated away.

As expected, there was an article that morning confirming the trio’s relationship. Hermione paid no
mind and hadn’t bothered to read any of it past the headline confirming such. She left a warmed tea
waiting for Draco in his office whenever he could return.

Hermione shuffled around the DMLE with Heath while Isla appeared to be working through the
proper process for mending fractures. Heath was a kind wizard who relocated to London with his
wife and young daughter from Ireland only a few years ago. He was an exceptionally talented
healer and got along remarkably well with everyone.

It was always people like Heath who tended to suffer the most. His daughter battled a blood curse
that kept him and his wife worn down, though it rarely showed. The pair had no time for
friendships or pleasantries outside of work despite her numerous attempts to invite them to Pansy’s
for dinner. To top it all off, the amount of patience the wizard exuded was inhuman. He had been
the best teacher for someone like Isla, not afraid to work through the most basic of spells with her.

Heath sat on a stool, pushing around from side to side while Hermione sorted through a new
delivery of supplies.

“So, Hermione,” he winked. “Two wizards,” she held her breath. “How long before you’re crushed
under the immeasurable weight of their egos,” he snorted.

A relieved exhale puffed out her mouth when she shook her head with a soft smile. This was why
she enjoyed his company so much. Heath found humor in most things and cut through any tension
gracefully, making anyone feel at ease. Whether he knew just how stressed she was or not didn’t
matter. The weight on her shoulders lightened immensely.

“In all seriousness,” he added. “I hope you’re happy, Hermione. Merlin knows you deserve it.”

“I am.”
There was still so much left for them to figure out about each other, to learn. But Hermione was
happy, happier than she had been in a long time. Hermione had to drift back to memories of her
third year at Hogwarts to remember the feelings of bliss that she had now. Heath left to check in on
a patient at St. Mungo’s, leaving Hermione and Isla alone.

Immediately after his departure, the witch plopped down in his vacated seat, eyes narrowed at her.
The weight of her gaze burned into her, and she couldn’t ignore it.

“What do you need, Isla?”

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?” she snipped. Superfluous, Hermione knew what she was referring to.

“Are you dating Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott?”

“Yes,” she snapped in a clipped tone, not bothering to hide her frustration.

“Bit odd, isn’t it,” Isla huffed.

“Care to enlighten me as to what’s odd about my romantic entanglements?”

“Just, I mean, you’re Hermione Granger. Golden Girl. Gryffindor Princess. War Heroine.
Slumming it with a Death Eater.”

If she wasn’t careful, her magic may burst from her like a child. Hermione could feel the way her
magic hummed around her, pulsating with fury at her words. But Isla wasn’t alone in those
thoughts. That was certain. Instead, she tried to redirect the conversation.

“Does it equally bother you that Harry Potter, the Chosen One,” she twitched at the moniker.
“Married Pansy Parkinson, her father, one of the more renowned Death Eaters?”

If Hermione hadn’t known better, she would have thought Isla was confused by her question. A
faint glint of magic flashed near Isla’s hand when she ran her fingers through her hair. The corners
of Isla’s eyes twitched and crinkled before she spoke again.

“While an odd match, Pansy was never a Death Eater. I don’t know much of her story, but she was
tormented by her parents, from what I recall.”

“So, your issue is not with Theo, but solely Draco?”

A quiet nod stared back at her.

“Do you not think Draco was tormented as much, if not more, than Pansy?”

Calmness coursed through her words. Perhaps Isla was misinformed; she had spent most of the war
in France. Far enough away from the central conflict to not understand the intricacies of what was
happening. The witch could be reasoned with.

“He willingly took the mark,” Isla said incredulously.

“If you think under duress and willing are the same thing, you need to read more.”
“He asked for the mark!” Isla snapped. “I’ve read the transcripts.”

“Transcripts are not the same as living through it, you daft witch. There was no choice for him or
any other children who took the mark. They would have been slaughtered if they defied their
parents, or worse yet, Voldemort,” Isla winced at the name. “No,” Hermione spat. “You don’t get to
flinch at his name. If you care to speak on things like this, you will not fear his name!”

Hermione was fuming. Sparks of magic skited across his skin; the hairs on her arms standing at
attention. Her breathing was labored like she had just run a marathon.

“Love.”

Theo. The richness and warmth of his voice washed through her like a calming draught, bringing
her back from the brink of whatever it was she was teetering on. Soft, inviting eyes waited for her;
his robes draped handsomely over his shoulders. His embrace was on her instantly, holding her
tight against him.

Ignoring Isla, Theo kissed her. It was safe and inviting, the swell of his lips crashing into hers. With
a parting press, he looked back at her, brushing her braid over her shoulder – the pad of his thumb
caressed the hinge of her jaw.

“It’s nearly lunchtime. Takeaway in your office?”

She nodded and threaded her fingers with his, not sparing another glance toward the other witch.
They walked in comfortable silence until they were behind a closed door.

“The world judges Draco too harshly,” she sighed.

It had been years, and it was still like nothing had changed. Nothing seemed to matter. No matter
how many charities he sponsored, how much money he donated, or how decorated he was as an
auror. Nothing would supersede his title as Death Eater. Theo pulled her into his lap, cradling her in
his chest.

“It doesn’t get better, does it?”

“I think you’ll find at work, it will. And the Prophet will eventually get bored and move on. But the
silent stares of judgment from strangers will continue to linger.”

They ate in relative silence, never straying from their position, huddled close together. Hermione
was thankful for the time away from everyone else, wrapped in the comfort of his embrace. With
the food finished, Theo tossed the empty container on the desk.

“Now,” he grinned wickedly. “About those cliff notes from last night,” he winked. “I’ve been dying
to know and haven’t seen Drake all morning. So, spill love. How was it?”

“Theo,” she admonished, swatting his chest.

“That good, huh?”

Friday night at Pansy’s became a rather rowdy affair, more so than usual. Britain had just
announced their World Cup team for the following year, and Ginny was selected as a Chaser. Plenty
of praise and congratulations went around, along with a steady supply of whiskey and wine.
It was a far cry from the last dinner they had as a group - the one where Hermione not so secretly
ogled Draco and Theo. Contentedly, Hermione was nuzzled on the sofa between the pair of them.
They had barely had time together, all three of them in the last couple of weeks, and it was pure
bliss. Draco’s arm was slung casually over her shoulder while Theo rubbed her leg softly.

Harry and Draco were lost in conversation about the case, both looking on the brink of exhaustion.
It was somewhat comforting to know that it wasn’t just Draco getting worn down. A few scattered
words that sounded like blood, torture, and disfigurement were enough to curdle Hermione’s
stomach.

“Maybe,” her fingers twirled in Draco’s hair. “We don’t talk about work tonight.”

“Sorry, darling,” he kissed her cheek.

When the conversation switched from murder to quidditch, she hoisted herself and strode towards
the kitchen to find Ginny and Pansy. Theo slid into her vacated spot, curled against Draco’s torso.
Her chest tightened at the sight, and it almost pulled her back when she heard Pansy call out to her.

In the kitchen, Ginny and Pansy were huddled around the island, picking at a treacle tart. Ginny
stabbed her fork into the tin and dragged the dessert closer to her while she polished it off with a
smug grin.

“Practices taking it out of you, Gin?” Hermione chuckled.

“Conditioning is the worst. I’m always hungry. Blaise told me I was munching on pumpkin pasties
in my sleep the other night.”

Clearly, Blaise had been telling the truth because she was rummaging through Pansy’s icebox
before she placed a tin of biscuits out on the counter. Hermione and Pansy broke into a fit of
laughter that earned them a sneer from the fiery redhead. However, it did nothing to quell her
appetite. Hermione cautiously swiped a biscuit out from under Ginny, hoping she wouldn’t pounce
on her like a lion would its prey.

“Now that we are all thoroughly aware of my insatiable eating habits, let’s get down to business,”
she popped the last bite. “How are things going? I’m guessing well, if that cozy cuddle on the sofa
was any indication,” she lifted a brow with a smirk.

“Something like that,” Hermione mumbled, chewing on a biscuit.

“Not a chance in hell, Granger,” Pansy snapped. “I’ve been waiting forever. I want details,” a
manicured finger trailed her lip. “Positions,” she laughed. “Harry and I are particularly fond of
dog…...”

“Sweet Merlin, my ears,” Ginny shrieked. She wasn’t put off by Pansy’s well, openness. More
spurn on by it. “Really? He wasn’t the biggest fan of that last I remembered,” she snorted,
rummaging around in the cabinets.

The most devious little smirk curled on the corner of Pansy’s mouth. “It’s his favorite now.”

“I don’t even want to know why,” Ginny shook her head. “Spill it, Hermione. Who’s got the bigger
wand, Theo or Draco.”
Nonplussed by the question, Hermione choked on her wine while Pansy looked smugly at her, and
Ginny smirked. Once the pain in her throat ebbed, she rolled her eyes and dropped her shoulders.

“Draco,” Hermione and Pansy said simultaneously.

Ginny chucked a biscuit at Pansy that she blocked with a flick of her wrist. Hermione gaped at her;
something between shock and awe bloomed in her chest.

“Close your mouth, Granger,” she snorted. “It’s far more boring than the two of you think. You
know how wizards are, teenage ones at that. I had the unfortunate displeasure one evening of
strolling out to the common room to find them comparing wands,” she rolled her eyes. “With that
said, though,” she arched a raven brow. “If we add Blaise to the mix, he and Draco are evenly
matched.”

A triumphant smirk beamed on Ginny’s face. “And that de facto makes me the winner,” she
waggled her brows.

“Wait,” Hermione paused, looking back and forth between Ginny and Pansy. “I’m going to regret
this,” she sucked in her lip. “What about Harry?”

Both witches went wide-eyed and shared a knowing look that immediately made Hermione
uncomfortable and warranted apparating away instantly.

“Harry,” they both said. “That wizard is built like a bloody dragon,” Pansy reminisced.

“Dear Merlin, Pans, please,” Hermione pleaded.

“Good Godric,” Harry shouted, walking into the kitchen. “I need to scourgify my brain of this
entire conversation. Is this really what the three of you talk about?”

Hermione couldn’t even look at Harry now. Why she insisted on asking such a question was
beyond her. He had always been like a brother to her, and now she wanted to avada herself to get
away from the uncomfortableness of the conversation; it couldn’t get any bloody worse.

“What are you shouting about, Potter?” Draco asked.

“Merlin, kill me,” Hermione muttered.

It could get worse. Draco and Theo chose that exact moment to relocate to the kitchen. Draco
clapped Harry on the shoulder while Theo curled around her back, ensnaring her waist in his arms.
Harry was a shite occlumens and an even more useless legilimens, but she was holding out hope
that he could understand the silent message she tried to convey to him with her eyes.

“These three have been in here comparing whose wand is larger.”

Draco arched a brow at Hermione while his thumb and forefinger trailed along his jawline. She
tried to sink to the ground, but Theo held her firm against his chest despite her attempts to wiggle
free. Harry waved his hand in an exasperated plea as Pansy followed him out of the room only after
flashing a wink in Hermione’s direction.

Arm in arm, Ginny and Blaise wandered back into the living room. The curl of a smirk on Theo’s
lip ghosted across her cheek while Draco leveled an inquisitive stare at her.
“So, who won?” Draco asked confidently.

Hermione snorted, knowing she was about to deflate his ego a peg or two. “Harry.”

“Oi,” Theo huffed. “You’ve seen Potter’s cock?”

“Gods no,” she turned in his grasp to face him. “Harry is like a brother. I prefer to assume he’s a
non-sexual being. But Pansy has apparently seen everyone’s, so there’s that.”

“I’m bloody second behind Potter,” Draco balked.

“Tied for second,” Hermione corrected smugly.

After enough time was spent healing Draco’s bruised ego, the trio returned to the living room.
Blaise leaned against the mantle, Ginny tucked between his outstretched legs. Harry was collapsed
in an overstuffed armchair by the fireplace with Pansy perched on the armrest next to him, playing
with tendrils of hair on the nape of his neck.

Draco laced his fingers through Hermione’s and steered them towards the sofa. He sat down on the
edge and pulled her into his lap. Theo scooted up next to them, his head resting on Draco’s
shoulder, Hermione’s feet in his lap. Being around their friends made Hermione feel the most
relaxed she had been in weeks. She found herself lulled into a sleepy haze against Draco’s chest,
his fingers coasting down the length of her arm in featherlight touches. Theo mirrored the
movements along her calf.

“I’m so happy you three found each other,” Pansy said in a rare showing of affection.

Not knowing how to respond, Hermione remained quiet, scarlet painting her cheeks.

“Me too, Pans,” Draco said softly. “Ready to go home?” he whispered, just loud enough for her and
Theo to hear. She nodded agreeably into his chest, tugging at the collar of his shirt – almost like a
small child.

“I think we’re going to head out; we’re all a bit tired from the week. Thank you for dinner; it was
delicious.”

Gently, Theo scooted her feet off his lap, rocked up and said his goodbyes to the group. Hermione
was still wrapped up in Draco’s lap, content to stay there, breathing in the smell of whiskey and
apples.

“Darling,” he whispered. “Are you going to get up, or are you content to cling to me like a niffler?
If you want to stay, I won’t complain and will carry you through the floo,” he cooed sweetly, his
thumb rubbing her temple.

Regrettably, she slid off only after kissing him. She wasn’t quite ready to be carried off like some
child in front of their friends, not while she was perfectly capable of moving herself. Hermione
wasn’t even particularly tired. The ease that enveloped her when she was with them was
indescribable, and it only seemed more powerful when all three of them were together. Once they
were back at the wizard’s flat, Hermione immediately cuddled up on the sofa and pulled a throw
blanket over her knees.
“Tired, love? We can go to bed.”

“No, just content,” she smiled. “Will you two join me?”

“You needn’t even ask,” Theo smirked.

The fire hummed to life at the flick of Theo’s wand before he tossed it on the coffee table. He
tucked in behind Hermione, nestling her in between his legs and pulling her back to his chest. The
elastic fell out of her hair while he stroked the soft curls. Draco joined them with wine, passing a
glass to each before sliding in under their feet, allowing both sets to rest on his lap.

“I believe the original plan for this evening was to discuss how we wanted to handle our
relationship publicly,” Draco started.

“Theo,” Hermione started. “I’m so sorry, Rita….”

“Enough, love,” he interrupted. “I’m not upset; quite the opposite. I know this isn’t exactly what we
wanted, but I don’t want to hide our relationship.”

Staying eerily quiet, Draco sipped the chilled wine, lost in the vision of the flames dancing around
the mantle. Hermione watched as he plucked his glasses and discarded them on the table before his
fingers rubbed outwards over his eyes.

“What’s wrong, Draco?” she leaned forward to be closer to him.

With the wine drained, he discarded the glass on the table and turned to face them both, cupping
her cheeks in his hands.

“I want nothing more than everyone in this world to know you are ours,” his eyes were heavy.
“Someone is killing the loved ones of Death Eater’s. Before, I had Theo to worry about,” he
glanced at the brunette behind her. “But now I have you too, now that everyone knows,” he sighed.
“I don’t want you to get hurt, either of you.”

In public, Draco was everything he appeared to be. The unbothered persona that most knew him by.
The intimidating figure that stalked around the DMLE with the highest closure rate. The unrivaled
duelist with a calculating lethality that left some uneasy and others impressed. Draco Malfoy did
not falter in public. His cool indifference emanated off him effortlessly. Only in the presence of his
trusted group of friends did the mask drop, but never fully.

But here, right now, Draco Malfoy was showing vulnerability. Something that Hermione had never
seen from the wizard. Concern was etched plainly on the lines of his face. There was no doubt that
he was the best auror to oversee the case, but the professional and profoundly personal toll of it
weighed heavily on his shoulders. And now, he was offering a small glimpse at what troubled him.

“Is this why you haven’t been sleeping well, Draco?”

“Partly, but I’ve never slept well, ask Theo,” he snorted. “I want to lock you both up in this flat and
never let you leave until we catch this witch or wizard.”

“We’re safe, Draco,” she guided his head towards her chest. “The whole of the DMLE surrounds
us. Someone would be foolish to attack us there. And when we’re not there most of the time, we’re
with you,” he visibly relaxed in her arms. “Remind me when we go to bed to give you melatonin.
It’s a muggle sleep aid,” she added, catching his confused grimace.

Nothing she said would assuage his fear. The only thing that would bring him peace was the person
being caught and the threat dissolved.

The duality that she noted in Theo was shrouded in darkness. Theo carried something ominous with
him, something that he buried behind his broad smiles and warm eyes. While society was content
to let him be the jovial son of a Death Eater, there was a gloom that bubbled just below the surface
that he refused to let anyone see.

If Theo was hidden in darkness, one could say that Draco was hidden in light. To everyone, he was
cold, detached, a Death Eater. While he had made strides in the public eye, he never opened himself
enough to show his true self. No one knew of his kindness and empathy, save the one wizard with
them, and perhaps he would now let Hermione see it as well.

Theo feared people would know his demons; Draco was afraid to show he had slain them.

Draco stayed pressed against her chest while she lay against Theo’s. She half expected him to
protest with the combined weight of her and Draco on him, but he said nothing of the sort. Instead,
he brushed soothing strokes through her curls and Draco’s, content to lay in the quiet with them
with only the sound of the cackling fire.

“Did Hermione tell you, Drake? She almost made that healer trainee cry again,” Theo snorted.

Made Isla cry that one time, and now it was a bloody thing. Although, she appreciated Theo’s
attempt to steer the conversation into lighter waters. Being sandwiched between the two wizards
was equal parts comforting and uncomfortable. The sofa was small, and neither was tiny; limbs
were squished in awkward positions.

“She didn’t cry. I was merely educating her,” Hermione huffed. “Draco,” she shoved him off her. “I
adore you, truly, but you’re bloody heavy.”

Soft laughter floated around them when Draco leaned back while Hermione inhaled an unnecessary
amount of air when she could fully inflate her lungs again. A discerning blond brow arched at her
when Draco sat back on his haunches.

“Also, Theo, I think Hermione neglected to tell either of us about her terse quarrel with that prat,
Price from MACUSA.”

“Shite,” she mumbled.

Why couldn’t Harry keep that mouth of his shut? It wasn’t on purpose; he most likely was having a
catch-up with Draco and assumed that she had told him. Enough time must have passed that
allowed Draco to quell his normal anger; his shoulders and face were relaxed.

“Make friends everywhere you go?” Theo chuckled.

“I, for one, am disappointed that you hexed me and not him,” Draco chastised.

Hermione chucked a throw pillow at him. Effortlessly, he dodged it with a slight lean to the side,
but his eyes turned predatory. Eyelids dropped, hiding the grey behind them while a smirk curled at
the corners of his mouth, not quite touching his eyes. His hands pressed into the cushions, looming
over her as she tried to burrow into Theo’s chest, frantic for a place to hide.

“A declaration of war, is it?” His face hovered dangerously close to hers. But his gaze was focused
on Theo behind her. “I’ll have you know, I’m notoriously difficult to subdue.”

“So am I,” she thrust her jaw at him.

“That I don’t doubt, little witch,” he stood up. He nodded curtly towards Theo. “We’ll see who
gives in first, shall we?”

Threat laced with promise had her insides vibrating. Theo had stood up as well but bent down and
hauled her into his arms, holding her close when the sudden tug of apparition surprised her, leaving
her dizzy for just a moment. The two reappeared in the main bedroom with the ridiculously
oversized bed, but no Draco.

Once Theo placed her back on solid ground, she was unsteady on her feet for a second. She nibbled
on her lip at the sudden implications for the rest of the evening. The swell of excitement eclipsed
the anxiety that lingered in the pit of her stomach. She had been with each of them, but this would
be the first time for all of them together.

The soft thud of footsteps warned of Draco’s approach; he walked over the threshold and shared a
confident smile with them. The rapid thumping of her heart couldn’t keep up with the whirring in
her mind; she thought she might pass out. What was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to
watch Draco and Theo together, touch herself while they did? What if someone felt left out? Where
were her hands supposed to go? Why was she feeling like a bloody sixth year all over again with all
this confusion about sex? Merlin, this was more complicated than she initially thought.

“Granger,” Draco folded his arms. “I’m not even trying to listen, and I can hear your thoughts,” he
cupped her cheek. “Relax, darling. Just focus on being present; we’ll take care of the rest. Can you
do that?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good,” he nodded toward Theo as he disappeared into the attached bathroom.

“Hi, love,” Theo hummed as he kissed softly along her neck.

“Hi,” she snickered.

The tip of his nose trailed behind the back of her ear as he brushed her hair over her other shoulder,
exposing the column of her throat. Theo dotted soft, sloppy kisses over the hinge of her jaw and
down to the edge of her clavicle.

Quiet, pleased hums followed the trail of his tongue as she relaxed further into him. Her back
molded into his chest as his fingers explored the dips of her figure. His featherlight touches,
combined with the lazy kisses on her throat, had her floating, adrift in a sea of satisfaction.

“You make the most beautiful little noises,” Theo purred, sending a tingle through her body.

Lost in Theo, she hadn’t realized that Draco was in front of her until his fingers rested under her
chin, tilting her head back until their eyes met. “That’s much better now, darling.” Undeterred by
Theo, Draco leaned in, his mouth possessing hers. The soft caresses on her throat had her feeling
free while the powerful command of Draco’s kiss left her breathless and desperate for more.

Simultaneously, they both pulled away from her, causing her to blink in rapid succession to
ascertain what was happening around her. Draco had tugged Theo away by the nape of his curls,
pulling a playful smile from him. Draco controlled their kiss, much as he had with hers, only with
Theo he was more aggressive, biting in earnest while Theo moaned into him.

Hermione found herself moaning in tandem with Theo, watching the way he relented into Draco’s
touch. Her hands roamed over her body, and she got angry when they landed on her breasts to find
they were still clothed. She pawed at the hem of her shirt, ripping it off quickly, exposing her lace
bra. The corner of Draco’s gaze drifted to her when she saw the ghost of a smirk on his lips when
he pulled away from the brunette. He had left Theo a mess; the wizard was panting while his cock
strained desperately against his trousers.

Not that Hermione was much better; they weren’t even touching her, and she was stripping and
touching herself, just watching the two of them kiss. Granted, she had yet to see them kiss like that.

“Do you like that?” Draco whispered. “Watching us together?” Before she could answer, Draco
extended a hand towards her. “Come here.”

A whimper followed her as she took his hand and settled beside him, Theo in front of them both.

“Theodore,” he stroked the other wizard’s jaw. “Show Hermione how to suck my cock.”

Hazel eyes glossed over; Hermione watched as Theo sank to his knees in front of them without a
word. There was a tiny squeak that stuck low in her throat at the scene before her. Draco snaked an
arm around her bare waist while his free hand brushed Theo’s hair adoringly.

Practiced hands slipped down his trousers and briefs and once pooled on the ground, Draco kicked
them away. His cock was hard and resting against his abdomen. His thumb drew small circles on
the exposed skin of Hermione’s side while his gaze burned only for the wizard on his knees. Needy
pants from her mixed with Theo’s muffled moans as he took Draco’s cock in his mouth. Hermione
was in awe as he swallowed the entire length without gagging; tears pricked his eyes, tears that he
blinked back.

“That’s my wizard,” Draco cooed, fisting Theo’s hair.

A smile curved along the corners of his mouth at the praise. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked
back and forth while his hands dug into the backs of Draco’s thighs. Throaty groans rumbled loose
in Draco’s throat when he tossed his head back as Theo increased his speed. Hermione’s hand
dipped under the lace of her bra at the sight, rolling and flicking the pebbled bud, pulling soft
moans from her chest.

Draco tutted her. “Pay attention, darling,” the low utterance of his command stilling her.

Her fingers flexed at her sides, acutely aware of the tight coil deep in her belly. The control on
Draco’s face started to fracture when he stopped Theo’s advances with a tug of his hair. He helped
him to his feet and pulled him in for a deep, bruising kiss that made Hermione weak. With his
mouth still hovering over Theo’s, he tossed a sideways glance towards her.
“Hermione,” his eyes narrowed. “Show me what a good student you are.”

The blacks in her eyes blew wide at the implication, knowing precisely what Draco was directing.
Theo’s face was burrowed in the crook of Draco’s neck while he brushed the shell of his ear with
his thumb. His gaze was now focused solely on her, assessing her- challenging her.

The urge to argue with him was quickly eclipsed by the need between her legs and the desire to
taste him. Without breaking eye contact with him, she sank to her knees, her hands kneading his
sculpted thighs, like Theo had- she was a quick learner. A sudden breeze over her flushed skin
made her shudder. Draco had vanished the remainder of her clothes, leaving her bare before them.
On instinct, she covered herself.

“None of that,” Draco whispered, crouching, and pulling her hands to his chest. “Never hide from
us, Hermione. You are perfect. Do you understand me?”

The crimson on her cheeks burned under his intense gaze when she nodded.

“Words, darling.”

“Yes. I understand,” she murmured, curling her palms around the backs of his thighs.

Draco kissed her forehead, returning to his full height – trailing soft touches down the side of
Theo’s arm. “Care to watch our witch, Theo?”

Mischievous glee sparkled in his smile while he watched Hermione’s tongue lathed over the vein
that traveled the length of Draco’s cock. With his composure regained Draco watched, enamored by
her ministrations. Her lips closed around his head, her tongue flicking along the shaft. She
hollowed her cheeks and worked him towards the back of her throat. She struggled more than Theo
had, gagging and unable to take all of him, pausing when only about halfway.

“Breath, darling,” he soothed. He bent down and stroked her cheek before gathering her hair in his
other hand. “You can take it.” He slowly guided her lower, stopping periodically to allow her to
adjust to the feeling in her throat. Tears dried along her cheeks once she was pressed into his pelvis,
breathing fully through her nose.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned, struggling to hold himself together.

Tentatively, Hermione moved back and forth, alternating between shallow and deep, her tongue
following the trail of her mouth. His cock twitched more frantically with each pass as her nails dug
into his alabaster skin.

“Fucking fuck,” he hissed. “That’s enough. I’m going to be embarrassed if you don’t stop.”

He helped her up, just as he had Theo, wiping the streaks of tears away. He cradled her jaw in his
hand, biting her lips in a claiming kiss. Her face felt so small in his hands, they almost consumed
her.

“Lay on the bed,” he tilted his head in that direction.

Thick, down blankets cradled Hermione when she settled in the middle of their abnormally large
bed. Propped up with the palms of her hands pressed into the mattress, she watched her two
wizards disrobe each other with reverence and passion. Theo slid his hands under the shoulders of
Draco’s oxford, causing it to fall to the ground.

Still fully clothed, Draco traced a similar trail under Theo’s shirt until it lay on the ground with his.
Her thighs rubbed together, seeking friction as she watched Draco sink to his knees while removing
the other wizard’s trousers. He peppered kisses down his legs and watched as Theo’s throbbing
cock sprung free. Red and hard and dripping.

As he stood back up, Draco gripped Theo’s cock and stroked it thoroughly as he devolved around
him, begging for more.

“Drake, please,” he sobbed, fingers clinging to his shoulders.

The soft pleading in Theo’s voice had her soaking the blankets. Both naked and perfect in front of
her. Their bodies were each decorated with their own scars, no less attractive. Draco was taller and
broader than Theo. But both were toned and looked like they were crafted by the Gods themselves.

“Take care of our witch, and I’ll take care of you,” he whispered loud enough for Hermione to hear.

At the same time, both Hermione and Theo moaned. Her fingers lightly traced through her folds,
slick and swollen- her eyes begging for someone to touch her.

“Impatient, isn’t she?” Theo chuckled; both sets of eyes on her.

She didn’t even care that they talked about her like she wasn’t there. Aware that they were watching
her, Hermione dipped a single finger in and bucked, dropping her back flat on the bed. For the
longest time, her own fingers had been fine. But now – after having each of them, it wasn’t enough.
Too small, she couldn’t reach the spots they could. She couldn’t stretch herself like they could. A
frustrated sob broke in her chest.

The weight around her shifted, and her eyes fluttered open to see Theo kneeling between her legs.
His eyes glazed over, seeing the mix of old and new bruises still healing on her thighs from both
him and Draco. His fingers skated over the marks before he closed around her wrist, urging her to
stop her own feeble attempts.

His voice dropped an octave. “Allow me.” He brought her fingers to his lips and sucked them clean
with a satisfying pop. “Delicious. I’m going to take such good care of you, love.” Hermione
whimpered, cantering her hips toward him.

Gently, he spread her open, staying propped up on his knees. He licked a long stripe over her cunt,
moaning at the taste of her. Slowly, he lapped at her when she saw Draco behind him. They locked
eyes as Draco muttered a lubrication charm that made Theo keen between her legs. It was almost
too much; she didn’t know where to look. Theo dipped a finger into her while his mouth sucked on
her clit, making her eyes roll back. Draco was taking his time, preparing Theo, adding a second
finger, and scissoring inside of him, making the wizard nearly collapse on the bed.

Draco banded an arm around Theo’s waist to help support him. Hermione had gotten lost in the
sensations between her legs; the noises that Theo was making pulsed all over her. It heightened the
building pleasure that was reaching its breaking point. Her head fell back on the bed with a thud,
her eyes squeezed so tightly shut, her fingers clinging to the sheets for purchase as the fiery waves
licked at her.
“Eyes on me, darling,” Draco’s voice was thick like velvet. Her eyes popped open and locked with
his stormy gaze. Not once did he look away while he continued to pump his fingers in and out of
Theo. Her legs started to quake with the orgasm that threatened to tear her apart.

“Is she close?”

“Yes,” Theo hummed, curling his fingers towards the spot that would ruin her.

“Stop.” Theo stilled at his command.

“No,” Hermione sobbed, clenching around nothing as he withdrew his fingers.

Ignoring her pleas, Draco pulled Theo’s face back towards his, locking his lips in a searing kiss.
Slowly, her heart stopped stammering in her chest, though the subtle shake in her legs wouldn’t
abate.

“Gods, she tastes sweeter than Circe herself,” Draco moaned into Theo’s mouth.

Theo crawled off the bed, curling his hands around her knees, and tugged her so far to the edge that
her arse teetered there. Theo palmed his length, stroking it casually when the tip pressed at her
entrance, making her whole body tense in greedy anticipation.

Mercifully, Theo sank into her, filling her in one long thrust. Her back arched while her hips
circled, chasing the feeling of him hitting that perfect spot inside her again. Desperate to claim her
stolen orgasm.

“Fuck, love,” he hissed. “Hold still for a second,” he swatted her thigh.

The lines of his face hardened, and Hermione watched as Draco carefully pumped his cock into
Theo’s arse. Once he was fully seated, Draco’s chin rested on his shoulder.

“Alright there, handsome?” he whispered.

Theo nodded at the question, eyes burning.

“Good,” he fisted Theo’s hair, tilting his head back. “Now give our witch a proper fuck. You don’t
come until she does.”

The flat of his palm connected with Theo’s arse, making both him and Hermione gasp for very
different reasons. His teeth clenched while his nails dug into her hips. But the force sent his cock
straight into that spot just behind her clit.

“Hermione,” her name stuttered over his broken baritone. “When Theo makes you come, I want his
name on your lips but your eyes on me.”

“Merlin,” she moaned. “Yes.”

He pumped into her; she was mesmerized by the sight just over his shoulder of Draco setting a
similar pace. Seeing her wizards like that was almost enough to bring her to the brink. Theo
devolved quickly under Draco’s thrusts. Sweat beaded down his brow, his eyes fluttering in and
out. His hips faltered as they worked against Hermione’s soaked cunt. She bucked her waist up to
meet him thrust for thrust.
 Her mouth fell open as each stroke tapped that spot just right, and the slow burn inside worked to
engulf her in a raging inferno. Somehow Theo managed to keep enough composure to bring his
thumb between them and circle her clit in time with his thrusts.

“Theo, please,” she sobbed, her whole body shaking.

“Fuck,” he hissed.

“Hold it, Theo,” Draco moaned, nipping his ear. “That’s it, be a good witch, and come on his cock,
darling.”

Stars exploded behind her eyes as she shattered around him. Theo’s name was a prayer on her lips
as she tried to focus on Draco, who was unrelentingly snapping his hips into Theo. Contractions
tore through her as her cunt clamped down mercilessly on his cock. Her back arched while her
body shuddered with each aftershock.

“Drake, please. She’s so fucking tight. I need to come.”

“Come for me, Theo,” he whispered, barely holding it together.

The final flutters of her release were extended as Theo pounded into her with renewed vigor before
emptying his cock into her cunt. Her lashes flickered through the tears that pricked the corners of
her eyes, her body spent and drained.

“Look at you two,” Draco hissed, his pace quickening. “So, fucking good, both of you. Both mine,”
he snarled.

“Yours, Drake,” Theo sighed, a hand reaching behind and palming the back of Draco’s neck. “Fill
me, please,” he moaned.

Long fingers dug into Theo’s hips as Draco came with a husky growl. The blond collapsed on
Theo’s back, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses and whispered praises in his wake. Exhaustion
overpowered Hermione, sleep threatening her where she lay. Her body was sticky with sweat, her
thighs coated in their combined release.

She was only vaguely aware of the feeling of someone moving her. It wasn’t until she was nestled
between them that her eyes blinked open. The down comforter was thrown over all of them.
Hermione curled in on Draco’s chest while he ran his fingers through her hair. Theo was pressed
behind her, one hand rubbing her back, the other laced with Draco’s over her hip.

“You did such a good job, Hermione,” Draco praised, kissing her temple. He leant over, kissing
Theo. “You too, handsome.”

There were some murmured words that she couldn’t make out as sleep quickly overtook her.

Chapter End Notes

There is one line I wrote in this chapter that I still think about..........A LOT. Maybe you will
guess it haha!
 Chapter 11 A Warning
Chapter Notes

A fair bit of plot and some story progression in this chapter ;)! Thank you again for all the love
and support of this fic. I logged in today to see it already with over 11k hits. It makes me
happy that you are all enjoying it so much because I loved writing every second of it!!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

There was a loud bang followed by a crashing and shattering noise that jolted Hermione awake,
covered in a cold sweat. It was enough to send her into a flashback if it wasn’t for the strong hands
that curled around her shoulders, tethering her to the present. Her hands searched the mattress
hopelessly for her wand, fear rushing in anew when she realized she had no idea where she left it;
how careless of her.

“Easy, darling. Stay with me, ok?” Draco’s voice was soothing, like warm honey. With a grip still
on her shoulder, he passed her the wand she had been looking for. “It’s a nightmare; he doesn’t
have them often anymore.”

Hermione looked down to see Theo thrashing beside her; the noise she heard was him knocking a
glass off the table. The wand she had been so desperate for now lay discarded next to her on the
mattress when she leaned over Theo. Sweat soaked the blankets beneath him, his brow wet and
sticky. Carefully, she hovered over his writhing body and cupped his face in her hands, stroking the
apples of his cheeks.

What nightmare he was stuck in, she had no idea. But she knew what to do in a situation like this.
And just as Theo had helped her, she would now do the same for him. There was no doubt that
Draco knew precisely what to do for him, but instead of stepping in, he remained pressed close
behind her, rubbing soft circles along her back for reassurance.

Avoiding his errant clawing motions, Hermione leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead,
leaving her lips against his clammy skin.

“Theo, wake up. It’s not real,” she kissed him again. “Come back to me. To Draco.”

Muscles twitched and vibrated around her. And just like she had seen around Draco, there was a
soft mist around Theo, but it was shades of green with flecks of black. When his eyes popped open,
the veil around him disintegrated.

There were no signs of the usual soft hazel in his almond eyes; they were black, fearful, and distant.
Cold hands reached out for her, clamping around the back of her head, pulling her in almost
painfully so. She relented to his force, allowing her head to crash into his until their foreheads
pressed together.

“Hermione?”

A question choked out in a sob of uncertainty.

“Yes, Theo. It’s me, Hermione. You’re safe. In your bed. In the home, you share with Draco.”

“Draco….”

Without fail, Draco moved from behind her and now sat close to Theo, filling his vision. His hands
caressed the curls on his brow, wiping away the sweat. If only people could see this Draco, but no,
the wizard reserved this version of himself to only his wizard, and now his witch as well.

Silently, Theo sat upright, wrapping his arms around Draco’s torso, sniffling softly in his chest.
Hermione rubbed his back in soothing circles while Draco whispered quiet affirmations in his ear
that she could only partially make out. A chorus of chanted, I love you’s, you’re safe, we’re here,
and a smattering of other words and phrases she couldn’t make out.

Once the tears had stopped and his body relaxed, Hermione peppered featherlight kisses down his
back, keeping him focused on the present.

“I have dreamless sleep and calming draughts in my bag,” she mused.

When Theo didn’t respond, she looked up at the blond wizard who still held him fiercely. A slight
nod from him was all she needed. She slipped off the bed and wrapped a throw blanket around her;
still naked, she padded down to the kitchen where her bag was. Snow fell outside the glass
windows in a steady pour. With the two vials in hand, she returned to the bedroom to find Draco
propped up against the headboard and Theo curled against his chest.

He looked so small pressed against Draco like that.

A far-off expression was still on his face; the smile Theo tossed her way was unfeeling and forced.
She scooted under the sheets on the opposite side of Theo, offering him the calming draught first,
followed by the dreamless sleep. Hermione rubbed soothing strokes down his arm and watched as
he drifted back into what was, hopefully, a much more restful sleep.

It was still dark outside as the snow continued to fall, nowhere near morning. Her eyes connected
with Draco’s as she looked down to see the telltale signs of deep sleep in the rise and fall of his
chest.

“Is it always the same?”

For her, it was that day at the Manor, the torture, the pain. Although other memories plagued her
nightmares in the early days, as time wore on, that was the only one that remained. The pain burned
into her as much as the mark on her arm.

“It is,” he paused. “Now.”

She didn’t press any further. Hermione wasn’t under any delusion that Draco didn’t know what
event tortured Theo enough to cause that kind of reaction. It also explained why he had perfectly
talked Hermione through her panic attack that night outside the Leaky Cauldron. All she could do
was hope that someday, he would be comfortable enough to share it with her.

The sound of deep breaths eventually lulled her back into an uneasy sleep, wrapped around Theo’s
back, holding him tight.
Mid-morning arrived, and Hermione was awakened by hushed chatter next to her. It appeared both
her wizards were already awake, trying not to disturb her, when she stretched and mewled next to
them.

“What do you want to do today?” Theo asked sweetly.

Truthfully, Hermione had plans today with Pansy. And Merlin knew she had learned her lesson
about canceling anything with her after the last time. The day would be spent eating, drinking, and
playing dress-up with Hermione, the raven-haired witch’s favorite thing. But if she was being
honest, Hermione enjoyed it as well. But lest they wanted the flat to be stormed by her, Hermione
wouldn’t dawdle.

“I have plans with Pansy,” she whispered. “I’m supposed to meet her at Diagon at noon.”

“Stay,” Theo’s voice dropped. “Please.”

It was hard not to, not after what happened last night or more so earlier this morning. She searched
Draco’s gaze and found nothing; it was blank, possibly to not sway her decision. If she was being
honest, this is where she belonged, though, where she needed to be, and Pansy would understand.

“Let me go make a floo call. I’ll stay.”

Immediate relief was evident on Theo’s face. Still naked, she searched through the sea of discarded
garments. Her knickers were a foregone conclusion; she settled with Theo’s shirt and what she
believed were Draco’s trousers. It wasn’t like Pansy would see what she was wearing anyway.
Stifled snickers followed her out of the room as her wardrobe amused her wizards. She padded
down the hall and stairs before settling in front of the floo and calling out to the Potter’s.

“Granger, if you’re canceling for some Gods awful reason.”

“Pans, I need to stay with Theo today,” she whispered.

“Is something wrong?” her voice softened.

“I just need to be with them,” she added. “Rain check?”

“Of course,” she relented. “Thank you. For. Well. Bugger. I’m not good at this. Whatever, Granger,
we’ll reschedule.”

In the bedroom, Theo and Draco stared wide-eyed at a parchment between them. They shared a
look before looking at Hermione and then back to the parchment before Theo made an animated
showing of hiding behind his back.

“Smooth, Theodore,” Draco huffed, shaking his head.

“Are you going to tell her?”

“Someone has to,” Draco sighed.

“Good luck, Drake.”

Hermione kneeled on the edge of the bed and watched whatever was happening between the two
wizards unfold in front of her. Both brows arched while they continued to talk about her like she
wasn’t there, curious about what they were so reluctant to share with her. She folded her arms
across her chest and stared silently, waiting for one of them to crack.

“You look quite adorable in my shirt, love,” Theo reached for her hand.

“Cut it out, Theodore,” she snipped- something halfway between a laugh and a chastisement.
Draco’s choked-down chuckle had drawn her ire. “You too,” she hissed at him. Draco curled into
Theo in feigned terror that had them both laughing.

“You two are the worst.”

Before she could launch herself off the bed to head to the shower, they both wrapped a hand around
her wrist and tucked her in between them.

“Let go of me,” she hissed, only partially upset.

“I don’t think we will, darling,” Draco said. “We’ve got something we need to tell you.”

“If it’s another riveting article from the Prophet, I’ll pass,” she rolled her eyes.

“Not quite,” Theo stroked her hair. “Do we just tell her or let her read the note?”

“Merlin. I’m right here, Theodore! Give me the blasted parchment.”

Halfheartedly, he handed her the crumpled note. As she unfurled it, she could hear them
collectively holding their breath. Part of her wondered if the letter would spontaneously combust
with how skittish they were both behaving. The elegant script looked familiar, her eyes screaming
when she read the signature.

Draco and Theodore,

I am quite disappointed that I had to find out about your relationship development from The Daily
Prophet as opposed to my own son and the wizard that I have treated as one for years now.

I expect all three of you to be at the Manor next Saturday for tea.

I look forward to getting to know Miss Granger better.

Narcissa Malfoy

Not outwardly reacting, Hermione reread the note at least three more times. Narcissa Malfoy was
one of the few people in this world who was equally terrifying in written communication and in
person. Hermione would almost face off against Voldemort versus spending next weekend being
interrogated by the Malfoy matriarch.

Over the years since the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione had had a few interactions with Draco’s
mother. Pansy was particularly close with the woman, Narcissa, and Harry, developing a sort of
fondness and mutual respect in the wake of what she did to protect him in the forbidden forest.

Based on her message, it appeared she was a mother-like figure to Theo as well. Not surprising,
considering his mother passed away when he was so young, and his father was, well, perhaps even
more cruel than Voldemort. Narcissa had been a beacon for so many of the Death Eater children,
doing what she could to protect and help them both during and after Voldemort’s reign.
Hermione had even been to the manor a handful of times over the last few years, the estate not
holding the fear for her that it once did. It was unrecognizable from how it had once looked, now
bathed in neutrals and muted colors instead of the once gothic, grim motif.

None of that mattered, though; spending time with Narcissa Malfoy as Draco and Theo’s girlfriend
was different. The message even implied that there was sure to be an interrogation awaiting her
once the witch got her alone.

What was supposed to be a day spent relaxing with her wizards turned into the opposite. The day
was spent with them reassuring her and convincing her that everything would be fine the following
weekend. However, they were both shite at fixing their faces to be even remotely believable.

Reluctantly Hermione returned to her flat Sunday afternoon after spending another night at theirs.
Most of Saturday evening, she spent curled up with a book on the terrace. Draco carried her to bed
after she fell asleep outside, and the warming charm had worn off, flurries falling around her. They
had both wanted her to stay Sunday night, noting they could floo to work together in the morning.
But she needed to change her clothes, even though they offered to have Pippa pick her up fresh
ones. The elf she still hadn’t met. She had a feeling Theo was hiding her from Hermione.

Monday meant that Heath was at St. Mungo’s. He had picked up a weekly rotation there to assist
them, seeing as they were short-staffed. After hanging up her outer robes in her office, Hermione
heard Isla knocking on the ajar door.

“Morning,” she said.

“Morning, Isla,” Hermione plucked her coffee off the desk.

“I thought we could walk together to the ward.”

After their tense exchange last week, Hermione was surprised to see the witch waiting for her. But
she was willing to leave well enough alone if she was. They walked through the DMLE, Isla
driving the conversation about her weekend and how she explored Hogsmeade for the first time.

All things considered, she was coming along and had made great improvements. She was at a level
Hermione would expect for someone who had just completed their first year at St. Mungo’s, not
near where a DMLE healer should be. She tried to rationalize with herself why she was so hard on
the witch. Lives hung in the balance, and she told Harry that she still didn’t trust the witch to be in
the field in emergent situations. Luckily, there had only been one such case in the last few months,
which Heath handled, but still.

If Draco were injured and needed a healer, she would not trust the witch. It would be her or Heath.
Based on their last conversation, skill set aside, she wasn’t confident that Isla would perform to the
best of her abilities where Draco was concerned. And that, perhaps, her prejudices would cloud her
judgment.

Hermione observed as Isla practiced a complicated set of stitches. When the door to the ward
creaked open, both looked up to see Theo strolling in, a mug in each hand. Oddly, he bypassed
Hermione and went straight to Isla, who arched a concerned brow.

“Good morning, Healer Cromwell. I brought you a coffee. Black if I remember correctly.”
The witch’s mouth hung open, clearly perplexed when she reached out and closed her fingers
around the offered beverage. He gave her a genuine look before focusing his attention on
Hermione, who wore an equally confused look. One, that he brought the woman who spoke vitriol
about Draco a coffee, but that he also knew how she took it.

“Thank you,” she squeaked out in a delayed hum that solicited a curt nod from Theo.

A heavy arm slung around her as Theo pulled her close, offering her the remaining mug. Eagerly,
she took the caffeine, having already finished her first one. Her stomach gurgled as if it
remembered she hadn’t eaten breakfast either.

“Now see. If you had stayed with us, we would have fed you this morning,” he chuckled, kissing
her temple. “What have you been so busy with this morning that you couldn’t eat.”

Faintly, she inclined her head towards Isla, who was still working on the intricate stitches Hermione
had taught her. “Met with her this morning since Heath is at St. Mungo’s. I barely had time to put
my cloak down before we settled here. I’ve been showing her a whip stitch. It’s complex but
needed to heal most cuts from darker curses,” she sipped. “Why did you bring her a coffee,
considering how she behaved last week? The things she said,” her face fell.

“Enemies closer, love. Slytherin, remember?” he winked. “While it doesn’t always work,
sometimes showing someone like her a small kindness can bridge the divide. And Draco is far too
stubborn to do it, so I’m the next best thing.”

She wasn’t even aware that Theo had guided her back out into the halls of the DMLE, leaving Isla
to work through the stitches on her own. The hand over her shoulder drew small circles around her
collarbone while the other swept her plait out of the way. The ghost of his smile blew hot around
her throat as he pressed chaste kisses in its wake.

“Theo, we’re at work.”

Peaking around the empty halls, Hermione realized they were just about outside her office when
Theo spun her, his hands resting firmly on her hips.

“Come on, love,” his mouth hovered over hers. “Don’t fancy a quick shag on your desk?”

As much as she wanted to protest, her body betrayed her. She was already wet at the thought of
Theo bending her over the desk and doing and saying those dirty things that she loved. Her nails
dug into the collar of his shirt when she did one more cursory glance around before yanking him
through the ajar door to her office.

“Oi,” he huffed, nearly tripping over the threshold. “Handsy little witch,” he smirked.

After giving him a seductive glare, she turned, her coffee falling out of her hand and spilling all
over the floor. Ice ran through her veins as her eyes connected with the item on her desk, freezing
her in place. The room started to spin, her hands and face turning numb. Wholly focused on her,
Theo began to talk her through what he thought was a panic attack; only when she shook her head
did he see it.

On the desk was a vase with a dozen black roses.

At the behest of Theo’s patronus, Draco and Harry were now in her office going over everything,
not overlooking what could be considered the tiniest of details. In shock, Hermione had planted her
back against the wall and slid down until she was a heap on the floor. A blank stare emanated from
her, looking beyond the borders of the room. Her mouth was closed in a thin line, her hands coiled
loosely in her lap. She was vaguely aware of Theo struggling with balancing care for his partners.

Outwardly, Hermione looked to be in a more significant state of chaos. But only someone who had
known Draco Malfoy as long as Theo could see the turmoil below his carefully crafted façade.
Soon, she realized what had Theo so worried: a shell of a wizard looked at her. Draco was
occluding, his empty, listless eyes locking away every emotion – good or bad. It was not something
she would ever get used to seeing. It was unsettling.

With a slightl shove, she urged Theo in his direction, more concerned with him than herself.
Thankfully, Harry came over soon after and plopped down next to her.

“Explain everything that happened this morning,” his voice was steady, a sturdy stone in the
swirling tide. Harry gave her hand a soft squeeze. Draco and Theo had turned their attention to the
conversation only after Draco ensured the door was locked and a silencing charm was up.

“I arrived at the Ministry this morning at 7:30. I came to my office to hang up my cloak and outer
robes. The flowers weren’t here then. I left and Isla and I walked together to the ward for her
training,” she dropped her head in her hands. “I forgot to ward my office when I left, and I was in
such a hurry. I even left the door open.”

“That’s okay, Hermione,” Harry reassured her. “Go on. Tell me about the rest of your morning.”

“I showed her how to do a whip stitch and watched her practice. That was till roundabouts, I don’t
know, ten-ish, I think. Theo came up for a visit and gave both of us a coffee. We walked up to my
office together, and that’s when we saw the roses.”

“That’s a tight timeline,” Draco said, pulling Hermione out of her stupor. “It’s unheard of for
someone to get in and out unseen in such a small window,” Harry nodded thoughtfully.

“Hermione,” Harry turned to her. “It may be obvious, but I’m not allowing you out in the field. Not
until we catch whoever is doing this,” before she could say anything, he spoke again. “Also, I’m
assigning a 24/7 auror detail.”

“Harry, have you gone mental?” Hermione shot up, looming over the wizard. Acting Head of the
DMLE or not, he must have lost his marbles on all fronts.

“First of all, you can’t bench me. Heath isn’t always available, given his daughter’s condition and
the shifts he’s been taking at St. Mungo’s. And you’re barking if you think Isla can handle the field
yet,” Harry opened his mouth to speak when she tore into him anew. “Harry James Potter,” she
hissed. “Do you think I need a protection detail? I am more than capable of handling myself. And if
you have any concerns, I think that my Auror Sergeant boyfriend would be protection enough.
Also, why isn’t Draco getting benched? One of his partners is now a clear target!”

Short, static huffs puffed through her cheeks as she struggled to catch her breath. Arms crossed
over her chest while she glowered at her friend. She could feel Theo’s presence steady beside her, a
soothing hand rubbing over the breadth of her back.
“Draco can’t be with you all the time,” Harry said plainly. “He’s in charge of this case, and there
will be times he’ll be pulled away and can’t be with you at your flat. Hermione,” he pushed his
glasses up. “I know you’re more than capable. But I would never forgive myself if something
happened to you, and I didn’t do everything in my power to prevent it. Furthermore, I would be a
fool to take Draco off; he’s the only person I trust to see this through.”

“Potter.”

Hermione looked at Draco, emotion swirling in his eyes again. The sight made her shoulders
visibly drop.

“While I appreciate the sentiment. I wouldn’t trust anyone protecting Hermione besides myself or
you,” he narrowed his eyes. “Spare me the feelings for the love of Merlin. What if we had
Hermione move in with me and Theo, temporarily, of course,” he added, seeing Hermione’s wide
eyes. “Just until we close this.”

“Not great. But better than nothing,” Harry muttered. “Sounds like a decent compromise.”

“Excuse me,” Hermione stabbed a finger into Harry’s shoulder. “A compromise entails a settlement
of differences by mutual concessions between two parties. And I haven’t agreed to anything.”

Theo’s hands rubbed long, soothing strokes down the length of her arms, not daring to interject into
the conversation. Even though she could tell, he had plenty that he wanted to say.

“Fine,” Harry huffed. “What do you want, Hermione? 24/7 Auror detail or to move in with Draco
and Theo for now?”

“Bollocks,” she huffed.

Now, with the afternoon free, Theo and Hermione returned to their flat while Draco and Harry
continued to work on who or where the roses came from. Thoughts swirled around in her head,
plaguing her incessantly with all the what-ifs. Only after she agreed to Harry’s less-than-ideal
compromise did he send her and Theo home for the rest of the day.

Aimlessly, she walked out of the floo until she found herself standing on the snow-covered terrace,
staring out over the streets of London below. Gods, what was happening? As concerning as finding
the ominous flowers was, Hermione pushed that back further, a subject to dissect for another day or
to ignore completely. She had spent most of her childhood being the target of killers and maniacs;
everyone relished the opportunity to capture ‘Potter’s Mudblood.’ This was no different, and while
she should have been terrified at the prospect of being a target of some serial killer, it paled in
comparison to now living with her boyfriends.

Officially, what had it been a couple of months? Their friendship, of course, had evolved over the
last two years, and their acquaintance since childhood if anyone cared to quantify it. Living
together in the same flat should not have caused her the disquiet it did. She cast a quick warming
charm, the frigid air becoming increasingly noticeable.

Was she supposed to get her things and bring them all here? A very unladylike snort escaped her.
All her clothes overtook their shared space. Since Pansy, Hermione now had far more clothes and
shoes than any witch should. And then, all her books, maybe she would just bring a few, so as not
to overwhelm. Treating it like being a long-term guest as opposed to her home, the thought brought
a little bit of comfort.

Hermione conjured her patronus, content to watch the silvery otter frolic in the snow, chasing the
soft flurries that drifted to the ground. It was like she was imposing on their carefully crafted lives.
Was their room now hers, too? Merlin, what if they didn’t like it when she would stay up late
reading? Maybe it would disturb them.

Arms pressed into the railing, she sighed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Snow fell softly in the
cloudy sky of the afternoon, coating the lampposts and streets below it. Large hands wrapped
around her shoulders before lips pressed to her head. Silently, Theo settled in behind her, not
forcing conversation, content to watch a blanket of white cover the ground with her.

Theo conjured his patronus as well; the fox and otter romping and prancing in the flurries pulled a
contented hum from her as she finally gave in, rolling her head back into his shoulder. His hands
slid down from her shoulders, fingers tracing a spot on her belly before encircling her waist
completely. She knew Theo was waiting for her to speak first, to say something, but she didn’t
know how or what without appearing to be, well, ridiculous.

When she shifted in his arms, he broke the tension. “You’re safe, love. I promise we won’t let
anything happen to you.”

A chuckle rumbled low in her throat. “This is not my first time being the focus of another’s
murderous intent. I’m rather unbothered by the prospect, more annoyed by its ability to cause
upheaval in my life more than anything.”

“Then what has you so distracted?”

“Books,” she sighed.

“Books?”

“And clothes,” she added.

“Book and clothes?” Theo echoed, as if trying to make sense of the words.

“Books and clothes and stuff and all the bloody things,” she huffed. “What do I bring here?” she
whispered. “What stays at my flat?” she nibbled her lip. “I don’t want to intrude.”

A boisterous belly laugh shook her body, being pressed up so close to him. “Only Hermione
Granger would be worried about books when somebody wants to kill her.” He turned her in his
arms, tilting her chin up. “Bring all the things. Clothes, books, furniture, whatever you need to
make this home. You are not simply a guest. If you need more space for your things, use the spare
bedroom,” he pressed his forehead to hers. “Although I must admit, I’ll be disappointed if you
don’t sleep in our bed every night.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“From me, yes. If you wait for Draco, it will be some bossy order,” he snorted.

“So, should we go to my flat and collect my stuff?” her wrists rested behind his neck.

“Why don’t you go rest? I’ll send Pippa to gather your things.”
“Your elf?”

“Yes,” he pulled back, arching a brow. “Hermione, she would be happy to do this. She’s been
desperate to meet you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” he paused. “Come.”

The fox and otter dissipated as Theo took her hand and led her back inside. Once both were settled
on the sofa, he gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze.

“Pippa has been a Nott family elf for centuries,” he started. “Hermione. You must promise me a
few things before I summon her.” Once she nodded, he continued. “Do not try to give her clothes. I
tried to free her after the war, and it almost shattered her. Also, she refers to Draco and me both as
Master. I promise I tried to get her to stop, but it made her unhappy. So please, let it be. Let her help
you. It breaks her heart when she can’t.”

With his hand still resting on her thigh, he summoned the elf. “Pippa.”

A soft crack rang out, and a second later, a beaming elf stood before them. A wide smile stretched
across her mouth, reaching her pointy ears, two little droplets of tears kissing the corners of her
eyes. She wore what almost looked like a pink dress, but after scrutiny, it was a pillowcase that was
sewn in such a way as to look like one.

“Master Theo,” she squeaked. “Is this her?” The little elf bounced almost uncontrollably with glee.

“Yes,” he laughed. “Pippa. This is Hermione Granger,” he smiled at her. “Hermione. This is Pippa.”

“Lovely to meet you, Pippa,” she extended her hand.

Pippa immediately sank into a bow so low that her nose touched the floor. Hermione’s eyes
clenched shut at the motion, fighting against the grimace that was sure to be plucking up on her
face. Theo squeezed her thigh again as she blinked the thought away and forced a pained smile at
the elf.

“Mistress Hermione,” she almost gagged at the title but said nothing. “Please. Is there anything I
can do to help you?”

Mercifully, Theo chimed in. “Pippa. Could you please go to Hermione’s flat and gather all her
clothing, shoes and books and bring them here? Clothing and shoes go in our bedroom, the rest of
the items in the spare room. Anything else you need from there?” He looked at Hermione.

“Um,” she paused. “If it’s no trouble,” she bit her lip. “My potions supplies and the board games.
They are in the same room as the books.”

Pippa’s eyes sparkled. “Yes! Anything for Mistress,” she disappeared with a crack.

It felt like a bloody graphorn had been sitting on her chest, the weight blissfully dissipating once
the elf left.

“Thank you,” he murmured, cupping her face. “I know that was hard for you,” he pecked her nose.
“Pippa will take care of everything. Why don’t you rest for a bit?”
Honestly, it was a lovely idea, and Hermione didn’t need additional convincing. She slipped onto
the sofa as Theo got up and draped a cream-colored, heavy quilt over her before kissing her and
igniting the fire. Despite the day’s heaviness, she almost too quickly drifted into a restful sleep.

“Anything Drake?”

“No. Neither Potter nor I can figure out where or who they came from. No one saw anything out of
the ordinary in that three-hour window. Has she been sleeping all day?”

“Roundabouts. Pippa brought her things upstairs.”

“We should wake her for dinner, at least. It looks marvelous, Theo,” he paused, his voice turned
gravely. “You look marvelous.”

The hushed din of voices pulled her out of the thin veil of sleep that she was shrouded in. She
blinked away the sleep in her eyes, rolling over and propping herself on the sofa’s armrest.
Hermione watched as her two wizards were lost in each other, oblivious to her or anyone else.
Draco was slightly taller, his neck crooked to touch his forehead to Theo’s. Long fingers brushed
through his chocolate curls.

“It looks like our little voyeur is already awake,” Theo chuckled.

“I’m not a voyeur,” she shouted, pulling her knees to her chest.

Both wizards laughed at her general displeasure. They spent the evening eating the dinner that
Theo had made. She was continually impressed with his cooking skills, which he attributed to
Pippa teaching him over the years.

After dinner, Hermione went upstairs while Theo and Draco cleaned the kitchen. Pippa was
nowhere to be found, but the elf had done a truly spectacular job. In the main bedroom, all her
clothes and shoes were hung up in the closet or tucked away in a spare dresser in the corner. In the
bathroom, she found many items from her flat tucked away under the vanity. In the extra room, her
books were beautifully displayed along the shelves with her muggle board games that she had a
fondness for. In the corner were her potion supplies.

The evening was uneventful; Draco’s eyes were heavy with dark circles under his glasses.
Hermione didn’t press him about the case, instead choosing to lay quietly between them, reading
most of the night. She had fallen asleep on the sofa with her book, only to be awoken by the soft
jostling of Draco carrying her upstairs. Her head and fingers burrowed further into him, soft kisses
peppering her hair.

It was late when a pressing pain in her bladder woke her up. The room was illuminated by the
silver glow of moonlight streaming past the curtains. A warm, unyielding plane of muscle was
flushed against her back, a large hand resting on her hip. Careful not to wake him, Hermione
scooted out from under Theo, who was sound asleep. The rest of the bed was painfully empty save
for the two of them.

After using the restroom, she tossed on a discarded t-shirt and padded out into the hall. Light
sprinkled out of the ajar door at the end, Draco’s office. A sad smile plucked at the corners of her
mouth, she walked down to the kitchen and only returned upstairs with a cup of tea in hand. The
door was still cracked when she shuffled to the threshold, knocking softly to alert him of her
presence – startling a sleep-deprived auror didn’t sound like a good idea.

Grey eyes looked up at her from under a pair of glasses. Chaotic strands of hair hung low over his
face. The now familiar dark circles under his eyes were slightly more pronounced. The wizard was
still wearing his clothes from earlier that day. His wand harness was still strapped to his chest over
his wrinkled oxford. He hadn’t even bothered to remove it.

Numerous papers and parchments were tossed about the desk- an inkwell and quill placed
haphazardly in the corner. Only the beginnings of a smile greeted her; it quickly faded as Draco’s
gaze drifted back to the documents before him. She closed the door behind her, not wanting their
voices to carry and wake Theo, casting a silencing charm for good measure.

As she walked behind the desk to hand him the tea, he pushed back and tapped on his thigh,
indicating her to sit. Contentedly, he sipped the warm brew before placing it down in the one vacant
spot. Hermione nestled between his legs before sitting on his thigh, his fingers rubbing at the nape
of her neck.

“Is Theo sleeping alright?”

“Yes. No nightmares,” she added.

“Good. They don’t happen as often anymore,” Draco mused. “You should go back to bed; it’s late.”

“You haven’t slept at all,” she cupped his cheek. “Come with me.”

“Later, darling. I need to figure this out,” his voice got quieter. “There’s too much at stake.”

“May I?” Hermione indicated the papers on the desk. He offered her a reluctant nod, picking up the
tea again.

Hermione observed articles from the original murders in the States, with photos and descriptions. It
appeared the first known incident that they could tie to the same killer was a married couple in
Maine. Steven and Sharon Snow were both killed via the killing curse almost two years ago. Steven
Snow was a rather prolific member of the pureblood movement in the States. His wife was nearly
as deadly as he was. According to reports, they had murdered their own daughter at the height of
the war in the UK, and it was believed she was killed for refusing an arranged marriage with
another Death Eater.

Article after article about further killings throughout the States, all concentrated in the New
England area. Steven Snow was the first and only true Death Eater killed, though. After that, it was
limited to partners. Another five killings happened in the States, all via the killing curse before
there was one attempted murder.

The photo of the witch who got away was striking. Piercing hazel eyes stared back at her with a
forced smile. Dark hair framed her face in waves, kissing her collarbone. She was naturally
beautiful and oddly familiar. Catching her fixation on the photo, Draco finally spoke into the
endless silence.

“Melanie Johnson,” he put his tea down. “She was attacked in Salem, Massachusetts, where she
lives. Apparently, according to reports, the witch was quite formidable, and her attacker fled,”
Draco paused. “She also has no known ties to Death Eaters. No one at MACUSA could figure out
why she was targeted after endless interviews with the witch. Johnson agreed to come to London to
speak to me. She’ll be here in a couple of weeks; I’m hoping she can help us.”

Draco continued to stroke soft circles around the nape of her neck, his other hand now resting on
her thigh, watching her read over the case files with curiosity. Her eyes jumped back to the photo of
Melanie Johnson; a pang pulled in her chest. The witch looked so troubled, but behind that,
something was inviting and kind about her.

The murders had started occurring in London only a few months ago, an apparent lull between the
end of the ones in the States and the beginnings in the UK. But the last three cases had been
increasingly violent. Death wasn’t a simple killing curse. The victims showed evidence of
prolonged torture, something Hermione willingly glossed over.

“Millicent received black roses as well, a week before we found her,” Draco paused. “We’re unsure
if the others received them; no one else could confirm.”

Hermione turned, her eyes locked on his.

“I need to keep you and Theo safe,” he whispered.

“We are,” she kissed his forehead.

In the quiet, they sat for a long time, neither saying a word. Draco seemed content to work around
her as long as she wanted to stay. He would pick up a piece of parchment, arch a brow, and then put
it down only to grab a different one. Eventually, she was sure he wasn’t even processing the
information anymore and was shuffling the papers around to feel productive.

Hermione shifted in his lap, moving her arse to get more comfortable, having sat still for too long.
A light smack on her thigh landed in warning, followed by a soothing rub in the same spot.

“Stay still, witch. I’m trying to work here.”

“You’re the one that invited me to this spot,” she huffed. “My bum is numb,” she started to get up,
but he held her in place.

“I didn’t say you could get up,” he mumbled, still not looking at her.

“So, I can’t get up, and I also can’t move?”

“Correct,” he uttered, sifting through stacks of parchment.

Frustrated, Hermione blew a curl out of her face, only for it to fall back in front of her eyes again.
She battled the strand of hair a few more times before she relented and reached up to tuck it behind
her ear. Only then, catching the smallest of smiles on Draco’s mouth. Two could play that game.

Not so subtly, she ground her arse on his thigh.

“If you keep moving like that, you’ll have to deal with the consequences,” he hissed.

“And what consequences would that be?” His hard length pulsed against her thigh. “Oh,” she
purred.
A dark challenge emanated from the sideways stare he shot at her. Now that the rules had been
fully established, it was up to her how far she wanted to push them. Realistically, she wanted to
convince Draco to come to bed, but the heat between her legs thought otherwise. Also, he was so
stressed, and she wanted to take that away, and what better way than by pushing his buttons. She
shifted again, this time her arse grinding shamelessly over his cock.

“Just can’t listen, can you?”

The light trails that his fingers had been circling on the back of her neck changed in an instant. His
hand gripped her nape, forcing her up with him as he stood. The painful touch forced a small gasp
for her as she winced, now on her feet, his hard body flanking hers. Only one hand was on her, and
he was in complete control of her body so effortlessly.

“Is this what you want, witch?”

He forced her body forward until her chest was pressed into the mahogany of the desk. With his
hand still encasing the back of her neck, his forearm pressed into her back, effectively pinning her
in place. His foot kicked hers apart, spreading her wide, his pelvis pushed into her arse.

“Tell me,” he snarled.

“Gods, yes,” she moaned.

A resounding smack echoed in the room when his palm connected with her exposed backside. A
hiss escaped her pursed lips while her feet danced, desperate to get away. Again, his hand
connected with her, this time lower and dangerously close to her cunt. The pain morphed into a
delicious vibration that pulsed in her core.

“Red really is your color, isn’t it?” he whispered, his hand caressing her burning cheeks. “Fucking
beautiful,” he groaned.

“Draco.”

He fisted her curls, his forearm still dug firmly into her back as he yanked her head back- a small
moan escaping her.

“I bet you liked that, didn’t you? What do you want?”

Merlin, her knickers were long since ruined. She tried to move and grind her hips against the desk,
but she was truly immobile, his grip unrelentingly. Soft pants and moans started to fall from her
mouth while her cunt ached, and Draco just stood there.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Beg me for it,” he leaned in, his whole frame covering hers. “Beg me to fuck you,” the tips of his
teeth grazed her ear.

Anything he wanted was his. “Please fuck me, Draco.”

A cocky laugh was his only response when his weight shifted around her. With her only in a t-shirt
and knickers, he tore the lace that covered her cunt from her. “Oh fuck,” she whimpered. She heard
the click of his belt and the zip of his trousers before two fingers stroked through her folds, sending
a jolt through every part of her.
“Wet and ready for me, darling.”

A strained sob was the only response she could utter. She felt the brush of his knuckles and the
metal of his rings against the backs of her thighs as he stroked his cock, the tip resting at her
already fluttering entrance. He filled her entirely in one long thrust. The delicious stretch of her
walls around him left her full and needy.

“Bloody,” he pulled back. “Fucking,” he thrust deeply. “Brat,” and pumped hard again. “You want
me to use you like this?” he hissed through his strained jaw.

“Yes, Draco,” she whined.

The heat in her belly was burning fervently as her orgasm built inside her, pulling so tightly on the
verge of snapping. A resounding smack echoed around the room when his palm connected with her
arse, sending a jolt right to her cunt, making her cry out more in pleasure than pain.

“Fuck,” she sobbed.

Sweat was sticky between their bodies; his chest was still pressed into her back. He bit down on the
lobe of her ear, eliciting a small yelp – more in surprise than anything.

“Do you have any fucking idea how intoxicating you are?” he growled. When she didn’t
immediately answer, he slowed his thrusts and moved his free hand between her and the desk
brushing over her swollen clit. A quiet, needy hum was quickly replaced with a pained hiss when
he slapped her cunt.

“Answer me, Hermione.”

“Yes,” she squeaked.

With a renewed vigor, he snapped his hips, thrusting deeper and harder than before. The pads of his
fingers flicked over her clit, making her whole body tense. She still couldn’t move, his arm keeping
her pinned in place. It all built in her too fast, too much. She tried to pull away, to lessen the
overwhelming sensations that were rippling through her, but she couldn’t.

“That’s right,” he groaned. “You’re going to take it all,” his pace quickened. “My little witch. Come
all over my cock.”

Her legs danced as she crashed over the edge, her cunt clenching around him desperately as her
legs quaked with the force of her orgasm overtaking her. He let go of her neck, both hands now
bracketed her hips. He pumped into her furiously, using her to find his own release.

“Sweet Salazar,” he growled. “Such a tight, perfect cunt.”

Warmth filled her as he emptied himself inside her. He laid on top of her back, avoiding putting his
entire body weight on her. He brushed her curls off to the side and pressed sloppy, haphazard kisses
along her back. Soft praises followed his kisses, a thumb stroking the side of her face.

“So good for me,” he whispered. Only once he softened did he pull out of her, a rush of their
combined release dripping down her thighs. Fingers dipped between her legs, collecting his spend,
he pushed it back inside her.

“Who do you belong to?”

 “You,” she breathed. “And Theo.”

“Ours.”

Chapter End Notes

Chapter's 12 and 13 will have zero smut but some very important plot, character development,
and background on Draco and Theo's relationship. I promise the smut will return hot and
heavy in chapter 14.

If you don't - I'm fairly active on tiktok @darkcloud190. I'm on insta too @darkcloud190 but
not quite as active there :). I am currently working on another full-length fic I'm hoping to
release around Christmas/ new year's. Follow my tiktok to stay up to date. But it's a
Royal/Fantasy AU Dramione where Draco is a King and Hermione is a Princess at a rival
Kingdom :O
 Chapter 12 Anima Trium
Chapter Notes

I cannot thank you enough for all the love <3. I am so thrilled that so many of you seem to be
enjoying the story that I manically wrote over the summer haha. Thank you again for all the
lovely comments and the kudos! You all are really the best! I hope you enjoy today's chapter -
some story progression on the docket for today!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The tremor in her hand grew worse once she clutched the floo powder, staring out at Theo’s
reassuring smile. She fought in a war; she could handle an afternoon with Narcissa Malfoy. At first
light, Draco shuffled out of bed and departed for the Manor, insisting that Theo and Hermione sleep
in and join him later that afternoon.

It was a fitful morning; she tossed and turned. Even after Theo pulled her into his chest and stroked
her hair, she was still uneasy. A sickly green tinge flushed her cheeks when she tried to eat
breakfast that morning, only managing a nibble of toast and a few lackluster sips of coffee.

Every interaction Hermione had with Narcissa over the last few years had been pleasant. The witch
was an imposing figure, to be sure, but she had been nothing but kind to her. But now, knowing
how protective she was of both the wizards, Hermione would rather face a dragon.

“Nothing to worry about, love. Cissa adores you.”

After a forced smile, she tossed the powder into the flames. “Malfoy Manor,” she squeaked out.

With less grace than she was hoping for, Hermione tumbled out of the fireplace. After a quick
scourgify, she heard the flames roar to life again as Theo arrived right behind her. Hermione
donned her high-waisted cream-colored trousers and paired them with a crimson silk blouse. It was
something she was sure Mrs. Malfoy would approve of.

The traveling parlor was airy and inviting, with slate grey walls and expansive windows that let in
copious amounts of natural light. Floor-to-ceiling drapes in heavy damask adorned the modern
sleekness of the black frames. Nothing was left of the outdated gothic architecture that once marred
the Manor’s halls. Having only visited the estate a few times since the war, Hermione was still
unfamiliar with the layout. On her previous visits, she spent most of her time in the gardens.

Theo looked casually handsome in the dark denims Hermione had convinced him to wear and a
thin woolen jumper that only accentuated his defined musculature. Unabashedly, her gaze roved
over him, drinking in the wizard. Her fingers tugged at the fabric of his top as she tried not to
topple over her pumps that she rarely wore.

“Take me home, Theodore,” her eyes licked over him. “I’ll make it worth your while. I promise,”
the last words, almost a bribe.
His cocked twitched against her leg from where their bodies were pressed, a low groan emanating
from his throat. Fingers curled around hers, still buried in his shirt, when his lips pressed to her
forehead, not moving as he spoke.

“You are going to get me in trouble.” A smirk plucked at the corner of his mouth. “Be my good
witch. Spend the afternoon with ‘Cissa.” His lips snaked to the shell of her ear. “The depraved
things I will do to you when we get home,” he purred. “I’ll have you dripping – if you can just do
this one thing for me, love.”

Gods, the dirty things that he said sometimes it was unsuspected and always delicious. Theo could
bring her to the brink with that filthy mouth of his alone. The way he ebbed and flowed between
her and Draco was delectable. She loved how he heeded Draco’s every command, but when it was
just the two of them, he was emboldened and possessive.

“Have me dripping?” she whispered. “I’m already there.”

“Fuck,” he hissed. “If we’re late, love, ‘Cissa will skin me alive.”

“The floo alarm went off ten minutes ago. What are you two up to?”

A blond brow arched at them both as Draco strolled into the room. His floral sleeve was exposed;
the cuffs of his black oxford hitched just below his elbows. The top two buttons were undone, the
collar lazily hanging around his neck. His grey eyes swam in a sea of silver as they connected with
the growing bulge in Theo’s trousers. Silently, he braced his body against the doorframe, crossing
his arms over his chest and waiting for some explanation from his partners.

“I was just promising Hermione that she’d get a proper fuck when we got home.”

Hermione watched as his ring-clad fingers skated over the flesh of his forearm, the pad of his
thumb rubbing against his palm as if deep in thought.

“Needy little witch,” he whispered. “By the state of things, though,” his eyes flicked to Theo’s
groin. “She’s not the only one in desperate need of attention.”

Blush rose on Theo’s cheeks, washing away the calm confidence that had been there seconds ago.
Draco didn’t move, the air around him heavy and laced with promise. Instead, he reveled in
watching how they each reacted to him. Around Draco, Theo softened and reddened. Hermione, on
the other hand, turned mischievous and challenging. With a soft rock of his hips, Draco lurched
forward and hovered over the pair of them.

“I think I can arrange for something this evening,” he winked, making them both groan at the
prospect. “Do you both care to join me?” he extended an arm to each. “Lest we upset my mother.”

They each threaded a hand through his proffered arm as he steered them through the
unrecognizable halls of the estate. It was apparent that Narcissa had done extensive remodeling
even since the last time Hermione was here, about two years ago. Sunlight poured into every part of
the manor, with windows and skylights everywhere. They settled in a room with pale ivory walls
and an ornate mahogany fireplace. A large bay window flanked the back wall with a tufted bench
underneath. A small round dining table sat in the middle of the room.

Narcissa rose from the bench as they entered, her lilac robes flowing behind her that looked like the
sun setting on freshly fallen snow. She greeted them with a gracious smile as she cupped Draco’s
face before kissing him on the cheek.

“Found our two wayward souls, did you?” she patted his cheek, letting her hand fall. “It’s lovely to
see you, Hermione, dear,” she added, kissing her cheek.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Narcissa, please.”

Flippantly, she made the request with a gentle flick of her wrist.

“Did you forget about me ‘Cissa?” Theo said with mock indignation.

“No one could forget you, Theo,” she said softly, kissing his cheek in turn. “Although, you are
looking a little flushed. Are you sick?”

Draco hid his smirk under his hand as his thumb trailed over his lip, cockily waiting to hear Theo’s
explanation. Hermione was thankful that if she was rosy in the cheeks, the matriarch decided
against saying anything.

“Just fine,” he choked out, turning redder. “A little warm from the floo is all.”

Everyone sat down around the table as a tiny elf filled it with tea, and an assortment of pastries and
sandwiches. Hermione sat across from Narcissa, a wizard flanking her on each side. Draco’s nails
grazed possessively along her thigh under the table while Theo poured a cup of tea for each of them
before passing it to Draco.

“Tell me, Hermione,” she sipped her tea demurely. “How did the three of you come about?” Draco
groaned audibly. “Hush,” she admonished her son. “Draco was frustratingly difficult this morning
and wouldn’t share anything with me.”

What did she tell the woman that she eye fucked the two wizards for months until they took pity on
her? Narcissa was unbothered by the multiple-partner aspect, which made sense, considering who
Pansy had borrowed the book on triads from.

“I got to know Draco and Theo better after Pansy and Harry married. Our friendship evolved over
the last two years,” her cheeks flushed. Her eyes were focused on the cup in her hands, afraid to
make eye contact with anyone at the table. “As I’m sure you know, Ron and I broke up in April,
and not long after,” she nibbled her lip. Merlin, help her, please. Blissfully, Merlin came in the form
of Theo, and her shoulders visibly collapsed.

“Drake and I were captivated by the witch,” he waggled his brows. “After months of talking, we
finally asked her out to dinner, and well, here we are.”

Once she put her tea down, Theo took her hand in his and brushed a soft kiss over her knuckles.
His thumb rubbed over the spot, his gaze holding hers until Narcissa respectfully cleared her throat.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised that the three of you ended up together,” she mused. “What with
the way these two droned on about you for years.”

“Mother,” Draco hissed.

Deep blotches of scarlet bloomed on Draco’s pale face. Was he embarrassed? Hermione didn’t
think that was an emotion that he felt. But the sight of it was delicious and made her eager to hear
more. If nothing else, just to watch him squirm.

“Really Draco. For years, you went on and on about that Granger girl. Not around his father, mind
you,” Narcissa spoke directly to Hermione. “But really, I couldn’t be happier. I think you will be
such a good balance for them, dear,” she hummed.

A loud snort emanated from Theo that he didn’t attempt to hide, while Draco looked thoroughly
uncomfortable next to Hermione. Narcissa didn’t say anything too revealing outside that maybe
Draco had a crush on Hermione at Hogwarts. Calmly, she put down her cup and turned a severe
stare at the brunette wizard, who shrunk instantly.

“Theodore. What is so funny? I seem to remember a conversation in early February. You were a bit
distraught and came over for tea. I remember you saying something along the lines of, ‘Cissa, don’t
you think Hermione deserves more than the weasel? Drake and I would give her the world.’ Don’t
act like it was just Draco who was pining, dear boy.”

Hermione choked down the laugh that bubbled in her chest, not wanting to earn the witch’s
attention. Seeing both her wizards red-faced had her reaching for their hands under the table,
offering them a small comfort. Each readily found their hand in hers, reciprocating her soft
squeezes affectionately.

Simple conversation passed between them throughout the afternoon. Narcissa was only too excited
to share the details of all the renovations she had completed over the years. The drawing room had
been turned into a greenhouse, and the basements, which had been dungeons, were converted into
separate housing for the elves at the Manor. Each was given a tiny home with a separate kitchen,
dining, bedrooms, and shared space. Hermione was intrigued and inclined to see those rooms but
wasn’t entirely comfortable enough yet to traverse to the once-looming space.

Whether proprietary or not, Narcissa didn’t ask about the case Draco was working on. It was
curious; perhaps he hadn’t shared with his mother that he was leading the investigation. The witch
was safer than most within the confines of the manor. All the old pureblood estates had extensive
warding and charms surrounding them, making them impenetrable. Luckily, Draco knew better
than to suggest Hermione and Theo stay at the manor until he apprehended the killer. The following
words out of Narcissa’s mouth sent Hermione’s teacup shattering.

“Now Hermione, you know that Draco and Theo need to carry on their line,” her eyes sparkled.
“Do you think you can handle providing them each with an heir of their own?” she chuckled
warmly.

The blueberry scone that Theo had been munching on lodged in his throat as the wizard smacked
his chest to loosen it. Any color that had been left in Hermione’s face was long gone; Draco
wandlessly cleaned up the mess before leveling an irritable glare toward the confident woman
across from them.

“Mother, that’s quite enough.”

Draco rose to his feet, palms flat on the table, veins rippling across his arms. Hermione hadn’t
expected him to use that authoritative tone with her. It was a reminder that despite being his mother
and retaining the manor, he was still head of their family. It was a little archaic, but she didn’t
anticipate centuries of pureblood customs to evaporate in a day. Hermione leaned her head onto
Theo’s shoulder when he kissed her curls.

“This is still new.” Draco pushed his glasses up his brow till they rested on his head. “When and if
we decide to talk of children, that is for us alone,” his nose twitched. “I know you want
grandchildren, and when it was just Theo and me, you were unsure what that would look like. But
do not treat Hermione like some broodmare the first time you meet her.”

The words sliced through the silent room, leaving his mother stunned but stoic. If she was upset by
her son’s words, she didn’t let it show. Narcissa was raised from a young age on how to carry
herself with class in every situation, and this was no different. Nervous to look at Draco, she turned
her attention to Theo, his eyes narrowed and questioning. Hermione wanted to correct Draco and
say that was fine but felt that was the categorically wrong thing to do. She did not feel as though
Narcissa thought of her as some broodmare. The word was like ash in her mouth. If anything, it
was a playful comment from a mother who craved grandchildren.

“My apologies,” she said sweetly. “Join me for a winter stroll in the gardens, Hermione? We can
leave the two of them. I want to chat witch to witch,” she smiled affectionately. “There are
beautiful blooms of viola and snowdrops that I think you will adore.”

Draco glared at his mother, poised to say something else when Hermione chimed in.

“I would love to, Narcissa,” offering the woman a fond smile. “And Draco,” her mouth pressed into
a thin slit. “You can squash that irritated look on your face; it’s unnecessary.”

Striking silver eyes pierced back at her, his features schooled into something between pride and
exasperation. Warmth flooded her as her eyes bore into him, relinquishing nothing. Stunned, Theo
gazed between them, looking as if he swallowed a niffler. A silent challenge passed between the
two as Draco extended his hand. Willingly, Hermione took it, their gaze never breaking as Draco
brushed a fleeting kiss across her knuckles.

“Enjoy the gardens,” he murmured over her hand.

“I will,” she hummed.

Hermione reached out and pulled Theo in for a kiss, albeit brief and chaste. She had no idea what
awaited her when they returned to the flat, but there was no doubt that it would be as decadent as
Theo's wine kissed lips.

Confidently, Hermione strolled side by side with Narcissa through the manor. The witch gave her a
heavy outer cloak to wear. Once it was tucked neatly on her shoulders, she whispered a warming
charm over them as they walked towards the perfectly manicured hedges that lined the estate.

“Don’t let Draco push you around.”

Head thrown back and shoulders taut, Narcissa walked with an elegant confidence that Hermione
envied. The last few years had been unkind to her and her family, yet she persevered.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Hermione chuckled. “I am not intimidated by Draco in the
slightest.”
“Good,” she said with a finality. “My son’s foolishness aside, I did not mean to infer that you were
only good for producing children.”

“I am under no delusion that is what you intended.”

“Theodore and Draco aside, do you want children someday?”

“I think so,” she mused. “The idea of a family was hard to imagine for a long time. But I think that
is something I could want in the future.”

Snow crunched under their feet as they moved slowly through the lined paths. Even in the winter,
the gardens were breathtaking. Never had she seen them covered in snowfall. Thin blankets of
white covered the hedges. Stone benches surrounded a fountain in an opening at the center. Purple
and white flowers endured despite the harsh weather.

With a flick of her wand, Narcissa cleaned a bench and indicated for Hermione to join her. Hands
rested in her lap, watching as a dusting of flurries rested on the edge of the fountain.

“What do you wish to know? Surely, you didn’t want just to show me the flowers.”

Tact aside, Hermione knew Narcissa would appreciate the directness. They could dance around
whatever questions the witch had, exchanging pleasantries. But why not get to the heart of the
matter?

“Believe what you will, but I didn’t bring you here to ask questions. But more to share knowledge.
You are a bright witch, Hermione. And I am honored that you consider my son and Theo worthy of
your partnership. But you are a muggleborn…” Narcissa continued when it looked like Hermione
was about to interject. “I don’t care about blood status. Don’t misunderstand my intention. But I
believe that you are woefully lacking in the understanding of triad relationships and the bonding
that can occur with them. Am I wrong in that assumption?”

Bonding. Was the woman already talking about marriage? Merlin, maybe Draco was right to scold
her. Formally, they had only been together for close to three months. Sure, there were signs of
something blossoming between them over the last couple of years, but the witch was jumping
ahead.

“I borrowed a book from Pansy.”

Immediately, her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. Yes, the book had come from Pansy,
who had, in turn got it from Narcissa.

A knowing smile preceded her words. “Ah, that makes sense now,” she chuckled into her hand.
“Harry was quite mortified when I asked about them adding another witch.” Both laughed at the
image. “Well, what questions came up from the text?”

Truly, there wasn’t much. It had been rather straightforward, except the indescribable piece, which
had been infuriating.

“There had been something called Anima Trium. But it was nondescript and just spoke of a
powerful bond.”
“I cannot say that I am surprised that Hermione Granger found perhaps the one thing in that book
that I cannot help with. I, too, do not know what Anima Trium means. But I can offer some insight
into the bond they speak of.”

An owl hooted softly overhead before flying down and landing on a branch behind Narcissa,
content to be nearby. From inside her cloak, she procured a small piece of cheese, passing it to the
tawny owl, who gleefully accepted it.

“Do you know what a soul bond is?”

Hermione nodded. “They are rare, if I recall.”

“Yes,” a smile faded on Narcissa’s face. “Lucius and I were soul-bound,” she paused before
continuing. “But that is neither here nor there. Soul bonds can be created or can naturally occur.
Most that happen are forged as part of a wedding like mine was. There are rare instances in which
the magical cores of a couple speak to each other, bonding them together without ceremony.”

“Naturally occurring,” her eyes bowed inward. “What if someone has a naturally occurring soul
bond but ends up with someone else?”

“Nothing to fret,” Narcissa mused. “This happens more than we probably know. But if someone has
a naturally occurring bond and finds it. The pull, the sheer draw to one another, would be
impossible to fight. Or so I’ve read.” The owl settled on Narcissa’s shoulder. “Though now I’m
skidding off course. Triads were more common in pureblood circles than anywhere else. A soul
bond enhanced the magic of not only each partner but any of their children- the number three being
of inordinate power. Families would arrange marriage contracts for two witches and a wizard to
bond with. The effect was twofold; it would augment the family’s magic while increasing their
chances for a healthy male heir, which was desired above all else.”

Despite being highly logical, Hermione couldn’t fathom what Narcissa was trying to explain.
Perhaps it was intended to be more of a history lesson. But the woman seemed intent on sharing it
with her, insinuating there was a higher purpose to it.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

“Pregnancies for witches are more difficult the more powerful their children are.” Hermione
nodded, following the logic so far. “In the case of a soul-bound triad, any children produced would
be strong. What I’m trying to say is. If you want children someday, and if that path takes you with
Theo and Draco. It would be taxing on your body, and you would likely only be able to sustain one
pregnancy.”

“So, it would be one or the other,” she mused.

“Most likely,” Narcissa turned, blue eyes twinkling at her. “I know Draco thinks this is all too soon.
But I wouldn’t expect him to share the importance of what you three have. I want to ensure you
have all the information, Hermione, nothing more. I care not if you have children or if you do if it’s
Theo or Draco’s blood. But I want you armed with all the knowledge that I can.”

A strong breeze cut through them, whistling as it passed, blowing up flakes of snow.

“I was unaware of what soul bonding with Lucius would mean,” she stared into the distance.
“Many of the Sacred 28 choose soul bonding to strengthen their magic. That is why most families
only have one child. The act of soul bonding makes it impossible for the witch to have more than
one child. I wanted you to be aware in case you ever desired more than one, especially if you have
a relationship with Theo and Draco. You. You might have wished for two.”

Tiny fractures rippled through Hermione’s chest. There was an anguish hidden on Narcissa’s face,
which she had buried for years.

“I always wanted Draco to have a little sister,” she whispered.

The words were uttered so softly that it could have been the wind. Instinctively, Hermione
squeezed her hand in reassurance.

“If we don’t soul bond, though, the chances of multiple children increase?”

“Triads can only soul bond, whether they have a naturally occurring one or not. Because there are
multiple partners, your magic would become unstable otherwise. That’s why triads are most
commonly two witches and one wizard.”

An ache settled in the pit of her stomach, and she wasn’t quite sure what was causing it. The
implications of what Narcissa had told her were severe, but it changed nothing in the immediate
future. When and if the time came, the three of them could talk about it. However, she did plan to
research what soul bonding meant. The little she did know, it tied heavily into one’s magic and had
nasty side effects if any partner strayed.

“Shall we head back before my son’s head implodes like a blast-ended skrewt?”

Back in the manor, Draco and Theo were curled up in front of the fireplace. Theo lay against his
chest, book in hand, while Draco ran his hand through the wizards’ curls. Not noticing that the
witches had returned, Narcissa smiled and whispered to Hermione. “Take good care of them, will
you? Merlin knows they deserve to know peace.”

“Always,” Hermione smiled.

The weekend flowed into the week, and Theo was sent overseas. All he would tell the two of them
was that he was doing some work for the DoM and that he would return Saturday morning and not
to worry, that it wasn’t anything dangerous. Hermione paced around the flat in a proper state
Monday night after he left, bothered that he couldn’t even tell them where he was going.

What was even more frustrating was that Draco appeared unconcerned.

“Darling,” his arms enveloped her waist. “Come here.”

Not giving her a chance to resist, he scooped her up, sat on the sofa, and settled her on his lap.

“I’m fine,” she sighed, trying to pull out of his grip.

“The hole that you’re wearing in the carpet says otherwise.”

Tears swam to the surface that she wiped away with the back of her hand. The tips of his fingers
trailed a soft line down the column of her spine, his lips resting on her temple, not moving.
Hermione summoned over a tin of biscuits she and Theo had made on Sunday, eating them
endlessly if only for a distraction.
“How are you so calm? Theo isn’t an auror. Not even Harry knows where he went. He’s an
obliviator; why is he traveling for the DoM? He’s supposed to be safe,” she sobbed.

“You don’t have to worry, darling,” Draco cooed.

This was the wizard who feared for his partner’s safety above all else. She had seen the fear etched
on his face that night in his office. The tears stopped and dried in place when she realized what that
meant. There was only one possible reason why he wasn’t worried.

“You know something,” she hissed. “Tell me.” She cupped his face harshly, nails biting into his
cheeks.

“I can’t, Hermione,” his hands covered hers. “Please trust me. Trust us,” he implored. “I promise
you Theo is safe. He is probably safer where he is than here. I can assure you he will be home
Saturday morning without fail.”

“Does it have to do with the case?” her forehead finding his.

“No.” Once again, he stood up and cradled her into his chest. “Let me take you to bed.”

Sun streamed in through the windows, Draco sleeping peacefully beside her. After weeks of trying,
he finally agreed to try melatonin. Not once did he leave the bed last night, and this morning, the
corners of his eyes were relaxed. Gently, she wiped the strands of hair off his face, smiling down at
him. A sharp ache pinched behind her navel and had come and gone in the days since Theo had
been gone. Curious if it was just her, she contemplated asking Draco if he noticed it, too. For all
that Gryffindor courage she supposedly had, she never quite found the words to ask him.

The door to the bedroom creaked open, and her head snapped to the spot. Messy chocolate curls
framed the warm features that welcomed her smile.

“Oh, Theo.” She launched herself off the bed and rushed him, jumping up and clinging to him.
“Gods, I was so worried.”

“Ooof.” Theo wavered unsteadily when she collided with him. “Easy, love,” he snickered. His arms
wrapped around her, holding her up. “I’m alright.”

Not taking his word for it, she surveyed him. Her fingers brushed through his curls and examined
his face and neck for any signs of trauma or wounds. Brimming with tears, her eyes connected with
his.

“None of that now,” he admonished, wiping them away with his thumb.

“Maybe I should go away for a week. If that’s the kind of welcome home I can expect,” Draco
snorted.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, glaring at him over her shoulder.

Theo walked the pair over to the bed, depositing her next to Draco before sliding beside her. She
nuzzled into Theo’s chest, allowing his scent to waft into every part of her. Draco reached over and
palmed the back of his head, pulling him in for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“I missed you,” his thumb stroking the base of his skull.

“I missed both of you,” he echoed. “Would you two care to join me in Diagon for breakfast?”

All three of them strolled hand in hand down Diagon. And Hermione was at ease. By the time they
left the flat, it was mid-morning, a winter chill in the air. Both having missed Theo terribly, the
wizard stood between them. Hermione curled both hands around his biceps, pushing up on her
tiptoes to kiss him frequently. Draco laced his fingers with Theo’s, periodically pulling his hand up
to kiss it before letting it hang naturally between them. When they arrived at Black and Brew,
Hermione asked if they minded sitting outside; she wanted to watch as people walked by. Draco
went inside to gather their order while Theo cleared off a table with a wave of his wand, and
Hermione cast a warming charm over them.

Perched between her two wizards, Hermione sipped on her coffee. After the long conversation with
Draco earlier in the week, she accepted that Theo wouldn’t be able to tell her anything, and she
didn’t bother asking. Instead, she tried to explain the muggle board games in the spare bedroom
with all her books.

“But what is the point?” Draco asked with his mouth full of a scone.

“It’s a game,” she chuckled. “Just like wizard’s chess or exploding snap. There are rules, and
someone is declared the winner at the end.”

“Which one is your favorite?” Theo chimed in.

“Monopoly,” she said confidently. “I’ve never lost.”

“A challenge if I ever heard one,” Draco mused.

There was a dull hum along the alley. Only a few witches and wizards were wandering the streets
that Saturday morning. Couples holding hands, a few children darting in and out of their parent’s
legs. Hermione rested her head on Theo’s shoulder while Draco wrapped an arm around her, his
fingers lazily stroking her jaw. Her eyes drifted to the couple moving towards them. An awkward
space between them, both glaring ahead, intent on not looking at the other. The witch had her arms
folded over her chest. The blaring red hair gave him away. Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown soon
walked in front of them.

Not wanting to rock the boat, she offered a warm smile to Ron when the man’s eyes found hers.
What looked back at her was the opposite of cordial. Cold steel, like the point of a dagger, peered
back at her, making her shudder. The gentle stroking on her jaw faded as his fingers dug into her
shoulder, not painfully, but protectively, claiming.

Ron took two tentative steps closer to their table, his seething gaze eyeing each of them
individually. Lavender did not stray from her original location, her body rigid and unsure. The lines
of Ron’s jaw hardened as his nose twitched.

“You know,” he sneered. “Hermione. I never took you to be some Death Eater’s whore,” spit flew
from his mouth. “Or does he just pass you around like some plaything for his,” he looked down his
nose. “Lover.”

His words cut like the blade of a sword, plunged straight into her chest. It burned and ached like
betrayal, but not hers, no. How dare he talk to her like that. After everything she had sacrificed to
keep the peace, to protect him even. She wanted to go home, to get away as fast as possible. As she
 turned to face Draco, a sudden rush of cold on her other side had her looking towards Theo to find
him gone.

The serene glow that usually followed Theo was long gone. Rage pulsed off him in waves that
made Hermione anxious. Magic hummed around him in hues of green and black. From behind, she
saw how his shoulders shook and his hands flexed as he closed the space between him and Ron.

Before things could get physical, she tried to stand, only to be restrained by Draco. All he did was
shake his head and reaffirm his grip on her shoulder. Panicked glances passed between Hermione
and Lavender when she looked back at Draco, who appeared calm, although his free hand flexed
over his pocketed wand.

“The failed Death Eater came to play,” Ron snorted. “I’ll even give you a free shot,” he spread his
arms wide.

No wand was in his hand, yet Theo carried himself with assured confidence. Muscles flexed under
the top of his oxford that he had been wearing when he first got home. His hand twisted into a fist
before he wrenched his arm back and connected squarely with Ron’s jaw. The sound of bone on
bone rang out between the brick buildings.

Blood streaked Ron’s face where Theo’s rings had cut into him. Once the shock had ebbed, Ron
landed a hit at the base of Theo’s eye. The men continued to trade punches, each of them landing
hard shots. The intensity of the blows increased, each determined to show dominance over the
other. Blood splatter followed each hit.

Hermione gasped, her hand covering her mouth. “Draco,” she hissed. “Please. Stop this.”

Lavender could be heard yelling in the background. “Ronald. Enough. Let’s go!”

Just as Draco jumped to his feet, Theo backed away, as did Ron. Hermione ran straight to the
brunette wizard, ignoring as Ron and Lavender fled to the apparition point. She held his face gently
in her hands, examining the extent of his injuries. A large bruise had formed under his eye, already
swelling. There were numerous cuts over his face and a split lip that was bleeding a rather lot. She
reached for his hand when he grimaced; bloodied cuts were all over his knuckles.

The brunette offered her a contrite smile and a shrug. He didn’t appear sorry for what he had done,
maybe just upset that he had worried her.

“Draco, get us home, please,” she smiled sadly. “I need to take care of Rocky over here.”

“Who’s Rocky?” Theo asked, spitting blood on the ground.

Chapter End Notes

Ron literally got bashed this chapter......knuckles to face. Nothing could make me happier!

Fair warning the next chapter will be heavy and contain a lot of triggering themes as we
explore Draco and Theo's background. It will include trigger warnings at the beginning of the
chapter in the notes - but it will include suicidal thoughts, and attempted suicide and torture.
So - protect your peace loves.
 Chapter 13 You Will Be Found
Chapter Notes

I am excited for you all to read this chapter. We get a deep dive into Draco and Theo's
backstory. With that said, there are some triggering themes in this chapter. Suicidal thoughts,
planning, and borderline attempted suicide (off-screen and more insinuated). There are also
conversations around torture and abuse. Note that in the actual chapter, I put a warning about
when the conversations around suicide will begin and then another warning when it is safe to
read again - I will also do a chapter summary (minus the triggering stuff in the end of chapter
A/N in case anyone would prefer to skip the chapter altogether.

This chapter is a little bit shorter than the others. I did want to pull any of the focus away from
their backstory with side scenes in this chapter.

Thank you all so much - the traction this story has gotten is wild to me, and I can never thank
you enough for all the comments and kudos. I listened to You Will Be Found by Natalie Grant
and Cory Asbury on repeat while writing this chapter. It really spoke to me when I was telling
Draco and Theo's story.

Enjoy! <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Back at their flat, Hermione sat Theo down on one of the stools next to the island, a disapproving
gleam in her eye. Having enough sense, he said nothing as she lit her wand and assessed him again
with a pronounced sigh.

“Draco. Can you get me my bruise paste?” Her thumb traced over the welt under his eye, causing
him to wince. “And a pain potion, please?” Draco disappeared up the stairs to raid her stores while
she continued her review of his injuries.

“I’m fine,” Theo exclaimed, trying to stand.

“Shut it,” she hissed, pushing him back down. Her venom laced tone brokered no room for
argument, more deadly than any basilisk.

“Yes, ma’am,” he grimaced.

A vial clattered against the marble counter as Draco put down the potion and paste before looming
behind Theo. Focused, Hermione cast a quick diagnostic to affirm that she hadn’t missed anything
in her visual assessment. She was worried that there might have been bone fractures in his face,
under his eye, but luckily, that wasn’t the case-all relatively minor cuts and bruises. She tucked her
wand into her waistband and pulled her curls into a messy bun atop her head.

With the spell vanished, she hastily shoved the pain potion in Theo’s face, which he drank down
without protest. The way she glowered at him was chilling. It was like she was Medusa, and one
look from her would turn him to stone.
Even though it appeared so, she wasn’t angry, not with him anyway, more confused about his
outburst, and it chose to manifest as anger. The rigid lines on her face softened when she caught the
brunette’s gaze while working on the cut under his eye, tender and apologetic – almost
remorseful…. almost. Her wand moved in delicate movements, reducing the swelling, and stitching
up the cut.

Once she was satisfied, the pad of her thumb trailed down his face, siphoning off dried blood as she
went. She stitched up the minor cuts on his cheek and lip. Next, she lifted his hand in hers, about to
work on the cuts on his knuckles, when she paused and looked up at him.

“Do you mind telling me why you got so upset?” she asked evenly. “I understand that Ron said vile
things. But I’m surprised you resorted to muggle violence.”

He yanked his hand away, which she firmly pulled back with an annoyed hiss.

“Are you cross with me?”

“No,” she ground out.

And she wasn’t, but she was concerned. There was something more to it; there had to be, and she
wanted to know. The tip of her wand sewed the abrasions when she rubbed more paste over the
spot. The pad of her thumb stroked affectionately over the cut on his cheek.

“But I would like to understand,” she smiled.

“He had no right to call you those things.”

She didn’t buy it. Yes, she had seen that Theo could be just as protective and possessive as Draco,
especially when it came to her. But for him to lash out like he did, he charged headlong like an
offended hippogriff. There was something deeper to it. Something that Draco was aware of enough
that he didn’t immediately intervene and prevented Hermione from stepping in as well.

“Ok. And what else?”

His chin dropped to his chest with a resigned sigh before he looked over his shoulder. Draco
grasped him firmly, pressing a reassuring squeeze into the rigid muscles there before giving a slight
nod of encouragement, or permission maybe; it was hard to place the exchange between them. She
watched as Draco’s warm grey eyes turned black and cold for a moment before returning to their
normal sheen. He wanted to occlude – but fought the urge.

Hands palmed the backs of her thighs, just under her arse. Theo pulled her close until she was
nestled between his legs, his face pressed into her belly. She dropped her wand to the counter and
cupped the back of his head, stroking his curls, waiting with bated breath for what would fall from
those beautiful lips. Something was about to detonate between them.

The air was thick with the extended silence around them. Still rubbing his hair, she peaked up at
Draco, a somberness hidden behind the hardened line of his jaw – but she saw it in his eyes.

“Throughout school and even before, Drake and I had always been close. Our families spent a lot
of time together when we were younger. My mother and Narcissa were friends before she passed.
Anyway,” he breathed. “During fourth year, we got closer. Our relationship evolved into something
beyond a friendship.”
Draco’s hands were splayed out possessively over Theo’s shoulders while he spoke. It was, as she
thought, the way they were with each other. The passion and love that was so evident between them
wasn’t something cultivated within the last year but rather over many years.

“Narcissa knew, perceptive as she was,” he said with a listless chuckle. “While two wizards being
together was nothing the magical community frowned upon, our fathers certainly would have.
Drake and I were responsible for carrying on our family lines. Something Lucius and my own
father regarded as the priority above all else. They would only accept a blood heir. If they knew…”
he shuddered. “We kept our relationship quiet to avoid any retribution from them.”

Fingers flexed along the backs of her legs, the control in Theo’s tone started to wane the longer he
spoke. Ever the stoic presence behind, Draco was patient and didn’t prod or push, only offering
reassuring touches as Theo took his time. Hermione continued to caress the strands of hair, softly
running her fingers through, nails massaging along his scalp.

“After the debacle at the Ministry, the summer after 5th year.” Hermione grimaced slightly at the
memory. “Lucius was arrested, and the Dark Lord was furious.” She winced. Not once had she
heard Theo call Voldemort the Dark Lord. It occasionally slipped from Draco, but not him. That
moniker was more ominous and telling than anything else.

“My father, being the opportunist he was, saw a chance to position himself as the Dark Lord’s right
hand. When he mentioned needing a Hogwarts student to take the Mark and join his ranks,” his
voice shook. “My father offered me to the Dark Lord.”

No tears or sobs jostled Theo’s head, still cushioned against her stomach. But his voice broke a
little more with each word, like a hot mug cracking in the cold. Calloused fingers traced a pattern
along the hem of her jumper as he tried to ground himself.

“I was used as a pawn to elicit my father’s own advances within the Death Eater’s ranks,” he
huffed. “Not that I wasn’t ever anything more than that. An heir, a tool, a means to an end. I was
never seen as son, not by him.”

Draco bent down and kissed Theo’s cheek before returning to his stony presence behind the
brunette.

“In July, my father told me I would take the Mark at the end of August and do it with pride,”
catching the perplexed look on Hermione’s face, he continued. “There was no defying my father.
He was…...” Theo swallowed, almost painfully so. “…...is cruel. I could either agree, or if I didn’t
– he would see to it that I would….in the end.”

A menacing growl stirred low in Draco’s throat; his eyes narrowed. One of Theo’s hands covered
his, giving the blonde a reassuring squeeze.

[Skip until you see brackets again to avoid TW:s Suicidal thoughts, and attempts]

“At the time, I didn’t know the extent. But I was told there was a special mission that the Dark Lord
needed a student for, and that failure was not an option.”

Chancing a look at Draco, Hermione lifted her chin only to find that his eyes were trained on the
back of Theo’s skull. Part of her wondered if he was occluding – no longer able to fight it. She
knew what mission Theo spoke of and that he never took the mark. What happened? Bile clawed
its way up her throat, leaving fire in its wake in her chest.
“I couldn’t,” he sniffled. “I wouldn’t do it. I felt so alone. I withdrew completely from everyone,
including Drake. I stopped responding to his owls and removed him from our floo. I…...” he
stopped. Nails dug into the back of her legs.

When Hermione looked down, she saw glassy hazel eyes staring back at her- glossed over with
unshed tears. It was like Theo was searching her for answers, trying to rationalize if she would run
once she knew. He pled silently for understanding…acceptance, even.

“I wasn’t going to take the mark.” His grip on her legs was unrelenting while silent tears streaked
down his cheeks. Bent over, Draco brushed a gentle kiss over his temple, whispering words of
encouragement in his ear. “I procured a vial of aconite,” Hermione’s eyes widened. “I planned to
end it before I could be forced to hand over what was left of my life to the Dark L……to
Voldemort.”

Fighting back against her tears, Hermione blinked them away. Her thumbs rubbed under Theo’s
eyes, wiping away the wetness that had settled on the apples of his cheeks. She battled between
wanting to pour everything of hers into him. But there was more he needed to say. When the
sobbing stopped, his face settled back on her belly. Whether the spot was one of comfort and solace
or merely a place to hide, she wasn’t sure.

One hand was wrapped around the back of Theo’s neck, Draco’s thumb rubbing along the nape. His
other hand palmed the back of Hermione’s head, pulling her forehead into his, reassuring them
both.

“Drake worried about me after not hearing from me all summer. It was late one night, well past
midnight. Somehow, the prat,” he snorted a watery sort of chuckle. “He broke through the wards on
the floo and tumbled out of the fireplace in my room. When he got there, he found me in a huddled
mess, sobbing on the floor.”

Theo angled his body towards Draco while still holding onto Hermione. His grip was so tight that it
was as though he thought he would drift away if he let go. Every word cracked as he spoke, his
body shaking softly between them.

“I remember him almost tripping over the rug as he rushed to my side. He collapsed on the floor
next to me and held me in his arms while I cried uncontrollably for what had to be hours. After I
was able to talk again, I told him everything. I told him I couldn’t do it and had to end it. That I was
so sorry. I didn’t want to leave him. But I couldn’t face what my father had planned for me. What
the Dark Lord wanted from me. Demanded of me.”

Long discarded, Draco’s glasses were on the island next to them. The wizard wasn’t occluding, but
a soft sheen flickered over his grey eyes when he looked at her. Years of pain were etched on his
face. Offering the same courtesy she had been given all those times, Hermione wiped away any pity
that might have been on her face. Instead, she stood stoic and understanding for both her wizards.
They were each struggling in their own way, and she would carry any burden she could – hers and
theirs.

“He told me he loved me,” Theo sobbed harder. “It was the first time that he ever said that. Draco
told me that he loved me. And that he would do anything to protect me.” He grabbed onto the hem
of her jumper, desperate to ground himself to her. “And…...” a breath shuddered in his throat. “And
he asked me not to leave him.”
Theo’s heart fluttered in his chest like a caged pixie. A single tear dripped down Draco’s cheek.
Hermione cupped his cheek, brushing it away with her thumb.

“He asked me to trust him to take care of it so I would never have to take the mark. That I would be
safe. I loved him so bloody much. Still do,” he smiled. “I didn’t realize that his plan involved me
losing him instead of him losing me.”

Anxiety stung in her chest, threatening to burst free. Theo did not have the mark, but Draco did.
She had a feeling, one that gnarled in the pit of her stomach. Tendrils slithered up like Devil’s
Snare, wrapping around her heart, threatening to pull it into the darkness.

“The next morning, Draco was gone. Only after we smashed the vial of aconite, and I promised not
to do anything. With Lucius in Azkaban, Drake went directly to the Dark Lord and begged for the
honor.” A wheezing cough rattled through Theo’s chest before he started again. “The Dark Lord, he
mocked him, tortured him. Only then, he agreed to brand him and tasked him with killing
Dumbledore. Something that was meant for me.”

[Continue reading here if you were avoiding TW’s]

Court records and Draco’s own testimony confirmed that he had requested to become a Death Eater
to be given the Dark Mark. But Hermione had always assumed there was a certain level of duress
to it. That didn’t appear to be completely inaccurate, but an act of love was the more appropriate
term. She thought that he had done it to protect his mother. He did it despite her. Narcissa
considered Theo as much her son as Draco. Draco loved Theo and did whatever he could to save
him. Choosing to take his place as Voldemort’s pawn at Hogwarts.

“Enough, Theo.” Soft words of protest fell from Draco’s controlled grimace. “We’ve been over
this. I would do it every time.” Grey eyes flickered closed as his lips came to rest on the crown of
Theo’s head. “We are both here. We survived. I loved you then. And I love you still. I would do
anything for you. Everything for you.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “Hermione.” Tilting his head back, Theo gazed into her, penetrating to the
deepest parts of her- willing her to see something. “Draco was every bit the hero in my story that
Harry was in everyone else’s. Yet society treats him like shite.” His voice turned smoother and
more controlled. “No matter what the wizard does, it’s never enough- never redeemed. So, when
Ron attacked you and Draco’s character, I couldn’t just stand by.”

What she imagined happening between the two of them paled in comparison to the truth. Hermione
felt like an interloper and that she didn’t belong there. A nagging guilt pecked away at her
confidence in what they went through and did for each other. She shouldn’t be here. Not now. Not
with them. Not ever. They sacrificed so much for each other, for their love – for a fucking chance.

As if Draco was reading her mind, he palmed her cheeks, holding her gaze to his. The words he
spoke were so quiet she doubted even Theo could hear them.

“You belong here, with us,” he kissed her forehead. “We want you. We need you.”

Those last three words were a broken plea.

Whatever uncertainty she had was pushed out of her mind as quickly as it came. She was reminded
of Narcissa’s words as well as what Draco was saying now. Perhaps they needed a balance, and that
was what she could be. She couldn’t hide the fact that there was a Zen she enjoyed when the three
of them were together that surpassed any type of love she had ever experienced before. Perhaps
they felt it too. A perfect balance. A give and take. Ying and Yang. Sun and moon and stars in
perfect equilibrium.

Had they kept their relationship secret after the war? Even in their small friend group, she only saw
signs of them dating once they went public a year ago.

“What happened after? After Draco took the mark,” she asked quietly. “Did you break up?”

Immediately, she sucked in her bottom lip, regretting the words. She shouldn’t pry.

This time, it was Draco who spoke. “I was an idiot,” he whispered, nose twitching. “I withdrew,
distanced myself. I thought I was keeping him safe. The Dark Lord was tracking me and my
movements. If he found out about Theo and me,” he paused. “I don’t know what would have
happened,” his thumbs stroked Theo’s cheeks, his lips still planted on his head. “It would have been
worse than anything Lucius or Nott Sr. would have ever doled out.”

“You did what you thought was best,” Theo whispered with a sniffle.

“Ignoring all your letters wasn’t what was best,” he shook his head. “I was young and stupid,” he
looked back at Hermione. “I cut off everyone during my 6th year and beyond. After the war was
done, I didn’t know how to apologize to Theo, how to fix something with the man I loved. It took
years to put back together what I broke.”

“Drake,” Theo choked out.

“No, Theo. I did,” he looked at Hermione. “When the papers announced us together a year ago, we
had only started being romantically involved again a few months before that. We had a lot to work
through.”

As Draco pressed a slow, soft kiss to Theo’s lip, faint sparks of grey mixed with green and black-
swirling around them. For the first time in hours, it looked like Theo relaxed, melting into Draco’s
touch, the comfort of his embrace.

When Draco pulled away, his fingers cupped her jaw, bringing her mouth to his. This kiss was
much different than the usual all-consuming, frantic exchanges they had in the past. It was romantic
and delicate. His lips pillowed into hers, coasting from one to the next as his tongue brushed
against hers before ending it with a parting peck on the corner of her mouth.

“Wait here.”

They watched as Draco moved up the stairs and out of sight. Theo stood for the first time in hours;
Hermione tilted her head back to look at him. Red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks found her.
Theo’s rings scratched along her cheek as he guided her mouth to his. Warmth hovered between
their parted lips.

“Thank you,” he whispered before gripping her face with both hands.

Tentatively, his lips found hers. There was an uncertainty in him that she wasn’t used to. Her hands
snaked up to his back and buried into his curls, urging him into her. “Theo,” she moaned into his
mouth, spurring him on. Confidence bloomed in him anew as his tongue traced the seam of her
mouth, pushing in. Each kiss was short and hurried, followed by nips on each lip. Her back arched
as he lathed a trail with his tongue down the column of her neck.

Something mixed between a laugh and a cough pulled their attention to the center of the room.
Draco was perched against the railing of the staircase, his arms folded over it, bent at the waist.

“Come upstairs, you two.”

Draco disappeared again, and Theo took the opportunity to slip a hand under Hermione’s knees,
carrying her up the stairs.

“Unnecessary, Theodore,” she snorted, swatting his chest.

“Such a feisty lion,” he snickered.

Theo carried her past their bedroom into the attached bath, where Draco had filled the tub with
scented soaps while candles flickered nearby. A soft oh fell from her lips. She hadn’t tried the tub
before; it was massive, though, and no doubt could fit all three of them. She beamed.

Hermione tugged at the collar of Theo’s shirt when he placed her gently on the floor. She helped
him unbutton his top and slipped it off while Draco removed his as well. It was intimate without
being overly sexual, which seemed to be a feat for them in and of itself. Once they were naked,
Draco stepped into the tub first, extending a hand to Hermione, which she took.

The three of them settled in, and Hermione nestled comfortably between her wizards. The foam of
bubbles reached just about to her chin, while on the other two, it covered about half their chest.
Silence followed them, only the soft sound of sloshing water when one of them would move to
touch the other. Comfortable and necessary, processing the words that sat so heavily on them for
different reasons.

Hermione trailed a finger along the length of a scar that curled curiously over Theo’s shoulder,
ending just below his collarbone. She had seen the others, easily hidden from the world. Draco’s
scars on his chest were larger, but she knew exactly what caused them. Damage from Harry’s curse
during their 6th year. The curse that was a result of him suspecting Draco was a Death Eater.
Something he had only done to protect Theo. Theo’s scars were still a mystery, but Hermione could
deduce what, or more who, they were caused by. Her mouth turned dry, and her nose twitched in
disgust.

There was so much in Theo’s past that pained her that she wished it wasn’t true- the death of his
mother, the abuse at the hands of his father, and then this, all of it. But Draco endured all of it; he
took Theo’s burdens as his own. Never once asking for anything in return. He allowed himself to be
the villain, all because he loved Theo.

Love. Did she love them? One or both. Hermione had only ever been in love once before, and
somehow, she didn’t quite think Ron counted. Yes, she had loved him, but it was forged out of a
twisted sense of duty she felt.

Emotions intensified when she was around them, all of them. They burned from her core, pushing
their way out, no matter what it was. Be it anger, hope, or happiness, it was profound and extreme
around them. The ache when they were gone, it stabbed and seared in its wake. Was that truly what
being in love was? She wasn’t certain. It was more profound, more primal – like her magic called
to them. Belonged to them. And if she was being honest, they belonged to her.
“Love,” Theo mused softly. “Is it good or bad?”

“Excuse me,” she blinked. “Is what good or bad?” her confusion evident on her face.

“What you’re feeling.”

Draco chimed in. “Your magic, darling. It’s vibrating around you quite intensely. Shimmering in
hues of lavender with flecks of gold,” he kissed her cheek. “Delicate and powerful, like you.”

“You can see it?” Just like she had seen theirs. They both nodded softly. “Have you ever been able
to see each other’s magic before? Because, Draco, I’ve seen yours; it’s grey like your eyes. Like a
storm cloud over an endless sea.” She turned to face Theo. “And yours, it’s green with flecks of
black, so Slytherin of you,” she chuckled.

“Only recently,” Draco added. “We couldn’t see it before you.”

“Interesting,” Hermione mumbled.

Was this love? Did everyone’s magic react this way?

“Come here, witch.” Draco opened his arms and pulled her to his chest.

Low moans of contentment fell as his fingers massaged shampoo through her scalp down to the
bottom of her hair. Never once had anyone washed her hair before; it was so - intimate. Warm
water washed over her in waves as he repeated the steps of adding shampoo once the first layer had
been removed. It lulled her into such a relaxed state that the question slipped out before she could
stop it.

“Theo. What memory causes your nightmares? Mine is Bellatrix.” Mortified with what she asked,
Hermione pawed her way towards him, quick to fix it. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry. Don’t answer that. I
was just sleepy, and it fell out of its own accord.”

“No, love, it’s fine. Today does seem to be the day for revelations, mine as well. It ties into
everything else I told you about.”

Kneeling between his parted legs, Hermione gave him her full attention. Determined to keep any
emotions in check.

“Without going into much detail. My nightmares are always the same, at least now, all these years
later,” his eyes flicked over her shoulder, connecting with Draco’s. “It was the night Draco got the
Mark. I was there; my father dragged me along. The Mark was given while under the effects of the
cruciatus curse. Specifically,” he shuddered. “The screams- the pain that should have been mine.
It’s all I hear, and there’s nothing I could do to stop it.”

Her head whipped around to look at Draco, whose face was impassive- hardened like marble.
Effectively, her heart shattered into two pieces, one for Draco and one for Theo. The immeasurable
pain both had suffered, and still did. What was she supposed to say? What could she possibly say?
Gods, she promised to keep her emotions in check, but they threatened to spill out. The tears
crested on the corners of her eyes; her shoulders shook.

Facing the wall, unable to look at them, she inhaled deeply- trying to hide the evidence of the tears;
her fingers swept along the bottoms of her eyes. Without words, they encompassed her, holding her
tight between them.

“You don’t have to hide it, love.”

“I want to fix it,” she whispered.

“We both know there are some things you can’t fix.”

Hermione did not miss the double meaning of his words. It was like what she had told him months
ago regarding her parents. After what had to be hours in their arms, they got out of the bath and
dried off.

Emotional exhaustion ran rampant between the three of them. Hermione had offered a dreamless
sleep, which neither accepted. Although, she was more worried about Draco than Theo. The wizard
already struggled with sleeping and refused to take melatonin as well. Draco had spoken so little
and kept what she assumed was the vast amount of his emotions bottled up during their
conversation. Theo had laid it all bare, and she was hopeful that he would sleep peacefully.

Laying on the bed, Theo and Hermione were on either side of Draco, both nuzzled into his chest.
Secretly, she was hoping that their combined body weight would keep him grounded that evening
enough to sleep. The last thing she heard was a whispered I love you between them before she was
out.

A cracking noise woke Hermione up, which was disappointing, considering it had been a
surprisingly deep and restful sleep. The room was dim, save for the yellow glow of the lamp posts
outside the window. She scooted out from under Theo’s arm and grabbed her wand, casting a silent
lumos.

On the floor next to the bed stood Pippa, whose eyes were round and frantic.

“Mistress,” she squeaked. “Please.”

“Pippa, what’s wrong?”

“Please. It’s Master Draco. He doesn’t look well.”

Hermione snatched her silk dressing robe from the door and tossed it on. It barely reached her
knees. Her bare feet padded down the stairs, following in Pippa’s wake until they stood by the glass
door to the terrace. Draco was standing outside, shirtless and in joggers. It wasn’t snowing, but
frost was etched on the glass. She cast a warming charm around her before stepping out.

Pippa followed her, staying quiet. Draco was pacing back and forth, engulfed in a cloud of smoke
from the cigarette that he was puffing on. Not once had she seen him smoke before.

“Draco,” she whispered.

Nothing.

“Pippa,” she crouched down. “Can you go get Theo for me, please?”

The elf nodded. “Is Master Draco going to be ok?”

“He’ll be just fine, I promise.”

With a crack, the elf was gone. Her hands rested on his biceps, rubbing up and down, stilling his
pacing. Her eyes found his, and they were black and listless- a shell. He was occluding. It made her
feel somewhat better; he wasn’t stuck in a flashback or too panicked to function.

The door behind them slid open when the elf returned with a shirtless and confused-looking Theo
in tow.

“Pippa,” Hermione cooed. “Could you make some tea and leave it in the bedroom for us?”

“Yes, Mistress,” she hurried off.

“Drake,” Theo wrapped his arms around his waist. “Can you come back to us? We’re here. We’ve
got you. You’re safe.”

Staying firmly flanked at his back, Theo didn’t move while Hermione stood in front of him. Her
fingers curled around his biceps, trying to ground him. The tips of her fingers traced the lines of his
tattoo, the outline of a dragon nestled in droves of flowers. Slowly, Draco blinked, the black
receding from his pupils, being replaced with streaks of grey and silver.

Wordlessly, he dropped the cigarette to the ground and snuffed it out with a wave of his hand. One
hand curved backward, urging Theo’s chin down to his shoulder. The other snaked around until his
palm was pressed against the small of her back, shuffling her in until their chests touched.

Hermione’s mouth moved over the scars on his chest, delicate kisses covering each one. There was
a short stutter as his heart rattled behind his ribs. She breathed in and out at a defined pace,
encouraging his breathing to mimic hers. Once the rhythm returned to normal, she spoke into his
alabaster skin that was caked in sticky sweat despite the chill in the air.

“You’re safe, Draco. Do you want to talk about it?”

They had talked so much today; the resounding shake of his head was expected. Somewhere woven
into the words from the day was the cause of Draco’s disquiet; she tried not to focus on it. But she
found her mind wandering, nonetheless. Was it the torture he endured while getting the mark? Or
maybe the guilt he carried for what happened between the wizards after that?

“Will you come back to bed with us? We need you.”

And they did. They needed Draco as much as he needed them. They all needed each other. Her
magic hummed at the revelation, vibrating through her. Did love do this? No, she didn’t think so.
This was something that surpassed that. Equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. A soul bond,
possibly a naturally occurring one. Among a triad. More myth than reality. Hermione lived in the
world of fact. And it was a fact, they were rare- unheard of even. Whatever it was. She was done
fighting it. It was theirs, and she would give herself over to it. To them. Her magic, her soul,
whatever they wanted was theirs.

Theo took their hands, apparating them back up to the bedroom.

In bed, Hermione repeatedly brushed her fingers through Draco’s hair, massaging his scalp. Only
once she was certain that he had fallen asleep did she stop. Theo had already dozed off, and
Hermione soon followed.
Chapter End Notes

I selfishly hope that you are all as devastated as I was when I wrote this chapter. The next
chapter will - I expect to leave your jaw dropped.

Below is going to be the chapter summary for anyone who wanted to skip over due to triggers.

The chapter opens with Hermione tending to Theo's cuts and injuries from brawling with Ron
in Diagon. While he is insisting that he is alright, Hermione isn't having it and forces him to sit
still and let her take care of him. She is short with him, but not really upset. She ask's why he
got so angry and doesn't buy it when he says it was because Ron was disgusting towards her.

Theo launches into the story of him and Draco and how they were friends growing up and
became more than friends in their fourth year and how they had to hide it from their fathers.
Draco and Hermione are surrounding Theo while he sits between them trying to keep himself
together. He talks about the summer after fifth year when Draco's father failed at the Ministry
and how Voldemort needed a student for a mission at Hogwarts. Nott Sr. offered his son
(Theo) to Voldemort in order to gain status within the ranks of the Death Eaters. Theo was
mortified and couldn't imagine becoming a Death Eater. He retreated from the world and
locked Draco at of his life.

Draco finally broke through the wards on Theo's floo and found him crying on the floor in his
room. Theo told Draco everything that his father had planned for him and how he couldn't do
it. Draco told him he loved him for the first time that night and promised him he would protect
him and he wouldn't have to do it. Draco begged for the 'honor' of joining Voldemort's ranks in
order to spare Theo from having to do it. When Draco became a Death Eater, he withdrew
from Theo and ignored - their relationship falling apart. He thought it was the best thing he
could do to protect Theo. He couldn't risk Voldemort finding out about them; and with the
Dark Mark he could now be tracked. After the war was over - Theo and Draco slowly
rekindled their friendship, but there was a lot that they needed to work through. Only a year
ago did they start seeing each other again.

After hearing the story, Hermione is questioning whether she belongs there with them - feeling
like an interloper. They have such a deep history together, and she feels out of place. Draco
reassures her that she belongs that they need her. The three of them get in a bath, and
Hermione traces the scars on Theo's back and the ones on Draco's chest. While in the bath,
Hermione starts to wonder if she loves them - if what she feels is love. Draco and Theo
mention that they can see her magic vibrating off her while she's thinking about what love is.

Theo admits that his recurring nightmare is the night that Draco got marked. Theo was in
attendance, and all he could remember were the screams. Draco's scream while he was
tortured as he was branded.

In the middle of the night, Pippa grabs Hermione out of bed because she's worried about
Draco, who is pacing outside on the terrace. Theo and Hermione find Draco occluding and lost
in a sort of trance outside. He doesn't want to talk about it - but the two of them remind Draco
that they need him and convince him to return to bed.
 Chapter 14 Blind Faith
Chapter Notes

Thank you all for the comments and kudos - it is wild this fic is almost at 20k hits! This
chapter has a lot of smut. And a little bit of character development and some pretty important
plot at the end you don't want to miss ;) I'm not sorry about it. You won't miss it!

ALSO - NSFW art warning this chapter. If you're out in public - hide your phone, tablet and
whatever you're reading on! Art done by the beautiful Nadia Polyakova on Instagram!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Another week, and Theo was gone again to who knew where. The only thing Hermione had been
privy to was that it was somewhere overseas, and it had to do with something in the DoM.
Frustrating as it was that Draco knew and couldn’t share, she did her best to push the negative
thoughts out of her mind. They reassured her that he was safe and she had nothing to worry about.
He was due home at some point on Friday; that was all she knew.

When she had started referring to their flat as home, she couldn’t say. It had happened slowly over
the last month or so, the word slipping out freely in conversation that nobody bothered to correct.
Being at the flat with them felt more like home than anywhere else Hermione had ever been. The
closest thing she could compare it to was growing up with her parents at their home in the suburbs
outside London.

Never again could she relive those experiences, wrapped in a blanket around a bonfire while her
father sang poorly and her mother smiled fondly. She started to understand that it wasn’t
necessarily the place that was home but the people she was around. Draco and Theo – at some
point, they had become home.

When Theo was gone, she struggled to sleep, something Draco had noticed. It was his turn to offer
numerous sleep aids that she vehemently declined. After a third night of lackluster sleep and
incessant mumblings from Draco about ‘stubborn witch,’ she confided in him. Part of her hoped
that it happened to him, too, and that it wasn’t just her that had this searing ache that wouldn’t go
away. It was only one more day, she told herself; she had made it to Thursday. She had to make it
through one more night, and Theo would be home.

Sitting in bed, Draco was propped up against the headboard. He looked adorably father-like, with
his glasses perched on the tip of his nose while he read a book on potion theory. Day-old stubble
framed his sharp jawline. Hermione leaned into his chest when he silently lifted his arm to grant
her access before draping it over her shoulder.

“Do you feel it too?” tossing her book to the side. “When he’s gone.”

“Like the dull burn of a stoker being twisted inside me.”

The book he had been reading was discarded next to hers when he removed his glasses, placing
them on the end table.

“Was it like that for you before?”

“No,” his fingers stroked through her curls. “I would miss him, but it didn’t ache like this.”

His fingers laced with hers, and he brought their joined hands to rest over his navel. Letting the
words resonate inside of her, her fingers trailed over the tattoo that covered the faded serpent and
skull underneath. It was an ornate sleeve of flowers and blooms whose colors popped against the
stark black background. The bright white of the narcissus flower was always the first to catch her
eye, but it was one of many woven into the art- the silhouette of a dragon almost hidden among the
linework.

Not inclined to deter her, Draco sat quietly as she explored the tattoo. Hermione was no florist, but
she didn’t doubt that each bloom represented was of profound importance. Willow, that one she did
know, sadness. But there were others: heliotrope, edelweiss, fern, honeysuckle, and a few others
she couldn’t place. Draco’s story was bare for anyone to see if they wanted to take the time to
understand it.

“Does your mother know what you did? To protect Theo?” her fingers still stroking the ink.

“To an extent,” he whispered into the crown of her head. “I think she assumed why I requested the
mark. And to my mother’s credit, she was correct.”

The laugh that followed was empty and lifeless. Draco hadn’t gone into detail over what had been
shared with her in the week since. Nor had she pushed since they found him occluding and
withdrawn on the terrace. She was hopeful that, in time, he would open up more.

“The night you got the mark?”

Theo may have skirted over the details, but she did not miss the inflection in his words. It was
traumatizing, at least for him, and now she wondered if it had been for Draco as well. She was
curious if that was the night that plagued him above others. His body stiffened, solid as stone
beneath her.

“What about it?” he ground out.

That Gryffindor bravery immediately retreated. She didn’t want to push him, not if he wasn’t ready.
Every muscle on his chest was taut; her fingers skated over the raised Sectumsempra scars on his
body.

“Never mind,” she whispered, kissing his throat. “I don’t want to cause you any distress.”

Strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, his lips on her head. “You are like a calming draught,
darling.”

“I just meant if you weren’t ready. You didn’t have to tell me, not ever, really. It’s none of my
business.”

A faint dripping noise could be heard just outside the window. Each one seemingly louder than the
last in the deafening silence between them. “It’s blood magic,” he traced the hidden mark. “The
ritual – it took hours.”

Her hand curled around his, laying them flat over the spot where the mark was – buried beneath a
sea of flowers.

“It was a ceremony, an honor,” Draco snorted, his eyes deadened. She watched carefully, expecting
him to occlude. Internally, she knew he was battling with the desire to – but he didn’t. “Theo was
there – in front of me, the entire time. He was the only other non-Death Eater present. Nott Sr.
forced him there. To watch.”

“Did he know – about the two of you?”

“He suspected,” Draco said flatly. “Regardless, he knew how painful it would be for Theo to watch.
It being me just happened to be a bonus.” Draco buried his face in her hair, breathing slowly and
deeply. “It was a blood ritual. The Dark Lord first carved the mark,” he swallowed. “With his
wand, it was like the steel of a blade, down to the bone. That part, I could, I handled it – I refused
to look at Theo. I couldn’t. Then, the spell. The incantation. Each part. A crucio followed it. And
then again. And another incantation. And then another crucio. And….”

“Draco,” Hermione whispered, her lips pressing against his. They were cold and dry. Her hands
brushed over his chest – he was freezing. Solid as ice. Silently, she pulled the duvet over them,
holding him close, burrowing into him. No tears fell. His grey eyes were alive but cold – distant.
“You don’t have to talk anymore. Unless you want to.”

“There are times I can still feel it, like a phantom,” his fingers scratched the spot on his forearm.
“Like the Dark Lord is summoning me from the pits of Hell. To Hades – where I belong,” the
words were a ghost of a whisper on her cheek.

Hermione bent down, placing a tender kiss on the florals that hid the serpent underneath. His body
shuddered. “Nope,” she said flatly. “You belong here. With me. With Theo. Non-negotiable,” her
lips curled along the clammy skin of his arm.

Quietly, they lay together as the night stretched on, Hermione just being there. His words cut
through the uneasy silence like a dull blade.

“That day at the manor,” he paused. “You said that it still haunts your nightmares still?”

“Yes,” she said, still stroking his arm.

“The two people I lo…” the word died on his lips when her breath hitched. “The day I did nothing
and the night I did everything.” His hand covered hers, stilling her movements. “Realizing that I am
to blame, not for one, but both of your…” he inhaled deeply. “The fact that the most troubling parts
of your past are interwoven with me is not something I relish.”

“Stop.”

A defiant hiss passed through his teeth at her words, but she ignored it. Rotating, she straddled his
waist, a knee pressed to each hip. The hem of her slip bunched up high on her thighs, her palms
connected with the expanse of his chest.

“You saved Theo, and there was nothing you could have done for me. If you intervened, it would
have been worse for both of us. We buried this years ago, Draco. Do not revert to your past self.”
Silver flickered in the grey of his eyes while his hands rested on the soft swell of her hips. He said
nothing as if pondering the meaning behind her words, looking for fault, trying to weasel in some
semblance of guilt to feed his own misguided remembrance of the past. When nothing came, his
face relaxed, the taut muscles softening on the creases of his eyes.

“You’re quite bossy,” he breathed a chuckle.

“So, I’ve been told,” she hummed. “I think you rather enjoy it.”

There was a playful roll of his eyes that made her smile. The flats of his hands caressed up the
length of her back, the cool metal of his rings leaving gooseflesh in their wake. His fingers curled
around the backs of her shoulders, urging her body into his.

Laying together in the soft silence of their intermingled breathing, Draco brushed featherlight
touches along the column of her spine. Sporadically, he pressed featherlight kisses over her
shoulders, neck, and cheeks.

“I don’t think I can sleep tonight.”

“Me either,” Draco mused.

“Play a game with me?”

Numerous times now, she had tried to get them to try one of her muggle board games, but to no
avail. She wasn’t under any delusion this time would be different, but it didn’t hurt to ask. Maybe
something so ridiculous would ease his troubled thoughts.

“Fine,” he huffed with a resigned sigh.

Teeth grazed along the swell of her lip; she knew just the one. She scampered to the edge of the bed
and retrieved her wand. With a graceful flick, she summoned the game and laid it between them on
the bed.

“Monopoly is better with at least three people,” she paused, catching Draco’s arched brow. “Do you
think Pippa would join us?”

“Why don’t you ask her, Granger,” he snorted.

“Pippa?”

It came out as more of a question than a request. But without fail, the little elf appeared with a
crack at the front of the bed, bright-eyed and smiling.

“Yes, Mistress?” she squeaked brightly.

She cringed at the title only slightly, enough for Draco to notice but not the elf. He strummed his
fingers over his elbow, curious as to how the interaction would play out.

“Draco and I were just wondering if you’d like to play a game with us,” Pippa’s face fell. “Of
course, if you’re busy, you don’t have to,” she spit out quickly. “Bugger,” she huffed. “Why is this
so bloody awkward?”
“Because you are apparently incapable of not making it awkward,” Draco laughed. “Pippa. Granger
wants you to play this Monopoly game with us,” he leaned in close to the elf, maintaining eye
contact with Hermione. “What do you say? Cocky little witch said she’s never lost; we could take
her out.”

Simultaneously, the smile on Hermione’s face faded while Pippa’s widened, hopping up on the
edge of the bed.

“Brillant,” Draco clapped his hands together.

She was hoodwinked and hustled. There was no way that Draco had never played Monopoly
before. Between him and Pippa, they owned three-quarters of the properties, nearly all of them
having hotels. Long gone were her attempts to hide the disgruntled look when she rolled the dice
down to her last few bills and properties. Seven – shite.

She moved her thimble seven spaces, landing squarely on Boardwalk with its bright red hotel.
Pippa cast a concerned glance between the pair of them as Draco’s triumphant smirk bore into
Hermione’s perturbed sneer.

“You’re a cheat,” she huffed, folding her arms.

“I did nothing of the sort, Granger,” he winked, not so subtly passing something to Pippa. “Pleasure
doing business with you.”

The elf blushed and disappeared.

“On Godric’s Grave, you didn’t cheat. What was that with Pippa? Bribed her to work against me?”

“Nothing in the rules against teaming up against one person was there.”

She huffed. “Sod off,” she chucked a pillow at his head.

For the first time in weeks, Hermione met Harry for lunch. Stress agitated his usually soft features
as they sat down at a small pub outside of Diagon. Impossible, though it were, his typically messy
black hair looked even more disheveled than usual, his green eyes lacking their standard luster. He
looked almost as careworn as Draco had.

“I saw Ron a few days ago,” he said flatly, pushing around his food.

A few days ago, which would have meant after the incident on Sunday, part of her hoped that he
was still bruised from Theo’s onslaught. She had mended him to the point where it looked like
nothing had happened. But unless Ron went to a healer, that would have been unlikely.

Her nails strummed along the edge of her glass, saying nothing.

“Nott roughed him up a fair bit, it seemed.”

Carefully, Hermione dissected his words. Harry was her friend, Theo’s friend, but also, with
Robards out, he was the head of the DMLE. They had far bigger things to worry about than a brawl
between two wizards. But she tried to ascertain his tone, whether it was one of friendship or
professionalism.
“Did he tell you what he said?” her nose twitched in disgust at the thought.

Harry shook his head.

“Well, let me share it with you. ‘Hermione. I never took you to be some Death Eater’s whore. Or
does he just pass you around like some plaything for his lover’?”

Hollow words fell from her lips, barely above a whisper to avoid drawing attention. Which already
proved difficult whenever Hermione and Harry were out in public together. Everyone gnawed for a
peek at the Golden Girl and the Chosen One.

“I suspected something along those lines,” he mumbled into the rim of his glass. “Nott let him off
easy then, it seems,” the mug dropped to the table with a thud, a subtle smirk on his lips. “Thank
Merlin for small victories. Pansy was at work when Ron showed up. Did you tell her about what
happened?”

Unable to thwart the sudden urge to smile, she allowed it to curl slowly on the corners of her
mouth. Her eyes sparkled once it pressed on the apples of her cheeks. She hadn’t told Pansy, but
that did remind her that she was going to send an owl to her friend when they returned to the
Ministry.

“No. I decided to spare Ronald from her wrath, happy with the job Theo did,” she chuckled. In the
long pause that followed, she decided to try asking again; she didn’t wholly believe that Harry
didn’t know. “Do you really not know where Theo is? I mean, you’re the acting head of the DMLE.
He’s the only obliviator on staff, and you’re just lending him out to the DoM without any
confirmation of where he is?”

It came out more accusatory than she had intended. “Sorry,” she murmured out.

“It’s fine, Hermione,” he sighed. “I would tell you if I knew and couldn’t share. I truly don’t know,”
he ran his fingers through his hair. “Adams from the DoM asked me if they could borrow Theo for
an experiment and that he would be periodically overseas for it. I agreed after Nott confirmed he
was happy to do whatever it was they were asking.”

The waitress floated past, leaving the check on the table without a word.

“He’s due back today sometime, correct?”

Hermione nodded solemnly. “With everything going on. I’m just uneasy.”

“Understandable.” Harry reached for the bill, tossing a galleon down on the table.

“I thought I was paying?” she protested.

“Be faster next time,” the familiar sparkle returned to his eyes.

That night, she returned home alone; Draco was working late, as he had most nights. She was
hopeful that Theo would be waiting for her, but no such luck. The flat was eerily quiet, Pippa
having taken the night off. Much to Hermione’s chagrin, the bubbly little elf had a date of sorts.

Despite not feeling hungry, she busied herself in the kitchen, opting to make one of Theo’s
favorites, chocolate scones. Supper be damned.
Loathe she was to admit it, Hermione was a rather dreadful cook. Her baking skills were passable,
and Theo had been showing her how to cook over the last few weeks while she showed him how to
bake. Instantly, he had fallen in love with her mother’s recipe for homemade chocolate scones.

Once they were in the oven, she ran upstairs, discarding her work clothes that had started to turn
heavy on her limbs. Down to her bra and knickers, her fingers skated over the garments hanging in
their closet before they settled on a black collared shirt, Theo’s. A smile tugged at the corners of
her mouth; it smelled like him- smokey cedar and clove. The scent calmed the ever-present ache
behind her navel. If only a little.

She shrugged on the oxford that was much too large for her. The hem hit just below the dip of her
arse. Messily, she rolled up the sleeves until they were bunched above her elbow, pulling her plait
loose, letting her curls billow behind her.

Quickly, she padded back downstairs just in time to pull the scones out. They cooled on a rack.
Hermione had found that they never tasted quite right if she tried to speed up the process with
magic. Instead, she cast a spell to get the dishes clean.

The floo roared to life in the background, and her head lurched like a swivel in that direction. A
mess of soot-covered chocolate curls stretched out, long fingers dusting the ash off his traveling
cloak. Hermione propped herself up on the island with her elbows, watching as Theo cleaned
himself up with a quick wave of his wand before discarding his cloak. Her delicate fingers closed
around the mug in her hands, a growing smile getting brighter with each second.

Her eyes glittered with golden hues when he looked up, all broad smiles and white teeth.
Confidence dripped off him with each determined step he made towards her, tossing his wand with
a clank on the island. When he rounded the corner, and Hermione stood to her proper height, his
mouth opened, and his eyes blinked wide.

“This,” he choked out. “This is better,” he closed any remaining distance between them. “I was
about to lament that I didn’t get the same forceful welcome home as last time. But this,” he
gestured to her current state of dress. “Is better.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, palms finding her hips.

Expectant hums pulsed out of her as he walked her back until she collided with the counter’s edge.
Hungry almond eyes drank her in while his fingers coasted under the bottom of the shirt until they
danced over the lace fabric of her knickers. Shocks of electricity zipped over her in his wake,
making her whole body tremble with anticipation.

An empty cold replaced his once warm hands when they fell from her completely. Languidly, he
passed through his hair with a single brush of his fingers, cocking his head to the side, appraising
her. His thumb rubbed over the wetness on his bottom lip while his other fingers curled around his
jaw as if it needed support. The penetrating glare bore into her; it was as if she was naked and
exposed while being equally adored. A lump bobbed in her throat; swallowing became increasingly
challenging under his assessment.

“Knickers off, love.”

The husky vibrato of his command sent a delicious shiver coursing through her. Each thump of her
heart against her chest was more forceful than the last, her gaze unblinking when her thumbs
hooked into the hem of the lace, sliding them down and tossing them aside.
While there was something distinctly enjoyable about challenging Draco, when it came to Theo,
she would submit to his desires without question. Unraveling the meaning behind that was for
another day while she was lost in the delicious headiness of his presence.

His body crowded hers, a foot on either side of hers, and his mouth hovered tantalizingly over the
shell of her ear. He wrapped a solitary curl around his finger, words brushing over her like a soft
breeze.

“Strawberries and lavender. You fucking smell delectable,” he hissed. “And now my shirt smells
like you.”

The backs of his fingers grazed her cheek until his thumb stroked her bottom lip, parting it slightly.
Slick coated her thighs, dripping down her legs as she squeezed them together, trying to alleviate
the burning ache growing at her apex.

“Suck,” the hardness of the k accentuated with a flick of his tongue.

Something primal stirred deep in her belly, wanting nothing but to please him. She slid her tongue
under the digit, closing her lips around it. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked back until the metal
of his ring passed her lips. Flicking her eyes up through her lashes, she held his gaze, doing as she
was told. Like the flames of a reborn phoenix, he peered down at her. He was all taut muscles and
hard lines; he barely touched her as she was at his mercy. Having enough, Theo removed his thumb
with a pop. He tilted her chin up, his hazel eyes swimming in a sea of black.

“That’s my good witch,” he praised in a breathy moan that had her whining.

“Theo.”

She tried to control the neediness of the sob that erupted from her but failed, throwing her arms
around his neck. A dark laugh shook low in his throat when his hands curled under her arse,
hoisting her onto the counter until she teetered on the edge. Aggressively, he rucked up the shirt to
her hips until her soaked and swollen cunt was on display.

“Salazar,” he hissed, his fingers dragging down the length of her inner thighs. “You’re dripping,
love.”

“Please,” she begged, her hands digging into his hair.

With a palm splayed on each thigh, he spread her wide as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He
sank down, moving his feet back until his mouth hovered over her entrance. She tried to buck her
hips up to meet him, but he was firm in his hold, keeping her place.

“Patience, love,” he blew a hot stream of air on her oversensitive bud. “I will take care of you.”

Soft whimpers followed his words as she leaned back, propped up on her elbows. His tongue licked
a long stripe the length of her folds, pulling a mangled moan from deep in her chest.

“You taste like the most decadent of desserts. A lifetime between your thighs would never be
enough,” he hummed, taking another long, languid lick through her cunt.

He had only just begun to touch her, and the tell-tale signs of her orgasm coiling low in her
abdomen were starting. A subtle twitch in each of her legs followed by the warming burn that
flushed her already pink skin. The pads of his fingers dug in with force, keeping her open and
bruising her in the process.

The tip of his tongue swirled and stroked her clit, sending a delicious jolt through her. A hum of
approval pulsed against the sensitive bud as his lips closed around it in a determined suck. Each
breath started to shudder in her chest, pleading for escape like a caged bird. She needed to feel the
stretch; she needed more. Her cunt keened and flexed around nothing, yearning to be filled.

On cue, Theo slipped a finger in, up to the knuckle, making her cry out. “Yes. Just like that, love,”
he praised before he slipped out and sank back into her, adding a second finger.

Her eyes fluttered in and out of reality as she floated in a sea of stars, on the brink of shattering.
The world and everything around her ceased to exist. It was all so perfect; his mouth around her
clit, his fingers stroking her front wall. Just when her body was about to give in, everything
stopped. Her walls fluttered around nothing, a cool breeze stinging where his warm mouth had once
been.

“No,” she cried out. Theo never left her wanting. Her eyes popped open, pleading for anything.

Ragged sounds of her own breathing apparently covered up the crackling of the floo. Draco stood
next to Theo, lost in the brunette’s mouth. Her body pulsed and hummed, aching from her stolen
release while burning at the same time.

Draco controlled Theo’s head with a borderline painful grip on his hair at the nape of his neck.
Every moan that slipped past his lips was quickly swallowed. When Draco palmed his straining
length, Theo sobbed into his mouth, making Hermione cry out.

Pulling away with a bruising bite on his bottom lip, Draco turned his attention to the whimpering
mess of a witch on his kitchen island. Still clutching his curls, Draco spoke to him, his gaze not
leaving her soaked center.

“She tastes divine. Did you make her come yet?”

Before Theo could respond, Hermione whined a desperate no.

Molten silver eyes flashed at her, freezing her entire being with one piercing look. With a flick of
his fingers, he released Theo and stalked dangerously close to the end of the counter and Hermione.
Instinctually, she crawled back until she was perched fully on the white marble, too nervous to look
away.

Long fingers splayed out on the stone as Draco leaned in, dangerously close to her. A disapproving
glare was leveled at her. But he spoke to Theo next while not looking away from her.

“Where are her manners?”

It felt like a test, like he was daring her to speak out of turn again- to answer in place of Theo.
Warning alarms buzzed in her brain, telling her to stay quiet. But that insatiable need to push Draco
nagged in the back of her head. Before she could lose the battle within herself, soft words from the
other wizard filled the air.

“She’s a needy mess, Drake. You arrived just as she was about to come.”
His palms landed on either side of her, caging her in as he loomed over her. Silver strands hung low
in front of his narrowed eyes. “Is that it, darling? Are you just mad with lust and not a rude little
witch, like I first thought?”

Fuck. What did she want more? To come. Or to bother Draco. Her body was panting for release;
whatever he wanted was his. And what he gravely wanted was her submission.

“Yes, please,” she sobbed. She knew what he wanted to hear, but she struggled to say it. “I didn’t
mean to be rude.”

Even though she tried, she couldn’t hide the frustrated twitch of her nose at the satisfied smirk on
Draco’s face. He twirled a curl around his finger and gave it a soft tug. “Not so hard, was it?” He
looked over his shoulder while Hermione swallowed the sneer on her face. “Take our witch to bed,
Theo.”

Blinking rapidly, she was acutely aware when Theo cradled her close and apparated them into the
bedroom. He deposited her on the soft down comforter, his own eyes black and endless.

Slowly, as he sauntered in, Draco removed his glasses, placing them on the nearby dresser. His eyes
roved over his partners while he removed his cufflinks and shucked off his oxford, tossing it on the
floor.

Yanking on Theo’s collar, he pulled him in close, divesting him from his clothes in quick
succession. Without sparing the wizard another glance, Draco turned to Hermione on the bed. Not
bothering with the buttons, he pulled Theo’s shirt from her, inhaling around the fabric, reveling in
the combined aroma of his partners before removing her bra.

His hands traced an exploratory path along the curves of her body, an approving hum on his lips.
Satisfied with his work, he pulled her in for a breathtakingly bruising kiss. There was no
misinterpreting his intention; he was marking her. Each movement was determined. Each swipe of
his tongue was forceful. Each nip on her lip claiming.

Once finished, he breathed along the seam of her lips. His steady command was filled with promise
and heat.

“Hands and knees, darling.”

Hermione swallowed the moan that had started to punctuate on her tongue. Shakily, she did as he
said without complaint. The weight on the bed shifted as Draco knelt behind her, bracketing her
legs with his. His hands caressed and squeezed the swell of her arse to a symphony of sighs. His
hands slid over her belly before moving up to cup her breasts; she moaned as he rolled and pinched
her nipples. He urged her body back until she was on her knees, back pressed against his front.

Momentarily, a hand disappeared only to return, flashing a green bit of fabric by her face. Loosely,
Draco pulled the cool silk over her eyes, pausing as his teeth caressed her ear.

“Is this alright?” he groaned.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”
The room went dark as he secured the covering over her eyes. Almost shocked, Hermione gasped
when Draco’s fingers brushed through her folds. The noises coming from her were lewd and needy.
Not bothering with pretense, he sank two fingers into her, making her keen and clench around him.

“Can you be my good girl and take care of Theo while I worship this perfect cunt of yours?”

“Gods,” she sighed. “Yes.”

In a silent direction, he jerked his head towards her, indicating for Theo to move. The mattress
dipped near her head. Tenderly, he stroked her cheek, his cock hard and wanting. Without warning,
Draco removed his fingers and sank into her. She hissed at the burn of the stretch of Draco filling
her without warning. His hands returned to her breasts, rolling her nipples in time with each
punishing thrust inside of her.

“I. I. Please. Oh,” she breathed.

Reaching out blindly, her hands palmed the back of Theo’s neck, urging him closer to her. His
calloused hands wrapped around her arms, holding her steady.

“You’re doing so well for us, love,” he praised, the words thick like honey. “You look so beautiful,
filled with Draco’s cock.”
Art by Nadia Polyakova

Something between a whimper and moan left her lips at the filthy adoration he gave her. A large
palm pushed against her back, urging her back down until her hands connected with the down
comforter beneath her. Draco kissed and sucked along her throat before whispering next to her ear.

“Imagine how divine our witch is going to look with your cock down her throat.”

A thumb trailed over the seam of her mouth. “Open up, love.”

Happy to oblige, Hermione parted her lips as Theo rested the tip on her tongue. With an urging tug
on her curls, she met his burning gaze – or at least where she thought his face might be. Staying
focused on him, she closed her lips and hollowed her cheeks.

“Pinch my thigh if it’s too much,” he moaned.

She nodded. His hips canted forward, slipping further and further into her mouth. Only slightly
easier to navigate than Draco, she took deep breaths through her nose as his cock hit the back of her
throat, making her gag momentarily. A rush of cool air ran past her face as someone removed the
blindfold.

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as Theo pumped into her, guiding her deeper with a pull of
her hair. Her tongue lathed over the vein that ran the length of him. Draco set a punishing pace
behind her that had her walls trembling around him quickly. Her body began to devolve around
them, unsure of how much longer she could support herself.

“That’s it,” Draco crooned, his palm connecting loudly on the swell of her arse. “Look at our
beautiful witch, Theo. Taking us so well.”

Her cheeks puffed around Theo’s cock at the praise, a moan rattling around in her throat. His other
hand cupped her cheek, stroking it affectionately as the grip on her hair tightened, his thrusts
becoming more erratic.

“Drake…...”

It was something between a plea and a moan. The pained hiss reverberated off the walls. Hermione
swept her tongue over the vein at the base of the head, flicking against it with each pump he made
while tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Do you want Theo to fill that pretty little throat of yours?”

She nodded instantly, moaning her assent.

“Come, Theo,” Draco snarled.

After only two more strokes, warm liquid dripped down her throat as his cock twitched inside her
mouth. Low, controlled moans hummed in his chest when both hands cupped her face, his softening
cock slipping out of her mouth.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he groaned, kissing her forehead.

Sweat and tears stained her face as her arms gave out, her chest flat on the bed. Draco swathed an
arm around her waist, blissfully supporting the brunt of her weight while Theo cooed quiet praises
in her ear.

Everything burned and ached. Her whole body seized when the pad of Draco’s thumb swept over
the entrance of her arse. He made another pass before leaning over her body, his own sweat mixing
with hers as his cock stilled inside her.

“Relax,” the words washed over her like a cool rain. “Do you want to try, darling? Just a finger.
Maybe someday you can take us both.”

She couldn’t stop the involuntary contraction that coiled deep in her stomach, pulsing throughout
her core. The flood of sensations that tonight was, it was hard to envision the image that Draco was
creating, but Merlin help her if she didn’t want to try. Too tired to lift her head, she moaned out a
soft reply.

“I’ll try.”

Instantly, Theo crouched next to her, massaging his fingers through her curls. There was the
whisper of a lubrication charm when the cold, foreign feeling made her body tremble. Slowly,
Draco started to pump into her again, the familiar flutter inside her building much faster. His thumb
hovered over her rear entrance, only barely dipping in when she inhaled sharply.

“Easy love,” Theo encouraged. “Relax. Take a deep breath.”

Following his command, she inhaled while Draco simultaneously slipped in the rest of the way
without resistance. The feeling was different but not unpleasant; she felt deliciously full. She
bucked her hips back, eager for him to move.

A low groan mixed with a laugh. “That’s our witch. I’m going to take such good care of you,
darling.”

The sweet reassurances from Draco had her melting further into the fluffy down beneath her. His
digit stayed still while he resumed his pace in her cunt. Barely there, breaths puffed past her lips as
her thighs started to quake with her fast-approaching orgasm. A high-pitch sob followed when
Draco slowly began pumping his thumb in pace with the motion of his hips. It was perfect.

“Draco. Draco. Draco.”

His name came out almost like a chant as everything erupted around her. She imagined this was
what it felt like to be engulfed by fiendfyre. Her body shook and trembled, and she couldn’t be
more thankful for his hold on her. Focused on controlling his own imminent release, husky growls
pulsed low in his chest.

She was a step away from falling into a chasm that undoubtably led to an endless abyss. Everything
burned and pulsed and coiled around her all at once. She imagined it was what a phoenix felt like
before they were reborn.

“Fuck, Hermione,” Draco hissed. “This arse. Your cunt. You are bloody perfect.”

A whispered command from Theo in her ear was her undoing. “Come now, love. Milk Drake’s
cock.”
Every nerve in her body was shot, but after another synchronous stroke inside of her, everything lit
up from within. Ecstasy rippled through her, her muscles spasmed and contracted fervently. The
tight string in her belly snapped as it burned through her. Each wave sent her higher, tears falling
anew as her orgasm scorched through her. Her body clenched down around him so tight that the
motions inside her stilled until her body calmed enough, allowing Draco to move again.

His thumb slipped out of her, both hands bracketing her hips as he pumped into her with one goal
in mind. Her body was on the verge of giving out when he came with a strangled moan, filling her
to the brim.

“Oh, Gods,” she sobbed.

Deep breaths in a harsh staccato pulsed behind her. The rush of their combined release dripped
down her legs when he pulled out. Before anyone could say anything, her whole body collapsed
into a spent mess on the mattress. Her hair and face were sticky with sweat and tears.

Unsure who, one of them lifted her weak form until she rested between her wizards. Only when she
saw the scars did she realize she was on Draco’s chest; sparing a moment, she tilted her head back
and gazed up at him.

A serene smile met hers when his fingers rested under her chin. “You did wonderfully, darling,” his
lips met hers in a tender kiss. She hummed contentedly before turning to see Theo. “I’m so proud
of you, love,” pressing his own sweet kiss to her.

Curled against Theo, she felt the rugged expanse of unyielding muscle settle in behind her. A
tattooed arm wrapped around her waist, holding her firm. If anything else was said, she didn’t
remember, slipping into a hazy sleep within seconds.

Monday at work came, and Hermione found herself tender and sore, having never left their
bedroom all weekend. A crooked smile kissed her lips, relishing the physical reminders that they
had left on her body. A not-so-small trail of bruises painted her inner thighs, not to mention the
burning stretch between her legs that made her grin.

Another pleasant surprise of the weekend was the Sunday edition of the Prophet. At Hermione’s
behest, Pansy had gone straight to Skeeter with a vial of her memories. The article levied against
Ron and his infidelity was gratifying in more ways than one.

It was a relatively uneventful day, which she should have been happy for. As usual, Theo was
beholden to the DoM and not even seen once on the DMLE floor. Harry had been in meetings all
day with Kingsley, giving the Minister an update on the status of the case. And based on the rings
under both his and Draco’s eyes, that progress had been minimal, if any.

Not knowing where she was headed, Hermione grabbed her second coffee of the day and wandered
the halls to find them quiet. Office doors were shut, and casual conversations among co-workers
were minimal. Everyone had been on edge for months now. She strolled by the temporary office
that Price had been given, blinds open.

The cocky wizard sat with his feet perched up on his desk as he tossed a snitch up in the air. Not a
care in the world. It infuriated her to see him so unbothered when she knew how hard Draco had
been working. She hoped Harry would send him back to MACUSA; she imagined he had little
more to offer at this point. Whatever the killer had done in the States was all but irrelevant by now.
 Before she could let her anger bubble any higher, she moved forward, acutely aware of when she
landed in front of Draco’s office. With his workload, she rarely sought him out at work. But all the
delicious memories of their escapades from the weekend swam fresh in her mind, so when she saw
his door was ajar, she couldn’t stop herself from visiting, even a brief one.

She walked back into his office with a smug smirk, ensuring no one was in the halls. Once the coast
was clear, she closed the door behind her and turned to face him. Shockingly, Draco was not alone.

“Oh. I’m sorry for intruding,” she blurted out. “Your door was open. I’ll let you get back to it.”

Something was off. Empty, barren eyes stared back at her; Draco was occluding and must have
been before she got there to be so distant already. The witch that stood between them looked oddly
familiar. Hazel, almond-shaped eyes. Shoulder-length, dark brown hair that kissed her collarbone,
almost black.

The witch smiled at her, but it was tainted by a longing sadness that swirled behind her eyes. The
smile was eerily familiar, sending a cold shiver up Hermione’s spine. The way it slowly built on the
corners of her lips and curled to one side – it was uncomfortably reminiscent of how her own
mother smiled.

“Hermione,” Draco’s emotionless voice said. “This is Melanie Johnson.”

The witch’s face fell, her eyes closing and looking away. Determined to look anyway besides
Hermione or Draco, it appeared.

“This is the witch from Massachusetts that survived an attack by our killer.”

Ah, she remembered now that photo on Draco’s desk. But there was something nagging about it,
about her, and that wasn’t quite it. It wasn’t her place to coax Draco while he was working, but she
was concerned for him and tried to communicate that through her eyes. After a long-drawn-out
silence, Hermione extended her hand to the witch.

“I wish it were under better circumstances,” Melanie shook her hand, her smile barely there before
it disappeared. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Hermione Granger, a healer here at the DMLE.”

“Yes,” the witch whispered. “It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Granger.”

Everything was heavy and thick, the air in the room so dense it was almost suffocating. While it
certainly couldn’t have been a pleasant conversation, Hermione knew that there was something
critical she was missing- the reasoning as to why the room seemed to teeter on the edge of oblivion.

When she looked at Draco again, she watched as the black in his eyes slowly dissipated. The warm,
welcoming grey swirled back into focus. Not wanting to overwhelm him, she fought the urge to
move next to him, to offer a small comfort to whatever was plaguing him.

His voice spoke again in a hushed, broken whisper.

“This is Melanie Johnson,” his throat bobbed. “Formerly known as Melody Nott,” he sighed.
“Theo’s mother.”

Chapter End Notes

Um - sorry not sorry about the ending!
 Chapter 15 Feeling Brave?
Chapter Notes

Wow - thank you all so much for the reactions and love for the last chapter. I knew it was a bit
of a plot twist, but I didn't except to wake up the next morning to so many comments! Thank
you for all the kudos and comments as always!

Mostly plot - but a lil something something for you smut fiends in there too!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Not a singular sound was heard in the echoing silence that beat on for minutes. Only after a while
did Hermione notice the heavy, uneasy breaths from the other witch in the room. Melanie. Or was it
Melody? Her eyes, the picture on Draco’s desk. She realized it now- those devastating, almond
hazel eyes. They were Theo’s, they were hers. There was no question that this woman was
unmistakably his mother. The chocolate curls, shorter now and with hints of grey – but it was
Theo’s. All the physical qualities Hermione adored about him, he inherited from her.

Frozen in time and place, Hermione didn’t know how to react to the events unfolding around her. A
fleeting fear that Draco knew about Theo’s mother left as soon as it came. The wizard was in
shock, occluding, trying to make sense of it all when she arrived. Hermione was floating, lost in the
clouds, drifting above, and unable to speak. What was she even supposed to say?

Question after question rose to the surface, that she ultimately choked back down. Part of her was
relieved, grateful, and wanted to wrap her arms around the witch and call Theo. But all too quickly,
the rose-colored glasses faded, and reality set in. Melody Nott had been alive this entire time, and
what, hiding in the States? She abandoned him- left him alone with that monster. And after all this
time, she never returned. What kind of mother does that?

Delicate fingers brushed along her shoulder as Melody closed the gap between them. Not caring
about the hurt it caused, she yanked her arm away.

“Don’t touch me,” Hermione hissed, sidestepping her advances.

Slowly, her hand fell and receded to her side. If she was bothered by Hermione’s reaction, it didn’t
show. The same sad smile stared back at her when a different, deeper voice garnered her attention.

“Darling.”

Draco had moved closer to the two of them, his hand extended, beckoning Hermione towards him.
Calm, collected, and in control, three things that she was incapable of being, at least presently. Her
hand slid into his, relishing the warmth and safety when his fingers closed around hers, urging her
into him.

“I’m sorry.”
The words dripped with meaning in the stagnant air around them- heavy. It reminded her of the
weight and burden that Slytherin’s locket had made her feel, like a bloody horcrux. Melody Nott
stared straight at her.

“Is that it? You’re sorry!” Hermione spat, reaching for her wand.

Heartache. It had been over a decade of torment for Theodore, and she was standing in front of
them with nothing more to say besides a lackluster apology. Never had Hermione ever wanted to
raze someone more. A soft pinch, followed by unyielding pressure on her shoulder. Draco’s quiet…
guidance, reassurance, command even. The hand that hovered precariously close to her wand fell,
useless and twitching at her side.

“A little anticlimactic, no?” The soft chuckle quickly faded into a resigned sigh. “My son is lucky
to have you both.”

Hermione cringed at the word son. It was bold of her to refer to him like that after what she did.
The callous retort that rushed to the surface died on her lips. Her whole body buzzed, sparing a
quick look over her shoulder. Draco was stoic and quiet but not occluding.

“How do you know about us?” Hermione seethed. She could not be bothered to force out fake
pleasantries. Draco would have to accept that her not hexing the witch was enough.

“I would still read The Prophet occasionally,” she said plainly. “The three of you made quite the
headline with your relationship. Britain’s Golden Girl, a Reformed Death Eater, and the Son of an
Infamous Death Eater. Quite the trope, it would seem.”

Malice was lacking from her words, but it cut, nonetheless. It wasn’t inherently wrong or cruel, but
she lamented anyone referring to Draco as a Death Eater. Unable to face the women, she turned to
face Draco, a question gnawing inside her.

“Did you know this was Theo’s mother? When you saw the picture of Melanie Johnson.”

“No,” the answer was instant. “Like you, something was off, like I knew her. But I couldn’t place
it. I hadn’t seen Melody Nott,” his eyes flicked to the witch. “Since I was 11. Rarely did I gleam at
the photo of her in our flat. I only realized when she stepped into my office. I recognized her; not
long after that did you come in.”

“I knew my son, and you both worked for the DMLE. But when I received Draco’s letter to come
to the Ministry to discuss the murderer. I assumed I would meet with someone else. I truly thought
I could get in and out without causing an upheaval to any of your lives.”

“You were going to come and not say anything to Theo?” Hermione spat.

Did she want nothing to do with him? Did she know how hurt he was? None of it made any sense,
and for her part, she didn’t care about what the reasoning was. There wasn’t a world where what
she did could ever have been okay.

“You must think I’m some terrible person…” she sank into a nearby chair.

“I cannot fathom a mother abandoning their child like you did. Theo was devastated and has been
carrying that pain for a decade now.”
“Hermione.”

A soft whisper of her name from Draco slowed her erratic breaths as she teetered towards a
breaking point- as fragile as hot glass.

“It’s fine. Warranted. I should be honored that my son has such a fierce companion.”

That word. Son. From her lips, it grated over Hermione like nails on a chalkboard. She wanted to
yank it from that witch’s mouth; never again would she be allowed to call Theo her son. She had
lost all rights to claim him as such, in her mind. But that smile, those eyes, they were warm and
pliant, just like Theo’s. The angry façade that enveloped Hermione faltered slightly at the sight.

The smile. The photo. The way she smiled – it was eerily similar to her mother’s. An unnatural
chill crawled up her spine.

“I would like an opportunity to explain myself. If you are both amendable?”

Doubtful that it would change her opinion, she was, of course, curious. A curt nod followed the
question when Draco repeated her motion. His hands drifted down the length of her arms,
encircling her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. So focused on her own feelings, Hermione
neglected to remember that this was difficult for Draco as well. Not only was he overwhelmed with
his own emotions, but he was trying to keep hers in check as well.

She took a deep breath and allowed her neck and back to relax, her hands resting on his on her
waist. Her thumbs rubbed soft circles over the skin, offering him a quiet comfort. Draco whispered
softly in her ear for only her to hear.

“Thank you. I know it’s hard, but try to let her finish. I promise you can tear the witch apart after if
you’d like.”

“Fine,” she mumbled.

“Based on your reactions, I assume Theo told you what happened, at least from his perspective. I
died of Dragon Pox while he was at Hogwarts that first year. Or at least that was the tale his father
spun. He couldn’t be seen as weak, and a wizard of his stature would be ruined if people found out
his wife left him and fled.”

Doing her best not to say anything, an annoyed groan hummed in her chest when Draco squeezed
her tighter.

“I don’t need to tell you that Theo’s father was,” she paused, a small tremble snaking through her.
“Is a cruel man. I had been planning for years to flee to the States, me, and Theo. It was no small
feat and required meticulous work. I needed to ensure that he would never find us. If I ran with his
heir and he found us. The consequences would have been dire.”

Before she could go any further, Draco cast a quick silencing charm on the room, flicking his wand
to close the blinds as well.

“I worked with a forger in Salem. They doctored up papers and wands and were even able to get
Theo a spot at Ilvermorny. After he went to Hogwarts, the plan was for him to come home for
Christmas break. I would take him to the train to return to Hogwarts after the holidays were over,
and we would flee from there. It would give us enough time to leave the country before his father
realized we were both gone. I had planned to tell him that I was visiting family in Italy after
dropping Theo off. We would have had a month head start, potentially more.”

Unease brewed in her chest like the thorns from a rose bush. Beautiful and painful all at once. What
would have happened if the story played out like Melody said? Would Draco have ever taken the
Mark? Selfishly, it saddened her to imagine a world where she never met Theo, one where they
weren’t all together. But all his pain might have been spared. But it didn’t do any good to dwell on
what-ifs. Something happened, as the plan didn’t pan out. The ice wall Hermione had erected
between her and Melody melted slightly, knowing that she originally never planned to leave
without her son.

“Hallows Eve,” her eyes turned dark and foreign. “His wand dug into my throat; he dragged me by
my hair into a forgotten part of the manor,” her throat bobbed. “He shoved my face into a stack of
papers. The new identities for Theo and me; how he found them,” her head shook softly.

Little had been shared with Hermione regarding the intimate details of Nott Sr.’s malice. Whenever
the conversation steered in that direction, both wizards quickly changed course. If the scars on
Theo’s back were any indication, the man was ruthless and vile. He still hadn’t shared with her the
exact events that led to the white, jagged scars that lashed out around his shoulder blades. But she
had put together enough of the pieces to correctly assume that he had received those the night that
Draco took the Mark.

“He said I had two options,” tears dripped down her cheeks. “I could leave now, and he wouldn’t
pursue me, that I would be dead to him and the world. But Theo stayed. Or he would kill me and
Theo if I stayed.” Sobs racked through the woman’s body. Despite her numerous misgivings,
Hermione fought the urge to offer her a small comfort. “He said if I stayed, he would kill us both
and find a new wife and have a new heir. That if I ever came back, he would kill my son without a
cursory thought.”

She whispered the soft echo of a threat from a decade ago that chilled Hermione to the core.

‘Killing you would be easier. But no. Runaway, you stupid witch. You can live knowing that the boy
is mine. My heir to do with as I see fit. I will make sure you feel everything. That is almost more
enjoyable. You were always too soft on the boy. You can know I will train him properly in your
absence. Death would be too kind for you.’

Gods. Pieces of her heart fractured until they were scattered around her chest. She wanted to run, to
find Theo. That beast of man was still alive, albeit in Azkaban. Theo had lived with him alone for
years. What did he mean by ‘feel it’ though?

“Why didn’t you come back after the war? Surely you knew that Nott Sr. was sentenced to life in
Azkaban.”

Her fingers flicked the tears that had gathered away before looking up. Clouded and glassy eyes
shimmered in front of her.

“Cowardice. Guilt. Fear. Take your pick. Part of me thought he could still harm Theo from
Azkaban. Hard to believe, but I didn’t want to hurt Theodore, never. I loved him. I still love him. I
will always love my son,” her face fell in her hands, unbridled tears falling. “I imagined by then he
had forgotten me- got over it. And that me coming back would be worse than if I were to stay
dead.”
“He never got over it.”

The husky growl of a whisper pulsed past her ear. Draco’s taut body quaked behind hers for only a
second before it was rigid once more.

“You can stay with my mother at our estate. I’ll send a message to her and escort you there shortly.”
The finality in his command was unwavering; Draco was done with the story.

Melody nodded, unable to look at either of them. Draco sent his patronus to his mother while
everyone was silent. Hermione was overwhelmed, the repercussions of it all, and the subsequent
realization of what they should do now.

Draco spun her, cupping her face in his hands. “Stay here. I’m going to take Melody to my mother.
I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Do not leave. Wait for me to come back. Understood?”

“Yes.”

Not caring that the other woman was in the room, he kissed her. It was soft and promising. His
breath mingled with hers between each drawn-out kiss, reluctant to pull away altogether, always
leaning in for one more. His forehead came to rest on hers before stealing another kiss, pecking her
temple, and turning away.

Alone in the room, everything that had been sustaining her gave way. Hermione sank to the floor,
unable to reach one of the chairs. Her legs curled in towards her waist, her face in her hands. Draco
needn’t tell her to stay put; she could move if she wanted to. And Merlin, what would she do if she
ran into Theo in the halls? Smile and pretend everything was fine? No, she would hide in Draco’s
office all day if she had to.

Never had she been so exhausted. Her back fell against his desk, her eyes closed, not wanting to
fight the emotional drain that strained her. At some point, she must have dozed off. The soft sound
of her name and a gentle touch urged her back to reality.

“Hermione, darling.”

She groaned at the intrusion, her eyes flicking open to see Draco crouched before her. His trousers
had been hitched at his thigh to accommodate the strained position. His hips opened to offer better
balance. His fingers brushed along her brow.

“We’re going home. I’ve talked to Potter. If anything urgent comes up, he’ll message me.”

Hermione took his offered hand as they stood up simultaneously.

“What about Theo?”

“We’ll let him finish out the day. We need to talk alone before springing this on him.”

Back at the flat, Draco and Hermione lay in bed, still fully clothed. The clips from his wand harness
were uncomfortable around her face as she tried to rest. Sleepily, she tugged at the clasps, tossing
the leather from his body, mumbling a soft that’s better once it was removed. A tender chuckle
from Draco was his only response.

“I was thinking Saturday - all three of us would go to the manor. Theo can talk with his mother.”
Drawing recognizable patterns on the fabric of his shirt, all she did was nod. Yes, that made sense.
But what did they do in the meantime? They couldn’t just bring him there on Saturday without any
pretense and spring it on him. Nor could she sit with the knowledge for days without telling him.

“I know you’re having a hard time with this. But Hermione,” he tilted her face towards his. “We
need to be strong for Theo.”

“I know,” she hummed back. “I’m fine, really.”

“Stubborn witch,” he groaned. “You’re a poor liar. You don’t have to be bloody fine all the time.
Just try to keep your emotions in check while we navigate this. I…” he paused. “I’m not sure what
kind of reaction we’ll see from Theo. And if either of us is too charged, it will make it more
difficult for him.”

“I agree,” she mused. “Do we tell him tonight?”

“I think that is best. There is something that is bothering me, though. Not so much about Melody
Nott, but Melanie Johnson.”

Oh. Hermione perked up and propped herself up on his chest. In the whirlwind of the morning, she
had almost forgotten the reason the witch was there. She had been attacked and nearly killed by the
same person who seemed intent on tracking down Hermione.

“All of the victims were either Death Eaters or partners of known Death Eaters,” his fingers
brushed over his lips. “Melanie Johnson had zero ties to any of that community in the States where
she was attacked.”

The words settled into the deepest recesses of her mind. Cataloging through everything that she
knew about the murders and now Melody Nott, she tried to find an answer. Either the killer made a
mistake or thought Melanie Johnson was someone else. Or, the more likely explanation was that the
killer knew her identity. And that she was Melody Nott, wife of the notorious Death Eater,
Theodore Nott Sr. Seemingly, they had reached the same conclusion; worried looks exchanged
between them.

“Who knew who she really was?” Draco mused, frown lines marring his face.

“The forger?”

Draco’s eyes widened. “You, brilliant witch,” he kissed her soundly, palming her face in his hands.
“That makes the most sense. Now, after all this time, do we think Melody remembers who that
was?”

The afternoon was blurred between fitful sleep and an incessant path of what-ifs. When Theo
arrived home, bright-eyed and mischievous, it sliced like a dull blade in the pit of her stomach. He
bounded into the bedroom with a playful smirk and an indecent look in his eyes, thrilled by the idea
of coming home to find both his partners cozied up in between the sheets.

“Since when,” he drawled. “Am I home before you, Drake,” he crawled onto the edge of the bed.
“Is everything alright?” he arched his brow. “Are you sick? I could make supper or ask Pippa to,”
he smiled fondly. “Let me get you both some tea.”
Gods. How in the world did Theo turn out this way? There was no reason for him to be as warm
and sweet as he was. Raised by cruelty and malice, and yet here he stood: tender, supportive, and
adoring.

“We’re not sick,” she crawled to the end of the bed. “Come here,” she sat up on her knees,
extending her hand.

He took her hand, tentatively. “You two are acting odd. Did Draco sneak a niffler into the flat
again?”

“Again?” she seared a glance at the blond, who just shrugged. “Meaning you’ve brought a niffler
home more than once?”

The incredulity in her tone hid the wavering uncertainty that had been brewing low in her belly all
day.

“If there’s a niffler in this flat, that will be thrice now. Balmy wizard thinks they’re adorable and
has been trying to get me to agree on one as a companion for years. Can’t want something normal
like a cat or a dog.”

For some reason, Hermione had a hard time coming to terms with Draco finding any small magical
creature adorable. And that he had gone to lengths to try and convince Theo to agree to one. There
was a mountain of paperwork involved with keeping them; you couldn’t just waltz in off the street
and pick one up at the magical menagerie.

“There’s not a niffler here, is there?”

“Not this time, no,” he puffed. “But I stand by what I said; I would like one. And considering how
you are both staring at me. I’ll now need to work on winning over both of you on that front.”

Draco’s predilection for niffler’s aside, the tension in the room eased considerably. More likely,
though, it was her own nervousness subsiding. How she hoped Draco would lead the conversation;
she didn’t know how even to begin. Guiding Theo back on the bed until he rested next to them,
Hermione placed her chin on his shoulder, her arms around his waist.

The air in the room turned thick, laced with unease, when Draco palmed Theo’s face. The wizard
tensed in her arms instantly, recognizing the touch as something more than a general gesture of love
or adoration.

“Theo,” Draco forced a smile. “There is something we need to tell you.” His thumb stroked the
other wizard’s jaw.

Every muscle in Theo’s body turned rigid in Hermione’s grasp. She squeezed him tighter, doing her
best to reassure him. She watched as Draco did his best to keep his body and face neutral, all that
auror training paying off as he gave nothing away.

“Drake. You’re scaring me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” he continued to rub his face. “We have some news we need to tell you. It’s
about your mother.”
They could the sharp inhale of breath from Theo at the mention of his mother. His heart started
racing in his chest, in stark contrast to the hard lines of his body that remained taut in her hold.
Theo said nothing. But Hermione saw as Draco’s stare lingered on hers for an extended pause,
silently letting her know he was about to bring Theo’s whole world to a standstill. She was
surprised he wasn’t occluding.

“I met with the witch from the States today, Melanie Johnson. Remember, the one that survived an
attack?”

“Spit it out. What does that have to do with my mother?” Theo hissed, making Hermione flinch.

“Theo. Melanie Johnson is really Melody Nott. Your mother is alive and had been in hiding in the
States, living under a false name.” Before Theo could absorb what Draco said, he continued.
“Hermione and I both saw her in my office. It is her. She is currently staying with my mother at
Malfoy Manor.”

After a long, quiet pause, magic hummed around Theo, almost like a shock to Hermione’s hands. A
vase shattered in the corner as Theo pushed Hermione off and tried to jump from the bed when
Draco closed a hand around the wizard’s wrist, forcing him back.

“Slow down, Theo. Listen to me,” Draco urged after sneaking a peak at Hermione to see she was
unharmed.

“Let go of me,” he yanked his arm but to no avail.

“No,” Draco hissed. Roughly, Draco pulled Theo back, and pushed him down until he was pinned
under him. Theo shoved and scratched at Draco’s chest, trying to get away until his energy waned,
and tears spilled from his eyes. Hermione sat close by but stayed out of the way while Theo was
frantic. “Shhhh. It’s alright, Theo,” Draco whispered, cupping his face, and kissing his brow.
“We’re here. Everything is going to be alright.”

“You’re lying,” Theo choked out, squeezing Draco’s biceps. His hazel eyes found Hermione’s.
“You’re both lying,” he whispered again.

Cautiously, Hermione inched closer and brushed the hair off his face. “No. We’re not Theo,” she
said soundly. “She’s alive.”

Draco pressed another kiss to Theo’s lips, staying connected to him. “I love you,” he murmured.
“We’ll figure this together, all of us.”

Confident that Theo was done fighting, Draco slid off his waist and pulled the brunette into his
chest. Hermione shifted in behind Theo, pinning him between the pair. Draco ran his fingers
through Theo’s hair while Hermione rubbed his back. They sat together for an hour in silence as
Theo’s breathing slowly returned to normal and the tears stopped.

“Where is she?” the question, a barely audible puff.

“At the manor with my mother.”

“Can we go now?”
As he made to leave, Draco reached out, gently coaxing him back between the sheets. “Let’s just
take a breath. Okay, handsome?”

Rarely had she heard Draco use any endearment with him, especially outside of the bedroom.
Always open with his affection and touches, there was no wanting of I love you’s or anything of the
sort, but the pet names seemed reserved for sparing use with the other wizard.

“We’ll go on Saturday, all of us. I think everyone needs some time to digest and acclimate.”

The days leading up to the weekend were tense; she was thankful for the time apart when they were
at the DMLE. In the flat, Theo was short, not unexpected, but she wasn’t used to the minor spats
with him. Nothing they did seemed to put him at ease. Frustrated, Draco retreated to his office
under the guise of working, leaving Hermione to pick up the pieces.

They had left out most of the extraneous details regarding Melody’s history and what caused her to
flee; that conversation was better left to be had between the two of them. Draco and Hermione
argued about what was better, giving Theo space to come to terms with everything or being
endlessly available and supportive. In the end, neither seemed to work.

It was almost a blessing when night turned into day on Saturday morning. Hermione and Theo
stood by the floo, waiting for a few beats behind Draco before departing. Earlier in the week, he
had adjusted the travel path to the manor. It would now take them directly to what had been his old
bedroom, giving them, mainly Theo, privacy before seeking out Melody.

“Gods,” his face fell. “I’ve been such a prat to you and Drake, love. Please forgive me.”

The color drained from his face, looking grey and cold. Nothing sounded like him, not the words
that passed his cracked lips, not the wavering in his voice- everything came to a head. Digging her
nails in on his jumper, she stood on her tiptoes and guided his lips to hers. All the tenderness and
love she could convey poured into the kiss.

She pulled back, her mouth only a breath away. “There is nothing to forgive. We’re not going
anywhere. We are here for you now and always.”

The following words died in her throat. A stifled I love you. Merlin, she did. She loved him
completely; she was his. But it didn’t feel like the right time or place.

Hands rested on her face, urging her lips to his once more. “Thank you. How I deserve both of
you….”

“More than you know. Theo, you are truly a beautiful person and deserving of every kindness and
joy. Miraculously, and despite the cruelty of your life, you became the person you are. Now, are
you ready?”

“No,” he choked on a snicker. “But I suppose it’s time, ready or not.”

Flames roared green and back to shades of red and orange as Theo disappeared to the Manor.
Knowing Draco was on the other side, Hermione paused before following him. Her own breathing
became labored, her chest was tight, and her hands were numb. Carefully, she sucked in one long,
slow breath, holding it before moving into the next one.
“Mistress?” Pippa squeaked, padding over from who knew where. “Can Pippa help?”

Unceremoniously, Hermione plopped down on the floor, her breathing still uneven but better-
placing her face in her hands, curls curtained her, shoulders rounded and heavy.

“Does this happen to Theo and Draco a lot?” she murmured, looking up, slightly embarrassed.

Pippa shifted from side to side, tugging at the hem of her makeshift dress before nodding. “Less
now. But it used to be a lot more.” Having little respect for personal space, the elf tilted to the side,
looking Hermione in the eye. “Does Mistress want to play the game again? Pippa will let her win
this time.”

A genuine laugh and an undignified snort made her clutch at her stomach and doubled over. That
was enough to at least get her up off the floor. She couldn’t dawdle for much longer, or someone
would come looking for her.

“Thank you, Pippa. But I need to head out. Rain check, though,” she winked. “And I don’t need
you to let me win. I’m capable of winning on my own. But.” she ducked down. “Do you mind
making those chocolate scones and Theo’s favorite for supper? That cottage pie of yours he loves
so much?”

“Pippa would be honored, Mistress! Anything for Master Theo.”

Draco’s former bedroom was not spared from Narcissa’s whirlwind assault to rid the manor of
anything remotely related to its previous life. While she had never seen what was once her auror’s
room previously, it seemed light and airy. Not something that exactly screamed the pretentious prat
that he was when they were at Hogwarts.

Stepping out of the floo, all the décor faded into the background as her eyes were drawn to them.
Foreheads pressed together in tender reverence. Theo’s arms swathed around Draco’s waist, his
fingers brushing soothing strokes through his curls. A different kind of tug happened behind her
navel. It was the exact spot where she had felt the painful ache when Theo was gone. But this was a
warmer glow; it radiated out, illuminating like the rising sun.

Not breaking their embrace, Draco reached an arm out, inviting her in a silent gesture. Softly, she
padded across the rug, nestling in his hold, her head finding Theo’s arm. Everything that had been
so taxing over the previous weeks melted into the background. Hermione rested her palm on his
chest- the steady beating of hearts and the powerful hum of magic buzzing around them. They
could hear it; her eyes flicked up, and she could see it- a shimmering mist that reflected in the light.

“Do you want us to come with you or wait here?”

Whatever he wanted or needed, they would do. His heart stuttered and started again at the question,
sending a chill through her. Hands wrapped around Draco’s biceps, putting enough distance
between them so the wizards’ eyes connected. The beginning of a smile curled on the corners of his
lips but faltered before it touched his cheeks. A hand moved to Hermione’s chin, tilting her head
back, looking for something that he already searched for in Draco’s stony grey gaze.

More confident and commanding than she anticipated, he spoke. “I’ll meet my mother alone.”
“We’ll be here for you.” Draco palmed his back, guiding his body to his. Each kiss was drawn out,
their mouths moving in slow, synchronous movements until Draco took a parting tug on his lower
lip.

I love you. Words. They were just three words. Say it. Oh, how she wanted to. Instead, she smiled,
welcoming the warmth of his lips on hers. His tongue dipped in past the seam of her mouth with an
exploratory swipe before retreating with a parting nip.

Merlin, what was she supposed to say? Words failed her. Nervous that the ones she was afraid to
say were going to tumble out, she patted his cheek with encouragement. “Go. Can’t keep your
mother waiting.”

With a final glance back at them, he strolled out beyond the door until the sound of his footsteps
faded. Hermione focused on Draco, noticing the purple splotches under his eyes. Glimmers of
magic flickered there- a glamour. It was not something he struggled with, meaning the dark circles
were pronounced. Not having the energy to bicker with him, she retrieved her wand and cast a
finite.

Black and purple rings shone vibrantly under the rims of his glasses. Wrinkles perched at the
corners of his eyes and along his brow. Red veins kissed the pupils.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Last night,” he groaned.

“How long?”

“I’m fine, Granger.”

“Liar,” she sneered. “You don’t get to admonish me for pretending nothing is wrong and then go
and do the same thing.”

She tugged him by the collar of his oxford until they both sat on the bed. Narrowed eyes stared
back at her as she continued to more or less manhandle Draco until she had her back against the
headboard and him between her legs.

“Shift down,” she pushed on his shoulders. “You’re too bloody tall. I swear – did you use an
extension charm or something? You were never this ridiculously tall during our time at Hogwarts.”

“The cruciatus curse can have that effect,” he said deadpanned.

A sharp inhale made her cough. “Draco,” she whispered.

He didn’t even try to hide the laugh that clawed its way up his throat and out his mouth.

“You, insufferable tosser,” she flicked his ear.

“Oi,” his hand darted to the offended area. “It was a joke, Granger. Bloody menace.”

“It was a poor one,” she scoffed. She gripped his shoulders and tugged before settling into a softer
massage of the tightened muscles. “Take a nap while we wait,” she whispered, a little agitation still
present. “I swear to Merlin Draco if you say you’re fine.”
His body twitched under her, apparently biting back the retort that he had been about to say before
she chastised him. Nothing else was said; it wasn’t long before the muscles softened and grew more
pliant beneath her. Finding the massage comforting, Draco slid down further until his head rested
on her belly. She ran her fingers through his hair, over and over, until she heard shallow, slow
breathing. A quick glance at his face confirmed he had fallen asleep.

Primarily for herself, she murmured affirmations, still stroking through his strands.

“You are not responsible for protecting everyone you know? I know you think you are, that it’s
some duty embedded in you. Gods, I want to help. You’ve looked so beaten down for months now.
Don’t worry about me or Theo. We’re ok. Just having you here is enough. You’re enough.”

Softly, she snorted. “Some advice,” she chuckled again. “Pretty sure Ginny has told me that same
thing. Something about taking care of myself for a change.”

Maybe she would be lucky, and some of what she said would permeate his subconscious.

“Red is right,” he mumbled into her stomach.

“You’re awake?” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “Of course you are.”

“Only barely,” his fingers curled around her hips and yanked. “Now, get under this blanket with
me. I need a proper cuddle after those things you said.”

Sparing him additional prodding, she did as he asked. And found that she was about just as
exhausted as he must have been. Heads buried under the heavy duvet, they faced each other, arms
and legs slung around in a muddled pile of limbs. The last thing she remembered before falling
asleep was a peck on the tip of her nose, making her giggle like she would with gillywater.

Later, heavy footsteps padded into the room, the door clicking closed behind. There wasn’t the
surge of emotion that she had been prepared for. Sweat trickled down her face; curls stuck errantly
around after being stifled and suffocated by the comforter for an extended period.

Theo’s tone turned playful once their eyes connected in greeting.

“Aren’t you just delightfully cute like that?”

“Somehow,” she yawned, wiping sleep off her face. “I think you may be exaggerating.”

“Never,” he hummed, sliding in next to her. He lifted her hand, brushing a kiss to her knuckles.
“Drake,” he looked at the still sleepy wizard. “Tell our witch how perfect she is.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” he mused, kissing Theo’s temple, pink coloring his cheeks.

As much as she adored the compliments and full attention from her wizards, she was pleasantly
surprised by how carefree Theo appeared. He acted just as he always had, at least before they had
broken the news to him earlier in the week about his mother. Hermione wasn’t sure how long he
had been gone, but based on how rested she was, she would wager on hours.

Part of her wanted to continue to allow them to float around in the pink bubble that had formed.
And maybe that was best. But her somewhat bothersome need to know all the information quelled
her desire to leave well enough alone.
“How’d it go?” she curled her legs under her, rubbing her eyes once more.

“Fine, I think. Not bad. I don’t know what to feel. Happy, excited. Angry and confused.” Theo
stared at their reflections in an opulent mirror on the far wall. “She was just as warm and
comforting as I remember,” he whispered.

Hermione stroked the apple of his cheek with her thumb. There was no trace of the anger or
confusion he noted; only a contented sort of glee sparkled there. A sad smile plucked at the corners
of her mouth; perhaps Theo thought he was supposed to be upset – because she was. She did her
best to hide it, but perhaps Melody had said something. His hand covered hers, pausing her
touches.

“Mother adores you,” he whispered. “Both of you. Although…” he raised a brow at Draco. “She is
concerned you are not sleeping enough. Went on and on about the bags under your eyes.”

Draco snorted. “Tell that balmy woman that I sleep plenty.”

“No, you don’t,” Hermione snipped. Maybe she and Melody could agree on something. Also, how
could the woman adore her already? They have barely spent any time together. And the time they
did talk, Hermione accosted the witch. Recognizing the confused look, Theo smiled and cupped her
face.

“She said I have a fierce lioness protecting me,” he kissed her forehead when she blushed.
“Everything else aside, she could not be more right about that.”

“Very true,” Draco added, gripping her hip. “Claws and all.”

“I do not have claws,” she murmured, looking down at the bedding.

“Oh, Granger,” Draco purred, rolling her to face him. His eyes were dark and imposing. “You most
certainly do,” his teeth grazed her throat. “You can scratch me with them anytime.”

A whimper trembled in her throat as she dragged her nails along the breadth of his chiseled back.

“Yes, like that, little witch,” he growled. “Only harder. I wonder if you can make me bleed.”

“Show him, love,” Theo whispered, spurring her on.

Hermione notched her knee over Draco’s hip and nibbled on her bottom lip as she rolled on top of
him- a leg on either side of his hips. His length pulsed against her core, eliciting a soft moan from
her as she tugged her nails down over his oxford. Draco smirked at her.

“Come now, witch. I know you can do better than that,” he goaded.

Not one to resist a challenge, Hermione yanked at the buttons of his shirt until it fell open,
revealing the scarred, porcelain skin. This time, she dug deeper – pulling a hiss from Draco. Before
he could say something, her small hands closed around his wrists, urging them above his head
where she held them in place before nipping at his lip. Hunger flashed in his icy stare as words
rumbled low in his chest.

“Feeling brave, darling?”

Enjoying the show, Theo sat stoically next to them, a knowing smirk on his lips as he trailed
featherlight touches up the column of her spine.

Shamelessly, she ground herself against his cock.

“Hard for me, Draco?” she snickered, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“Oh, sweet, little witch. Do I need to remind you who’s in charge?” Almost too easily, Draco
wrapped her wrists in one large hand and rolled them until she was pinned beneath him. Hermione
growled, albeit the most adorable little mewl of a growl- but a growl, nonetheless. The backs of his
knuckles brushed along her jaw, making her shiver. A dark chuckle rumbled through him as his free
hand closed around her throat, his thumb stroking her pulse point. His lips hovered, tantalizingly
close to hers.

“More lion cub than lioness, darling. We need to work on your roar I think,” Draco purred, his teeth
grazing her ear.

Hermione hissed at Draco, making his eyes turn darker.

A rush of cold air flew over her bottom half, someone having vanished her trousers and knickers,
leaving her bare. In one deep stroke, Draco filled her – a scream died in her throat when his grip
flexed, making everything hazy. A different kind of heat slowly eclipsed the burn and sting of the
sudden stretch.

“Who do you belong to, little witch?” His hold on her throat softened enough to allow her to speak.

“You,” she gasped.

“And who does that mouth belong to?”

Before she could even attempt to answer, he rolled his hips and snapped into her with a punishing
thrust, making her cry out.

“Theo, give our girl a reminder, would you?” He turned her head until her cheek was flat on the
mattress. Theo was on his knees next to her face, lazily pumping his hard cock.

Letting go of her throat, Draco tightened his hold on her wrists, moving his other hand to her hip –
immobilizing her. The head of Theo’s cock pressed at the seam of her lips when she willingly
parted them to let him. He buried both hands in her curls, guiding her down on his length until she
swallowed all of him. “Red sparks with your fingertips if it’s too much, love,” he groaned out.

Hermione moaned what sounded like an acknowledgement around his cock, sweat and tears
dripping down her cheeks. They thoroughly fucked her, each of them thrusting into her deep –
using her to chase their own pleasure. Draco’s thumb found her clit, applying steady pressure in
soft circular motions that felt in stark contrast to the brutal way he pumped his cock into her. She
was right there – just a little more pressure, and she would tumble into bliss.

“I can feel it,” he hissed. “The way your needy little cunt is clenching around me. Make Theo
come, and I’ll let you finish, darling. You are so close.”
 She whimpered desperately, flicking her tongue around Theo with each stroke inside her mouth.
Frantically, her gaze found his – pleading with him.

“Sweet, fucking girl,” Theo moaned, pumping harder. “You are bloody perfect,” each thrust
became more erratic. With a roar, he spilled his hot cum inside her, letting it drip down her throat.
He tugged her head back forcefully by her hair and claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss. Her whole
body started to quake, her orgasm pleading for release. “That’s it. Are you going to come for us,
Hermione?”

“Please,” she huffed. “Draco, I need more. Please.”

“Since you were such a good girl,” he cooed. The pressure on her clit increased, the motions harder
and more determined. He angled her hips back so that each snap of his hips tapped her front wall -
she pulled at her wrists, fighting against his hold.

“Don’t fight it,” Draco hissed. “Come for us.”

“Do as Drake says, love. Come. Now.”

After two more passes, Hermione detonated around him, her body battling to break fear but unable
to. The weight of her orgasm crashed into her, a resounding shudder pulsing throughout her with
each aftershock that racked her weakened form until tears stained her cheeks.

“Salazar,” Draco growled. “Fucking. Beautiful. Always beautiful. But when you come. Hermione,
you are the bloody sun. Now burn me, witch.”

She sobbed, her body still coming down from its high as Draco pounded into her before finding his
own release, filling her to the brim. He let go of her wrists, massaging them and pressing tender
kisses into the soft skin. “Mine,” he growled softly, kissing her palm. Almost drunkenly, he tugged
Theo into him, his cock still twitching inside of her. “Both mine,” he pressed a sloppy kiss to
Theo’s temple.

“Always, Drake,” Theo purred, sinking down next to Hermione.

Sliding out of her, Draco laid down, sandwiching Theo between them. Draco ran his fingers
through Theo’s hair, eyes soft and questioning. “Truly, it went alright with your mother?”

“I think so, but everything she told me…” He tilted his head to the side, taking a deep breath. “I
want to go to Azkaban. I need to visit my father.”

Chapter End Notes

I hope that gave you folks at least some answers for now. There will definitely be more with
Theo's mother in later chapters. But it's certainly not simple!
 Chapter 16 Sinner & Saint
Chapter Notes

Thank you for all the kudos and comments.....how is this manic fic over 20k hits? Seriously - I
wrote this in an OCD manic high over September and October....but here we are!!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

In the years since the war, Hermione had never set foot near Azkaban prison. The ominous stone
walls held nothing for her. Even with the dementors long banished from the island, their torturous
melancholy still roamed the halls freely, like the flesh memory of a snitch, gone but never
forgotten. Never was there any desire or need to go. But she would gladly challenge all that to stand
by Theo’s side and support him.

“Let’s go home, and we can talk more. Pippa made scones and cottage pie for you, Theo. And we
can’t break the little elf’s heart by letting it get cold.”

Satiated by the delicious meal Pippa prepared for them, they wandered onto the frost-covered
terrace. Snow was a foregone conclusion. Hermione poured wine while Draco lit the fire, cleaned
the sofa, and cast a durable warming charm. Theo threw a blanket over their laps once they sat,
Hermione in the middle, legs draped over Theo and back resting against Draco’s side.

“Mother is at Nott Manor,” he sighed. “She asked to stay there. I escorted her after our
conversation and left.”

“I thought it was unsafe,” Hermione mused.

“Not for purebloods,” Draco scoffed. “Pippa has been maintaining it. Only once Nott Sr. dies can
Theo decommission all the dark artifacts and bring in a cursebreaker. Once he becomes the head of
his house.”

Theo's only response was a solemn nod and a long stare into his glass. He drained the crimson
liquid quickly. Hermione failed to comprehend some pureblood ancestral archetypes, no matter
how much time she spent with them—Lords, heirs, and duty. Once, maybe there was a time when it
was considered regal and even sought out. But so many pureblood families had become
synonymous with dark magic, it was hard to separate the two.

Vibrant shades of orange and pink danced over the terrace as the sun disappeared beyond the
horizon. Hermione welcomed the night sky, finding serenity in the moon and stars. Nighttime had
always been soothing to her, ever since she was a child. She found peace in the stillness and quiet
of it all. She could read undisturbed or be left to her thoughts with nothing more than the hooting of
owls in the background.

“Visitation with Nott Sr. is convoluted; high-profile prisoners get special treatment. It requires a
request and an auror escort,” Draco hummed. “Was the same whenever Mother wanted to visit
Lucius. I’ll put in the request and can act as escort.”

Stillness settled over them. It was the first time Hermione had heard him so much as to mention his
name.

“Did you mourn him?”

The pads of his fingers traced around the rim of his wine glass, contemplating the question.

“I mourned for my mother, who grieved for him,” he knitted his brow. “The world and I are a
happier place with him not in it,” he took a long sip of wine. “My father was complicated. He
wasn’t always malicious. After the Dark Lord returned – his use of dark magic went unchecked,
disfiguring him into something unrecognizable,” Draco breathed deeply. “There was a time when
Lucius was a loving husband, a passable father. But his lust for power changed that. Dark magic
can turn even the most noble of wizards, and Lucius was by no means noble.”

It was hard for Hermione to imagine Lucius Malfoy anything other than cold and calculating.

“Next to Nott Sr., Lucius looked like a damned saint. He loved me, but only ever as his heir. At the
end of my third year, I remember a particularly poignant conversation about the duty on my
shoulders as the Malfoy heir. My responsibility to secure a proper marriage to a stuffy pureblood
witch and pop out the next line.”

Draco’s lips paused on the rim of his glass – lost in memory before taking a tentative sip of the
crimson liquid. Hermione reached an arm behind her, stroking the nape of his neck. “What is it?”

“Any semblance of a father disappeared the summer of our 4th year. The Dark Lord returned. And
it wasn’t long before he craved the promise of power. It crushed me,” he whispered. “The pain he
caused my mother. It was visceral, physical. The more consumed and twisted he became, the more
it affected her in equal measure. Only once he died – perhaps a year or so later did she start to
revert to the witch she had been.”

Everyone knew that dark magic damaged the soul and infected the user like a parasite- it could turn
the kindest person into a shell of their former self. But the fact that it had such a profound effect on
Narcissa was also unheard of. Hermione had understood that the witch had never used the spells
herself. She wondered if Draco or Theo knew the reason.

“Why would your father’s use of dark magic make your mother sick?”

“The soul bond,” Draco murmured, tracking delicate touches down the length of her arm. “Soul
bonds intertwine magical cores. While it was dulled, my mother was still physically plagued by his
use of the magic, which made her unwell. And then, when he died, she felt that too – a sudden
emptiness. And then, over time, her core healed.”

Magical cores. Hermione remembered reading about that in the book Pansy had lent her. Was her
core bonded to Draco and Theo’s? Was that why she was entuned with them so deeply? Had the
war and being with Ron muddled it for years? Thinking that the three of them may be bound
without ceremony was concerning. Naturally occurring soul bonds among triads were almost
unheard of. But Hermione had seen enough rare magic to know nothing was truly ‘unheard of.’
Any intense emotion or display of magic would affect the others. Hermione hadn’t fully
understood it when she read the book. But hearing it firsthand from Draco put the pieces together.
Maybe that was what Melody Nott had meant when Nott Sr. had threatened her that she would,
‘feel it.’ Could soul bonds be manipulated in such a despicable way?

Silhouetted by the full moon, Theo spoke softly, a flat, vacant expression on his face.

“Is it horrible if I forgive my mother?” the rim of the glass resting on his lip. “I know I should be
angry. But – I’m mostly just in shock, relieved even.”

Hermione scooted across the sofa until she was sitting in his lap, her arms wrapped around his
neck, locked into his gaze.

“Of course not.” Her fingers curled the baby hairs at the nape of his neck. “Draco and I will support
you in whatever path you want.”

“Always,” Draco hummed, squeezing Theo’s thigh.

Considering the extensive red tape, even with Draco’s position, they couldn’t secure a visit to
Azkaban until three weeks later. Things had run stagnant with the case, having reached a sort of
ceasefire shortly after Hermione received the roses. No more murders, nothing overt levied against
her either. Part of her wondered if the culprit was dead or otherwise incapacitated, something she
shared with Draco, who had a similar thought.

Unfortunately, Melody had minimal recollection of who the forger had been that she had worked
with all those years ago. The only thing she remembered was that it was a lump of a wizard, and a
touch on the older side. It was not much of anything for Draco to go off, but it was perhaps the best
lead he had, and was going to bury himself in it if it meant getting answers.

Theo was gone again, which they both lamented. He hadn’t visited his mother since they spoke but
was handling it relatively fine. He wasn’t short with them like he had been before and, for the most
part, seemed to be his usual, engaging self. It didn’t mean she had to like it when he left for another
week at a time.

Since she was no longer out in the field and Heath had taken over Isla’s training, Hermione had too
much downtime. Maybe it was the fact that Heath was a father or that he was an infinitely nicer
person than she was. He got along much better with Isla than she had, and the pair of them had
made good progress in her training. Isla laughed freely and smiled more with the wizard than she
ever had with Hermione. But she wasn’t going to complain if it meant Isla would get her healing
skills up to a serviceable level.

With Theo traveling for the DoM and Draco putting all his energy into the new lead, she requested
to pick up shifts at St. Mungo’s. Something that Harry readily agreed to, while Draco was only
amiable if she had an auror detail with her while at the hospital. Quickly, she became outnumbered
by them, agreeing to an auror presence.

Come to find out, Sparks who would be accompanying her to St. Mungo’s for each shift.

“Good morning, Healer Granger.”

He produced a coffee and a far too bright smile that set her teeth on edge first thing in the morning.
She walked through the halls to the long-term care ward in her lime green robes, sipping on the
brew. It was perfect. Draco had apparently coached the young auror. Despite his gruffness, she
knew he was fond of Sparks and perhaps the only one he trusted to look after her in his absence,
besides Theo.

“Hermione,” she corrected. “If you insist on calling me that, I will have to start calling you Trainee
Sparky,” she smirked at his grimace. “I see Sergeant Malfoy showed you how I take my coffee.”

The auror blushed. “Might have mentioned it.”

Misgivings aside, Sparks stayed out of her way, sitting in a chair at the edge of the ward.
Periodically, he would get up to use the loo or sweep the perimeter but kept quiet otherwise. Padma
was out on maternity leave, meaning the ward was more short-staffed than usual.

During her apprenticeship, Hermione always found her way back to the long-term care ward,
developing an affinity for its residences. About once a week, she would see Neville and Luna,
coming as usual to visit his parents. Many patients, though, were alone and no longer had friends or
family who visited them. Hermione took special care to spend additional time with them.

At the end of the week, Theo returned home cheerier than he had ever been after a trip. Whatever
he was working on was progressing along better than he had hoped. Excitement overwhelmed him
when he hoisted her up by the hips and spun her around, making her giggle.

With her feet back on the ground, she beamed back at his infectious smile. “I wish I at least knew
what was making you so happy.”

“Soon, my love,” he cooed, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Hopefully soon.”

Two weeks later, on Friday evening, Theo was markedly calm, considering their destination for the
following day. Hermione had been lying on the sofa by the fire, back pressed up on the armrest,
book resting on her thighs.

“May I join you?”

Silently, she swung her feet to the side until they were planted on the floor. Theo slid in next to her
and placed his head in her lap. Absentmindedly, she ran soothing strokes through his curls with one
hand while the other held her book open.

“Read to me?”

Gold and green flickered in the hazel eyes that blinked back at her when she grinned down at him.
“It’s a muggle story, a bit sad. Are you sure?”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s called Where the Red Fern Grows. It’s a coming-of-age story about a boy who gets two
hunting dogs.”

All she could do was chuckle at how his brow turned in towards his eyes while they moved from
side to side, trying to comprehend how a story like that could be remotely upsetting.

“I think I’ll take my chances with the story,” he snorted.

With Draco upstairs in his office, the evening had turned into night. Stroking his curls, Hermione
read chapter after chapter, smiling at how engrossed Theo became. At the end of each one, he urged
her onto the next. Eyes glassy, she slowed down, reading one of her favorite parts.

‘I had heard the old Indian legend about the red fern. How a little Indian boy and girl were lost in
a blizzard and had frozen to death. In the spring, when they were found, a beautiful red fern had
grown up between their two bodies. The story went on to say that only an angel could plant the
seeds of a red fern, and that they never died; where one grew, that spot was sacred.’

A tear slid down her cheek. Looking down, Theo reached up to meet her in a warm, chaste kiss.
When her eyes flicked up, they connected with Draco’s, strained and shimmering. His body leaned
against the staircase just behind the sofa. Quietly, he walked over, lifting Theo’s legs and sitting
down before resting them over his thighs.

He summoned a pot of tea before leaning back into the cushions, fingers dancing over Theo’s
stomach.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Both shook their heads, Hermione returning to her spot. It was late, or relatively early, when the
last line was read and the book closed. Everyone had been too engrossed to notice the fire was
nothing more than smoldering embers. Draco stood, extending a hand to each of them. After
helping them up, he swiped a thumb over their cheeks, rubbing away the dried tears before leading
them to bed.

“Are you sure? You can stay here, love.”

“I’m coming, Theo,” Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. “My place is with you and Draco.”

Not that it took any convincing; she always would go with them. But time after time, Theo gave her
every chance to back out. And every time, she refused. She was not thrilled about the idea of going
to Azkaban. And even less so at being in the same room as someone who wanted her dead. Nott Sr.
was twisted by his use of dark magic like Lucius. No. It was always clear that the wizard was
nothing short of malicious and cruel of his own accord. No matter what, she would support Theo-
she would not leave him and Draco to face it alone.

While she had a pretty good idea why, Draco and Theo were impeccably dressed, oozing
sophistication and status. Draco wore a grey waistcoat with matching trousers, a navy oxford, and a
silver tie. His badge was affixed to his belt loop, his wand harness securely fastened. Theo opted
for something more casual but no less classical. He wore black trousers with a burgundy jumper
pulled over the white oxford that poked out from underneath. Over the top, he shrugged on a black
peacoat with brass buttons.

Hermione was glad she wore the cream high-waisted trousers with her navy merino wool jumper.
She didn’t want to feel underdressed. Even if it felt odd to be so worried about what they wore to
Azkaban, it was a statement that Theo was determined to make.

Outside, Draco apparated them to the auror arrival point at the prison. Most visitors had to arrive on
the mainland and then take a ferry. Given his status as the auror supervising the visit, they could
apparate directly in. It was a small room with no windows and a singular door that led out to
another wider room with a desk and a warded door that looked to lead out to the cells.
“Savage,” Draco offered a curt nod to the wizard at the desk.

“Sergeant,” he clipped back. “Wands, please.”

Prepared as she was, Hermione wasn’t comfortable handing it over to the auror. Draco had
explained that they would have their wands returned when they left and that he would have his the
whole time, so there was nothing to worry about. Calming as he tried to be, it was like being
stripped bare. Unnerving. Fingers laced with hers while her other hand shook, relinquishing the
vinewood. Theo flashed her a delicate smile that doused the boiling anxiety that threatened to
ripple through her.

Quietly, they followed in Draco’s wake, moving deeper and deeper into the bowels of the prison.
The dementors were gone but not forgotten. An unnatural chill permeated the stone walls. It smelt
of death and despair. Afraid to look elsewhere, Hermione’s head was held high, eyes forward. It did
nothing to quell the sickening unease that knotted in the pit of her stomach. Fingers curled around
hers as Theo brought her knuckles to his lips, kissing them sweetly.

“Love,” he murmured. “It’s alright.” She flashed a hesitant smile that made him squeeze her hand.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered.

Why was he being the supportive one right now; it should be her. Looking properly at him, he was
all broad-shouldered, with a rigid jawline and a cool detachment that bordered on the edge of being
dangerous. His resolve set; Hermione was in awe, more at ease than she had been the entire
morning. Theo exuded power and control.

Draco cupped each of their cheeks and came to a halt outside a door with no windows before
dropping his hands.

“He is restrained, though probably unnecessary,” he looked straight at Hermione. “He is going to
say revolting things about you, about us, I’m sure. Try not to let it faze you.”

She nodded, her throat bobbing uncomfortably with the painful swallow that followed. Nott Sr. did
not scare her. A man, barely even a wizard at this point. No. There was nothing he could say that
she hadn’t already heard time and time again.

With a bit of complex spell work, Draco removed the wards and charms on the door, pressing it
forward and holding it open for them. Hand in hand, they stepped inside; Draco closed the heavy
metal door and placed a silencing charm over the room.

Wrists bound by cord and magic to the table, the shell of what was once a wizard stared back at
them. A menacing chuckle reverberated off the walls when slits of muddy green eyes peered up at
them from under thinning strands of greasy black hair. Theo was everything Nott Sr. wasn’t- hazel
eyes, a strong jawline, a muscular frame, and a warm. He was Melody Nott’s son through and
through, the contrast more evident as they stood before what could be loosely classified as his
father.

Draco stood off to the side of Nott Sr., slightly behind him, with his arms crossed, fingers tapping
methodically on his wand. Theo and Hermione were not far away, stone-faced, arms touching,
offering nothing in return.

“Finally, come to face the old man,” he snickered with a maniacal grin that chilled Hermione to the
bone.
Knocking her fingers against his, they laced together when her thumb rubbed a small circle along
the back of his hand. Draco’s gaze was directed at the figure at the table, but he did relent
momentarily to smile warmly at Theo, which he returned.

“A fucking fairy,” he sneered. “And a filthy mudblood,” he spit on the floor. “If only I could
disinherit you from here,” his scowl deepened. “I’d rather the Nott name die than go to whatever
half-breed your little mudblood whore would spit out.”

Unfazed by his words, Hermione chose to ignore them, instead focusing her attention on Theo.
Nothing his father said mattered; she half expected him to get irritated when she offered no reaction
to his harsh criticisms. The air shifted around them as Theo inhaled, angling his body so Hermione
was slightly behind him. He raked a hand through his curls, the light catching his signet ring on the
way down, still staying markedly quiet.

Yellow teeth were bared in a challenging smirk. “You’re weak, too afraid to even speak to me.
Obviously, no son of mine.”

A whisper and a blank stare from Nott Sr. preceded Theo’s cold and detached words. “And you’re
no father of mine.” An arched brow and unrelenting grip on Hermione’s hand were all that
followed in its wake. “Why didn’t you just kill her?”

“Kill who?” he hissed. “The list is quite long; you’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

“Mother,” Theo spat.

“Came back, did she?”

A cold chill settled at the base of Hermione’s neck. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his
mouth, his eyes roving slowly over her entire frame before arching a brow. A sinister sneer curled
at the corner of his lip when his eyes flicked back to Theo.

“Let me fuck Potter’s Mudblood, just once. And maybe I’ll tell you.”

Before anyone could react, Draco’s large hand encompassed a good portion of the wizard’s meaty
throat; his wand dug in just below the jaw. Draco's knuckles turned white as his fingers flexed, and
color receded from Nott Sr.’s face.

“Did you grow a pair in the last few years?” he choked out. “Think you can kill me? Because the
last thing I remember was you howling in pain like some little boy. Too weak to kill and too weak
to take your punishment.”

It was inaudible, but Draco whispered something to the wizard that turned his eyes black before
shedding back to their previous shade. With no humor on his face, Draco released him with a shove
before tucking his wand back away in the harness on his chest.

“Answer Theo’s question,” Draco hissed.

Nott Sr. ground the words out as though it pained him to do so. “Why kill her when keeping her
alive was much more fun,” a dark, throaty chuckle rattled low in his throat. “When I knew she
could feel everything. When I knew she would know the pleasure I felt every time I made her
precious little boy break under my wand.”
There was no need for dementors; the wizard’s words alone were enough to make her blood run
cold. The wizard took joy not only in tormenting his son but also in manipulating, which Hermione
could only assume was a soul bond to make sure Melody knew every time he did it. She was going
to vomit. She took a deep breath and forced the bile back down.

Theo stalked to the edge of the table, palms flat on the cold metal as he leaned in, almost close
enough that their faces touched. The impassive expression on his face was only accentuated by his
defined features.

“Every person you have ever killed or maimed will spit on your grave. But me – I’ll fucking torch
it along with any memory of you. Whatever legacy you thought you would have will be buried with
you.”

“Good luck destroying centuries of pureblood history,” he sneered, nostrils flared.

“No one will mourn you. You will die and be buried here in an unmarked grave. I will eradicate,”
he placed additional emphasis on the word. “You from the Nott line. It will be like you never
existed. Lost to history.”

The sudden flick of Draco’s wand did not go unnoticed, another silencing charm. Whatever Nott Sr.
spewed fell on deaf ears, for his lips moved, and nothing came out. Draco tugged on the collar of
Theo’s jacket until their bodies were pressed together. An angry shade of red flushed Nott Sr.’s face
and ears when their lips collided.

All she could do was smile while Draco pulled soft moans from him. One hand rested between
Theo’s shoulder blades, the other nestled in his unruly hair. When he pulled away, he rubbed the
pad of his thumb over Theo’s swollen lip, flames flickering in the recesses of his gaze.

Looking over his shoulder, Theo reached for Hermione, curling her tiny frame into his. Their kiss
was softened, unhurried as she hummed into his mouth, arching her back into his hand.

“Let’s go home,” he murmured along the skin of her throat. “We’re done here.”

Tapping her wand on her thigh, she stood in the middle of their bedroom. Originally, she had come
up to change after getting home but found herself staring off into the distance. Whatever had
happened at Azkaban had left Theo unbothered, perhaps lighter. As soon as they returned, he
shrugged off his jacket, pushed up the sleeves of his jumper, and offered to make supper.

Draco promised it would be quick but that he had to go over a few things in his office, and then
they could spend the evening together.

Nothing the man had said surprised her. It was ironic that Draco had warned her not to react to his
words when it was he who did that very thing. While it should have been considered barbaric,
something was endearing about it.

Mudblood, Potter’s Mudblood – all of it so unoriginal. But there was something that he said to
Draco that wasn’t necessarily new information but piqued her curiosity. Even though she knew she
should leave it alone.

Too weak to kill and too weak to take your punishment.

Court transcripts from the trials after the war were made public. Every testimony given on behalf of
or against Draco Malfoy was public record. Without any resistance, he shared his memories with
the auror office and cooperated fully. There were no accounts of him killing anyone during his brief
interlude as a Death Eater. The three people he tortured were marked down for anyone to see, and
he was listed as an accomplice to Albus Dumbledore’s murder.

Nowhere were there any records of the atrocities levied against Draco. Hermione didn’t take long
to deduce what Theo’s father had meant. He had been instructed to kill someone and refused,
tortured for good measure, and tortured when he asked for the mark and again when he received it.
How many times had Draco been subjected to the cruciatus curse? Prolonged exposure usually had
long-lasting physical ramifications on the body, but he showed none. The only somewhat
noticeable indicator from his time in the war was the deterioration of his eyesight due to a curse.

Would anyone care? Most would assume he deserved it; her nose twitched at the thought. She
tossed her wand down on the dresser with more force than she intended when a snicker from the
doorway made her turn around.

“What did that poor chest of drawers do to you?”

Draco had discarded his holster and waistcoat at some point, now just in navy oxford with the
silver tie he had loosened. Arms crossed defined the outline of his biceps, chest, and back muscles,
straining against the no doubt expensive fabric.

Merlin, he had no right to look like that. The dark hue of the shirt highlighted his pale skin and
angular jaw. How the wizard managed to be as well put together as he was was nothing short of
magic. Heavy footfalls grew louder behind her until planes of expansive muscle edged along her
frame. A swipe of his hand brushed her hair to one side until the backs of his fingers caressed down
the column of her neck.

Metal rings grazed along the thin skin when his fingers closed around her throat- not aggressively,
but instead protective and tender. A touch, as to say, I have you, you are safe with me as opposed to
you’re mine. She relented into his hold, a contented sigh escaping her, eyes closed.

“What is bothering you, darling?”

The words were a soft whisper along the shell of her ear. Comforting reminders of his sweet,
woodsy smell wafted around her with him so close.

“How many times were you tortured, Draco?”

The pad of his thumb stroked her jaw; his fingers splayed on her throat. His other hand brushed up
and down the length of her arm. A puff of air moved past her cheek when he kissed her temple.

“I lost count,” he murmured.

“How come you don’t suffer any long-term effects,” her body molded to his.

“The Dark Lord was attuned to that line, the precipice of madness- lingering there before falling
over. He needed his servants intact and would end the spell before it could have any lasting impact.
The danger was getting tortured by Death Eaters who had no self-control, like Aunt Bella or Nott
Sr,” his lips rested on her temple. “Lucky me. I was only ever tortured by the Dark Lord.”
“There’s no record of your torture in the court transcripts.”

“No. There wouldn’t be,” he flexed his fingers along her throat. “I occluded and buried that before
relinquishing my memories.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“It changed nothing. There would be no sympathy for a Death Eater, so why bother.”

Every word was so matter of fact. If talking about it affected him, it didn’t show. Long ago, Draco
had relegated himself to being some second-class citizen; the idea of anything else never crossed
his mind. He was choosing to abscond from anything that outwardly showcased him positively, at
least during his time in the war. Sure, he was a decorated auror and was philanthropic, but that was
now. Never once had he shown any inclination towards sharing what really happened in the past.
Maybe he had accepted it and preferred that it stayed buried.

“Why do you let everyone think of you as some monster?”

“Because darling,” his fingers curled around her throat, squeezing tighter. His stance changed. His
grip was now possessive and claiming. “It’s easier if I’m the villain instead of some love-drunk
hero.”

Each breath played softly over her lips. The rushing of blood rang in her ears, the heady feeling of
lightheadedness making her plaint in his grasp as if boneless.

“Easier for who?” she whispered.

“Villain or hero matters not,” his nose brushed along her jaw. “I can worship you as a sinner or as a
saint. Your choice,” he growled.

Her throat bobbed helplessly against his grip. When her knees started to buckle, her hand wrapped
around his wrist, solidifying the way he supported her body. She wanted to walk into the flames
and let them burn her. To be consumed entirely.

“Choose the sinner, and I’ll be your saint.”

Pressed between Draco’s chest, and a combination of his forearm latched around her waist and his
hand on her throat, she couldn’t move. But the whispered overture carried from the doorway,
eliciting a quiet moan as her body writhed. Draco’s cock grew harder at Theo’s words, making its
presence known between them. Fire and ice. Sinner and saint. She wanted to be consumed by them.

She was floating and amiable to it all, to them. She was theirs, and they were hers. Theo crowded
her front, sandwiching her between the two wizards.

“Kiss him,” Draco whispered, the tip of his tongue trailing down her ear. When she didn’t
immediately move, he nipped at her lobe, making her whimper. “It wasn’t a request,” the words
reverberated low in his throat.

Unrelenting as he was, Hermione reached for Theo, hauling him in by the collar of his shirt. He
wrapped around her curls, positioning her how he wanted before plunging into her mouth with little
pretense. It was teeth and tongue and moaning and biting. A sob mingled with the moans he
swallowed, frantic for what he would give her.

“I need you,” she choked out. “Both of you. Now.”

Draco released her throat, sending a rush of endorphins and blood straight to her head. She wanted,
no, needed, everything all at once. The backs of his fingers stroked her jaw when he tilted her head
to the side, giving himself better access to her neck- more possession. Each kiss was a claim, a bite,
leaving marks on her neck that would be tender for days. The only thing keeping her upright was
Draco’s grip on her waist. Her head fell back on his shoulder when Theo cupped her cunt through
her trousers, making her wail at the unexpected contact.

“Please,” she whispered, on the edge. “Fuck me, Theo.”

Not to be interrupted, they continued the conquest, ignoring her pleas. His tongue latched over the
blistering bites and sucked, which shocked every part of her. Unbuttoning them, Theo slid her
trousers to the floor, tapping her ankle, urging her to step out. Instantly, Draco removed her sweater
and bra, leaving her in just her knickers.

“Such perfect tits, love.”

Theo swiped his thumb across the raised peak of one when he took the other in his mouth. His
tongue swirled and flicked at her nipple before sucking and repeating the same motion on the other.

Fingers danced around the hem of her knickers, caressing and teasing the soft flesh of her belly.
Lost in another realm of neediness, she was only partially aware when Draco removed his tie and
shrugged off his oxford. The silken fabric snaked around her wrists behind her back, restraining
them. With a voice to match the feel of the silk binding her together, Draco whispered a resolute
command.

“On your knees.”

The usual desire to irritate Draco was noticeably absent as she willingly sank to her knees and
looked up at Theo looming over her. Whether it was driven by crazed lust or the brain fog that had
overcome her, she neither knew nor cared.

Draco crouched down, his mouth hovering just over her ear. “Take his cock out,” he pulled the tie
off from around her wrists with a forceful tug.

While Hermione made quick work of his trousers, Theo quickly shucked off his jumper and shirt,
earning Draco's coy smile. “Eager, handsome?”

A stiff nod and wanton look were his only response.

“Now suck,” he dropped his voice lower. “Don’t you dare let him come, though.”

Slowly, she closed her lips around the head of his cock. Muffled moans echoed above her; her eyes
fluttered up to see her wizards locked in a deep kiss. Draco’s hand tugged in Theo’s hair, moving
him where he wanted. Hermione hollowed her cheeks, taking more of him in until she felt it hit the
back of her throat. Her tongue licked along the vein that ran the length of him. She could see how
his legs strained and flexed with his building release. Taking a long pause, she was powerful and in
control, making his body relax and regulate before she worked up and down, bringing him to the
edge again.

Draco’s low baritone whispered a husky command. “That’s enough.”

She pulled away with a pop, drool dusting the corners of her mouth, tears gathered in her eyes. Hair
stuck to the sides of her face when Draco reached under her elbows and urged her up to her feet.

“You did such a good job, darling,” he kissed her temple. “Come with me.”

He led her to bed, laying them down.

“Theo, come suck my cock, while I worship our witch.”

He pulled her up towards his head and tapped her thigh, indicating for her to straddle him. After
what had been a long time, she was dripping on him. Arousal coated her thighs, now covering his
chest.

“Up here,” he cupped her arse, urging her higher. “I’m going to ravage this intoxicating cunt of
yours,” he groaned. “Now, sit.”

Tentatively, Hermione lowered herself over his face, hovering just slightly when he slapped her
thigh.

“All the way,” he hissed.

A shiver shot up her spine. She watched as Theo licked Draco. His hazel eyes pierced her while his
lips closed around the head. He started slow, gripping the base firmly before moving his mouth and
hand in tandem to take Draco deep until he swallowed every inch. Hermione moaned at the sight,
her hips ground into Draco’s face.

Nails dug into her hips until she was seated on his face. The flat of his tongue lathed over her
entrance, making her jolt, but he held her in place. She could hear the soft suckling sounds as Theo
worked Draco’s cock.

Everything around her started to melt and bend, lost in the ecstasy that was building between her
legs. Throaty moans and hums followed the insatiable licking and sucking on her cunt and clit. He
was unrelenting. His tongue dipped in and out of her before moving up to suck on her clit only to
do it all over again. It built intensely inside of her, and she tried to pull away but couldn’t. Her
thighs started to quake, a buzz pulsing through her as she was about to fall off a cliff into the abyss.
His mouth closed around her bud, sending her over the edge.

Wave after wave crashed through her; it was a soaking mess between her legs by the time she could
breathe again. Dots flickered behind her eyes when Draco slid her back just enough, so she was
sitting on his chest- when he spun her around to face him. His chin was glistening with her arousal,
his tongue trailed over his lips, moaning at the taste of her on his mouth – his reward.

“Theo, stop,” he hissed, nose twitching.

Draco guided her hips lower until her soaked folds were gliding along his cock, coating him in her.
He positioned his tip at her entrance and lowered her down until he was fully sheathed inside her.

“Like this, love.”

Theo cradled her hips and shifted her back and forth; each motion had Draco’s cock hitting that
spot just inside of her, the one that made her see stars. Theo sucked a spot raw on her neck, gyrating
and grinding her against Draco until they were both incoherent.

“Keep moving just like that, little witch,” Theo instructed.

Behind her and in between Draco’s legs, Theo trailed a finger over the seam of her arse, which
made her buck and moan.

“Do you want Theo in your arse?”

Black eclipsed the once chestnut brown of her eyes as she nodded at Draco’s question. A cautious
excitement coursed through her. Draco wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her chest flat to
his, whispering filthy praises in her ear. He rolled and ground his hips gently below her, keeping
her on the perfect level of bliss without boiling over.

There was the muffled murmur of a lubrication charm followed by Theo’s finger slowly dipping
into her. His other hand soothed and caressed over the swell of her arse, spreading her open as he
carefully slid a second finger in.

“Breath, darling,” Draco hummed, rubbing her clit against his pubic bone. “That’s it. Theo’s going
to make sure you’re good and ready for him,” his lips connected with hers in a soft kiss. His fingers
scissored and pumped inside her until she was a rambling, dripping mess. “That’s our good witch.”

Draco brushed the sweat-soaked curls off her face. “Deep breath and relax.”

On his word, she inhaled, feeling Theo’s cock resting on the seam of her entrance. When she
exhaled, he sank inside her, very little at first. Theo rubbed small circles over her hips with his
thumbs, pausing, giving her time to adjust to the foreign sensation.

“Can you take more?”

“Yes, please,” she moaned. Draco kissed her temple and smiled, watching Theo fill their witch until
he was fully seated inside her.

“Fuck, Drake. I can feel you.”

It was like tiny jolts of electricity were zapping all over her body, a livewire ready to burst, and no
one was moving. She was indescribably full; she needed relief, and her core burned and throbbed.

“Please, someone move, fuck,” she hissed, collapsing into Draco’s shoulder.

Hermione felt as he nodded towards Theo, indicating for him to go first. Tortuously slow, he drove
in and out of her, keeping her spread, setting a steady, rolling pace. Each motion nudged her a little
bit closer, but not nearly enough; she needed a release; it was as if she would cease without it.

“Draco,” she whined.

His own steely resolve was weakening, his voice shakier than usual. “Use your words. Tell me
what you need, and I will give it to you, witch. I am your villain; let me sin for you.”

“More, you, please move,” she forced out in broken breaths.

“As you wish, darling.”

Quickly, he was rolling his hips under her once again, applying the perfect amount of pressure to
her swollen clit. There was no way she would survive the impending implosion; she was hurtling
towards the sun and powerless to stop it. Draco and Theo had found a rhythm and simultaneously
hit the same spot inside her from different angles. A fire crackled behind her eyes, and it would
burn her.

A resounding smack echoed when Theo’s palm connected with her arse, his pace faltering.

“Merlin, I’m going to fill this tight arse, love. You are bloody perfect. Our fucking good girl.”

“Theo.”

A plea or a prayer, she wasn’t sure which. She was teetering dangerously close, and one soft breeze
would blow her over. With a long string of moaned obscenities, Theo did as he promised, emptying
his cock, buried deep in her. He pulled out, his ropes of come dripping out of her but she didn’t
care, her body was faltering, boneless and pliant on top of Draco as he pounded into her now
without abandon.

“Come for me, Hermione,” Draco moaned. “Only for us. You’re ours and only ours.”

Her orgasm crashed into her with an unnatural force, exploding behind her eyes, a fury of colors.
Her whole body seized and contracted in time with the aftershocks that rocked her, her cunt
fluttering and clenching mercilessly around Draco when her muscles gave out on top of him.

“You’re so beautiful when you come, love,” Theo whispered next to them.

Barely aware of what was happening around her, there were words and curses and a stinging pain
on her hips from where Draco dug in. And then there was a warmth flooding her center as Draco
thrusted into her, finding his own release, painting her with his come.

She was an absolute, blithering mess. She couldn’t move, think, or speak. Her eyes were long since
closed, still collapsed on Draco’s chest. She didn’t care that his cock was softening inside her or
that their combined release was dripping out of her. Never had she been so debauched, completely
used and spent.

Without moving her, Draco heaved the two of them up to the top of the bed, pushing down the
duvet. Theo nestled into the crook of Draco’s arm, the two of them kissing as Draco brushed the
pad of his thumb over the apple of his cheek.

“You did such a good job, handsome.”

Hermione turned on his chest just in time to see a slight shade of pink color Theo’s cheeks at the
praise, making her smile sleepily at him before reaching out to cup his face. I love you, both of you.
She was desperate to say it. The words were on the tip of her tongue; she tried to summon all that
Gryffindor bravery when Theo’s hands rested over hers.

“Ours,” he murmured.

“Yours,” she stroked Draco’s jaw. “Only yours, ever.”

Chapter End Notes

Some plot and some porn.......your two basic food groups - am I right?
 Chapter 17 You Are the Stars
Chapter Notes

Truly - I am so humbled by y'all's reaction to this story. So - I will say it again - thank you so
much for all the love. The comments. The kudos - all if it. Mostly character progression in
today's chapter!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“You coming, love?” Theo waggled his brows.

“Theodore,” she hissed.

Harry groaned from the other side of his desk, lamenting leaving his door open at this point. His
forehead fell on his hand, fingers rubbing across his furrowed brow.

“I was talking about the game, you dirty little witch,” he winked.

While Hermione was busy turning three different shades of red, Harry coughed a snort behind his
desk, rolling his eyes at them. Unbothered by Theo’s comments, he continued signing the endless
pile of parchments on the oak desk's corner.

They had all agreed to keep Melanie Johnson’s identity as Theo’s mother quiet amongst themselves
for the foreseeable future. When Draco explained the situation to her, she brokered no argument.
Given that she was attacked and the uncertainty around the killer’s movements, it was agreed that it
would be best for her safety. She remained in Nott Manor, with Pippa assisting her and Narcissa
visiting frequently. Theo hadn’t gone back since their initial meeting.

Hermione hated keeping secrets from her friends, but it was the safest course of action for
everyone. It also meant that Draco kept a crucial detail about the investigation to himself, which
may be its undoing at some point.

It had been months since they had a proper get-together with everyone. Harry was overloaded with
the DMLE, and Pansy was assisting with opening several new restaurants. Ginny’s training
schedule was almost abhorrent, and Blaise had frequently been in and out of Italy over the last few
weeks.

“Are you going to play, Harry?” she asked, trying to ignore Theo.

“Yeah, I think it will be good. Pansy’s going to come. She has the afternoon free,” he brushed a
hand through his hair. “She says she’s coming to see me, but I think the real reason is she is
desperate for some gossip.”

“Sounds like Pans,” Theo squeezed her shoulder. “Come on, love. You and Pansy can watch and
have a bit of a cozy catch-up,” his voice dropped lower, just above a whisper. “You can see me and
Drake in our quidditch kits,” his tongue flicked her ear, making her choke down a whimper. “I
think you might fancy us like that.”
“Good Godric,” Harry coughed. “Can you two not shag in my office? Pick one of yours, for
Merlin’s sake.”

“Sure thing, Potter.”

Taking Harry’s comment as a challenge rather than a suggestion, Theo reached down, scooping up
Hermione and tossing her over his shoulder like a rucksack. She squealed at the sudden rush of
blood to her head. The shock was quickly replaced by a grimace catching the faintest smirk on
Harry’s face as they walked away. Well, Theo walked – Hermione was just along for the ride,
apparently.

“Theodore, put me down!”

“That’s twice now you’ve called me Theodore. Am I in trouble, love?”

“You bloody well will be if you don’t put me down,” she swatted at his back. “There’s people
around.”

“You’re cute when you’re feisty,” he landed a playful smack on the backs of her thighs.

“If I agree to come and watch, will let me walk again.”

“Maybe,” he laughed. “Don’t fancy a shag then, love?”

Before she could protest anymore, blood rushed into her ears, pounding and vibrating as her feet
touched solid ground again. She slapped Theo’s unyielding chest once more when he snickered and
caged her wrists easily in his grasp- laughing as he brushed a kiss along her hands, his eyes
connected with hers.

It looked like words had died on his lips; he opened his mouth but closed it again quickly, not
saying anything. Instead, he just smiled for an extended pause.

“I have to go get ready,” he kissed her temple. “See you out there.”

The fact that the Ministry thought it pertinent to have a regulation-sized quidditch pitch on the
grounds was a bit egregious, considering there were many departments that needed more staffing
and were woefully in need of additional funding. But that was a fight best saved for another day;
she wasn’t quite looking to ruin everyone’s fun, mainly when the entire DMLE had been run
ragged for months.

Hermione settled down at the end of the pitch, transfiguring her scarf into a blanket. There wasn’t a
blustery chill in the air for once. Looking around the perimeter showed other folks scattered about
on blankets or standing; a few came to spend time with their families. None of the players were on
the pitch yet; her stomach lurched at the idea. Damn, those two for always insisting on playing on
opposite teams.

Theo was a chaser on a team with Harry as a seeker and that lout Price as a beater. The team filled
out with a few other people from the DMLE, but no one she knew particularly well. On Draco’s
team, he was playing as a beater, and Heath was seeking. Sparks was also a chaser.

A few people walked out towards the pitch with brooms slung over their shoulders. In the distance,
she spotted Draco and Theo. As usual, Draco had a possessive grip around Theo’s hip. The kind of
hold that made her stomach flutter and that dopey smile she so rarely sported appeared.

“Well, that’s positively nauseating.”

“You’re a real charmer, you know that?”

The voice was enough to tell her who it was, but she threw an exaggerated eye roll over her
shoulder as Pansy sat on the blanket beside her. Seemingly, out of nowhere, the witch produced two
glasses and a bottle of wine- one that was undoubtedly more expensive than her entire wardrobe.
As she overfilled two glasses, Hermione just shook her head.

“I’m technically working, you know.”

“My husband’s your boss; you’re fine.”

Not that she needed convincing, but it did help. Her fingers curled around the stem of the glass,
taking a small sip before staring out over the pitch. Everyone was warming up; if she had to hazard
a guess, she was confident enough that the actual match had started yet. Despite the number of
people who lived and breathed quidditch in her life, Hermione still hadn’t picked up more than a
basic understanding of it.

“Is it alright if I join you?”

Isla had sauntered over to the pair of them, only slightly less annoying than she had been in
previous weeks. Since Heath had taken over her training, Hermione found the witch more bearable
than previously. Her skills had improved, and she was competent now with essential healing spells.
She still wouldn’t trust her in a lifesaving situation but took her wins where she could.

Also, to Theo’s credit, that little coffee trick may have worked some magic of its own. There hadn’t
been one negative comment about her relationship with either of the wizards since Theo went out
of his way to be nice to her. Was that really all it took? Just to be nice to someone. Interesting
concept: Hermione never considered herself a mean person per se but did suppose she could be less
harsh.

“That’s fine.”

Hermione did her best to answer in an upbeat tone, but it came out more awkward and nasally. In
the spirit of being a bigger person, she passed her wine to Isla and leaned back, supporting her
upper body with the flat of her palms pressed into the blanket.

“Out with it, Granger. I’m in need of an update; it’s been too long, months really,” Pansy vanished
her wine, turning her whole body to face her. “How bloody fantastic are the shags? I can only
imagine you are a blubbering mess at the end.”

Color receded from her face as she blanched at Pansy’s boldness. Not that it was new for her, but
given they had company, she wasn’t expecting that. Neither of them missed Isla’s melodramatic eye
roll or the loud snort that permeated the air. Hermione could be cordial, but Pansy was itching for a
fight.

“What’s your problem? Prudish? I don’t even know who you are. If you don’t like it, why don’t
you go sit somewhere else,” Pansy spat.
More confident than Hermione had seen her before, Isla squared her shoulders, apparently happy to
go toe to toe with Pansy. “Who am I? Who the bloody hell are you? You don’t work here.”

Pansy had no problem flaunting Harry’s position, something he lamented. “Pansy Potter,” the witch
flared her nostrils. “As in, Harry Potter’s wife,” she drew out the last one into a threatening hiss.
“Are you jealous? Wish you had two wizards fawning over you like Granger does?”

“No,” Isla spat. “I have my own wizard, thank you very much!”

That was the first Hermione had heard of Isla being in any sort of relationship; she had always
assumed she was single. She was confident that the witch wasn’t married because of the lack of a
ring. Perhaps she was just private.

“So go find said wizard then, and sod off,” Pansy hissed, flipping her hair over her shoulder with a
dramatic toss.

After tossing the half-full glass down, Isla stormed off, not offering a cursory glance at either of
them. Hermione cleaned up the mess left by the spilled wine before facing Pansy.

“Harry told me not to make her cry,” Hermione sighed.

“She wasn’t crying,” Pansy snorted. “Besides, my husband knows better than to try and tell me
what I can and cannot do.”

Clouds started to roll in, hiding the once bright sun behind them. Two figures flew towards the
witches; the blurry forms began to take shape. By the time Hermione recognized them, they were
hovering next to her with broad smiles.

Gods, Theo hadn’t been lying. They both looked edible in their quidditch fits. Sweat beaded on
their brows, strands of wet hair hung low in front of their eyes. The long-sleeved Henley they both
sported clung to their bodies, coated in a thin layer of sweat, highlighting every single, rippling
muscle.

“Can I get a good luck kiss, darling?” Draco chuckled.

She had been staring hard; there may have even been a droplet of drool forming at the corner of her
mouth from how hard she was eyeing them. Hermione blinked and then perched up to her knees,
holding Draco’s face in her hands. His grey eyes found hers before their lips locked in a tender
embrace, ending far too quickly.

“I should like one as well, love.”

Nothing she did could hide that giggle that erupted from her chest; of course, she would kiss them
both. But the irony wasn’t lost on her. Theo palmed the back of her head, slotting his mouth against
hers, opting for a more possessive display before pulling away.

“With you both getting one, won’t it cancel them out or something?”

“A risk I’m willing to take,” Draco smirked.

They each squeezed her hand before zooming off again.

“How long, Granger?”

She was not accustomed to hearing an amused tone from Pansy, but it was there, nonetheless. Her
perfectly manicured nails strummed along her thighs, waiting patiently for her response.

“How long, for what?”

“How long have you been disgustingly in love with them?”

Protectively, her arms wrapped around herself, curling into a tight ball. Was it that obvious? Or was
it just Pansy? It was too hard to tell the difference sometimes. Although, she didn’t really know
why she was hiding. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed, more hesitation. What if she had jumped
much farther ahead than they had? She didn’t want to ruin what they had.

“I don’t know,” Hermione whispered.

“For what it’s worth,” Pansy smiled. “They are madly in love with you too. Not that either one of
you blithering idiots can tell. I swear, I have to do everything.”

Before Hermione could protest or inject rationale into the conversation, Pansy continued.

“It’s fine,” she waved her hand. “The three of you can continue acting like you’re not hopelessly in
love with each other. Eventually, someone will crack,” she smirked. “My bet is on, Draco. Despite
his hard exterior, he will give in first. And when you finally do, I would like to be the first to
know.”

How did the witch always know everything, even before Hermione did? It was frustrating. Maybe
she could hear the way her heart rattled in her chest when the two of them flew over. Or the way
blush crept up her cheeks whenever they spoke. Or it could be how her whole body vibrated
whenever they were nearby. But more likely, it was how they made her magic sing when they were
close and ache when they were apart.

At some point, the match had started. The quaffle was passed around so quickly that she could
barely keep up. Heath and Harry zoomed around the pitch, eyes peeled for the snitch. Price seemed
to have it in for Draco; Hermione didn’t know enough about quidditch, but it seemed a bit odd for a
beater to target the opposing beater more than a chaser or seeker.

Given that it was just an interdepartmental pickup match, she was shocked by the level of
competitiveness across the board. Everything was evenly matched, and there was no doubt it would
come down to whether Harry or Heath found the snitch first. She watched as Theo’s frame
narrowed into his broom, quaffle under hand, speeding towards the hoops at the end of the pitch. A
loud gasp echoed when he was nearly knocked off by a bludger that Draco hurled towards him, a
devilish smirk she could see tugging at his lips.

A soft drizzle started to fall, and it wasn’t long before it turned into a torrential downpour. Despite
the impervius charms they had thrown up, the rain was coming in at an angle, soaking both
witches. Pansy lasted only moments before she ran off. Hermione thought to follow but imagined
her wizards would be disappointed if she left. It wasn’t an official match; they should have just
called it.

Blissfully, Heath was either fortunate or had no desire to play in the rain. Moments later, his fingers
curled around the snitch, giving his team and Draco the win. Hermione trotted over the sodden
pitch, her clothes soaked, unable to keep up with the amount of warming and drying charms
needed. The rain had let up enough that it wasn’t slanted anymore.
Theo and Draco hovered near her, still on their brooms, when Draco reached out, yanking her body
in a way, trying to pull her onto the broom in front of him.

“Draco Malfoy,” she yelled. “You are mental if you think I’m getting on that broom. Let alone in
the rain.”

“Trust me, darling,” he smiled, that roguish grin that made her weak.

“You yes,” her eyes darted to the wooden handle. “That broom, never.”

“Give it a try, love,” Theo encouraged. “There is something so rejuvenating about flying in the
rain.”

Reluctantly, she relaxed in Draco’s grasp and allowed him to lift her and situate her until she was
nestled on the broom in front of him. They were low enough that if she stretched, the tips of her
toes dragged along the grass, but she doubted they would stay that way for long. Draco banded a
strong arm around her waist, securing her back to his front, the other hand gripping and flexing
along the handle.

As they kicked off and started moving higher, her anxiety took over. “No tricks or flips. Don’t go
too fast or too high.” The words fell out in a startled squeal that was too fast and high-pitched for
anyone to have rightfully made out.

“Too many rules, Granger. Just relax and have fun,” his lips brushed her ear. “I would never let you
fall.”

Theo flashed an adoringly warm smile at her from his broom. He flew so close to them that she
could probably reach out and tangle her fingers with his if she was so inclined. But instead, she
chose to maintain her white-knuckled death grip on the oak between her legs.

True to his word, she didn’t fall. They flew softly until they reached the edge of the wards around
the ministry. The rain changed back into a soft drizzle, all of them soaked to the bone, but it didn’t
matter. It was like Theo said, it was cleansing and freeing. If she looked out instead of down, all she
could see was the horizon and the hope that lay beyond it.

An icy shiver crawled up the length of her spine, her sodden clothes finally getting the better of her.
She wasn't sure how long they had been up there, but her body was now protesting the wet clothes
that clung to her.

“You’re going to give our witch a cold.”

Theo jerked his head towards Hermione’s shaking body. He cast a drying and warming charm, at
least enough to keep her comfortable before the drizzle soaked her again. Carefully, Draco
maneuvered them to the ground.

After helping her off the broom, Theo pulled her into his arms, rubbing them frantically up and
down her sides before kissing the crown of her curls.

“Let’s get you home, love. I’ll make supper, and you can get cozied up by the fire with a book.”
Home. It certainly was. When everything was said and done, Hermione doubted she would move
back to her flat. She couldn’t imagine not being with them. And even if she could, her body and
magic would protest the distance too much. The pain only seemed to worsen over time. Each time
Theo left, the once dull ache in her abdomen now turned into a searing burn by the fifth or sixth
day of his absence. Her magic would not let her be away from either of them. Not that she wanted
to.

After a long hot shower, Hermione slipped into a pair of leggings with a baggy, oversized jumper
before padding downstairs. Theo was cooking something that smelled delectable while Draco was
perched behind him. His arms wrapped around his waist, kissing up and down the wizard’s jaw and
throat. Whatever protests Theo was murmuring died as quickly as they came.

Opting to give them a private moment, Hermione snuggled onto the sofa, book in hand. The fire
was roaring as the flames licked the top of the floo. The hasty drying charm she had used on her
curls had them in a tangled mess behind her. The flats of her feet rested on the fabric, a blanket
strewn over her legs, with her book open. A piece of her melted a little more each time her eyes
wandered, catching her two wizards. So affectionate and so in love, unhindered.

She worried her bottom lip. What Pansy had said, at least about her, was true. But she didn’t dare to
say anything to upset the wonderful balance they had struck over the past few months.

Supper had been Draco’s favorite and was slowly becoming a top contender for her as well. The
roast chicken was moist, and the vegetables were perfectly prepared. Theo made Hermione’s
mother’s chocolate scones for dessert, which were stunning, almost tearing her eyes.

After dinner, they all settled in by the fire. Without saying as much, Draco appeared adamant about
sitting in the middle. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table, urging each of them into his chest.
Hermione giggled while Theo just hummed, content with everything.

It was quiet and still, making the wild thumping of Draco’s heart more palpable. She could feel the
way it banged, almost painfully, against his chest. Outwardly, he appeared relaxed, but something
was off. Something was bothering him.

“What’s wrong,” she purred into his shirt, peppering kisses along the hem.

Draco inhaled deeply; it was an extra beat before the extended exhale followed. Each hand was
caressing one of his partners, featherlight touches trailing up backs and curls. She tilted her head
back, waiting for his gaze to find hers, when he looked down.

“You and Theo are so perfect for each other.”

A sad smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, barely there before it was gone again. At a cursory
glance, she thought he was saying something sweet and adoring. But there was a sadness to him, a
defeated look that she couldn’t understand. The smile on her face fell as she looked at Theo, who
looked equally concerned.

Hermione sat up, still nestled close to Draco but closer to eye level now. His face was etched with
so much pain that it burned her insides; there was no questioning what it was. Long gone was the
jovial wizard who flew her around the pitch. Or the man who whispered sweet affirmations to Theo
in the kitchen.
“You are both sweet, good, and perfect,” he sighed, and she heard the way his heart rattled against
his ribs with uncertainty. “There is a dark cloud that looms over me everywhere I go. You two
would be happier,” he paused. “Safer if I wasn’t in the picture.”

Sadness quickly turned to rage; Draco didn’t get to do that. It wasn’t that it was easier for society to
think Draco was a monster. No. He believed that he was a monster and that no amount of good he
did would change that. It was clear now. He didn’t wish to share the good he had done or the pain
he endured because he didn’t think himself deserving.

Indeed, this had been one of the many hurdles that Theo and Draco had spent years working to
overcome. Seemingly, they had. But apparently, adding Hermione to the mix had reignited Draco’s
self-doubts. Theo couldn’t fix this; he needed to hear it from her this time.

“Draco, out of all of us here. I think I’m the only one who has killed someone.”

Sure, it was Yaxley, and it was a duel, but she chose to kill him. She didn’t have to; she wanted to.
She never regretted it. To her knowledge, Draco had never killed anymore.

“That’s not the same, and you know that,” he hissed, his nose twitching.

“Why not?” she bit back. “I chose to take a life. I chose to use that curse above a million others that
would have been just as effective,” she cupped his face. “You never killed anyone. Nor did you
ever willingly choose to hurt another. You shouldered the pain for others whenever possible. Where
you could, you lightened burdens, adding them to yours instead,” before he could interrupt, she
soldiered on. “So, just stop it, Draco Malfoy. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you,” she
glanced at Theo, who was smiling. “You belong here, with us.”

Aggressively, she kissed Draco. Her mouth slotted into his for a brief embrace of tongues and lips
before pulling away, brushing her fingers through his hair. The reassuring smile on his face turned
into a smirk.

“You are unrelenting,” he huffed.

Content that, that was that Hermione cuddled back into the crook of his arm. Her brown eyes
connected with Theo’s hazel ones, and he mouthed a quiet thank you that softened her smile. That
likely wasn’t the first time Draco had felt unworthy of love, but hopefully, it would be the last.

The fire crackled and burned as the comfortable silence between them stretched on. Theo had
locked his fingers with hers, resting on Draco’s abdomen while he tenderly stroked both their curls
when soft words passed his lips.

“You know, I always said Theo was like my moon. A bright light in the dark,” Draco’s thumb
rubbed over a ring on Theo’s hand- one of the handful he wore. The one Draco stroked was the
blackest obsidian with pieces of moonstone recessed into it. Beautiful and one of meaning between
the two of them if Theo’s glassy eyes were any indication. Both sat up in Draco’s arms, bums
properly on the cushions now. “If Theo is my moon,” Draco kissed him softly. “Then you,
Hermione,” he cradled her face. “You are my sun. The two of you complete me.”

Tears kissed the corners of her eyes when he summoned a large box covered in purple velvet. He
popped the case open and revealed a gold necklace with a pale green gem in the center. His fingers
curled gently around the jewelry before draping it around her neck, clicking it in place. The chain
was short and unobtrusive, the stone resting comfortably in the hollow of her throat, like it
belonged there all along.

“Egyptians called peridot the gem of the sun,” his lips brushed her collarbone. “And you,
Hermione, are my sun.” The tears slipped from her eyes, falling down her cheeks. “I was foolish to
think that I would always have half my heart,” he paused, his tone more resolute. “Because all of
me belongs to both of you.”

Her soul would split in two if she didn’t utter the words if she didn’t tell him that she loved him.
But something else slipped out in its place when she turned to face him.

“If Theo and I are the sun and the moon,” she smiled. “What does that make you?”

“Nothing,” Draco whispered, kissing her temple.

Hermione’s brow furrowed, looking at Theo, who shrugged.

“You are the stars,” she kissed him briefly. “The constellations that guide lost ships at sea.”

His mouth fell open in awe of her words before a smile curled at the corners. Something flickered
behind his stormy iris’. It comforted and soothed her like honey in her tea or milk in her coffee.
Draco stroked his fingers through her hair until both hands rested there, his eyes longingly boring
into hers.

“Hermione,” her name sounded like a prayer. “I love you.”

A million fireworks shot off inside her chest, cracking it open. The tears that had just started to dry
from before were wet again as fresh ones fell anew. Draco’s thumbs found her cheeks, brushing
away the tears. His eyes were so full of adoration and, well, love. Her hands found his, grounding
herself to him.

“Draco,” she sniffed. “I love you too.”

Draco slotted his mouth hers, each touch of his lips igniting her in its wake. It was passionate and
consuming like fiendfyre. She wanted to be burned by him, to burn with him. She caught Theo's
infectious smile out of the corner of her eye as he remained burrowed in Draco’s chest, a quiet
observer in their shared revelation.

Too soon, Draco was pulling her up, leading them towards the stairs, when she looked back at
Theo, grinning smugly on the sofa.

“Go,” he whispered, making a shooing motion with his hand. “This is for you and Drake.”

The discomfort she had about leaving Theo behind quickly dissipated. That, in conjunction with his
tender smile and the waggle of his brows when Draco lifted her up, intent on carrying her the rest
of the way to their bedroom. She squealed, and Theo cackled in the distance.

“I love you,” he murmured over and over again, nuzzled into her neck. It was like he was afraid she
might forget if he didn’t keep saying it.

He righted her, finally in their room, when he tapped the door closed behind them. After he set up a
silencing charm, he tossed his wand on the end table. Once in front of her again, he looked at her
like she was water in the desert- the only thing that could save him. Deft fingers unbuttoned her
trousers before gliding the zipper down.

Draco dipped his fingers into the hem of her denims and sank to his knees as he lowered the
garment to the floor. He tapped her ankle, tossing the trousers aside. His hands caressed and
massaged up her legs. He started at her calf and slowly worked his way up her thigh, exploring her
body. Sloppy kisses followed in its wake. Draco looked up from under half-hooded eyes, his lips
still pressed to the soft skin of her thigh.

“Hermione,” he hummed. “I would worship you from my knees,” she swallowed hard. “Will you
let me?”

“Draco,” she uttered quietly.

Gods. Her knees buckled, and only sheer luck stopped her from collapsing to the floor at his words.
The wizard who had once told her that he needed control in the bedroom gave it all up so willingly.
Expectedly, he stared up at her, looking for an answer. Her body rocked in place before she found
the words.

“Please,” she sighed.

He moaned his approval into her thigh. His thumbs latched onto the hem of her knickers, unmoving
as he sucked and licked marks into the sensitive skin there. Her body squirmed as he worked the
tender flesh into purpling bruises, kissing over each of them before removing the lace that covered
her soaked cunt.

Pretense be damned, his tongue swept long, broad strokes over her entrance, making her sob at the
contact. His fingers dug into her arse, holding her while he explored the depths of her. He was
determined to taste every drop. His tongue dipped into her, only to travel up and circle her clit and
back again, driving her to the brink of madness. Every stroke of his tongue sent her closer to the
edge, but never enough to tip her over.

“Draco, please,” her fingers tore at his hair.

He sucked on her clit, making her scream. “Do you want to come, darling?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I want to come for you.”

“And you will,” he cooed, licking through her folds again. “I will drink every drop of your sweet
cunt.”

Immediately, he sank two fingers into her without resistance, making her legs quake at the
welcomed intrusion. One hand was on her hip, steadying her, while his other set a punishing pace
inside of her. Each thrust of his fingers sparked electricity that tightened in her belly. Her hips
started to meet his fingers, tapping against the spot that made her sing. She was there, so close. The
walls were fluttering and clenching around him, desperately wanting to implode. His mouth closed
around her clit, shattering her into a million pieces like a broken mirror.

She screamed his name while her body rocked into his, chasing the waves of pleasure that crested
through her with each additional stroke of his fingers. Arousal surely coated his face and her legs.
He stayed buried between her thighs, guiding her through the aftershocks of her orgasm until her
body slowed and her breathing calmed. He kissed her clit one more time before slipping his fingers
out.

Draco stood, securing her weakened body to his with a strong forearm slung around her waist.
Wetness covered his chin and face, making him look more roguish than usual. He brought two
fingers to her lips, soaked in her essence.

“Open,” the commanding tone returned. “I want you to taste how delicious you are.”

Without resistance, her lips parted, welcoming his fingers. She closed her mouth around them,
sucking and swirling her tongue over them as she moaned softly. Maybe Draco was right. She
tasted sweet and tart. But nothing was more intoxicating than the look in his eyes while he watched
her suck his fingers clean. They were black with desire and pure lust, and she was powerful for
making him feel that way.

With a pop, he removed his fingers. He lifted her, her legs naturally wrapped around his waist. A
small toss had her bouncing on the bed among a fit of soft giggles that made his eyes sparkle with
how he smiled. He made quick work of removing her blouse and bra before ridding himself of his
clothing until they were both bare.

Draco crawled between her legs, gently spreading them apart to accommodate his body better. An
arm slid under her shoulders, holding her close to him as he hovered above her, his cock pressed
against her entrance. His thumb stroked her jaw.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips.

“I love you,” she echoed.

When his lips crashed to hers, he sank into her in one fluid movement- pulling a desperate moan
from deep in her throat. One that Draco swallowed with his fervent kisses. His mouth refused to
leave hers as he pumped into her. Each thrust was more determined than the last. Her cunt stretched
to accommodate him, filling her completely. If he wanted a slow build, it wasn’t going to happen.
His pubic bone ground against her clit, and each time he sank in and out of her, that spot inside her
ached a little more.

Finally coming up for air, his thumb rested on her bottom lip.

“You take me so well,” he caressed her cheek. “My good fucking, witch.”

Melin, his words alone, were enough to be her undoing. The praises he rained down on her had her
ascending. Her body was soon convulsing and writhing beneath him with rock of his hips into hers.

“Draco,” she sobbed. “I’m so close.”

“I know, darling. Hold on for me. Just a moment longer. I want to come with you.”

Each breath caught in her throat as she tried to control the war raging inside of her. She wanted to
do what Draco asked, but her body was reaching its breaking point. It coiled low in her belly, tight
and ready to snap. Her legs shook, and her cunt flexed with each stroke of his cock inside her.

“That’s it, my good girl. I want you to come for me, Hermione.”
 Again, her orgasm rocked her, her body lurching forward, colliding with Draco’s chest at the sheer
force. He held her there, his own body unraveling on top of her. She constricted around him; her
limbs wound tight with the pleasure that shot through her.

“Fuck,” Draco hissed, the vein in his neck throbbing. “You are everything.”

Ropes of cum filled her as Draco emptied all of himself into her, riding out his release with the
final waves of hers. Their sweat-stained bodies stuck to one another, Hermione’s head collapsing
on his shoulder as the tension in her limbs waned, leaving her boneless and spent. Hot, heavy
breaths pulsed against her ear as the ghost of Draco’s smile kissed her throat.

“Salazar, help me,” he sighed. “I am hopelessly in love with you Hermione Granger.”

“I love you, Draco,” she breathed back.

In the morning, Hermione found herself curled into Theo’s chest, not quite remembering when he
joined them. Draco was pressed against her back, and she couldn’t think of a time when she had felt
more complete. Part of her wanted to tell Theo that she loved him. The weight and dread of the
words had been lifted last night.

“Something on your mind, love?”

That sleepy smile of Theo’s stared back at her, his fingers brushing through her hair. Just when she
thought she had plucked up enough courage to tell him, a tapping at the window made Draco groan
and toss a pillow at it. Theo snorted and got up to let the insistent owl in. His brow furrowed as he
crawled back into bed with the letter in his hands.

“What is it?” Hermione asked.

Theo propped his back up against the headboard and pulled her in close. The outside of the
envelope was addressed to Theodore Nott Jr.

Rarely had she ever seen anything so formal addressed to him. Draco scooted in closer, wrapping
his arms around her waist, his chin on her shoulder. She could read the note from where she sat
when Theo opened the letter.

Dear Mr. Nott,

As next of kin, we regret to inform you that Theodore Nott Sr. passed away last evening. Please
include with your correspondence what you would like done with his remains.

Cordially,

Proudfoot Savage

Head Guard - Azkaban

Chapter End Notes

We're past the halfway point and I can promise you there is still so much to unravel!

If you would like to follow me on tiktok - it's @darkcloud190. As I mentioned in a previous

note, I am currently working on a new Dramione. It will be a Dark Fantasy/ Royal AU. And
just for you guys - the title is 'Blood of the Immortal.' If you would like to get a peak that fics
esthetic, you can check it out here:

https://www.tiktok.com/@darkcloud190/video/7305562647200566574?
is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7259175983533000235

Will be releasing as a WIP in the new year!

 Chapter 18 Again
Chapter Notes

I absolutely adore this chapter - definitely one of my favorites. You get a little more insight
into Melody Nott and well....Theo - he is just a swoon!!!

Thank you for all the love with the kudos and the comments! I really do love reading all of
your theories!!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Based on the stop and stutter of Draco’s chest, he had read the letter in conjunction with Hermione.
Both stayed eerily quiet, looking at Theo, waiting for a reaction, good or bad. His hazel eyes drifted
back and forth over the neat script, rereading the same words repeatedly. After what had to be the
third pass, Theo tossed the parchment onto the end table without a second look.

An intense feeling of relief washed over her. But it felt foreign like it wasn’t her own. Her fingers
drifted to her belly, grazing along her navel. The emotion wasn’t within her but around her – was it
Theo’s? Was she feeling his emotions?

“I meant what I said. Let his bones rot and decay beneath the concrete.”

The authority in his words rumbled low in his throat, and the features on his face hardened as if
etched from stone. His hand snaked up the length of Hermione’s back until his fingers buried in her
curls, palming the back of her head. Guiding her face towards his, Theo slotted his mouth against
hers. Each press of his lips and flick of his tongue was more demanding than the last until she was
limp in his hold, lips swollen, and cheeks flushed. If he wanted to claim her, she would let him. She
was his. She was Draco’s.

When he pulled away, she was left heaving with each needy pant that passed her lips. His eyes
narrowed when his lip quirked up into a sort of half-smirk that told her he didn’t plan to go any
further but enjoyed her reaction.

Draco whispered in her ear. “I like watching you submit to Theo, darling,” she muffled a whimper.
“And guess what?” he smiled against her ear. “It drives Theo mad when you let him control you.”

Her eyes flexed wide, looking at Theo while listening to the dirty things Draco was saying.
Something about him enjoying watching them together made her flesh tingle with wanton
anticipation. Granted, it seemed like neither the time nor the place, but it did make the morning a
might better than it had been.

Theo propped himself up against the headboard and maneuvered Hermione until she sat between
his outstretched legs, her back flush against his chest. She watched Draco shift closer, claiming the
vacant space next to them. Without turning fully, she could hear when their mouths locked together.
Lazily, they kissed, both humming in approval.
A long-drawn-out breath preceded Draco’s hushed words. “You need to inform Melody of his
death.”

“I know. I hope she doesn’t ask too many questions; I don’t have answers for her.”

“When a prisoner dies at Azkaban, the cause of death isn’t released,” Draco paused. “Unless the
family makes a formal inquiry. Theo, if you’d like, I can ask; Savage owes me a favor.”

Theo shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Not to him, and while it was none of her business, Hermione was more than a little curious about
what happened. While he looked worn down by his time in Azkaban, Nott Sr. didn’t appear ill
during their visit. She found it hard to believe that he died simply of natural causes in a matter of
weeks.

To her knowledge, Theo hadn’t visited his mother since that initial visit weeks ago. They had
written a few times but nothing of substance. He appeared to crave a relationship with her but was
paralyzed with what or even how to start building it. The thought made Hermione ache; he needed
help and guidance, and they both did. And unfortunately, rebuilding a relationship like that was not
Draco’s forte. But she couldn’t bring herself to be the mediator they needed her to be. She had been
angry with Melody Nott and believed she was undeserving of redemption. Unworthy of a
relationship with her son. But after they visited Azkaban, hearing what Nott Sr. said – maybe it
wasn’t as simple as Hermione believed.

Even with an ocean between them, it sounded as though the wizard emotionally tormented Melody
via their soul bond. She didn’t think that was possible. Naturally occurring ones were stronger, sure
– but theirs was a marriage bond.

It was unfair, and Hermione knew it, being upset with Melody. The woman was handed an
impossible choice. But she couldn’t help but blame her. Not just for all the atrocities that happened
to Theo because she ran off without him. But she blamed the witch for Draco’s suffering, too,
whether warranted or not. If she hadn’t left Theo, Draco would never have felt the need to save
him.

However, if she had taken Theo with her, who knows if they would be together? She had to stop
herself from drowning in a pool of what-ifs and instead focus on the present.

Her wizards may have quickly moved past it, but she wasn’t.

“I can go to the manor later today to speak with her,” Theo said flatly. “I’ll send an owl shortly.”

“Draco and I are coming.”

Hermione turned around to face them. Stern and reproachful gazes stared back at her. Draco looked
almost disgusted by her comment, while Theo was uncertain.

“No, love. It’s not safe there for you.”

Hands curled around her shoulders in a firm embrace when Theo kissed her cheek sweetly before
pulling back again.
“Nott Manor was designed in a way to keep out anyone who wasn’t pureblood. You could get hurt.
I need you to stay here.”

“I’ve been to Malfoy Manor plenty of times, and neither of you have stopped me,” she folded her
arms over her chest.

“When my father died, I became Lord of the Manor; as such, I was able to have all the outdated
and dangerous curses removed. Theo will be able to do that now, but until he does, it’s not safe,
Hermione.”

The tip of her nose crinkled- not so much at them telling her she wasn’t going. They knew it, and
she knew it. She was going. And if they wanted to play this little game back and forth where they
could posture and prance about it, then sure, why not? While she willingly gave them control in the
bedroom, she would dig her heels in outside of that. Draco called her stubborn, but she knew they
found it to be one of her more endearing qualities.

That word. Lord. So archaic.

“Lord Malfoy,” she echoed with a grimace. “Are you truly a Lord?”

“I mean, that depends,” Draco smiled smugly, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Does that do it for
you, darling? The whole Lord thing.”

Her face contorted at the insinuation, a mixture of disgust and ridiculousness. “Oh, piss off,”
Hermione chucked a pillow at his face. “You posh, pretentious, little prat.”

“I resent that,” Draco huffed. “I am not little.”

“Oh, but posh, pretentious, and prat still stand then?” she laughed.

“Only when you say it.”

A devilish smirk peered back at her, coiling her insides tighter than a spool. How he managed to
make everything alluring was criminal.

“Oi, love birds,” Theo smiled. “The point stands. You’re staying home, Hermione.”

The three of them stepped through the floo at Nott Manor, Hermione for once being the smug one.
It didn’t take long for the two wizards to fold. She had agreed not to wander the manor
unaccompanied. At first glance, it was perhaps even colder and foreboding than Malfoy Manor had
ever been.

Black stone walls greeted them in the windowless room lit solely by pale yellow lights. The room
lacked any warmth or personal effects, no furniture or art. This couldn’t have been how the floo
parlor always looked, surely. Despite not being a chill in the room, Hermione instinctively brought
a hand up to her arm, rubbing it, seeking comfort. She almost preferred Azkaban’s hospitality to
this place. Why Melody Nott stayed here instead of at Malfoy Manor with Narcissa was
unfathomable.

Noticing her unease, Theo slung an arm around her place, pulling her close.
“The rest of the manor isn’t quite as unnerving,” he reassured. “Father liked the idea of his guests
feeling uncomfortable when they arrived.”

“A real charmer,” Hermione grimaced.

Not that she was expecting much. But the rest of the estate, at least the small bits she saw, were less
imposing than the entrance. Nothing was warm or inviting; it starkly contrasted with Theo.
Hermione could understand why his initial reaction had always been to burn it to the ground. They
wandered down a long, narrow hall off what appeared to be the main entrance. It eventually led out
into a wide-open sitting room.

This room must have been touched. The walls were adorned with brightly colored art. There were
plush armchairs and ottomans in front of a roaring stone fireplace. Sunlight streamed in from the
oversized window.

Melody Nott was perched on a velvet bench by the window, tea in hand. She rose to meet them, a
tender, albeit cautious smile on her evidentially kind features. No longer clouded by the fog of
finding out the witch was alive, Hermione really looked at her. Theo was every bit his mother’s
son; thank Merlin for small graces, not only in looks but also in his soul. They both had almond-
shaped eyes where the hazel was greener than not. The same shade of chocolate brown curls, hers
slightly darker than his, now with hints of grey. The olive tone to their skin. Melody Nott’s smile-
or more the way she smiled. Every time – it reminded Hermione of her own mother.

The only resemblance Theo bore to his father was in his physique, both being broad-shouldered.
But Hermione had few memories of what the man looked like before Azkaban had morphed him.
Whatever misgivings she had about Melody Nott, she was thankful that Theo took after his mother
more than his father.

“Draco,” Melody pulled him into a welcoming embrace. “Lovely to see you again.”

Draco pecked her on the cheek. “You too, Melody.”

Carefully, Hermione, the quiet observer, cataloged everyone’s reactions. Draco had spent more time
with the witch than even Theo since she returned. No doubt hopeful that she held the key to him
solving his case. Given the stagnant nature of it, she thought Draco would sleep better, but that
wasn’t true. He was more stressed than ever, desperate for it to be over with. That time together
appeared to spur a comfortable engagement between the two.

Hermione hadn’t left Theo’s side, her fingers still laced through his. His shoulders had no obvious
tension; his face was relaxed, even if a bit cold and distant. But that look could be merely due to the
news he had come to share and nothing about his feelings regarding his mother. He wanted things
to be normal with her; he wanted that relationship.

“Theodore.”

On her lips, his name sounded like a soft benediction. The green flecks in her eyes sparkled behind
the glossy tears that she hadn’t shed. Only because Hermione paid such close attention did she
notice it. Against her better judgment, she gave Theo a parting squeeze and a gentle nudge on his
back in his mother’s direction.

Their embrace was awkward but didn’t appear cold. Melody wrapped her arms around his back,
pulling him snugly, and he looked lost like he didn’t know how to respond. Hermione wanted to
remind him that it was no different than how he acted with Narcissa. But a detached part of her
liked the distance and wanted it to sting. To remind Melody of the mistake she had made.

Did that make Hermione cruel? Maybe. But she didn’t want to see Theo hurt.

When she untangled from him, all eyes turned towards her. Curiously, her wizards watched as
neither witch made a move. A sad smile tugged at the corners of Melody’s eyes.

“Hermione,” she said tentatively. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

Not attempting to hug her, she politely nodded and gestured at the bench by the window. Hermione
smiled in return and sat down with not so much as a word. She was here for Theo, nothing more.

“Mother.”

The word sounded foreign, coming out of his mouth. But the confident lilt to his voice was
reassuring as Hermione watched anxiously from the bench in front of the large window. The weight
near her shifted; she looked over to see Draco sitting next to her. A small smile tugged at his lips
before he rested his palm on her thigh, attention directed at Theo.

Theo rested his hands on Melody’s arms, looking purposefully down into her eyes.

“Azkaban notified me,” he paused. “Theodore Nott Senior is dead.”

The air was sucked out of the room as Melody’s face went ghostly white, looking almost fearful.
Her knees buckled, and that was when Theo reaffirmed his grip on her, keeping her upright.
Something flickered behind her eyes as they frantically searched Theo’s.

“Veramente?” she whispered. “I thought. Maybe. I felt it late last night. But I didn’t dare to believe
it. The dimming of his magic’s pull on mine.”

Theo nodded, eliciting a quiet gasp from her. Her hand flew to her mouth, covering it when her
eyes squeezed shut. Silently, Hermione watched, covering Draco’s hand with her own. When her
eyelids fluttered open, they glistened with unshed tears.

“Siamo liberi, figlio mio.”

“Yes, mother.”

The color slowly returned to her face at the realization that Theo had told her the truth, that Nott Sr.
was truly dead. Theo had Pippa bring in a pot of tea, passing a cup to Melody and encouraging her
to sit opposite him.

An hour passed as the two sat at the table, and the conversation became increasingly lighter.
Hermione and Draco stayed out of the way, just being a quiet presence. After finishing her tea,
Hermione rolled her head onto Draco’s shoulder, lacing her fingers through his.

“Give her a chance,” he whispered.

“What?” she hissed back under her breath.

“If not for her, then for Theo,” he muttered before kissing her temple. “Her choice wasn’t simple or
easy.”

Damn, Draco Malfoy for saying perhaps the one thing that would make her second guess herself.
Theo had told them that he wanted his mother in his life to rebuild that relationship, and here she
was stonewalling it. Whether she intended it or not, it was unlikely Theo would ever open up to her
entirely if he knew Hermione didn’t like the witch. As much as she hated being wrong, she loathed
when Draco was right.

There it was, that smug, satisfied smirk he wore whenever he knew he was right. She wanted to
smack it right off his beautiful face.

“Fine,” she huffed.

How she was supposed to go about it, she had no idea- today seemed like a poor day to try and do
that. Hopefully, Theo would be ready to go soon, and she could muster that idea for another day.
Her eyes blinked open and closed as sleep tempted her in the middle of the day. A soft voice
startled her being so close.

“Hermione.”

Melody Nott hovered beside her and Draco, a hesitant smile looking down at them.

“Would you join me for a stroll outside? Our gardens aren’t nearly as impressive as Narcissa’s but
still quite lovely.”

She felt the burning gaze of two sets of eyes on her. All but avoiding Draco, she instead focused on
Theo. His almond eyes bore back at her, curious and reserved. Swallowing whatever apprehension
she had, she smiled back, getting to her feet.

“Of course,” Hermione forced out.

Outside the manor, the sun darted in and out of the clouds, a warm spring breeze bustling through
the air. The two of them remained silent, entering what appeared to be the gardens. A stone
pathway lined with hedges and dotted with flowers was their destination. Nervous about what
Melody Nott planned to say, Hermione decided to steer the conversation in a safer direction than
Theo’s mother had planned.

“You’re not from London?”

She hadn’t fully recognized the language but could tell it was native to her.

“No,” she grinned. “I was born in Italy. My family lived outside Rome for centuries. We moved to
the UK after I got accepted at Hogwarts. I have two sisters, Calliope and Harmony. I haven’t seen
them in years. But Harmony lives with her husband in Hungary, I believe, and Calliope returned to
Italy with her wife. My parents passed away some time ago- Anthony and Arietta.”

Part of Hermione had wondered which member of the Sacred 28 Melody had belonged to before
her marriage. Pureblood is still a pureblood, no matter where they are from.

“Did Theo ever tell you?” she smiled wistfully. “I wanted to name him Brio. If you couldn’t tell,
my mother’s family had a tradition of naming their children after musical inspirations.”
While Hermione wasn’t thrilled that Theo shared his father’s name, it was hard to imagine him as
‘Brio.’

The warmth of Melody’s smile faded. “Theo’s father wanted a more traditional name for his heir.
Something that signified his,” she swallowed hard. “Ownership. There would be no questioning it
if he was a junior,” she repeated almost mechanically.

The more Hermione heard, the more questions she had. How did Melody Nott get married to –
him?

“How did you end up with a wizard like Nott Sr.?”

Despite how Hermione questioned her choices, Melody Nott appeared to be a kind and warm-
natured person. There was no rational explanation for how she ended up with a man like that unless
she was forced. She knew enough about pureblood culture, arranged marriages, good breeding, and
all that other pomp. Granted, she knew very little about pureblood societies outside of the UK;
maybe her Italian family had different beliefs.

A sadness settled behind her eyes as she tried to force a smile that wouldn’t come.

“What are you expecting?” she sighed. “An arranged marriage? A story about how terrible my
parents were?” She plucked a lily from the garden and twirled it in her fingers. “My trend of
disappointing you will continue, I think,” she looked over at Hermione. “I met Theodore at
Hogwarts. I married him by choice.”

Hermione arched a brow, unsure of what to say.

“He was never a good person, Hermione. He never gave me any inclination that he was sweet or
affectionate. But what he excelled at was manipulation. I’m not trying to make an excuse. I was
young and naïve. And it took me years of being away to understand that. Teenage me thought we
would take on the world, and it would be glorious. I was a fool,” she muttered.

Silently, Melody passed the lily to Hermione – which she took, twirling the stem in her hands. Was
it simply just a lily? Or was Melody trying to communicate a deeper meaning? Lilies represented
motherhood but also renewal and rebirth. Did she want to start over?

“I never believed in any of that blood purity nonsense. The whole concept was quite a shock to me
and my family when we moved from Italy. Prejudice existed, of course, but it was not the sort of
thing one could completely eradicate. But it was far more prevalent in the UK, dangerously so. But
at Hogwarts, Theodore never talked about that with me. He talked about his plans to be someone
important. And I just believed that meant he wanted to become Minster for Magic.”

Melody stopped walking and looked up at the sky before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“I only saw what I wanted to see. We were wed not long after leaving Hogwarts- a whirlwind
romance,” she said sadly. “Like the rest of the Sacred 28, we were soul bound. I thought it was so
romantic,” she sighed. “It wasn’t long after the wedding. Theodore started to change. Or maybe he
stopped hiding himself. I saw him for who he really was, violent and cruel – and I was trapped. The
only way to break a soul bond is death.”

Hermione looked down at the flower in her hands. Maybe Melody did do what was best for Theo.
It was an impossible situation. If Theo could forgive her, then why shouldn’t she?
A long silence stretched between them until it settled around them uncomfortably. The witches
walked in step with one another, both staring forward, waiting for the other to speak. The fact that
Hermione was here at all was enough to show she was trying. Apparently, she would have to be the
one to propel the conversation.

“Why did you ask me out here?”

She had assumed that Melody had some pressing questions or conversations that she wanted to
have. Not that Hermione was looking forward to it, but she hadn’t anticipated the awkward silence
and grew tired of it quickly.

“I would like to get to know you,” she said softly. “It is clear that my son loves you,” she stopped
and turned to face Hermione. “And I have no doubt that you love him as well. He is lucky to be
loved by two people so fiercely.”

“We haven’t said those words yet,” Hermione whispered.

“They’re only words,” Melody waved her hand dismissively. “Actions are far more poignant- and
yours,” she hummed. “Speak volumes. You guard Theo as every bit of the lioness that Draco said
you were.”

A lioness? Nothing she did could quell the smile that curled up on the corners of her mouth. When
had Draco said that? She knew that Melody had mentioned something to Theo but not Draco.

“I am not naïve, Hermione. You are angry at me for the choices I made. Draco and Theo have
already started to forgive me. But you, you are still reserved- guarded. I don’t blame you. And I am
not asking for your forgiveness, Hermione,” she sighed.

“Then what do you want?” Hermione spat.

“An understanding, and maybe someday a friendship,” she paused. “For Theo’s sake,” she added.

Again, with the for Theo. When Draco said it, she understood, but when Melody said it, it curdled
her insides.

“Do you know?” Hermione whispered. “Do you have the smallest of understandings of what
happened to Theo after you left?”

To be fair, Hermione didn’t even know the full extent of it. Only the bits and pieces that her two
wizards had shared. There was more, far more, but she never prodded for more.

“I hope someday he will be comfortable enough to share it with me,” a tear slid down her cheek.
“Although I do have a small idea,” her voice shook. “Theo’s father. He manipulated our soul bond
in the cruelest of ways. The man took immense pleasure in…. causing pain to my son. And even as
far away as I was, I could feel the emotions. There were times I knew where I could assume what
was happening. But I don’t know the details.”

It wasn’t her story to tell but how she wanted to. Merlin, why was it so difficult? Draco had told her
to try. This wasn’t it. Why did she have to be so stubborn? If Theo wanted this, then she should
support it. Looking up, Hermione saw they stood in front of a field of wildflowers. She couldn’t
help the warm feeling that fluttered in her stomach at the sight.
“Thank you for loving my son. You and Draco have done more for him than I ever could,” she
smiled. “When he is around you or Draco. His magic beams brightly.”

“You can see it?” Hermoine asked incredulously. “I thought only we could see the visible magic
around each other.”

“I can only see Theo’s. It’s a familial bond of sorts. Honestly, the first time I saw the three of you
together, I thought you were already bonded with how it radiated. I asked Narcissa and was
shocked when she said you hadn’t yet.”

Hmmm. Did that mean Narcissa could see Draco’s magic? And if she had, why didn’t she say
anything? The witch had no problem with all the other information she had shared with her during
their last visit. Now, that was so long ago. Maybe Draco’s magic didn’t hum like Theo’s did.

“Narcissa told me about the soul bonding with triad partners,” Hermione chewed her lip. “Do you
know what Anima Trium is? I found it in a book on triad relationships, and Narcissa didn’t know.”

Melody bent down, and curled her fingers around a bunch of flowers, and plucked them from the
ground. She took a small sniff before passing them to Hermione, her face more relaxed than it had
been all day. Cautiously, she took the offered bouquet and inhaled the sweet scent.

“Anima Trium loosely translates to, ‘The Soul of Three.’ I am no expert, but my understanding is
that Anima Trium is when a triad has a naturally occurring soul bond.”

Hermione nodded, tugging gently at the stems of the flowers. Before Hermione could say anything,
Melody spoke again.

“To my knowledge, there has never been a recorded naturally occurring soul bond in a triad before.
It is said that if it occurs, the partners would be able to use each other’s magic, increasing the
strength of their own magic, in essence combining it together.”

“But how?” Hermione choked out, becoming increasingly curious.

“That I don’t know. I’m sure that has to do with the full meaning of Anima Trium. But it’s more of
a myth than anything. The fact that it was at some point recorded means it must have existed- but if
it ever did, it’s lost to history.”

Melody Nott may have found the one way to lower Hermione’s defenses with information and
knowledge. Sensing a slight shift in her demeanor, Melody steered them toward a more general
conversation. Another hour was spent walking through the gardens as she slowly answered
Melody’s questions with more and more confidence.

It appeared the witch did really want to know more about her. She asked a slew of questions and
was genuinely interested in each answer Hermione gave. For a change, someone new didn’t focus
on the war or her being the Golden Girl. Instead, she asked about how she grew up. What her life
was like – her parents.

Part of her considered lying, saying they died during the war. It would have been easier. Because, in
a way, they did die, David and Jean Granger were nothing more than a memory. Hermione tried to
steel herself, and she really wished she had learned occlumency for situations like these. After her
internal battle, she settled on telling Melody the truth.
“My parents live in Australia,” she inhaled deeply. Her voice started to crack. “They go by the
names Emily and Paul Scott.” A sob bubbled in her chest that she desperately attempted to squash.
“They don’t know who I am,” tears leaked out of her eyes. “I obliviated them before the war to
hide them. And when it was over, I was unable to reverse the spell.”

The last sentence was only whispered as Hermione fought against herself to regain control.
Delicate arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. Any urge to fight or
resist washed away instantly. Melody smelled like lavender and vanilla, and it reminded her of her
own mother. A tentative hand rubbed up and down the length of her back.

“You brave girl, your parents would be so proud of you, Hermione.”

Another wave of tears crashed over her at the words. Her body shook, and she relented, returning
the hug. Once the crying had stopped and her body stilled, Melody pulled away- an inviting smile
on her face.

“Do you want to head back inside? Theo and Draco must be missing you. We can have Pippa make
something for dinner. I would love for you all to join me.”

They had stayed for dinner, and Hermione didn’t lament it as much as she thought she would.
When she and Melody returned to the manor, she said nothing to Draco or Theo about what they
talked about, letting her know that she respected their privacy.

Apparently, with Hermione more at ease around her, that also spilled into Theo’s interactions. At
dinner, he was calmer, more engaged, and open with his words and conversations with his mother.
The day went better than expected, but Hermione was happy to be home with her wizards.

Draco pulled her into a sweet kiss in the living room, her fingers still laced with Theo’s.

“Thank you,” he murmured when he pulled away. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Draco.”

A cool breeze touched the warmth on her face from where Draco’s hands had been. He was
cradling Theo’s head, slotting his lips against his. His free hand roamed up the front of Theo’s
jumper until it closed around his throat, pulling a heady moan from Theo’s mouth. With some
reluctance, Draco pulled away.

“I love you,” he whispered in Theo’s ear with a nip.

“Love you, Drake,” he echoed back.

“As much as I want to spend time with both of you, there is a lead I need to dig into,” he pushed up
his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It will be a late night for me. Why don’t you two
head to bed? You look exhausted.”

Draco wasn’t wrong; it had been a taxing day for everyone. His dark circles were more emboldened
than usual, but she knew he was eager to dig into whatever he had found. While he needed to sleep,
too, she couldn’t convince him tonight to forgo work. Theo looked drained; muscles were strained
across his shoulders as if burdened with the world's weight. Hermione’s eyes were heavy; the day
was more emotionally draining than anticipated.
After Draco disappeared into his office, Hermione and Theo settled into bed. She had slipped into a
loose-fitting shirt and nothing else besides her knickers, a book waiting for her on the end table.
Theo came out of the loo in just his briefs. He sauntered into bed, pulling back the duvet and
crawling in beside Hermione.

“Thank you,” his body turned to face hers. “For trying with my mother, it means a lot.”

“I would do anything for you, Theo,” she cupped his cheek. “And your mother, I might have judged
her too harshly.”

Theo looked distracted, and Hermione had an idea. She scooted out of the bed and darted into the
loo, only returning once she had a small bottle in her hand. Thankfully, Pippa had brought it over
with some of her other things when the elf moved her in.

“Lay on your stomach.”

A brown brow arched at her when Theo snickered, eventually rolling over. His head rested on his
hands; his elbows flared to the side.

“You’re a bossy little witch,” he mused.

Narrowed eyes watched her walk back, eyeing the bottle in her hand curiously. Hermione hopped
back onto the mattress, trying to ignore the dull ache that burned low in her belly. Carefully, she
peeled the comforter back until it bunched around the backs of his knees. She swung a leg over him
until her center rested comfortably over his lower back.

“Love,” he snorted, trying to look over his shoulder. “I think you’ve got it backward. I’d rather you
be straddling my cock, not my arse.”

She smacked the back of his head lightly – maybe a little harder than lightly.

“Oi,” he flinched. “Bossy and handsy.”

“I think you like it when I’m bossy,” she hummed, kissing his shoulder blade.

“Only because it makes it that much sweeter when you drop to your knees for me,” he growled.

A squeak caught in her throat while she fumbled with the oil in her hands, almost dropping it. She
heard the knowing snicker puff out of Theo’s lips, content with the reaction he received.

“Something the matter back there, love?”

That cocky prat. She discarded the bottle next to him in the sheets, ignoring his snide comment.

On full display were a series of raised white scars. They looked like the set of Sectumsempra scars
that Draco had on his chest. But these were shorter and more jagged, chaotic almost. The tips of her
fingers traced each scar. She hadn’t pushed for an explanation; she was there if Theo ever wanted to
tell her.

“I got those,” he sighed. “The same night Draco was marked.”

“What happened?”
“Father,” he muffled into the sheets. “He was disappointed that the Malfoy family got the honor,”
he hissed the word. “Of having their son marked. He blamed me for not wanting it bad enough.
Those scars were my punishment,” he paused. “He was an expert marksman with his wand.”

Hermione choked back the gasp that was caught in her throat.

“Do they hurt?”

“Not at all.”

The sense of a smile hung in the air when the silence stretched on. His breathing hadn’t quickened,
his body no more tense than it had been when she climbed on top of him. Speaking about what had
happened didn’t appear to cause any apparent distress.

She leaned forward until her chest grazed along his back, smirking when his body tensed beneath
her. Her palms rested on his shoulders, the muscles rigid and taut under them. Delicately, she
peppered soft, wet kisses all over his back. She started at the base of his neck and slowly worked
her way down to the dimples on the small of his back.

Pleased, soft hums fell from Theo’s mouth, muffled into the sheets below him. The corner of her
lips curled in an amused smirk, happy with the sounds he was making. Her hands rested on the
center of his back when she pushed herself up, pouring a small amount of oil into her hands.

“What is that?”

“Muggle oil, its eucalyptus, it’s supposed to help with stress. Just relax,” she encouraged.

After she heard him exhale, she pressed her hands around his shoulders and rubbed outward
towards his arms. She leaned into each motion, putting on as much weight as possible, working the
knotted muscles out.

“Fuck, love,” he hissed.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it feels wonderful,” he sighed. “Please keep going.”

Hermione sat up on her knees, working into a deep knot at the base of his shoulder. After a few
more passes, she saw when his upper body fully relaxed; the stored tension released. Slowly, she
worked down over the planes of his back until she reached the hem of his briefs, pulling them
down. She pressed long, fluid strokes over his arse.

“Getting a bit handsy back there, you naughty little witch,” he purred.

“Stop pretending you aren’t loving every minute of it, Theodore,” she chuckled.

A growl rumbled low in Theo’s chest when he rolled over, tossing Hermione to the side with a
thump on the bed. Nails dug into her hips as he tugged her back over him, straddling his waist.
Black pupils almost eclipsed the hazel as he peered up at her. She was acutely aware of his hard
length pressing into her core, having sprung free from his briefs when she yanked them down to
massage him.
Fingers fisted in her curls when Theo gave them a soft tug, angling her head to the side. He palmed
the small of her back, lifting himself up. With her neck exposed to him, he kissed up and down the
length of it, pulling little moans from Hermione with each pass.

“Can you feel how much I love it?” he groaned into her throat.

“Yes,” she breathed, grinding against his hardened length.

Theo slapped her thigh, making her jolt.

“Patience,” he growled. “Be good and stay still.”

A wicked gleam sparkled in his eyes as his fingers dusted along the hem of her shirt. Wordlessly, he
removed it, exposing her pert tits to him. A single finger trailed down between her breasts until it
glided along the edge of her knickers. After a subtle wave of his hand, they vanished. Hermione
squeaked at the sudden feeling of his cock against her.

Theo’s face was so close to hers; she could feel each hot breath that passed his lips. Gods, she
wanted him to touch her, to kiss her, to let her move – anything. Her curls fell free behind her again
when his hand fell to her arm.

“Arms behind your back,” the whispered words tickled her ear. “Hold on to each forearm.”

Involuntarily, her body shook at the implications. Carefully, she reached behind her, locking a grip
on each arm. Once settled, she realized why Theo wanted her like that; her body was straight and
her chest more pronounced. One of his hands reached back, easily curling around where her arms
met, locking them in place.

Knuckles dusted along the hinge of her jaw. “Good girl, Hermione,” he whispered.

The praise sent a rush of slick straight to her center; her thighs were coated with it. There was no
way that he didn’t feel it on him. Her lower body contracted at it, desperate for friction; she
groaned, remembering not to move.

Theo lacked the aggressive command in his voice that Draco had, but he didn’t need it. The quiet
demands from his husky timbre controlled her just as much.

Wet kisses trailed down her throat until he reached her breasts. His mouth closed around her nipple,
sucking and flicking it. Her back arched into his lips, soft moans and pleased hums falling from her.
He pulled off with a soft pop.

“Make those pretty little noises for me, love. I want to hear them.”

“Theo,” she sobbed, trying not to move. “Please.”

“Yes,” he sucked the other one. “Just like that, my pretty witch.”

Theo held her in place when his thumb brushed over her swollen clit, his mouth still working her
nipple. Her whole body tensed and reeled against his grip, but he was unyielding. A soft chuckle
blew over her sensitive breast. His thumb pressed down, stroking her in firm and determined flicks.
She was dripping all over him, her skin hot and flushed. His mouth moved to her throat and was
sucking a bruise into the spot that drove her wild.
“Can you come just like this, love?” he growled into her collarbone.

“I want to,” she mewled, her hips starting to circle again.

“I told you to sit still,” he admonished. She stopped with a whine. “If you want to come.”

His mouth continued its torture on her throat while his thumb struck a determined pace at her core.
Her cunt clenched furiously around nothing. Gods, she wanted him to fill her. Her thighs quaked
with each passing stroke of his finger and mouth, matched in unison. Nothing could stop the way
she started to buck, her release cresting, begging to be pushed over.

“Please, please, please,” she whimpered.

“Come for me,” he hissed. “Coat me with it.”

After three more passes, magic exploded inside her, fireworks dancing behind her eyes. Vaguely,
she could feel the bite of his grip on her arms, holding her firm as her body fought against it with
the weight of her orgasm rippling through her. Her chest collapsed onto his, sweat sticking to her
forehead.

“You are so beautiful when you come apart for me, Hermione.”

Theo brushed the hair off her face, gently kissing her temple. Her heart hammered against her chest
while her face burned with a flush. Soft fingers caressed her arms and wrists; she hadn’t even
realized Theo released her. After her breathing steadied, she leaned back, eye to eye with him.

“Ready for one more?” his eyes flicked. “Ride my cock, love,” his knuckles brushed her cheek.

All she could manage was a weak nod that made him snicker. He tapped her thigh.

“Up on your knees.”

Slowly, Hermione rose until she was hovering over him. If her face wasn’t already stained red, she
was certain the blush would have crept up her neck and face. Theo stared at her with such
reverence and admiration that her heart fluttered. It was like she might spontaneously burst into
flames like a phoenix under his gaze. His hand curled around his length, dragging the tip through
her folds, making her moan. Once he was positioned just inside her, he stopped, looking up at her
from the flat of his back, eyes dark and wanton.

“Go on then, little witch.”

She sank down his length until he was fully sheathed inside her. Hermione moaned and tossed her
head back at the deliciousness of the fullness and the feel of him stretching her. Heat followed the
trail of his hands as they massaged up and down her back until he settled on her hips.

The bite of his nails digging into her hips only spurred her on as she ground against his pubic bone,
moving back and forth. Her hands curled around his chest as she started to thrust up and down on
his cock.

“That’s it,” he moaned, guiding her movements. “Use me for your pleasure, love.”

Heavy breaths fell out of her as she moved faster, each thrust tapping just the perfect way inside
her. She hissed when his fingers moved between them, rubbing her clit, making her head spin.
Already, she was teetering on the edge again, so close from before. Her movements started to falter
when her legs shook with her impending release. Theo took control, clenching her hips and
snapping into her unrelentingly. It only took a moment before she was screaming his name and
unraveling around him, her cunt squeezing his cock with each wave of her orgasm crashing over
her.

Before she had time to come down, Theo rolled them over, throwing her legs over his shoulders.
She was exhausted and boneless under him when he buried himself into her even further. The
angle, the speed, him – it was all too much. She was wrung out, with nothing left to give.

“Theo,” she cried.

A hand cradled her cheek while the other pinched in on her hip.

“You’re doing so well, Hermione,” his thumb brushed under her eye. “Just one more for me.”

An endless string of incoherent whimpers and moans followed his words as she rode the high.
Everything burned to the touch; she was both close and so far away, grounded by his touch. Each
thrust sparked behind her eyes. His movements started to waver.

“Please,” she whimpered. “It’s too much.”

She wanted it, all of him. Her cunt fluttered, and her legs shook until they fell, weak and unusable,
bracketed around Theo’s hips.

“Good girl, come with me,” he hissed, his own control lacking.

A force snapped in her lower abdomen as heat washed through her body. Everything went black for
a moment when she felt the warmth of Theo filling her, crying out her name as he found his own
release inside her. It was like she was drowning in him.

“You are beautiful,” he said softly, stroking her curls. He pulled her into his chest.

She purred a quiet acknowledgment, turning to see his hazel eyes shimmering with love and
warmth just for her. Her hand came up and cupped his face, a tender smile gracing her lips.
Tenderly, her finger traced a repetitive path over the scar that curved over his shoulder.

“Theodore Nott,” she hummed.

“Am I in trouble?” he chuckled.

“You most certainly are,” she whispered, kissing his lips. “Because you made me fall in love with
you.”

She watched as his eyes crinkled at the corners, and he fought against the broadening smile on his
swollen lips.

“I am in love with you so much that it bloody hurts Theo. And that is entirely your fault.”

Quietly, he wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her into his chest. He kissed the crown of
her curls, holding her tight.
“I won’t lie, Hermione,” he paused. “I’m not the least bit sorry about that,” he pushed her back so
he could see her face. A hand brushed over her forehead until it cupped her cheek. “I love you,
Hermione. You are the most beautiful, perfect, witch I have ever met.”

Her heart fluttered in her stomach; a lump stuck in her throat. Theo slotted his lips with hers in a
slow, sensuous kiss. Each pillow of his lips glided into the next, each swipe of tongue danced
deliciously against hers. His fingers buried into her hair as her hands curled around his back, urging
his body closer to hers.

“I love you, Theo,” she murmured in between kisses.

“Say it again,” he groaned.

“I love you.” She smiled, her lips curving against his own.

“Again,” he rolled their bodies until she was pinned beneath him.

Hermione locked her fingers behind his neck and pulled herself up until their mouths touched once
more. “I love you, Theo Nott and I will tell you every day until my dying breath.”

Theo bent down until his weight was supported on his forearm, his other hand reached between
them – notching the head of his cock at her entrance. Once settled, his hand caressed her cheek
while his thumb stroked over the freckles there. Slowly, he sank into her – his eyes never leaving
hers. Hermione moaned at the fullness.

“I love you, Hermione,” he rocked his hips into hers. “And I will show you ever day just how
bloody much. You’re mine, my love.”

“Yours,” she sighed, digging her nails into his arse and urging him deeper. “Theo,” she whispered.

“What do you need?”

“You. Just you.”

“You have me, witch. Heart. Body. Soul. It is yours.”

Every nerve in her body was shot from their earlier terse. Each thrust of Theo’s hips buried the
head of his cock against the overly sensitive spot inside her. The burn spread and built higher with
each thrust until she was on the verge of snapping.

The quiet moans that escaped her lips were swallowed by Theo – as he fitted his mouth his again.
His own body showing the telltale signs of his impending climax. “Come with me, my love.” The
pad of his thumb circled her clit in that perfect way that left her no option but to tumble into bliss.
It was a soft, long-drawn-out climax that Theo guided her body through as he emptied into her.

Her thighs shook and her body trembled, wrung out and exhausted. Theo pulled her head into his
chest and held her spent form close.

“I love you, Hermione,” he kissed her forehead.

“I love you, Theo.”

Chapter End Notes

I have to admit when I read the comments.....I'm impressed with some of the theories out there
on who the killer is!! I wonder if anyone has guessed it correctly yet? We're getting close
folks!

And......how do I turn my husband into Theo Nott? Asking for a friend.

 Chapter 19 Behind the Mask
Chapter Notes

How in the world is this fic almost at 30k hits??? Holy smokes - thank you all so much for all
the love. The sweet comments and all the kudos. We're getting to the home stretch!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

In the weeks that followed, Hermione allowed herself to fall more deeply for them both, without
reservation. More than once, her mind drifted to images of what a future for them may look like.
There was a large stone home in the country, complete with its own gardens and topiaries, nothing
quite as ostentatious as either of the manors, something uniquely their own.

Almost as if it were tactile, she saw the three of them walking along a well-trodden path around
their home. One that was neither of the manors but someplace entirely new, warm, and inviting,
crafted carefully by the three of them. Hermione could see herself with a rounded belly, her hand
softly caressing the bump as they strolled.

Then the picture would shift, and it would be years later. Theo was cooking in the kitchen while
Draco massaged his shoulders, dotting on him. Hermione watched them together, their reverence
popping when two tornadoes spun into the room.

A girl with long dark curls chased after a boy with pale grey eyes and short blond hair. The little
girl ran between her wizard’s legs, clinging onto Draco, feigning a fear that wasn’t there.

“Daddy, daddy!” she’d shout. “He’s being mean to me.”

“Am not,” the little boy would protest.

The scene would swirl and shift. They were standing on platform 9 and 3/4’s. That same little girl
with the dark curls clung to Theo’s legs, tears welling up in her eyes. Lamenting that her big
brother was leaving, she pleaded with them to let her go with him. Despite being ten years old, that
didn’t stop Theo from picking up the girl and notching her on his hip, drying her tears. Draco held
Hermione close as they watched the train depart, their gaze shifting to Theo and their daughter.

And again, back on the same platform a year later. This time, Hermione was crying, worrying about
them both being gone, dreading the time apart. Counting down the days to the Christmas holiday
where, she might see them again. Draco and Theo laughed softly, hugging her closely.

Back in the present, Hermione picked at her cuticles and nibbled on her lip. The future she
imagined was beautiful and perfect and most unrealistic. There wouldn’t be two children; if they
proceeded, there would be only one; not that it was a deal breaker, but it did settle into an
uncomfortable ache in her chest.

Granted, she wasn’t sure if the pain she felt was due to the idea they wouldn’t be able to have
multiple children or that Theo was gone again. He had been for two weeks this time, and it was
almost unbearable. Since expressing her love for them, Hermione noticed that every emotion had
become more intense—love, longing, adoration, and pain. The dull throb she had in the past when
Theo was gone was nothing short of a stabbing burn this time. Draco noticed it, too. She was happy
he would be home in a few days; it was becoming impossible to ignore.

Hermione padded around the ward in the DMLE, doing her weekly supply check. Heath had been
in, asking her if she could help with a shift at St. Mungo’s that week. Of course, she agreed. The
lime green healer robes stayed a permanent fixture in her office, spending more time there as of
late. She sent her patronus to Spark’s, letting him know her plans. Draco and Harry would be cross
if she tried to go without an escort; she found it easier to acquiesce rather than fight it at this point.
Both aurors being on the same page was frightful and impossible to win against.

Just when she was about to send a separate message to Draco, large hands encircled her waist. Her
hands rested on top of them, unable to cover them entirely. A chin rested on her shoulder, and she
giggled softly when his nose nuzzled into her throat, inhaling her sweet scent.

“I would empty my vaults just to hear you laugh like that,” Draco mused.

“Lucky for you, then I offer it as a free service to people I love,” she laughed again.

A snort tickled the thin skin of her neck when he spun her in place so she was facing him. Before
she could even look at him properly, he backed her up into a wall.

“Draco,” she hissed into his chest. The admonishment was tinged with a hint of a smile that she
couldn’t hide despite her best efforts. “We’re at work.”

“So,” he murmured.

The ghost of his lips curled into a mischievous smile along the column of her throat. A hand skirted
down from her hip to just under her arse; he lifted one leg up and notched it at his waist. His other
hand curled around the end of her plait, tugging it to the side, slotting his mouth against hers.

Blush flooded her cheeks as warmth tingled deep in her belly. A quiet growl followed the swipe of
his tongue along the seam of her lips, demanding entrance. Draco deepened the kiss, pulling her
further into him. He chuckled as he swallowed her soft whimpers.

“Honestly! That’s disgusting. Don’t you two have any sense of professionalism?”

Quickly, Hermione righted herself, smoothing down the front of her skirt and fixing her hair. Damn
Draco, she had almost forgotten that they were in the middle of the DMLE ward. Draco brushed the
pad of this thumb over her swollen lip before turning to face a rather red-faced Isla.

Draco positioned herself almost entirely in front of Hermione, dwarfing her behind his large frame.
His arms were crossed over his chest, his hair slightly mussed from their snog session. But he
didn’t appear annoyed, unbothered at most, and perhaps a little curious. Theo had told Draco about
what Isla had said about him.

“This is a public space. Maybe grope each other somewhere in private next time,” she spat.

“Maybe just look away next time. No one told you to sit and stare,” Draco said, matter of fact.

“Hard not to stare when you’ve got her shoved up against a wall in the middle of the ward,
basically humping each other.”
Regret tasted bitter in her mouth. Hermione knew they shouldn’t have been so forward in the ward.
She may not have liked Isla, but the witch had a bit of a point. With Robards gone, the worst she
could do was report them to Harry, leading to an awkward conversation with their friend, palming
the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact with either of them. At the same time, he mumbled
something about not doing it again and finding a room with a door and a lock.

“One not enough for you,” she hissed. “Need two partners?”

Hermione was unsure if she was yelling at her or Draco, maybe both, but it certainly appeared as
though the majority of her ire was aimed toward Draco. Sparks fizzled around him when he let out
a low snarl; his hand twitched near his holstered wand. Hermione’s hand rested on his bicep,
rubbing softly.

“Draco,” she whispered.

Ignoring the question, Draco took Hermione’s hand and steered them past the open-mouthed witch
without offering her a second glance.

“I should report you,” she shouted as they left.

Draco waved a dismissive hand overhead. “Good luck with that,” he shouted back.

Back in his office, Hermione looked at his face, not noticing how exhausted he looked. Most
mornings, she woke up alone while Theo was gone. Other times, it was just the two of them; Draco
had long gone to the DMLE before either was awake. Many times, he was in his office until late at
night. He was not coming to bed until they had long been asleep.

Foolishly, Hermione had thought that with no new murders, Draco would ease up on himself, but
the opposite turned out to be true. His office at the DMLE looked similar to his home, with boards
scattered about the room, items linked together, and notes piled everywhere. Draco was desperate
to catch who was behind it; he always had been. But since Hermione received the roses, he was like
a man possessed.

He was stuck on this lead, on the forger who had supplied Melody Nott with documents. He was
utterly confident that if that wizard wasn’t their killer, they could at least point them in the direction
of them. The skin under his eyes had thinned, only accentuating the black and purple rims
underneath them.

Worry lines were etched along his brow and face, becoming a permanent fixture. Hermione had
seen him smoking more, mostly confined to his office at home. He would eat, but only when she or
Theo reminded him. And with Theo gone, she was worried about him.

She reached up on her tiptoes, now in the privacy of his office ,and knotted her hands behind his
neck. Guiding his face down to hers, she kissed his lips before rubbing a thumb under his eye. He
didn’t even bother to try and glamour it anymore.

“I’m worried,” she sighed. “This case is consuming you.”

The only acknowledgement he gave her was a disgruntled huff. Hermione flicked her wand
towards the door, both locking and silencing the room. Draco’s body tensed around her at the
motion, knowing she intended not to leave the conversation alone.
“Draco,” she protested. “Will you talk to me? I thought perhaps you would ease up a bit, seeing as
there have been no new victims in months. But it seems to be the opposite, in fact. It’s been weeks
since I have woken up with you in bed with us.”

He turned his back to her, not wanting to look at her eyes- those endless brown eyes with flecks of
gold that shimmered with love and concern. Instead, he traced a finger along a pinned-up article
from overseas.

“There’s no time to rest, not until I’ve caught whoever this is,” he mumbled.

Hermione closed the distance between them, saddling up next to Draco and looking over the
evidence board with him.

“You know,” she murmured, lacing her fingers with his. “You are allowed to rest. You can still
solve this even if you sleep every night.”

“I can’t,” he hissed, yanking his hand away.

“Why?” she spat back, stomping in front of him.

“Because Hermione,” he cupped her face firmly, but not hard. “I love you,” his voice softened. “If
anything happened to you. Or to Theo. I couldn’t live with myself.”

Hardened lines marred his pale features, darkening his face. Hermione covered his hands, holding
them in place on her cheeks, searching his eyes. They were distant and full of concern and worry.
She wanted to take that burden away from him, shoulder it herself, and give him some peace. But
she had no idea how to go about it.

Silently, Draco grabbed her hand and tugged her down into his lap once he settled in one of the
chairs. He repositioned her until her legs and feet dangled off one side of him, curling her head into
his neck. She was so small like this, enveloped fully by him. In the quiet, she listened to the way
his heart thudded in his chest. It beat slowly but unevenly. As uncomfortable as he was.

Draco was ever the protector and guardian. The way he sacrificed everything for Theo- even taking
on a job as an auror. Hermione never asked directly, but she didn’t have to. Ever since she heard the
story of how he was marked, there was no question as to why he pursued a career path as an auror.
Before then, part of her had thought it was some penance for what he had done in those two years.
But no. He strived to protect those who couldn’t defend themselves. But who protected him?

First, it was Theo. Now, that included Hermione; clearly, he had kept a close eye on Narcissa all
those years. And even Melody, Draco had spent more time visiting her than Theo since the
revelation of who she was. He had quickly standardized who could know of her presence and
ensured she was secure at Nott Manor.

“And Draco, I love you. It’s impossible to live with myself while I watch you literally run yourself
into the ground. You are not the only one responsible for keeping people safe.”

Listening to her words, he stayed silent while she ran her fingers through his hair. It was soft and
smooth. He splayed his fingers across her thigh, rubbing a repetitive pattern over her skirt. The
other hand traced up the length of her spine until his palm settled at the nape of her neck, curling
around the hair. His lips pressed to her forehead.
“Maybe not, but I am responsible for keeping the people I love safe. And it’s a rather short list, so
leave it be, darling.”

“I won’t leave it be,” she sighed back. “Have you looked in a mirror, Draco? If you won’t take care
of yourself. Then I will! And I’m sure Theo would say the same thing if he were here.”

He started to speak, but she interrupted him.

“Also, if you are dead set on protecting everyone else, how can you do that if you barely function?
I should think you’d want to put the best version of yourself forward, not some shell of a copy that
is barely holding on.”

A hot breath of air puffed out his cheeks, dusting her temple where his lips still rested. His body
tensed and shifted but left her still in his lap. The patterns his fingers had been drawing on her
thighs stopped, while his thumb still brushed the nape of her neck thoughtfully. Hermione changed
direction; she knew she was pushing him but needed to understand.

“Why did you take Theo’s place?”

Rapidly, his heart started to thrum against his chest, becoming faster and more uneven. The
question had struck a nerve.

“Because I loved him,” Draco sighed. “I still love him. I will always love him,” his forehead
collapsed to hers.

“But you knew you would likely die,” Hermione whispered. “You didn’t expect to live.”

Each breath that passed his lips was shaky. The confident composure that so frequently defined
Draco was noticeably absent. He didn’t want to talk about it; it was painful, and reliving it was not
something that he ever wanted to do again. But Hermione deserved to know everything; perhaps
she would understand what was happening now a little better.

“There was no point in living if Theo wasn’t there. My options were to do nothing and know that
Theo would,” his voice caught. “That he would be gone. And that I would likely be next in line to
get the mark anyway. Or I could fight for it, potentially saving his life. My life was forfeit either
way. At least doing what I did,” he shuddered. “Gave Theo a chance.”

Draco whispered before Hermione could say anything, the words slipping past her ear.

“And that is just as true now. I would die if that meant you were both safe. I wouldn’t want to be
here if either of you were gone. So, I will go without sleep until I have whoever the hell is
threatening you both in Azkaban or, better yet, dead. It’s my fault you’re in this mess, to begin
with. If it wasn’t for me….”

“Stop it,” Hermione interrupted.

Rather harshly, her hands cupped his face, pulling his gaze to hers.

“That is just selfish, Draco Malfoy,” she hissed, tears welling up. “What makes you think that Theo
or I could live without you? You are so quick to sacrifice everything for us, for the people you love.
Neither of us could do this without you. You are not expendable. You are needed, wanted, and
loved.”
All the anger, sadness, grief, and even fear Hermione had been pushing down for months broke
free. Tears streaked her flushed face, eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Her arms latched around the
back of Draco’s neck, refusing to let go.

“I love you, Draco Malfoy,” she choked. “I love you so much, yet you won’t even love yourself. It
hurts when you’re not there at night and even more when you’re gone in the mornings. We need
you. We can protect each other. Please,” she pleaded. “Don’t make us wake up without you
anymore, go to bed without you, or eat dinner without you.”

It sounded like he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself. The sobbing from Hermione
got worse for a moment before it slowly started to soften and give way altogether. His hands curled
around her, cradling her to his chest. His mouth rested on her head, a sad huff blowing a few stray
curls around.

“I am so sorry, Hermione. I just, it’s how I fix things, how I make it work. I will try and do better,
but,” he paused. “I don’t know how.”

Control. It was what gave Draco a semblance of equilibrium. At first, Hermione had thought he just
needed it in the bedroom. But now, it was clear it was so much more than that. When things got
dire, it was easier for him to take whatever he could upon himself. Draco could control his actions
and feelings, but the idea of anyone he loved being in pain was too much. So, he would take it all
on himself rather than watch someone he loved suffer.

Did Draco not understand that he was also loved? That it hurt them just as much. They could start
small at first. Hermione couldn’t fix the past but could work on the now.

Her hands tugged at the collar of his shirt, her face still nuzzled in his chest. Water still fell from
her eyes, staining his shirt.

“Tonight, when Theo gets home, can we all be together? Have dinner and then fall asleep and wake
up together?”

“I promise, darling,” he hummed along the crown of her head. “I will take better care of myself
because I love you both so much.”

At least another hour must have passed when Draco just held her in his arms, neither of them
moving. She had almost forgotten that they were at work, in his office. Only when Harry’s patronus
appeared, summoning Draco, to his office, did their reverence break. Carefully, Hermione slid off
his lap, reaching up and wrapping her arms around his neck for a parting kiss.

“Thank you,” she whispered against his mouth.

“Anything for you,” he smiled. “My stubborn witch.”

Hermione spent the rest of her day locked in her office, pretending to review another article from
Padma about the cruciatus curse. Originally, she had fully intended to read it and offer additional
feedback based on some slight changes she made to her original protocols. But she found herself
emotionally exhausted with her mind drifting.

That hollow, aching throb in her abdomen had been increasingly difficult to ignore. It got worse
with each additional day that Theo was gone. And with it now going on for two weeks, it had
turned unbearable. Her fingers traced along the spot, absently wishing it to go away. From previous
experience, she knew the moment she saw Theo it would, but it was annoying, and she wished it
would sod off already.

Part of her wanted to close her eyes and just sleep for a little while. The ache in her abdomen, along
with the tightness that was still in her chest from her conversation with Draco, not to mention the
images that continued to swirl in and out of her mind. More vivid by the day, it seemed.

The future. It called to her, echoing clearer than ever before. Everything with Draco and Theo felt
right like there was nowhere else they belonged. More and more, she saw a wedding with them, a
soul bond, a house – children. It was always multiple, always two, always one boy and one girl,
nearly identical.

Hermione was no seer, but it was palpable. Undeniable – like it was the truth, not just a daydream.
Like it was how everything was supposed to be, it should have been terrifying, but no, it was
serenity and warmth.

The conversation with Narcissa plagued her happiness, though. Unlikely, there would ever be more
than one, and didn’t either of them want children? What if they both did? What if neither of them
did? Was she okay without having any? Maybe. It wasn’t something that she had a deep calling for
before. But the little girl with chocolate curls and the little boy with pale grey eyes whispered to
her, a vision she couldn’t let go of.

Draco had gotten so angry with Narcissa when she had brought up the idea of children. Maybe they
didn’t want any. Was it too soon for them to have this conversation? Would she scare them away?
What about marriage – she knew that Theo and Draco were serious in their affections. A few
months ago, everything was different. Now, it was solidified; they belonged together; she was sure
of it. But she needed to talk to them to ensure it wasn’t just her feeling like this.

Anima Trium. Based on what she read and what both Narcissa and Melody had told her, it
happened when there was a naturally occurring soul bond between a triad. And Hermione couldn’t
help but wonder if that was what they were. Logically, it made no sense. Never had there been a
recorded case, at least according to Melody. And the fact that there was no information about what
it was supported that.

The way they could see each other’s magic, the pain they felt when apart. Melody had mentioned
being able to use the other’s magic and even combining it. Hermione wanted to test that but had no
idea how and was confident she would find no books that spoke of it.

“Bollocks.”

Ink splattered across Padma’s paper after Hemione unconsciously knocked over her inkwell. She
cleaned it up with a hasty wave of her wand and dropped her quill on the desk. She hadn’t even
made it past the first paragraph. With a resigned sigh, she curled up the parchment and tucked it
away in the drawer, leaving it for another day. She couldn’t remember a time when she had been
more distracted.

Soul bonds, children, partners, Anima Trium, and whatever that was. Thankfully, it was well past
five, so Hermione gathered her cloak and made for the floo.

When she arrived back at the flat, she was surprised to see neither of them milling about. Theo was
due back earlier, and she half expected to find him in the kitchen. On her way out of the DMLE, it
looked like Draco had attempted to keep his promise and had already left for the day.

Slowly, she padded up the stairs after hanging up her cloak and bag. After walking down the hall,
Hermione froze just inside the door frame to their bedroom, silently observing and listening. Her
wizards always called her a voyeur, and finally, she had to admit they were right. Everything about
the two of them together was perfect. The way Draco whispered sweet nothings to Theo. The way
Theo stared adoringly at Draco. How they held each other, how they made love to each other, how
they fucked, and Merlin, watching Theo submit to Draco, was one of the hottest things she had ever
seen.

Inside, she saw them curled up together in bed. Draco cradled Theo’s head to his chest, brushing
the curls off his face, smiling as he did so. A thin sheet was haphazardly sprawled across them,
barely covering them. Their tangled legs were exposed, and even from as far away as she was,
Hermione could see the sheen of sweat that reflected off both their chests. Draco started to speak
before she could announce her presence.

“Gods, I missed you so much, handsome.”

“I’ve almost got it, I think, maybe one more trip.”

“Good, I don’t think either of us can stand you being gone again,” Draco kissed his temple. “Do
you feel it when you’re away? Does it hurt?”

Theo nodded. “It was much worse this time.”

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, a small smile curling at the corners of her mouth. Gods,
she missed Theo, and she was oddly happy to know that he felt it, too, the pain of being apart.
Although she never wanted him to hurt again and would do anything to prevent that, it wasn’t a
pain; more of a need that ached. The green in his hazel eyes caught her when he glanced up.

“Our little voyeur has returned,” Theo smiled. “Care to join us, love?” he extended his hand. “We
may need a bit of recovery time,” he winked. “But I think we can squeeze you in,” he snickered.

Hermione snorted. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. You two take all the time you need; I’ll get supper
started.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Theo huffed. “I’ve missed you. Get your cute little arse over here. I’d like a
little cuddle with my witch.”

Risking a quick peek at Draco, one of his rare broad smiles was present. Hermione truly didn’t
want to intrude on a private moment before the two of them. But the look on Draco’s face was the
only permission she needed.

Quickly, she scooted on the other side of Theo, squishing him between her and Draco.

Theo turned so that their chests were pressed together, sliding his hands down until he was cupping
her arse. That little smirk did her in when his lips pressed to hers in a sweet, longing kiss that left
her breathless.

“I missed you,” he hummed over her mouth.

“I missed you too,” she purred.

Laughing, Theo rolled on his back, pulling Hermione with him until she lay on his chest.
Contentedly, she curled up there, nuzzling her face into his neck. His hands caressed up and down
the length of her spine. Draco brushed the hair off her face to see both of them properly. He
summoned the duvet up to cover them all.

The day got the better of her; Hermione dozed off in minutes, feeling more at ease than she had in
the last two weeks.

“Do you want to join us for supper, darling?”

Soft fingers rubbed over her cheeks. Blinking, her eyes adjusted to the pale-yellow glow over the
room. The curtains had been drawn, and she was uncertain what time it was or how long she had
been asleep.

“If you’re tired, you can stay in bed. We’ll join you a little later.”

When and how did Draco and Theo leave the bed without waking her? She distinctly remembered
falling asleep on top of Theo. She must have been that exhausted. If he was offering dinner, it
couldn’t have been that late. Sleepily, she wrapped her hands around Draco’s neck, urging his lips
to hers in a fleeting kiss.

A playful chuckle passed between them as he started to pull away, her arms still flung around him.

“I’m surprised you got home before me,” she hummed.

“Well,” Draco mumbled. “I took what you said to heart. I wanted to be here when Theo got home,”
his brow arched, a dark gleam in his eye. “Shagging the wizard senseless was just a bonus,” he
brushed his nose along the hinge of her jaw. “Now, if only our witch had gotten home a little
sooner. She could have watched the entire show,” he nipped her ear. “I know how much you like to
watch,” he growled.

Hermione flushed a pale shade of pink, the color creeping up her neck to her ears. Gods, even just
thinking about it made her core contract and her insides melt. She chewed on her bottom lip, her
incisor digging into the plump flesh.

“Not just me, though, right,” she mused. “You like it too?”

“Oh darling,” Draco tangled his fingers in her hair. “We love it when you watch us. Almost as
much as I love watching you submit to Theo. Remember me telling you that?”

She nodded when a soft squeak escaped her.

“I love you,” he kissed between her brows. “Dinner?”

Whether it was a sweeping declaration or said in simple conversation, Hermione didn’t think she
would ever get over hearing either of them say those three words to her. It made her magic sing and
her body hum.

“Yes, please,” she kissed his nose. “Love you.”

Down in the kitchen, Theo had already set the food out on the table with place settings and
silverware ready. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest before kissing the
top of her head.

“Wasn’t sure if sleeping beauty wasn’t going to join us,” he snickered.

“Hey,” she swatted at his chest. “I was tired,” she purred.

“Are you feeling better, my love?”

“Mhmmm. This looks delicious, Theo.”

The compliment was well deserved. The aroma in the room was enough to make her mouth water.
There was a roast with gravy, along with potatoes and a whole slew of roasted vegetables. Theo
pulled out a chair for her between the pair of them. Once they were seated, Hermione filled her
plate, but her appetite quickly faded as her mind started to wander again. Her fork pushed around
vegetables, making it appear as though she was eating when she wasn’t.

Theo took her hand in his, turning it over, and pressed a line of soft kisses from her palm to her
wrist before looking at her directly.

“What’s wrong?”

Her head shot up, no longer staring at the way she pushed her carrots around the plate. Theo held
her wrist, his thumb rubbing gently over her pulse. Draco had gripped her thigh, squeezing it. Both
wizards stared at her, a look of concern and curiosity.

“Nothing is wrong,” she reassured them. “More just lost in the depths of my mind,” she chuckled.
“It’s easy to get lost in there.”

“Why don’t you share what you’re lost in?” Draco urged.

Anxiety almost crippled her. Hermione knew they needed to talk about it more than she needed to
talk about it. They needed to be on the same page, but Merlin, it was terrifying. Officially, they had
only been together for a few months. She didn’t want to marry and have children now, but she
needed to know if they wanted the same things. She dropped her fork with a clatter and sucked in
her bottom lip.

“Do you ever think about marriage, bonding, or children, or a child, one or multiple? Or that with
me? Or us? Or all of us, I mean. Godric, I’m babbling. I’m sorry. It’s stupid; it’s only been a few
months, but it’s been the images in my head nonstop for months. Draco, I know you told Narcissa it
was too soon; I really should stop. I’m going to go take a bath.”

Hermione pushed her chair back and made to get up so she could lock herself in the bathroom. A
hand wrapped around each of her wrists, preventing her from leaving. Draco and Theo both stood,
tentative smiles on their faces.

“Wait,” Theo whispered. “Let’s talk out on the terrace, don’t run away.”

Quietly, Theo cast a stasis charm over the food while Draco summoned three glasses and a bottle of
wine. The pair steered her outside until she was nestled between them in front of the fire with a
glass of wine in her head. Her eyes darted from one to the other, searching their faces for any
reaction to her previous rampage. Both appeared calm but equally guarded.
“Darling,” Draco whispered. “Can you try to explain again what’s on your mind? It was a bit
difficult to make out before,” he chuckled.

The taste of copper kissed Hermione’s tongue as her teeth sank into the already raw skin on her
bottom lip. She didn’t know if she could get the words out again. To be fair, she hadn’t entirely
gotten the words out the first time. The tip of her finger trailed along the rim of her glass; she took
a deep breath and a generous sip of wine, almost draining its contents.

“Do either of you think about the future at all?” Her voice dropped to just above a whisper. “Our
future,” she added.

Her heart might have stopped beating; it fluttered, paused, and began again. It was beating so fast it
rivaled the wings of hummingbirds. Draco and Theo exchanged smiles and then gave their entire
attention to Hermione.

Draco wrapped an errant curl around his finger. “Yes. We’ve thought about what that may look like.
Although, that vision has changed a bit since you came into the picture.”

“We told you from the beginning, Hermione,” Theo added, kissing her forehead. “We didn’t just
want something casual, and we meant it.”

Part of her wanted to resist when Draco wrapped an arm around her and curled her against his
chest. Her body acted of its own accord, melting into his touch. Her heart beat easier, and her
breaths came smoother.

“So, you could see us getting married someday? Doing the soul bond? Narcissa said it’s the only
option for triads.”

They put their glasses down. Draco brushed his hands up and down her arms, peppering soft kisses
into the crown of her head. Theo cupped her cheeks and kissed the tip of her nose before he spoke.

“We see all those things with you, with us. We want that when we’re all ready,” he touched his
forehead to hers.

“We love you,” Draco added. “As for children,” Hermione froze. “We like the idea of that as well.”

A long exhale softened the stiffness in her chest. She hadn’t even realized she had been holding her
breath. Surely, they know, though. About only being able to have one child, maybe they don’t. Do
they even care?

“Do you know that we would only be able to have one?” she pulled at the hem of her jumper. “The
soul bond would make our children very strong, making pregnancy difficult. So, I would only be
able to have one of your babies,” she whispered.

“Is that what you’ve been worried about?”

Turning her around, Draco palmed the back of her head, eyes soft and open. She nodded, wanting
to look away, but pulled back into his grey gaze. Theo was pressed against her back, his chin
resting on her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her waist.

“Most pureblood families only have one child because of the soul bond; we knew that.” Theo
kissed her cheek while Draco continued. “It doesn’t matter whose child it is biologically. It will be
 ours, loved and cherished by us all equally.”

For some reason, that only moderately calmed her nerves.

“What about your lines? One of them will end?”

“Fuck the Notts,” Theo spewed darkly. “We could have an adorable little blond-haired menace,” he
bopped her on the nose.

“I’ve seen both, actually,” Hermione hummed. “I keep imagining a little boy with blond hair and
ice-grey eyes, and then there’s a little girl with long chocolate curls. They are close in age, and it’s
hard not to want it both.”

“If you want two children, love, there are other avenues we can explore.”

Theo was right. The pair of them must have investigated a whole host of options when it had just
been the two of them, assuming they had known then that they wanted a family. The nervousness
was still there, but it battled with excitement. They wanted the same things she did; she relaxed
fully into Draco’s chest.

“I love you both so much,” she sighed.

Whatever Hermione had done right in her life to earn the right to be spoiled by the two wizards
next to her, she would never know it. But the strength of their arms wrapped around her, their
endless praises, and their words of love were the greatest gift she could ever hope for, and she
never wanted it to end.

Chapter End Notes

Over the last couple of chapters we've been able to see Draco drop his shield a little bit with
Hermione. Allowing her to see the person underneath that only Theo has ever seen before <3
 Chapter 20 Without Mercy
Chapter Notes

Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for all the love and support for this story and me.
The kudos and comments are all the kind things are above my wildest thoughts.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Something was going on; Draco and Theo had teased her all day. What should have been a relaxing
Sunday now had her on edge. They had planned something, and it started first thing in the morning.
As the sun set, her insides burned almost as fiercely as the orange glow illuminating the living
room.

It started at breakfast; she sat hunched over on the island, sipping her coffee and smirking at Theo
while he made crepes. She nearly chewed her lip raw. The rim of her mug rested there for far too
long while she shamelessly ogled him. Plaid pants were slung low around his waist, barely held up
by his hips. He was shirtless, and every curve of a muscle, tinge of a scar, and dip of his waist made
her want to devour him.

“Fuck, Theo,” Draco hissed beside her. “Gods. Keeping looking that good and I’ll fuck you on the
counter.”

“Promise,” Theo said with a suggestive waggle of his brows.

The unexpected company made her jump. Godric, help her. He was shirtless, too, but they were
both focused on Theo. Exasperatedly, Draco dragged his fingers through his hair and sucked in a
harsh breath after Theo threw the pair of them a not-so-coy smirk. Not so subtly, Draco adjusted his
trousers, but he wasn’t unable to hide the outline of his cock. Hermione whimpered into her coffee.
Draco reached in front of her, plucked a strawberry off the plate, and brought it to her lips.

“Open, darling,” he groaned, still looking at Theo.

Obediently, she opened her mouth, and Draco slid the plump, sweet fruit in. She chewed and
swallowed, only for him to push his finger along the seam of her lips right after. Hermione closed
her mouth around his finger and slowly sucked, swirling her tongue around it, humming and
mewling appreciatively with the taste of sweetness on it. A low, throaty whisper echoed in her ear,
seemingly unheard by Theo, who stood before the stove.

“Does the sight of him make you wet, darling?”

She moaned around his finger, nodding her head, sucking it harder. The thin fabric between her
knickers and her shorts was already soaked, Merlin, they were before she sucked Draco’s finger.
Now, they were just ruined.

“Will you be a good girl for him?”

Her eyes blew wide, and she nodded again. Draco removed his finger with a pop and trailed his
thumb along her bottom lip, dragging it open before he winked and left her to wrap his arms around
Theo’s waist.

A little after lunchtime, Hermione had dozed off on the sofa with a book splayed over her chest.
The soft moaning sound broke through her haze; her eyes fluttered open to see Draco and Theo
standing before the fireplace. Draco rubbed Theo’s cock fervently through his trousers while
sucking on his throat, driving him positively mad.

“Our little voyeur is awake,” Draco murmured over a bruised spot on Theo’s throat. “Do you want
her to watch as I make you come, or should she wait until later?”

“Later,” Theo groaned, and she whimpered.

Now the sun was setting, and Hemione hadn’t even bothered to change out her pajamas that she
had worn all day- thin, pale pink shorts with a matching tank top. The three of them had cuddled,
read, dozed, and to her delight, Draco hadn’t run away to his office once. But that seemed to give
the wizard other ideas as he spent most of the day torturing her.

While in the kitchen, long fingers closed around her throat. Hard planes of muscles pressed against
her back, effectively trapping her in Draco’s hold. Merlin, she hoped this was going somewhere
because she was about to self-destruct like a phoenix if it didn’t. The band of his rings were cool
against her flushed skin.

Teeth grazed along the shell of her ear, his grip tightening slightly, giving her that delicious
lightheaded feeling that he knew she loved. Her body writhed in his hold, her arse grinding against
his already hard cock.

“Impatient, little witch,” he growled.

“Please, Draco, it’s been all day.”

“It’s not me you should be begging,” he hissed low. He cupped her cunt, making her squeal.
“You’re dripping, darling. Perhaps we should start.”

Start what? The warmth of his chest pressed to her back never left as he walked her into the living
room, hand still wrapped around her throat. Theo stood in the middle of the room, hair slightly
mussed, a finger trailing his lip as he stared at them from under hooded lids. Gods, she was going
to ask that they never wear shirts again. There was something about Theo at that moment, how his
shoulders flexed and rippled. His face was unconcerned, but his eyes glistened like molten silver.
Hermione thought she might get burned if she touched him; he exuded power and foreboding,
sending a flood straight to her core. Her sweet, kind wizard was looking positively dangerous.

Draco stopped once they were in front of him. His fingers flexed on her throat, making her
whimper.

“Are you going to be a good little witch for Theo and do exactly as he says?”

Oh fuck. Draco liked watching this, and Theo liked it when she gave him control sometimes. It was
painful as she forced herself to swallow down the lump in her throat that had gone dry. She would
do anything for either of them.
“Yes,” she whispered hoarsely against his tightened hold on her.

A rush of air filled her lungs when Draco let her go. It was sudden and unexpected. He was now
standing next to an equally silent Theo. They looked edible in thin pants that barely clung to their
hips. She would lick every inch of their chests if they’d let her. Need hummed through her, her clit
throbbing with it after the slow build-up Draco had given her all day.

Theo leaned forward, arms crossed over his chest, and whispered in her ear. “Strip, Hermione.”

The commanding lilt to Theo’s tone had sparks sizzling all over her. Mouth agape and eyes wide,
she squeezed her thighs together and looked from one to the other and back again.

“Don’t make me ask again, love.”

Fun as it was to poke at Draco, something about Theo was deliciously unnerving. Her tongue
darted to wet her lip when her fingers curled under the hem of her camisole. She slid it over her
head and tossed it to the floor.

Grey and hazel eyes focused only on her with rapt attention. Their gaze yearned for her and only
her. It was empowering. She could get drunk off the looks they were giving her. Next, she pulled
down her shorts, leaving her in just her bra and knickers. If they weren’t ruined before, they
certainly were now.

Neither man blinked, apparently afraid to miss a moment of her disrobing. She stifled the soft moan
that caught in her throat when she saw the strain of their cocks against the thin fabric of their
trousers. Hard. For her. Reaching behind her, she released the clasp on her bra and let it quietly fall
to the floor. Slowly, she hooked her thumb under the waistband of her knickers. Draco whispered
something in Theo’s ear, nipping it as he pulled away.

Before she could finish removing her knickers, Theo extended his hand out. Hermione flushed at
the insinuation and sheepishly handed them to him.

“These are soaked,” he mused with an arched brow. “Our needy girl,” she whimpered under their
gaze. “Oh, love,” he stroked her cheek, brushing her curls. “You’ll be begging me before the night
is through.”

He passed the drenched fabric to Draco, who inhaled deeply before tucking them away in his
pocket. “You smell so sweet, darling,” he groaned.

Tenderly, Theo cupped her jaw and lifted it up so that she was focused solely on him.

“On your knees,” his thumb strummed her bottom lip.

Dutifully, Hermione sank down and kept her gaze locked on Theo. From that angle, he looked
imposing and hot as hell. Draco rubbed his cock through the outside of his trousers, his other hand
palming Theo’s nape.

“Take my cock out.”

Hermione rose on her knees and pulled down his bottoms and briefs until his hard length sprang
free, slapping against his stomach. Her small hand curled around the base of his shaft when he
tutted at her.
“Eager girl,” he moaned, his dark eyes flickering. “Hands in your lap.”

A noise Hermione didn’t recognize escaped her as she obeyed. Fuck. Theo was more controlling
and dominating than Draco was usually. Her arousal coated her thighs, and she imagined it was
dripping down to the expensive carpet beneath her. Everything about what was happening had her
abuzz with want. She craved their praise and attention and, hopefully, the sweet release that would
come with it.

“Open your mouth.”

Her lips parted as if of its own accord, and a needy whimper came with it. Her legs shook, her core
aching for any relief. Her body was practically begging for it. Her tongue wet her lips, seeing the
bead of precum that gathered on the tip of his length.

“You’re going to sit there with my cock in your mouth, warming it, until I say otherwise. Is that
understood?”

“Melin,” she moaned. “Yes, Theo.”

“No touching yourself. Hands stay in your lap,” he added.

What had gotten into him? Not that she was complaining. Had they been planning this, and for how
long? They had spent all day winding her tighter than cork just for Theo to exert complete control
over her. Knowing that he was capable of it drove her mad.

“Tap my thighs if it becomes too much.”

Enthusiastically, she nodded. Theo sank his hips forward, feeding her his length an inch at a time
until he was fully seated in her mouth. She hummed around him, the tip of him just hitting the back
of her throat. She focused on breathing through her nose, tears pricking her eyes. Gods, she wanted
to suck and swirl her tongue around him, to taste him fully. But she did as he said and stayed still,
looking up at him, her lips wrapped around his cock, face buried in his pelvis.

“Look at how beautiful she is, Drake,” he caressed her cheek.

“Bloody perfect,” Draco growled. “Do you have any idea how stunning you are?”

The praise warmed her, pink flush flooding every part of her exposed skin. Suddenly, Draco tugged
at Theo’s curls, moving his head to the side as he worked his mouth over the brunette’s neck. Theo
writhed and moaned under the bruising bites Draco was giving him. He was marking him.
Hermione could see the purple blooming on his skin. Draco lathed his tongue over the fresh
bruises, sucking in his wake.

Hermione was a frantic mess. Her lower half writhed and ground below her; she yearned to lower
her hand between her legs and rub her clit. Seeing the two of them had her soaking the floor. The
tears from the fullness in her mouth streaked down her cheeks, staining her face. Neither of them
looked at her, both enamored with the other. There was a muffled whimper. She wanted Draco to
mark her like that.

His cock started to twitch in her mouth, and Theo was getting close to his release. The feel of her
mouth wrapped around him, along with Draco’s relentless claiming of his throat, had the wizard at
the precipice.
“Don’t you dare come,” Draco snarled, sucking a bruised spot that made Theo hiss.

“Drake,” Theo moaned.

“No, Theo. You’re going to fuck our witch and fill the tight little cunt of hers.”

Even with her mouth occupied, both sets of eyes flew to her at the guttural sob that puffed past her
cheeks at the pleasure Draco promised. She watched as Theo closed his eyes for an extended pause,
regaining his composure.

He bent down at the waist and brushed the tears away from under her eyes. “You’re so fucking
beautiful like this love. Desperate, your mouth full of my cock,” he returned to his full height,
turning to Draco. “What do you think, Drake - should I fuck her now?”

“She has been such a good little witch,” he hummed. “Go ahead.”

Theo pulled out of her mouth while she coughed and sputtered, wiping the drool away from her
face when he helped her stand. He slid a hand through her folds, making her knees buckle when he
caught her with a strong arm around her waist.

“Gods, love. Drake, her cunt soaked the floor.”

Sure enough, there was a not-so-small wet spot on the carpet. Hermione blushed, her head
shrinking into her shoulders at the realization.

“None of that,” Draco growled, grabbing her chin. “Our beautiful witch is so wet for us.”

He squeezed her mouth open as his lips crashed to hers in a demanding kiss that left her weak.
Draco brandished his wand and charmed the armrest of the sofa. He raised it up a bit higher and
extended it a bit longer.

“Bend over the sofa,” Theo moaned, smacking her arse.

It was a haze; Hermione was lost in a cloud of lust and submission, spurred on by their words.
Readily, she pressed her chest into the armrest, her feet just touching the floor. Theo’s defined
thighs bumped into the backs of her legs. He kicked her ankles, nudging her open for him. Fingers
skated over her skin, followed by the warmth of his mouth as he knelt behind her.

A needy shudder shook her when Theo dragged the flat of his tongue through the length of her
opening. Slowly, he stroked through her folds, his hands on her arse, spreading her wide.

“Theo, please.”

Light darkened in front of her as the weight on the sofa shifted. Draco took her chin in his thumb
and forefinger and tilted it up. He brushed the sweat-streaked strands off her face, his dark eyes
smoking, smoldering with need. He spoke to Theo but never looked away from her.

“How does she taste?”

After another languid lick, Hermione sobbed, her feet dancing on the floor. Theo rose behind her
and slapped her arse harder than before, making her cry out at the sting. The pain quickly gave way
to pleasure as a rush of arousal coated her thighs.
“Sweet as sin,” Theo growled.

Still holding her chin, “Come here,” he hissed. Draco palmed the back of Theo’s head, pulling him
in. Draco brushed his tongue along the seam of his lips, a contented hum escaping him. Hermione
trembled and ground her hips along the fabric of the couch, chasing any friction she could find.
Theo’s hard cock pulsed at her entrance; soft moans fell from his lips while Draco devoured his
mouth.

It must have been a whisper, but Hermione still heard it.

“Put our witch out of her misery.”

Large hands bracketed her hips as Theo sank into her in one fluid stroke that had her gasping for
air. It should have stung, at least at first, but she was so wet and desperate for him; instead, tears
pricked her eyes at the rush of her impending orgasm. Theo set a slow pace that kept her on the
edge, a hand curled around her hair, pulling it back until she could see Draco.

Hard, chiseled features met hers. He leaned down, his brow softening and his voice as smooth and
delicious as honey. A thumb flicked under her eye, wiping away her tears.

“You alright, darling?”

“I want to come,” she whimpered. “Please.”

Draco chuckled warmly, cupping her face. “What do you need?”

“Theo,” she licked her lips. “Harder.”

“You heard our witch. Make her come, Theo.”

“Fuck yes,” Theo hissed.

He released her hair and grabbed onto her hips once more, needing the leverage as his pace turned
punishing. Instantly, her walls started to flutter and clench around him. Draco rubbed his thumb
along her lower lip, pulling it down and forcing her face back towards his.

“Can you handle me as well, darling?” She nodded, only half aware of what was happening.
“That’s my good fucking girl,” he praised. “Open,” his thumb plucked at her lip.

Without thinking, Hermione obeyed. She hummed around his cock as he fed her it to her inch by
inch until he was hitting the back of her throat. She was thankful that the sofa was supporting the
brunt of her weight; the coil in her belly was wound so tight. Draco cupped her face, his thumbs
wiping away the tears as they fell while Theo slammed into her, building her higher with each
stroke against her inner wall.

“Drake, she’s clenching my cock like a vise, she’s going to come.”

“That’s it,” his own pace faltered. “Let go, Hermione, we have you.”

Ropes of cum coated her throat as Draco emptied himself inside her mouth with a roar, still
clutching her face. Something snapped, like a white-hot iron pushing out of her abdomen. Warmth
flooded her center, and her body trembled with each aftershock. Theo continued to slam into,
drawing out the high of her release. Her body was weak, supported by the sofa when he finished
inside her with an almost pained-sounding hiss.

Cedar, cloves, and almost a smokiness like a fire, warmth nestled around her like a soft blanket as
Theo lifted her and carried her to their bedroom. Her eyes blinked. The room was cast in a pale
yellow light, the sky outside the window black, save for a few stars and the crescent moon. Softly,
he put her down – a wizard settling on each side.

A gentle finger stroked over her cheek; soft lips pillowed to her forehead. Behind her, another set of
hands rubbed all over her back.

“Love.”

Hermione hummed like a contented cat, sleepy and purring with satisfaction. There was a dull ache
in her muscles that she loved. In front of her was the wizard she loved, with chocolate curls, hazel
eyes, and a tender smile. She didn’t have to look to know that Draco was behind her. Wrapped
between, surrounded by their love and safety. She was home, next to them, where she belonged.

“How do you feel, darling?” Draco whispered in her ear.

“Never better,” she purred, nuzzling into Theo’s chest.

Theo brushed the hair off her face while Draco lazily kissed over her shoulder and clavicle. It
wouldn’t take long for her to fall back asleep; she did not know what time it was, nor did she care.
But when her eyes found Theo’s, they were dark and distant. She palmed his face, asking an unsaid
question.

“Was that – I mean, were you okay with me…. like that? I normally don’t do that – and I wasn’t
sure.”

Behind her, Draco stilled for a moment but then continued his slow caress of her body with his
mouth. She did not doubt that his eyes flicked up to Theo. Sweet Theo. It wasn’t uncommon for
Draco to be forceful and demanding, and while Theo had dipped his toes in before, he never went
all the way in until tonight – and she loved it. She loved him. She loved them both.

“It was perfect,” she reassured, stroking his cheek. “You’re perfect, just like you are. I want the
good and the bad, Theo. The sweet and the light,” she paused. “The dark and stormy. I want all of
you just as you are. Love me without mercy.”

With each word she said, his eyes softened, his brow relaxed, and his smile broadened. His mouth
found hers in a claiming, bruising kiss that stole the very air from her lungs. Draco growled softly
against her neck as she melted into Theo’s kiss. He pulled away with a parting peck on her
forehead.

“And so, you have it, Hermione. Our love,” he kissed the tip of her nose. “Our devotion,” he kissed
the corner of her eye. “Our hearts,” he kissed her lips once more.

“It’s yours,” Draco hummed. “Without mercy.”

After Harry agreed, Hermione needed to depart for St. Mungo’s, having decided to help for the day.
She padded through the halls of the DMLE in her lime green robes, looking for Sparks. If she so
much as tried to leave without him, Draco’s head was sure to pop straight off his shoulders. The
likelihood was also high that Harry’s might dislodge as well. Both had made it abundantly clear
that if she was working anyway other than the DMLE, Sparks had to go with her.

Part of her was starting to feel a little bad. Sparks was a capable auror reaching the end of his last
trainee year. Final testing was coming up for him, and he should be studying and preparing for his
auror exams, not babysitting Hermione. Draco and Sparks had developed a mutual respect for one
another. Sparks was only too happy to accompany her wherever she went; it was part of his job.
But more so, he considered it a favor to someone he admired.

So many people had nothing but disgust toward Draco, and since she started dating him, that was
clearer than ever. Her heart stuttered at the idea that someone outside their friend group respected
him, even idolized him. It was a slow process, but maybe, one day, more people would look at
Draco and see what Sparks did- what they all did.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione bumped into what, at first, she thought was a wall. Her head darted
up, her hands outstretched, only for her to immediately cling them back to her sides. A familiar
scowl greeted her, which she returned with equal fervor. How she wished Jackson Price would
crawl back to whatever rock he slithered out from.

Harry would be over that weekend. She had made a note to mention her distaste for Price, not that
it was a secret. But more to see if she could persuade him to return the prat to MACUSA where he
belonged.

“Lime really isn’t your color,” he snorted. “Golden Girl – is falling from grace. Slumming it at St.
Mungo’s because you are of no use to the DMLE currently?”

Simultaneously, Hermione clenched her jaw and her hands at her sides, trying to ignore the obvious
taunt. When she heard her jaw crack under the strain, she relented. Channeling her inner Draco, she
donned a mask of cool indifference, eyeing Price up and down.

“Why are you still here? MACUSA doesn’t want you either?” her hand twitched near her wand.

Price got uncomfortably close to her; his nostrils flared, and a muscle in his jaw twitched as he
visibly restrained himself.

“Your Ministry appreciates my support since your Death Eater can’t seem to solve this case.
Couldn’t murder Dumbledore, can’t catch a murderer, just a failure all around, it seems,” he
sneered.

Magic crackled around her. Price may not have been able to see it, but she could feel it – the hum,
the pull…. the power. It took every ounce of control she had not to attack him, physically or
magically. Surely, he was stronger than her – but if it came to sheer force of will, nothing could
topple her. Instead, she squared her shoulders and dropped her voice to a menacing whisper.

“Well, apparently, you’re no better. You couldn’t figure out who it was while they were in the
States, and now, they’ve relocated you over here, and you still aren’t any closer to solving it. Where
I’m standing, you’ve had this case longer – and Draco is closer to solving it than you ever were.”

Part of her itched for him to do it, the way his fingers twitched by his wand. She watched his
movements, determined not to be slow in the draw. Price’s mouth was drawn in a rugged, thin line
– weighing his options.
Heavy footfalls pounded down the hall, getting louder and louder until they spun their heads to see
Harry standing next to him. His hair was messier than usual. His eyes were wide and wild. Sweat
clung to his temples as he inhaled deeply, trying to catch his breath.

“Price,” he snipped. “We have to go. Now!” the last word, almost a snarl. “The killer got caught in
the act by a witness; Draco is on the scene trying to apprehend the wizard; he needs assistance.”

All the color from Hermione’s face drained, leaving her an almost translucent shade of white. Her
gaze flicked from Harry to Price. The once-evident malice that contorted his handsome features
dissipated until only something Hermione didn’t quite recognize remained. It wasn’t quite fear-
concern, maybe. Empathy.

Seeing anything other than cruelty on the wizard’s face made the bile in her stomach rise in her
throat. Sweat coated her palms, cold and clammy. Price’s spine straightened as the angle of his jaw
hardened into a defined line when he thumped Harry on the shoulder.

“I’m with you, Potter. Let’s go.”

The two wizards sprinted down the hall toward the apparition point. When words finally found
Hermione, she shouted.

“Harry!”

“There’s no time, Hermione. I’ll update you when I can,” he yelled over his shoulder.

They were gone before she could protest further – and she was alone. Alone with her thoughts in a
random hallway in the middle of the DMLE. Draco. He was alone with the killer. Her feet moved
of their own accord, taking her who knew where—acid burned in her throat. Tendrils of fear
squeezed her chest—a wrought iron ball like a bludger settled in her stomach.

Theo. She needed Theo. Where was Theo? She was next to his office, but he wasn’t there. She
wanted to run- wanted to scream. To panic. The little rationale that remained prevented her from
breaking down in front of everyone in the middle of the DMLE. Quietly, she shuffled into his office
and sent her patronus to him – begging him to come to his office immediately.

The otter scurried off, and Hermione collapsed to the floor, numb. She preferred the numb feeling.
She clutched her healer pin. They wouldn’t call her. Even in an emergency, it wouldn’t be her. It
would be Heath. Or worse, Isla. Her eyes were transfixed on a small stain on the rug, the din of a
voice hazy in the background. Arms wrapped around her shoulders. Cedar, clove, and smoke. Theo.
Fingers brushed through her curls, tilting her head back until she saw him.

“Hermione.” Her name was a choked plea on his lips. “What’s wrong?”

“Draco,” she sobbed.

Black swallowed the hazel in his eyes as they blew wide at her words. His own fear etched on his
beautiful face despite his attempt to hide it. Hands brushed up and down her arms in soothing
strokes. Her eyes closed, and she inhaled.

“Thekillerwascaughtintheactanddracoisonthesceneandalone.HarryandPricewentaftertohelpbuthe’sal
lalone.”
On his knees, Theo cradled her face. “Slower, my love. Shh. It’s going to be ok. Please. Can you
tell me what’s going on with Drake?”

Her hands cupped his. “The killer was caught in the act. I. I don’t know what happened. It was all
so sudden. Price and I were arguing. And then Harry appeared. He said Draco was in pursuit of the
killer and that he needed Harry and Price. They ran off, and that’s all I know,” tears slid down her
cheeks while her body shook.

“Shh, love. It’s Drake. He’ll be okay.” He started to stand and slid his arms under her to guide her
up with him. “Come on. Let’s go home. They’ll summon us if we’re needed. We don’t need to wait
here.”

Absentmindedly, she nodded – following Theo down to the floo hall.

Hours. Hours went by, and nothing. It was late. Hermione paced by the fireplace at home, waiting.
She turned her pin around in her hands, but nothing. No call. No patronus message. No Draco.
Theo was worried, she could tell. But he did his best to stay composed for her.

“Come here,” Theo called from the sofa, tapping his thigh.

Distracted, she shuffled between his legs before sitting on his lap, facing the floo. Softly, he
brushed her hair over her shoulder to one side and kissed her throat, cheek, and lips.

“Not hearing anything isn’t necessarily a bad thing. If they caught this wizard, it could be hours of
protocol, interrogations, and all that other auror business,” he murmured against her throat. “If. If
something bad had happened, Harry would have notified us immediately.”

The gnarled vines that had encased her chest relented slightly at Theo’s words. There was truth to
them. If Draco had been hurt, Harry would have notified them. Chances are no news, in this case,
was good news.

“Eat something, love,” he urged. “Something small, at least, for me.”

Green flames roared to life in the floo, as Draco emerged from the swirling fire and stepped out
onto the hearth. Dirt and debris muddled his usually perfectly coiffed silver hair. Minor cuts were
raised over his cheekbones, dried blood stark against his pale skin. His shirt was torn, and his
glasses were cracked. Hermione leapt into his arms; Theo was close behind her.

A hand curled around the nape of her neck before Draco palmed the back of her head, urging her
into his chest. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw as he did the same with Theo on the other side
– holding them close to him. He kissed each one in quick succession. Silence sat between them for
a long time. The beating of Draco’s heart was steady under her ear.

“Did. Did you catch them?” Theo whispered.

With a defeated shake of his head, Draco spoke. “No. He got away.”

“He?” Hermione looked up, the tips of her fingers tracing the wounds on his face.

“I’m fine, darling. The scratches were from branches when I was running through the woods,” he
kissed the pad of her finger. “Yes, he. Didn’t get the clearest look at him. But the wizard was broad
chested and rather tall with dark hair.”
“Why didn’t you go to a healer?”

Draco smiled, tilting her chin up and kissing her nose. “Nothing needed immediate attention. And I
wanted to get home to my personal healer,” she blushed.

Running her fingers along the small cuts, Hermione paused when she reached a swollen spot on his
shoulder.

“And this?” she said softly, tugging at the collar of his shirt, exposing the blooming bruise.

“Boulder.”

“A boulder,” she echoed, one brow arched at him. She stepped back, wand out, and quickly cleaned
up his face and repaired his shirt and glasses.

“Price and I were in pursuit. The assailant tried to use a dismemberment curse on me,” he paused.
“Price shoved me out of the way, and the rock and I sort of collided.”

“When you say Price,” Hermione murmured. “You mean Jackson Price. The MACUSA prat who
hates you almost as much as he hates me.”

“One in the same,” Draco winced as she worked on his shoulder. “I hadn’t heard the spell. If he
hadn’t…well, I messed up. If it weren’t for Price, that curse probably would have landed.”

Hermione’s wand stood still, resting along the joint. “Price protected you?”

He shrugged. “It would appear that way.”

“Don’t think this means I’m going to start being cordial to the prat.”

“Of course not, darling,” he laughed, pulling her close. “Join me for a soak, you two? I’m sore and
don’t want to let either of you go for the rest of the night.”

Padding around the flat, Hermione squealed when Draco wrapped his arms around her waist and
pulled her down into his lap. Theo was busy in the kitchen, prepping too much food, considering
their guest list was just Harry, Pansy, Ginny, and Blaise.

It had been far too long since the whole lot of them had spent time together. And, not once had the
entire group come over to theirs – it was always Harry and Pansy’s flat that they all congregated at.

Almost kismet. Pansy had the weekend off from the restaurant, and Harry had decided to ignore the
vast amounts of paperwork that had been piling up for weeks just a bit longer. Ginny’s practice
schedule had finally let up – giving her a weekend off. And to top it off, Blaise wasn’t traveling to
one of the many vineyards his family had.

Draco had been doing a better job at being present in the moment, not allowing himself to be pulled
into his office or work. He cradled her close to his chest, peppering kisses along the crown of her
head and down her throat. Hermione giggled, a smile curling on her lips. She nuzzled into his neck,
finding comfort in his sweet, woodsy scent. While always affectionate, Draco had only recently
been freer in his emotions. Maybe, just maybe, Hermione’s words had gotten through to him.
Seeing him unburdened by the immense weight of being responsible for everyone’s well-being was
the greatest gift she could ever receive.

“I love you,” he hummed in her curls.

“I love you too,” she stretched her neck out to kiss his lips.

The floo roared to life and before the pair of them could untangle from each other, a wave of red
crawled out of the fireplace.

“Gross,” Ginny gagged. “Don’t you two have a bedroom you could be snogging in?” she snorted.
“Decided to give all of us arriving a bit of a show before dinner?”

Gracefully, Blaise stepped out of the floo, right behind Ginny, a knowing smirk plucked at the
corner of his lip before he tugged Ginny in close by the waist. He nipped at her ear before kissing
her deeply. The act seemed to spur Draco into some competition; he pulled Hermione in close,
palming the back of her head, and claimed her mouth.

“Harry – it’s an orgy. Go back to the flat and grab our potions,” Pansy’s voice cackled from the
floo.

Reluctantly, Hermione nipped Draco’s lip with a soft giggle as she looked around her. The word
orgy had summoned Theo from the kitchen like an owl. Wide-eyed and curious, he arched a
suspicious brow at his partner's curled up on the couch. When Harry stepped through the floo he
was a pale shade of green.

Harry was by no means a prude; thanks to Pansy, Hermione was painfully aware of not only the
adventurous nature of their sex lives but that he was larger than just about any wizard in the room.
An uncomfortable shudder shook through her shoulders at the thought. Like her, Harry thought of
her like a sibling; any sex conversation that involved either of them sent the other looking for the
nearest exit.

After a parting kiss, Hermione rolled off Draco to go and help Theo in the kitchen. It was nice how
open the space was. She could see and hear all the conversations while the pair of them put the
finishing touches on the food.

Everyone seemed to be deep in a quidditch conversation; while it wasn’t Pansy’s favorite

conversation, Hermione watched while she perched herself on Harry’s lap, playing with the hair at
the nape of his neck. The witch may have been intense, but she loved him fiercely, like he deserved.
They were so perfect for each other. She supported and pushed Harry in the best of ways. She made
him stronger.

Theo pulled a quiet moan from her as he kissed the column of her neck, nuzzling into her curls
while they waited for the timer on the roast to go off. His hands bracketed her hips from behind, his
touches and kisses soft and slow. He whispered sweet words of love and admiration in her ear,
making her whole body smile.

“Hermione,” he whispered, his chin resting on her shoulder. “You remember how we talked about
the future?”

Instinctually, her body tightened, afraid of what he might say.

“Shhh, my love. It’s nothing bad,” he soothed. “I’ll take that reaction as a yes, though. If it wasn’t
obvious, I meant what I said. I don’t need a Nott blood child. I would be so happy with a cute lil
blond bugger running around,” he kissed her neck. “How could I not be happy with you and
Drake,” he mused.

Her heart fluttered in her chest; she loved him so much. He turned her in his arms until their noses
touched, his eyes closed, their breaths mingling in the space between them. Hermione threw her
arms around his neck.

“Until you said it,” he smiled. “I didn’t realize how much I wanted it. Forever with you and Drake.
A baby. A family,” the last word caught in his throat. “I never thought I could have that- at least not
one with love and happiness. And that’s all I feel when I’m with you both,” he kissed her forehead.
“It will take time, but having my mother back is all surreal. It’s weird to imagine I could have it
all.”

“I love you, Theo,” Hermione paused, looking around to see everyone still grouped by the
fireplace. “I want you and Draco to be my last – my last everything. I know it’s soon, but it just
feels right.”

“Yes, it does, my love,” he tilted her chin up and kissed her. “Let’s revisit this conversation after
our guests leave.”

“I’d like that,” she hummed as the timer for dinner went off.

They all settled around the table, indulging in the delicious food that Theo had made. Hermione
remembered the last time they had all been together. It had been so long. Sure, they had seen them
all individually plenty of times, but it had been months since they had all gotten together.

Last time, Hermione lamented feeling alone in a room full of friends, hopefully pining after two
friends she assumed were uninterested in her and, frankly, out of her league. Today, she sat nestled
between the two, each with a hand resting on her thigh- exchanging quiet words of praise, love, and
humor. Only hours ago, had she been talking with Theo about their future, the promise of a deeper
conversation to come later.

She could not recall when she felt happier or more loved.

With so much love and warmth at her table, she squeezed Draco’s forearm, earning her a quick kiss
that made her nose budge. While it was meant to be funny, Blaise fed Ginny a piece of fruit that
had her giggling and blushing. Pansy had her head curled against Harry’s chest while he stroked her
hair, seemingly done with dinner.

The doorbell rang out, making everyone scared as it was somewhat unexpected. Draco furrowed
his brow, squeezed Hermione’s thigh, and rose. The conversation began at the table again while she
watched him open the door. She couldn’t quite see who was there from where she was sitting.

Rarely did anyone use their doorbell, most of their guests came in through the floo.

“Potter!”

It wasn’t her name, but Hermione jumped to her feet simultaneously as Harry did. No one could
miss the urgency or harshness in Draco’s tone as he all but shouted for Harry. A dozen black roses
were addressed to Theo in front of the door.
Chapter End Notes

The theories you all have....the theories!!! Chefs kiss! I will not say if anyone has got it
yet.......but loving all the ideas out there!
 Chapter 21 I Always Will
Chapter Notes

Hey all - Chapter 21 is being released a day early. I HAVE SO MUCH PLANNED THIS
WEEKEND - so I wanted to make sure I could get this posted tonight so it wouldn't be late.
As always, so overwhelmed with all the love you have for this story! All the hits, comments,
and kudos. But also, to all my lurky readers - I SEE YOU. The ones who are subscribed and
devour each new chapter immediately! I appreciate you.

I know not everyone wants to engage in comments or some just prefer to vibe in the shadows -
I also can be a bit of a lurky reader, so I just wanted to say thank you for your support as well!

If you don't already follow me on Tiktok - @DarkCloud190, Instagram @DarkCloud190 (not

really active on there), and Twitter/X - @DarkCloud190. I've recently become more active on
Twitter - posting some drabbles and just having some fun engaging with you all over there!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Heavy footfalls echoed around the living room as Draco stomped back and forth, him and Harry
conversing in a tense whisper. Blaise and Ginny gave their quiet goodbyes and left, understanding
that the lightheartedness of the evening was over. Pansy headed to the kitchen to make tea and
coffee.

Keeping out of their way, Hermione and Theo settled beside each other on the sofa. He was
remarkably calm, and if the roses unnerved him, he didn’t show it. Instead, the only anxiety either
of them was feeling was toward Draco. Silver strands hung low behind his glasses, each hand
raking through his hair only moments after a previous pass. Harry was composed and calm, but
Draco was slowly becoming more erratic.

“Potter,” he hissed. “You need to find another obliviator. There is no way that Theo can be out in
the field right now.”

A retort died on Theo’s lips when she squeezed his shoulder, and he swallowed the words down.
Draco was right. As much as she hated it, it was the right call. Neither of them should be in the
field, at least for now. Even without Theo getting the roses, it wasn’t safe for them. Draco had long
since told Narcissa not to leave the estate, and the same with Melody; granted, there were many
other reasons for that.

“No more traveling for the DoM either.”

Not that Theo had planned on fighting him on that, but when Draco spun and looked at Theo, a
chill ran through them. Grey eyes had turned ice cold, like a protective shell encasing the normal
inviting irises that stared at them. Something painful formed behind Hermione’s navel, in the same
spot where she felt the longing – the tug when Theo was gone. But this was different. It hurt – guilt,
shame, fear – but it wasn’t hers.
“Of course not, Drake,” Theo smiled softly. “I’ll only go to the Ministry and home for now and St.
Mungo’s if they need me. But I’ll make sure to bring Sparks like Hermione does.”

Draco turned his attention back to Harry, only offering a curt nod as the two exchanged terse
words.

“Are you okay?” Hermione whispered, nuzzled into Theo’s neck.

“I’m fine, love,” he stroked her jaw. “I’m afraid that Drake’s not, though,” he sighed.

No, he certainly wasn’t. The small victories they had shared in easing Draco’s self-imposed
burdens were all but washed away. Hermione wasn’t inclined to fight it or tell him not to give in.
He needed it, and Theo getting those roses only reignited that. Draco and Hermione were two sides
of the same coin. Both desired control in their lives – no doubt a necessity after they felt so out of
control in their youths during the war.

How each of them coped with it, though, was slightly different. Hermione liked to exert complete
control at work, but at home, she had found that at least with Draco and Theo, she was content to
give that up and let them take the reins; it was freeing. Draco, on the other hand, tightened his grip,
taking more control when things felt like they were slipping away. It made him feel safe.

“Malfoy,” Harry spat. “Absolutely not. I need to pull you off the case. Price can take over as the
senior auror on the investigation. The killer is obviously targeting you.”

Draco loomed over him, a solid six inches taller than Harry, nostrils flared and back taut. Pansy
floated into the room silently, passing Theo and Hermione a cup of tea. She perched up on the
sofa's armrest, and it was a rare occasion when she remained quiet, letting the words unfold
between the two wizards.

“The killer would be targeting Hermione and Theo regardless of whether I was assigned to this case
or not. I’m a Death Eater Potter, and they're killing partners. It makes no difference,” he spat.

“Draco’s right.”

Every head in the room spun and faced Hermione. It was almost like no one else existed for the last
thirty minutes.

“Harry – leave Draco as senior investigator. He is your best chance at catching whoever this is.
Price couldn’t do it in the States, and he definitely can’t do it here. Theo and I will be safe.”

Only for a moment, Draco’s icy eyes cracked, some of the soft, steely grey shining through. The
sadness and grief balled up in the pit of her stomach churned. The two of them disappeared into
Draco’s study, talking behind a closed and charmed door for what had to be at least another hour.
Pansy, Hermione, and Theo sat quietly, sipping their tea. Theo absentmindedly stroked Hermione’s
curls as she dozed in and out of a fitful sleep on his chest.

Sometime later, footsteps padded down the stairs, and they all turned to see Harry returning to the
living room alone. Not surprising. Draco would retreat to his work, where he had some semblance
of control. Harry and Pansy said their goodbyes, leaving the pair alone to stare at the swirling
flames of the floo change from green back to orange.

“Do you feel it?” Hermione asked, her hand palming her belly.
Theo nodded. “Yes,” he whispered.

“He’s hurting,” she sighed, a tear pricking the corner of her eye.

His thumb tracked under her eye, swiping it away. “Yes. He is.”

The pair of them sat silently for a long time, waiting to hear Draco move from the study, but
nothing. Never had the pain of such strong emotions of another swelled inside her. When Theo
traveled, it tugged, longed – yearned for him to return. But this pain, grief – it gnarled inside her
like Devil’s Snare, unyielding and torturous. The worst part was it wasn’t her own sadness. It ached
more, knowing it was Draco’s.

After a long time, Theo strolled into the kitchen and prepared a cup of tea before reaching out for
Hermione. He led her up the stairs and bypassed their bedroom, instead walking towards the ajar
door at the end of the hall with the yellow light peeking through.

Slowly, they entered his study; Draco was hunched over his desk, elbows resting on the oak, face in
his hands, glasses discarded on the wood. Long fingers massaged through his scalp when he sighed
loudly before looking up at them.

Bloodshot eyes met theirs, tired and strained. It was hard to believe just a few hours ago - this man
was carefree and laughing, pulling her down to his lap, relinquishing his worries. She didn’t have to
see his face; she could feel it – the anguish. The broken way his eyes flickered at them only made it
worse. Her chest cracked and splintered at the sight; she looked over her shoulder to Theo, whose
face was impressively impassive.

Theo carefully placed the cup in front of Draco before moving to his side and quietly rubbing his
back. Draco leaned into Theo in a rare display, collapsing his head into his chest. Silently, Theo
stroked his hair, holding him close. Hermione moved to his other side and perched herself on the
edge of his desk. Behind her, she looked over the documents he had been focused on intently. He
was deeply pursuing the forger who had procured documents for Melody Nott.

Rubbing his arm, she soothed him until he finally peeled away from Theo’s chest, staring at her
from under hooded, glassy eyes. He opened his mouth and closed it again, words dying on his lips.
Hermione scooted off the desk and smiled softly at him.

“Come on, Draco,” she urged, hand extended. “Come to bed with Theo and me. I’ll read you more
of that story you like.”

A crack of a smile on his narrowed lips almost pulled a tear from her eye. She didn’t harbor any
false hope that the promise of a book would pluck him from the dark place that threatened to
swallow him, and if it did, she would follow. Theo had liked laying in Hermione’s lap while she
read to him.

A few weeks ago, she started reading The Fellowship of the Ring, thinking Theo would enjoy it,
and she wasn’t wrong. He was enamored with the story and thrilled to know there were other books
after they finished that one. Draco had joined the first night they started reading it, curled into her
side while Theo’s head rested in her lap.

Draco had some choice words about how dwarves were akin to goblins and that elves sounded a bit
like veela but otherwise he enjoyed it thoroughly.
Cold fingers wrapped around hers as he took her offered hand with a grin, albeit forced. The three
of them settled under the thick-down blankets when Hermione summoned the frayed book into her
hands. Long before reading it to her wizards, it had been one of her favorites, showcased by the
worn material. She could have repaired it, but she liked seeing how loved the tale was.

Blissfully, Draco calmed next to her, losing himself in the story – drawing patterns on her stomach.
It wasn’t long before his breathing slowed, and he drifted off to sleep, his head propped on her
shoulder. Theo dozed in her lap, and she was content to fall asleep just like that. With a flick of her
wrist, she sent the book to the end table, not wanting to disturb them.

Each hand brushed through their hair lovingly and tenderly. The overwhelming feelings of pain and
guilt and grief that threatened to consume her earlier had all but abated with Draco resting
peacefully beside her. She could only hope that it would continue come morning, but she knew that
it was more likely only to get worse when she and Theo had to leave the safety of their flat.

The following weeks were much of what Hermione expected: many late and sleepless nights for
Draco. While she didn’t try to stop him, it affected her and Theo. Draco had also taken up smoking
more than infrequently; he readily had a cigarette and firewhiskey in his hands.

Without being in the field, Theo had spent most of his time at work with Hermione in the ward or
drifting down to the DoM. True to his word, he hadn’t traveled and went to St. Mungo’s a couple of
times when requested due to some injuries from improper memory charms. Sparks was busy
between studying for his final exams and traveling between St. Mungo’s with Hermione and Theo
now.

Because of how on edge Draco was, Hermione limited her shifts at the hospital. Now, she was only
helping Padma directly, covering shifts for her when baby duty called her away. Dean was
supportive, but there were days when she needed additional time at home, and Hermione was
happy to help when she could.

Over the weeks since Theo had received the roses at their flat, she had covered a couple of shifts at
St. Mungo’s with the plan to take another this afternoon. Sparks was ready to travel with her, set for
a late night. The day was wrapping up when Theo drifted into her office, locking the door behind
him.

He wasted no time wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close, kissing her temple.

“What time will you be home tonight?”

“About 11 pm – that’s when the next shift arrives,” she smiled, pushing up on her toes to meet his
lips.

“We’ll wait up for you,” he winked, molding his mouth to hers.

Lips slotted against hers, his hand cupping her arse, the other knotting in her curls, moving her
head how he wanted it. Effortlessly, she relented in his hold, letting him take control. The tip of his
tongue pushed past the seam of her mouth, not waiting for permission. He moved with precision,
biting, and nipping with each pass; Hermione moaned.

“Theo,” she whimpered into his mouth. “You’re not making me wait.”
Dark eyes flickered to life as he stole another breath from her before pulling back. “Tonight,” he
promised. “Drake and I will take care of you, my love.”

Small fingers tugged at the collar of his oxford, urging him closer. She huffed like a petulant child;
her knickers were wet, and her belly burned; she didn’t want to wait. She was expected to be at the
hospital soon, but they had some time.

“I swear to Merlin,” she breathed across his lips. “If you don’t fuck me right now, Theodore,” she
tugged his lips against hers, stealing another chaste kiss.

“Needy witch,” he growled.

Strong hands yanked at her wrists, holding them at her sides as he walked her back until her hips
bumped into the desk, making her squeal. Hazel eyes flickered to black as he leaned in, his lips
ghosting the shell of her ear.

“Not only are you going to be late for your shift,” he nipped at her lobe. “Everyone will know that
you are mine, freshly fucked, and filled with my seed.”

“You better,” she hissed, cantering her hips into his.

Filthy words continued to fall from his mouth as he sucked a spot purple on her throat, causing her
body to devolve around him. Something primal had awakened in Theo, and she fucking loved
every ounce of it.

Swiftly, he turned her body until her back was pressed against his chest and then forced her down
onto the desk until her chest was flat against the oak. A strong forearm dug into her back, holding
her in place when he kicked her feet apart. Roughly, he rucked up the hem of her robes and skirts
until they were bunched around her hips, just leaving her knickers between them. He tugged those
down quickly, tapping her ankle to lift them as he tossed them aside.

The sound of a belt buckle and a zipper made her hiss; Gods, she was desperate for him. Her
panting was causing a small film to appear on the desk beneath her. Muscular thighs pressed into
hers, making her moan his name as a plea.

Two fingers trailed through her folds, making lewd noises with how wet she already was for him.
His body covered hers, his fingers lazily dipping in and out of her before moving out to rub her clit,
making her shudder. He sucked on her ear, drawing more needy noises from her.

“So wet for me, my love, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she whined. “For you.”

“Good girl,” he sucked the already bruised spot making her yelp. “It’s going to be hard and fast,”
he paused. “You’ll scream my name when you come.”

“Always,” she groaned, bucking back into him.

He pressed his forearm into her back while his other hand curled around her hip. Theo wasn’t
gentle. He snapped into her, filling her with one hard thrust that had her seeing stars. The initial
burn quickly gave way to pleasure.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Already fluttering around me. Not going to last long, are you?”
“No,” she sobbed. “Harder, please.”

“Anything for you,” he moaned.

Hips snapped into hers, skin slapping against skin. Her cunt clenched around his cock; a string
pulled taut across her abdomen. After two more long, hard strokes, she shattered around him,
screaming his name, falling apart.

“You were made for me,” he groaned.

Hermione rode out the waves of her orgasm as Theo filled her with his own release, sucking and
nipping along her throat.

“My beautiful witch,” he murmured. “I love you, Hermione.”

“Theo,” she breathed out. “Love you.”

Cum leaked out of her, dripping down her legs as Theo kissed her throat and cheek, whispering
sweet words of affirmation in her ear. After a few minutes, he stood, pulling his trousers up and
helping Hermione back to her feet, setting her skirts and robes back in place.

Turning her around, he cupped her face, stroking the apples of her cheeks. He kissed the tip of her
nose, making her giggle as the blush that started to fade returned. Her hands wrapped around his
forearms as he continued to rub the swell of her cheeks, hazel returning to his dark eyes. Sweat was
sticky on his forehead as he rested it on hers, a smile creeping up the corners of his mouth.

“Was that okay?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I loved it. I love you – all of you,” she reassured.

“Good,” he whispered. “Now,” he knelt in front of her, slipping her knickers back in place. “Get to
work,” he kissed her calf. “We’ll be waiting for you at home.”

The sun had set, and the long halls of the hospital were quiet, illuminated by the sconces on the
wall. Hermione was perched on a chair by the central station outside the long-term care ward.
Sparks sauntered up, mug in hand and a smile on his face. It was becoming increasingly difficult to
be cross with the young auror, barely 19, and he had weaseled his way into her good graces, and
Draco’s for that matter.

“Just the way you like it, Heal…. Hermione,” he offered the cup with a small smile. Eagerly, she
took it, feeling as the exhaustion crept in.

“Thanks, Sparks,” she returned the smile. “What are you studying tonight?”

“Disguises and detection,” he murmured.

Sensing his unease, Hermione grinned, putting the cup down on a small table after a long,
satisfying sip. The warmth of the coffee spread through her.

“You’ll do well. I have all the confidence in the world.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” he said softly.

“There’s an empty room on the other side of the ward, 202. Unless an emergency comes in, that
should be a quiet place for you to study,” she offered.

With a quick nod, Sparks wandered towards the room she had mentioned with a bag full of books.
While he always came with her, or now Theo, to St. Mungo’s, he never hung around too closely.
Everyone knew that it was unlikely for anything to happen at the hospital.

Whoever the killer was, if they wanted Theo or Hermione, they were waiting for an opportunity to
get them out in the open, alone, which wouldn’t happen. The pair of them never went out anywhere
without Draco. It was a little cumbersome, especially with Draco's consumption of the case. There
were many times when Hermione wanted to stroll around Diagon and shop for new books but had
to refrain. Constantly, she reminded herself that this wasn’t forever, just for right now.

The end of her shift was approaching, and she did another round on all the patients; everyone was
sleeping peacefully in their beds and accounted for. That was the one nice thing about covering
night shifts for Padma; rarely was there much excitement. Families didn’t visit past 6 pm, and most
residents slept soundly through the night. She was more there if an emergency happened.

Pulling out Padma’s protocol for the cruciatus curse, she revisited it, reading section by section.
She continued to be impressed with her friend’s work. It was a masterpiece, truly. If the theory was
correct, if they could get someone treatment within 24 hours of exposure to the curse, they could
prevent long-term damage.

Healer Granger

Healer Granger

“Shite,” Hermione fumbled for her DMLE pin.

Dispatch – Auror down on scene – all hands

Fear froze her insides, crystallizing her heart and making her blood run cold. Mouth open, she
quickly tucked the parchment into her robes and sprinted towards the apparition point. If they were
calling her, it wasn't good. Her heart bobbed in her throat; what if it was Draco? “Auror down,” she
whispered. There had only been one other instance where that code had been called in all her years
at the DMLE, Harper. He was dead by the time she and Heath had arrived—nothing they could do.

Hermione blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. There was no use worrying about
something until she knew what had happened. She yelled at the Head Healer as she ran down the
hall.

“Emergency DMLE call, have to go – sorry!”

Once she arrived at the apparition point outside, she reviewed the coordinates and vanished with a
pop. When Hermione reappeared, she was on the outskirts of a wooded area. It was nearly pitch
black save for a bright white floodlight that flickered in the distance. Assuming that was the scene,
she carefully walked towards the area.

Dispatch hadn’t noted that the scene was secure; it usually wasn’t in the case of a downed auror;
she clutched her wand protectively at her side as she cautiously strode toward what she believed
was the area. She had yet to see a senior auror or any semblance of a skirmish. It made her uneasy.
Trying to ignore the bile that was rising in her throat, she coughed quietly, choking it back down.
Twigs and leaves crunched under each step she took, seemingly louder than it ought to be. Her
fingers flexed around her wand, pulling it close and illuminating the tip with a hushed lumos, trying
to avoid alerting any attention to her presence.

The beating of her heart stopped, a hand covered her mouth, and a wand dug into her temple. All
she could hear was a muttered spell before everything went black.

The taste of copper and dirt were the first things that she recognized. Hermione opened and closed
her mouth slowly, her eyes still shut tight. She wasn't sure whether it was fear or exhaustion that
prevented her from flicking open her eyelids. The taste of blood was sickening in her mouth. She
tried to swallow it down, willing the offending taste to dissipate. What had happened? Why was
there blood in her mouth?

The last thing she remembered was a hand and a wand…...and then nothing.

Carefully, she lifted one lid, afraid of what she may see, but it appeared to be a room, almost
normal looking. Slowly, she blinked both eyes open, allowing them to adjust to the faded light of
the space. If she was out, it wasn’t for long. It was still dark outside, the full moon high in the sky.

Hermione shifted and tugged at her wrists. They were bound behind her, attached to the chair she
was in. Looking around, she tried to figure out where she was, but nothing stuck out or looked
familiar. It was a room, a living room; there was a fireplace, some lamps, and even a sofa. For all
she knew, she was in someone’s home. It looked lived in – like someone came back here every
night.

The reality of her situation started to hit her as she continued to yank at her bindings. After several
more attempts, she noted that they got tighter with each pull she tried. Whoever restrained her
knew what they were doing; they weren’t normal; these kinds of bindings were specialized and
taught; it wasn’t some civilian. Tried as she did, nothing could quell the rapid pounding of her heart
against her chest. It beat painfully as her breathing turned frantic; every deep breath she tried to
take failed, only making it worse. It was like shards of ice stabbing at her insides.

Brown eyes darted around the room. She was alone, at least from what she could see when she
looked over her shoulder. The quiet creaking of the house settling made her head dart nervously to
the side. Anticipation was almost worst. If someone were here, she would know what was going
on. She continued to scan the room, hoping that maybe she would see her wand and she could try
and retrieve it, but nothing.

After a long time of being hyper-aware, her neck bent, and her head drooped, eyes fluttering shut
again. Not that she would sleep, but she just wanted to rest. Her breathing had finally started to
return to normal as she acclimated to her situation. She was alone, restrained with no wand. There
wasn’t much she could do. She gave up after numerous failed attempts at wandless magic to
remove the bindings. The spell used on them likely would only allow the caster to remove them.
She remembered all those months ago when she had used similar restraints on Draco in the training
center.

She closed her eyes and allowed images of Theo and Draco to take hold in every corner and every
recess of her mind. It was safe and comforting. It was home. It was almost real – she could smell
smokey cedar and sweet whiskey.
Sparks would realize she was missing. They would find her – at least, she hoped they did. She
sucked in her bottom lip with a shaky breath. Not yet, she thought. There was so much she wanted
to do – with them. It wasn’t time. Hermione didn’t fear death, but she did fear what her death
would mean for Draco – for Theo. She wasn’t confident they would survive, which scared her more
than anything else. She wanted them to be happy and pain-free – they earned it. They deserved it.

Whoever had her planned to kill her, it was a fact, a certainty. Draco and Theo would come for her,
a reality and an inevitability. It was just a matter of them finding her fast enough. She inhaled
deeply. Her shoulders sank on the exhalation, the coppery taste in her mouth fleeting.

A long, slow creak echoed out from the far side of the room. Her gaze drifted through her lashes,
and she watched a figure walk confidently towards her, closing the door behind them. Dark eyes
and even darker hair surrounded what Hermione once called soft – even kind features.

Her mouth fell open as she saw the soft features of the witch’s face turn into something twisted-
evil even. Only inches from her, she crouched down so they were at eye level with each other. The
sound of the slap reverberated off the walls before Hermione could even react to the throbbing sting
that rippled across her face. The metal of a ring dung into the skin, drawing blood, the sheer force
causing the spot to swell and bruise instantly.

A lifeless, cold voice hissed in her face. “You were right about one thing, Healer Granger. It will
be completely my doing when someone dies – when you die. So, yes – blood will be on my hands,”
she leaned in, so the following words brushed over her ear. “And I’ve been waiting so patiently for
it.”

The Isla Cromwell who stood before her was a cold, venomous murderer. Hermione steeled her
features, not wanting to show even a flicker of the fear that ran wild below the surface. Never
would she have thought the witch was capable of something like this. She had always appeared so
naive, incompetent even.

While it should have been the furthest thing from her mind, Hermione could not help the slew of
questions in her brain. She had to buy time, and if she could keep Isla distracted and talking, that
would give her enough time for her wizards to find her. Merlin, please. Staying focused took a lot
of work. The pain in her face was distracting. For such a petite thing, she slapped hard; the pulsing
wouldn’t abate; it was likely something was fractured, given the level of pain and swelling present.
It had begun to press on her eye, impeding Hermione’s vision.

How to handle it? What would keep her distracted for longer? Should Hermione try to praise her or
poke at her and make her angrier? Another slap across the face wasn’t ideal.

“You never completed your training at St. Mungo’s, did you?”

Isla snorted as she returned to her full height, rolling her wand between her fingers. “Are you really
sure you’re the, what is it called? Brightest Witch of Your Age? With the right recommendation –
no one questioned it. An auror said I would be a wonderful addition to the healer team. Robards
barely glanced at the forged paperwork.”

A lot of this could have been prevented. More than once, Hermione had thought about checking
Isla’s apprenticeship with the hospital; she was too green. She should have known better; if she had
talked to Padma, she would have discovered that Isla Cromwell never trained there, and maybe all
of this could have been avoided. Maybe other lives could have been saved.
“So, you’re from the States?”

As if she was weighing answering the question, Isla cocked her head to the side and then sneered,
relishing the opportunity to rub her victory in.

“Yes. Isla Snow, my maiden name at least, I’m from Maine. My parents were Steven and Sharon
Snow.”

Snow. Snow. Hermione knew that name. She had seen it before. She sucked on her bottom lip,
trying to remember. Fuck. Where did I see that? On Draco’s desk. Steven and Sharon Snow were
the first known victims; Isla killed her own parents. Closing her eyes, Hermione recalled what else
the article had mentioned. Ruthless Death Eater father, almost equally deadly mother. But their
daughter was killed during the height of the war……. presumed killed by her parents when she
refused an arranged marriage.

Isla mentioned that Snow was her maiden name, so she was married, and Cromwell was her
married name. Hermione didn’t know of any Death Eaters with that name, but it could be someone
from the States. She wasn’t as familiar with those.

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

Before Hermione could press further, the door at the edge of the room creaked again, and two more
figures filed in. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and fell swiftly, staining her cheeks.
Hermione sniffed back the sobs that shook in her chest at the sight of the chocolate curls and hazel
eyes that stared back at her. The tip of a wand dug harshly into Theo’s throat; his wrists were
restrained behind his back. Blood trickled down the sides of his face. Cuts marred his olive skin.

“Theo,” she whispered defeatedly.

Hardened lines accentuated his features as he jutted his jaw out and avoided showing any signs of
fear or pain. His eyes softened when they found hers.

“It will be ok, my love.”

“No, the fuck it won’t.”

A gruff voice hissed when a fist connected with Theo’s jaw. It made Hermione shrink and wince at
the contact. Theo hissed and spat out a large amount of blood on the flood; she sniffled and fought
back the tears that threatened to fall. The wizard behind Theo marched him to a chair on the far side
of the room before binding him to it and stepping next to Isla.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek; all the while, his eyes never left
Hermione’s. They were terrifying and communicated a wordless threat, one that honestly had her
scared for the first time.

“Being dead kept me alive. My parents were trying to marry me off to a lunatic. My own mother,”
she hissed. Ironic choice of words, Hermione thought. Considering the witch could give Bellatrix
Lestrange a run for her money. “My real name is Isla Price, and it has been for a couple of years
now,” the witch flashed a gaudy set of rings at Hermione.

The glamour, she had seen glamours on both of their hands but never connected it. Price, his
glamour, she had just assumed it was a scar of some sort, and Isla, she never really thought much of
it. And there it was, on Jackson’s left hand, sat a simple gold band.

Jackson Price looked just as he always did: handsome, detached, and slightly more deadly. They
had been married for a couple of years, which was interesting.

What had happened – did Price help her escape her parents? How did they end up like this?

A plan started forming in her brain, but she had to wait for the right time. All it could do was give
her and Theo more time. She looked to her side, and a smile from him awaited her; she returned it,
unsure what else to do.

Almost skipping, Isla settled in front of Theo and crouched, tilting his face up with the tip of her
wand.

“You know,” she said, almost sickeningly sweet. “I felt bad for you. I always thought we were in
the same boat. I heard the stories about your father. When Jackson found your mother, I tried to do
you a kindness and kill her for you. But I was still learning, and the bitch got away. Imagine my
surprise when I found out you weren’t really like me at all – went ahead and decided to fuck a
Death Eater yourself.”

A detached laugh chilled Hermione, but this time it came from Theo.

“Drake has done more good in this world than you would ever do. He has sacrificed more for the
people he loves and cares more than you ever could. He is a far better person than either of you.”

Rage flashed over Isla’s eyes as they turned black.

“Crucio!”

The word was enough to cause her jaw to clench. The faded scar on her arm prickled with the
phantom memory. But she watched as the jet of red light connected with Theo. Perhaps it was the
endless torture that he received from his father, but not one scream left his mouth, and somehow,
that was worse. The vein along his pulse point swelled and throbbed. His whole body shook and
contorted against his binds, his jaw clenched so tightly that a fresh spurt of blood fell out of his
mouth to her horror.

“Stop it. Stop it, please!” Hermione begged.

Whether she meant to end the curse or not, Hermione's screaming broke Isla’s concentration
enough for the spell to break. Theo coughed and sputtered up blood, his body weak and collapsed
in on itself. She fired off another question before she could start up again, desperate to distract
them.

“I get it – you’re mad at your parents. But why did you keep killing? Why more than just your
parents?”

“Why not? A mother is supposed to protect you, and instead she let my father have his way.” Isla
purred, almost proud of herself. “Horrid people, all of them. Have you ever used dark magic? It’s
addicting. Your body begins to crave it, feed off it.” Once – Hermione had used dark magic once in
her life. To kill Yaxley. It made her magic feel like sludge; it was sickening, and she vowed never
again. Isla talked about it like it was a sweet, a stolen treat before dinner – it made her skin crawl.
Did it so consume the witch that she lost herself? Were they both?
“I thought you would get that more than most. Imagine my disappointment when the Golden Girl
herself decided to slum it with a Death Eater. I thought we could be friends,” she huffed, almost
sounding disappointed.

Jackson snorted and walked determinedly closer to Hermione until he loomed over her. His fingers
trailed an almost tender caress down her face that had her fighting the urge to vomit all over him.
There was nothing warm about the way he touched or looked at her. His finger rested under her
chin before tilting it up towards him.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” Theo shouted, bucking against the chair. The way his magic buzzed
around him would have been beautiful if the situation were different.

Almost lazily, Jackson flung another curse at Theo. Much shorter in duration than Isla’s, just
enough to keep him quiet and out of breath. Done with Theo, Jackson turned his attention back to
Hermione, gripping her chin painfully between his thumb and forefinger. She swallowed the hiss of
pain, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Are you kidding? Do you know how satisfying it is? Sure, we could just rid the world of all Death
Eaters, we would be doing a fucking service. But no, we want to make them hurt. And your little
boyfriend, there’s a special place in hell for him. Killing him would be a kindness. No. Instead,
imagine his torment, the suffering he is going to feel knowing he failed to save not one, but both his
lovers,” Jackson howled like he had heard the funniest joke. “I’m betting the wizard offs himself
afterward. Maybe I’ll even get to watch the show,” he sneered.

“Why did you help him them? Why did you protect him from that curse when…when you were in
pursuit?”

Jackson laughed – a dark, maniacal laugh that made his eyes flicker with twisted malice. “Help
him? Potter was nearby. I couldn’t quite get away with killing the filth – though I toyed with the
idea. I tossed him into that boulder to keep him from getting a hold of my wife. Polyjuiced or not –
she was still my wife.”

Sliding his finger from under her chin, he brushed it over her lips, forcing it into her mouth.
Without a second thought, she bit down on the digit hard, drawing blood and making the wizard
shriek in pain as he jumped.

A triumphant grin didn’t last long on Hermione’s face as a jet of red light collided with her chest
following his angry curse.

“Fucking. Bitch. Crucio!”

The pain that ripped through her body was unbearable. Every bone was on fire, and her whole body
was wracked with sharp, searing pain. Her blood boiled like molten lava. She tried to scream, but
all that came out was a whimper. Tears streamed down her face, and she felt like her heart was
going to burst from the agony. It wasn’t unfamiliar. Her mind drifted back to that place, on the
drawing floor in the manor, all those years ago.

Desperately, she tried to fight back. But the more she struggled to break the curse, the more pain
she felt. The curse seemed to feed off her energy, sapping her strength and will. She had to find a
way to break the effects before it was too late. A distant voice called out to her. It was deep and
comforting. Theo. She focused on the sound of his voice.
Eventually, the pain stopped, and her head thumped with residual pain as she looked around, not
quite sure where she was.

“My strong girl, Hermione. I love you.”

“Merlin, will you shut it already,” Isla smacked Theo across the face. “Are you lot always this
insufferable?”

“Isla,” Hermione sputtered, Jackson still looming over her.

Time was running short. There was only one card left to play – at best, to give them more time.
Time for Draco to come, or Harry, or sod it all – even Sparks. Anyone. Black-blown pupils stared
at her with a scarily playful smile, smirking back at her.

“How long have you and Jackson been married?”

“Two years this month,” she sauntered next to Price and snaked her arm through his. She looked far
more enamored with him than he was with her.

“Did you know he took me out on a date right after he arrived at the Ministry? What was that now,
nine months ago?” Hermione pushed out.

Sweat and blood were painted on her face. Strands of hair stuck to her cheeks cacked in the same
sweat mixed with the tears that had leaked from her eyes during the torture. She wanted to look
over at Theo but was afraid to. Instead, she focused on Isla, ignoring the fuming form burning
beside her.

“He was trying to trap you. You were our target—Golden Girl dating a Death Eater. Really?” she
chuckled. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“If that was the case,” Hermione hissed. “Why did he take me out before I was dating Draco
Malfoy? Jackson took me out not only before our relationship was public but well before it was
established. I didn’t even go out on a date with Draco and Theo until a week after my date with
Jackson.”

Seeing the rage brewing below the surface, Hermione decided to toss in a little extra.

“And if it was just to corner me or capture me,” she narrowed her eyes and licked her lips. “Why
did he fuck me?”

Another slap whistled off the walls. Someone must have taught Isla how to do that so effectively
because even against Jackson, she could see the mark blooming on his cheek from where Isla
slapped him. Obviously, they didn’t sleep together. The wizard didn’t even kiss her properly. But
Hermione didn’t doubt that Jackson Price would have slept with her that night if she offered, and he
was married then.

The witch launched an endless slew of curses at him, barely leaving enough room for him to get a
word in edgewise. A few choice words of his made it in, like liar, bitch, and manipulator. At first,
Hermione had thought those words were about her, trying to convince Isla that he didn’t do
anything wrong, but the more their fight droned on, the more she started to think that it was about
Isla and the two of them were far from having a happy marriage.
“How could you, Jackson?” she hissed. “I have loved you since Ilvermorny. You saved me. We ran
away together. We took on the world together. Cleansed it – and made it better. And then you went
and slept with some Death Eater’s slut.”

Tense words flew back and forth between the two, just as she hoped they would. Finally, Hermione
looked over at Theo. He looked about as rough as Hermione felt. Dried blood was all over his chin,
sweat sticky on his face, but still, he smiled- that perfect, loving smile. He tried to reassure her. She
tried to force one back but felt the hot sting of tears welling up in her eyes at the effort.

“Hermione,” his voice was confident. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Theo,” she sobbed, looking down at her feet.

“Shhh. My beautiful witch, look at me.”

Looking up, she blinked back the glassy sheen that covered her eyes until she could see him clearly.
All she could see was Theo. All she could hear was Theo. The elevated voices of the other two
merely din in the background.

“It will be okay, I promise you.”

Before she could utter another word, she screamed out at the sharp pain that radiated over her jaw.
Jackson pinched her face, digging his nails in, pulling her forcefully around as he pleased.

“Why the fuck would lie like that to my wife?”

He slapped her across the face; the white-hot pain caused Hermione to black out briefly; it landed
on the same exact spot that Isla had injured earlier. She could vaguely hear Theo yelling and
hissing in the background.

Hermione looked straight at Isla. “I didn’t lie.” Rearing back, Hermione spat right in the wizard’s
face.

Quietly, he flicked the spit from his face and leveled his wand at Hermione’s chest, stepping a few
feet back from her. Jackson’s eyes narrowed until only the whites remained. His jaw slackened. An
unnatural chill permeated through Hermione – freezing her in time. The sudden curl of a cruel
smile on Price’s features told her what was coming. He was done playing.

The minutes seemed to be ticking by too slowly and too quickly at the same time as her heart
hammered in her chest like a drum. She felt every breath like a vice, her lungs constraining and her
rib cage closing in around her. She felt like she was standing in the eye of a hurricane with no place
to go, no way out. She was steady in the storm's center as chaos swarmed around her.

All she could do was surrender to the moment and accept the impending end. As the seconds
seemed to stretch on forever, her whole body constricted, every muscle tight, every nerve strung to
its limit. And in that moment, as her life flashed before her eyes, she only wanted one more
moment with Draco, with Theo. To tell them how much she loved them. A single tear streaked
down her face. They were out of time, or at least she was. Maybe Theo still had a chance. Maybe
Draco could make it in time for him.

That painful feeling in her belly returned, gnarled with grief, sadness, and despair. It hummed over
her body, more potent than anything she had felt before. It encased her solid and vibrant. Her gaze
 focused on the necklace that never left her throat – the peridot. She was the sun. And Draco and
Theo were her moon and stars.

Everything accelerated as Jackson started to speak the spell. Hermione looked straight at Theo,
eyes soft and adoring. Hermione spoke as powerfully and calmly as possible, allowing a tender
smile to grace her lips. She wanted Theo’s last memory of her to have something – even if small,
good in it.

“I love you, Theodore Nott. I always will. Tell Draco how much I loved him.”

A blinding ray of green light rushed toward her, and all she could hear was Theo’s voice. So full of
anguish and pain.

“No! Hermione!”

Chapter End Notes

I'm so fucking sorry :( - please don't hate me! My beta berated me a lot already for this.
 Chapter 22 Into the Dark
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“Fuck,” Draco hissed.

He flicked his wrist and vanished the snapped quill, only his third one that day. It was progress,
perhaps. Yesterday, he had managed to damage five quills. He still needed to tidy up a few more
things before he could floo home. He had promised Theo that he would be home before Hermione
– waiting for their witch in their bed.

Something primal and dangerous stirred in Theo since Draco had urged him to be more dominant
with Hermione. It had been building for years, but since Nott Sr. died, it was there, hovering just
behind his almond eyes, pleading for release. He always deferred, submitting to Draco – but his
wizard could have both, and Draco loved witnessing it almost as much as Theo loved doing it.

That night, he had planned something entirely on his own, and the thought of it made Draco’s cock
twitch in his trousers. Whatever Theo intended to do, one thing was certain: they were talking to
Hermione about moving in permanently.

If someone had told Draco that he would have ended up in love with two curly-haired swots, he
would have laughed in their face. Hermione – there was something beautiful and alluring about her.
Even while they were at Hogwarts, Draco found her intriguing. Many nights, he would talk to his
mother about Hermione Granger. He hadn’t even realized he had been doing it.

He was so self-absorbed for so long, and then fourth year came, and all he could think about was
Theo. At first, his mother thought Theo was a way for Draco to rebel against Lucius – but she
quickly realized it was much more than that.
One night during the holiday, while Draco was home from school, Narcissa pulled him into the
library for a private conversation. She explained that he and Theo could never be open about their
feelings, while society would accept them – their fathers never would. That it wasn’t safe – for
them. Theo and Draco shared a direct floo connection to their rooms. They spent most of their
summer of fourth year together- stealing hidden moments while at Hogwarts away from prying
eyes whenever they could.

The corners of Draco’s mouth curved up in a smile. His mind flashed back to all the times during
fourth and fifth year when he pulled Theo into a broom closet or a deserted classroom for a snog. In
their fifth year, one night in the fall, just after Halloween – Draco snuck Theo into the prefect’s
bath. Draco wouldn’t have exactly called it making love, but he shagged the wizard senseless for
the first time. Neither of them could get enough of each other. It was only a few more months
before their secret bliss became a living hell.

Before he could fall too far into the past, Draco focused on the present. He imagined Hermione’s
soft scents of strawberry and lavender mixing with Theo’s smokey cedar. A few years ago, Draco
was certain Theo was the end for him – it was perfect. But then Pans and Potter got married, and
every weekend they were spending time with the witch.

Draco noticed the way she blushed whenever Draco or Theo looked at her – and fuck if he wasn’t
curious. While working on their relationship, Theo admitted he was attracted to the witch, wanting
to be honest with Draco. The revelation did nothing to deter him, realizing he harbored similar
feelings. Once they were back together, there was a pull to Hermione that neither could ignore.
Whenever the witch was in the room, the air was sucked out of their lungs. Their magic yearned for
her. They longed for her.

Hermione and Theo were it for him. They were going to spend the rest of their lives together.
Draco had never been more certain of anything before. He rested his palm over his heart, relishing
in the hum of his magic beneath it. Since Draco had told Hermione he loved her, and she told Theo
– his magic, their magic had never felt more powerful.

It was a little past six, and while Draco didn’t imagine himself being home in time for supper, he
thought Theo would be disappointed all the same. To top it off, Potter’s ridiculous excuse for a
patronus pranced in no less than twenty minutes ago, asking him to come to his office for a meeting
with Jackson Price at half past.

Not only did he detest Price and any time he had to spend near him, but he wanted to focus on his
work. He was close, on the precipice of the breakthrough he needed. The name of the wizard who
had procured the faked documents for Melody Nott was Everett Thorne—a small-time pickpocket
and thief who mainly worked in and around the wizarding parts of New York City. Draco had
worked with a contact at MACUSA and confirmed the wizard died in their custody almost a year
ago, around when Melody Nott was attacked.

Accidental death was the official cause, and his contact was tight-lipped about what had happened-
fucking yanks and their ridiculous politics. The wizard had been brought in on what looked to be a
set of trumped-up burglary charges. He was waiting for the records from his arrest and who the
auror was. Thorne may be dead, but someone had to know he smuggled Melody Nott into the
States, and maybe the arresting auror would.

Draco was confident he would have a suspect within the next few days—a tangible person. So, no,
he didn’t want to go to Potter’s office and exchange scowls and sneers with Price for the next hour.
If he wasn’t working on this, the only other place he wanted to be was balls deep in his wizard,
making him moan his name while they waited for their witch.

Draco audibly groaned and adjusted his trousers, willing his hard cock to dissipate. He sucked on
an inhale and closed his eyes, tossing his glasses down on the polished oak. Rubbing his eyes, he
dragged the tip of his tongue over the top of his incisor. He was due in Potter’s office in no less
than ten minutes, and all he kept seeing was Hermione’s pert tits, pink nipples, and Theo’s sculpted
arse.

Palming the back of his neck, Draco muttered a few phrases out loud. “Quidditch. Bludgers.
Quaffles. Brooms. Broom thighs. Theo…. Fuck.”

Merlin, he hated that Hermione was at St. Mungo’s right now. There had been a real possibility of
him telling her that she wasn’t taking any shifts there for the time being. He wanted them safe,
locked in his little box, only allowed at the DMLE and their flat.

He would have required it if it wouldn’t have caused an all-out war. Theo would have relented
quickly, but Hermione, no. That witch would be stubborn and out for blood. While Draco found her
determination and borderline brattiness sexy by all accounts, it was a fight he was just too
exhausted to bother with.

Part of him knew that Hermione usually gave him pushback because she knew he enjoyed it- the
back and forth, the battle for dominance that she always relented. But this was something that he
probably wouldn’t have won.

After a few minutes, Draco was presentable and walked around the corner to Potter’s office. He
was more than a few minutes late, but scarhead could deal. It may have faded, but it was still there.
He rapped on the ajar door with the backs of his knuckles before strolling in, not waiting for a
response. Potter sat behind the desk, forearms folded on top of the oak. Price was perched up
against a bookcase, decidedly ignoring Draco – which he preferred.

“Fashionably late, Malfoy?” Potter scoffed.

Closing the door behind him, Draco arched a brow and kicked his feet out as he leaned against the
wall.

“Too self-important to do your damn job,” Price sneered.

“Sod off, you git.”

“Could you be any more British?”

“Could you be any more useless?”

“Enough!” Harry spat. “We’re not going to get anywhere with you two going at each other every
five seconds,” he rubbed a spot over the scar on his head. “With Price’s consent MACUSA has
agreed to loan him out to us indefinitely until your case is closed, Malfoy.” Draco rolled his eyes,
and if Harry saw, he ignored it. “Despite my better judgment, I’m leaving you as the senior auror
on the case; for now. Price will assist with being the senior auror on new cases as they come in to
help spread the workload.”
Why did he need to be here for this? Great. Price was going to have even more pull in the DMLE.
He especially didn’t like that now, being a senior auror, Price could theoretically dispatch Theo and
Hermione to scenes. Of course, he half heard as Harry explained to the MACUSA muppet that they
were not to be called for the time being due to safety concerns and that if an obliviator was needed,
he could request Smith from the DoM in the interim, and Heath and Isla for healing as usual.

The wizard may have pushed Draco out of the way of a nasty curse, but that didn’t mean he trusted
Price. Draco half expected that the first case he got, he would find an excuse to call one of them to
exert some twisted power over them.

“Should you really be asking for his advice?” Jackson rolled his eyes. “He’s dating Hermione and
Theodore, not exactly impartial,” Price’s voice dropped to an audible whisper. “Pathetic. Two
people so starved for affection that they willingly chose to share a Death Eater.”

Red flashed in front of Draco’s eyes as they narrowed into thin slits. Without thinking, he drew his
wand and dug into the underside of Price’s jaw, his smug face tilted up toward the ceiling. Draco
dropped his voice to a whisper, just outside his ear, so even Harry couldn’t hear him.

“You so much as look at either of them wrong again, I will slit your fucking throat,” he pushed the
wand in deeper. “Show you just what a Death Eater is capable of.”

“Malfoy,” Harry hissed, slamming his palms on his desk. “Stand down – now!”

Veins pulsed along his exposed forearms as he tucked his wand away, his pulse point vibrating
along his neck. It pissed him off how unbothered Price looked.

“Tell me how you feel tomorrow morning, Malfoy.”

Price arched his brow and thrust his hands into his pockets before he cockily left the office, leaving
Draco more frustrated than satisfied with his threat. Harry shook his head, walked past him silently,
and closed the door again.

“What the hell, Malfoy? You make it really fucking difficult not to suspend you lately.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Harry sighed and turned back toward his desk, leaning against it
and glowering at Draco. They both stared at each other in silence until his green eyes turned soft.

“Draco.”

The tip of his nose twitched. He was Malfoy – Potter only called him Draco when he would attempt
some sort of heart-to-heart conversation. And that had been a far too frequent occurrence over the
last few months. Draco was fucking sick of it.

“Can we skip the pleasantries, Potter?” he snapped. “I have work to do, and I would like to get
home before Hemione does.”

“You alright?” Harry asked softly.

“Pass,” Draco snorted.

“What?”
“Don’t ask questions you already know the bloody answer to. No, I’m not alright. Nothing is ok,
and I dragged both of them down with me, and that sorry excuse for a wizard takes any chance he
can to remind me of how much I don’t deserve them.”

Harry indicated the chair on the other side of the desk. Harry dug around in a low drawer while
Draco reluctantly lowered himself into the absurdly plush armchair in the corner of his office. With
a clink, Harry produced two rocks glasses and a decanter of whiskey. He proceeded to pour each of
them an overfull amount before pushing the amber liquid to the edge of his desk.

This he could do. Draco curled his fingers around the surprisingly chilly mug and paused his lips
on the rim for only a moment before draining the contents in one long, drawn-out hiss. The amber
liquid burned and sizzled its way down his throat while Harry topped him off without another
word.

Slowly sipping the second serving of whiskey, Draco tapped the band of his rings along the wood,
allowing his mind to wander.

“Hermione and Theo love you – you know.”

“Don’t,” Draco hissed, swirling the amber liquid around.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Unfortunately, for some reason,” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Then, as your friend,” Harry dropped his glass with a thud. “I’m here to tell you to stop punishing
yourself.”

“Been talking to Hermione?”

Fucking Gryffindors, all of them so alike. Too damn noble and bloody good. They have to assume
that everyone is worthy of redemption when the reality is that there are people in this world who
don’t deserve it. Whenever Draco saw Jackson Price’s stupid, smug face, all he could think about
was how Hermione would be safe if he had just left her alone and let her pursue whatever it was
with Price or MacMillian or whatever wizard she should be with.

And Theo. His sweet Theo. Draco had joked with him more than once that he should have been in
Hufflepuff. That wizard was too good for him – too good for the world. What if he just disappeared
and left him and Hermione together? They would be so damn happy; they didn’t need him. Their
life would be easier.

Stop it. You’re a good person. You’re deserving of love. Hermione’s words permeated his body and
wormed their way into his heart.

Or at least those two thought he was. And maybe Potter and Pans – Blaise and the Weaselette,
possibly too. Sparks, for some reason, emulated him, only because he was too young to grasp the
atrocities that Draco had done.

He could start believing that if he got them all out safely.

Draco nursed a third whiskey while he let Potter talk at him. While he appreciated all the relatively
lovely things he had to say, nothing could pull him out of his hole. The clock continued to tick by
until it had become far too late, 10 pm. He had to go; Hermione would be home soon.

“Shouldn’t you be going, Potter? Pans is going to be right pissed at you for being so late.”

“She’s at an event tonight. Won’t be home until the wee hours of the morning.”

Draco nodded. “I need to go. If I’m not home before Hermione is,” he snorted. “Well – the witch
will have my balls in a vise- though, Theo might do it first.”

“Why don’t I come with you?” Harry offered as the two left for the floo.

“Potter, I’m fine. I don’t need a babysitter,” he arched a brow. “Besides, I plan to fuck Theo into the
mattress when I get home. So, unless you need some pointers, I suggest you sod off.”

Years with Pansy made him a bit more resilient to overtly sexual comments. The whole lot of the
Slytherins were notorious for it. And as long as it didn’t involve Ginny or Hermione, he was
relatively able to handle it with minimal grimacing.

“Well, I imagine you are capable of keeping your pants buttoned for a few minutes. I’ll drop you
off and leave, giving you and Theo more than enough time for whatever depraved exploits you
have planned.”

Draco snorted. “Don’t act all high and mighty there, Potter. A dinner party, might I remind you?
One that your wife hosted when Theo and I had the pleasure of arriving five minutes early,” Harry
turned a dark shade of pink.

“Need I remind you what we saw on the kitchen counter?”

“Nope,” Harry spit out quickly.

“I had three glasses of whiskey, Potter. I’m not drunk. I’m perfectly capable of flooing home on my
own. Are you lonely or something with Pansy out for the evening?”

“Usually enjoy my alone time. Just want to make sure Theo is there for you when you get home,”
he quickly slipped that last part in.

The pair stood outside the floo. Draco listened for once; he really listened to what he was saying.
Fuck, Potter was genuinely worried about him. He had no reason to be. But if it would make him
feel better, then he would allow it.

“Fine. But Potter,” he whispered. “If you’re there longer than five minutes, what you witness is not
my fault.”

Stepping out of the floo, Draco shook his head as Potter followed closely behind him before sitting
down.

“Theodore. Put on a pair of joggers, at least. Potter is here, and I’m the only wizard that’s allowed
to see your cock,” Draco laughed, walking up the stairs toward their bedroom.

An audible groan could be heard from the sofa.

Draco leaned over the railing at the landing and grinned a wicked smile. “I warned you, Potter. No
complaining. Plus, you’re severely cutting into the time I have to give my wizard a proper shag.”

Fingers trailed up the length of the banister as Draco approached their bedroom. The door was ajar
and dark, his eyes narrowed. Theo had been so excited; did he accidentally fall asleep? Pushing
into the room, he sparked the light and saw it empty. His brow furrowed as he poked into the loo to
find it empty as well.

Meticulously, Draco swept through the upper guest rooms, his office, the spare loo, all of it and
nothing. Theo wasn’t there, he wasn’t home. Bile churned in his stomach at the thought. The only
other place he could possibly be was St. Mungo’s. A hand rubbed Draco’s jaw, his heart beating
faster against his ribs.

Maybe Theo went to the hospital for a quick shag with their witch. Merlin knows that the wizard
was wound tighter than a cork all day. Before he could let his mind worry about the possibilities, he
sent his patronus to Theo, looking for confirmation.

Theo, are you shagging our witch without me? Let me know if you are both at St. Mungo’s and
safe.

After a few minutes with no response, Draco sent a separate message to Hermione, more insistent
than the last.

Hermione, is Theo with you?

After another few minutes, nothing.

Anxiously, he paced over and over again in his study. A sharp pain settled deep in his abdomen,
just below his navel. It burned. Waves of distress, fear, and worry washed over him. It didn’t feel
like his own, though; it was like when Theo was gone, tugging deep at his core. If possible, that
made him worry only more.

When he remembered that Potter was downstairs, the door to his office blew open. Messy black
hair and narrowed green eyes stared at him.

“It sounded like a thundering herd of centaurs up here. Where’s Theo?”

Shaking his head, Draco tossed his glasses down and filled a glass with whiskey from the desk.
Tapping his ring on it, he looked at Potter and squared his shoulders.

“Not here,” he whispered, his lips pressed to the rim.

“What do you mean not here?” Harry moved closer.

“I’m not sure,” Draco muttered, hissing as the whiskey burned down his throat. “He’s not at the
flat. He didn’t respond to my patronus,” he tapped the glass again. “Nor did Hermione.”

“What?! Did you try Sparks?”

Draco shook his head, frozen- rooted in the spot. Vaguely, he watched as Harry briskly sent off
several messages. In the distance, he heard the floo roar to life and moments later Pansy strutted
into his study. Long hair pinned back in a crown of curls, make-up perfect, and in a full-length
black gown that had a slit straight up the side.
Kissing her quickly, Harry pulled away, his arm fleeting around her waist as she moved toward
Draco. Warmth burned his cold cheeks when her hands cupped his face. Blinking, Draco knew
Pansy was in front of him, holding his face, but his mind continued to wander.

“Draco,” she all but screamed. “Snap the fuck out of it!”

Every emotion that he had started to build a wall around came clamoring back to the surface,
making his palms sweat and his chest hurt. Harry worked furiously in the background while Draco
tried to regain control. It wasn’t his own anxiety that plagued him. He could feel it, and no amount
of occluding seemed to stop it.

Either Hermione or Theo or worse, both were terrified and in pain- a lot of physical pain. It was
like nothing Draco had ever experienced before. The existential pain and dread were worse than
any cruciatus he had felt.

Like a child, the decanter full of whiskey shattered as a burst of magic rippled out from Draco
uncontrollably. Quickly, Pansy cleaned up the mess as Draco snapped next to Harry, yanking him
by the shoulder.

“What’s going on?” he hissed.

Happier now that Draco was back in the land of the living, Harry ignored the bruising grip digging
into his flesh.

“Sparks answered,” Harry inhaled. “Neither Theo nor Hermione are at St. Mungo’s. Sparks
confirmed with the charge nurse. Hermione yelled something about an emergency DMLE call
around 10 pm and sprinted out of the ward.”

That was a little over an hour ago.

There was no legitimate call. A call would go to all senior aurors whenever dispatch was notified,
but Draco never received one. Dispatch wasn’t involved. Harry and Draco shared a concerned look.
In his haze, Harry must have come to the same conclusion and did some of the legwork.

“So, someone called Hermione to a scene, a fake one. Most likely did the same thing to Theo,”
Draco dragged his thumb over his bottom lip. “There are only a handful of people in the DMLE
with that access, Potter,” he hissed.

“Yes. All of them are accounted for, except one,” Harry added.

Draco hurled the empty glass in his hand against the wall and watched as it shattered into pieces on
the floor. Pansy sat quietly, not bothering to clean up the mess. For the first time since she arrived,
she looked worried. Solemn and quiet, Pansy didn’t do those emotions. It was unnerving. Draco
didn’t need Harry to say the name – he knew who was unaccounted for. And he could avada
himself for not realizing it sooner.

“Price,” he spat, his nostrils flared. Harry nodded.

Hours. Only hours after he had gotten senior auror access did this happen. The wizard was waiting
for the perfect opportunity, and they had handed it to him.

“What are the coordinates? Surely you can trace the call history.”
“It was wiped,” Harry sighed. “No trace of where they were summoned to.”

Fists wrapped around the collar of Harry’s shirt as Draco threw him back against the wall. Anger
bubbled up in his throat, his body tense and unforgiving.

“Draco, stop it!” Pansy hissed.

From the corner of his eye, he caught Potter throwing a hand up, indicating to his wife that it was
fine. Loathe, he was to admit, Potter was tough and didn’t flinch easily. The wizard simply stared
back at him, waiting for what Draco would do or ask.

“You done?” he finally asked.

“I should knock you on your arse, Potter.”

“Then do it and get it over with because we don’t have time to waste. You know as well as I do we
have a few hours at most before,” Harry closed his mouth, refusing to utter the words.

“Until they’re both dead,” Draco whispered.

In previous victims, there had never been any indication that the killer, Price, kept them for long- a
few hours at most. He didn’t want to admit it, but he hoped that he would be inclined to keep Theo
and Hermione alive for longer in his rage toward Draco. But he assumed they would have until
sunrise, as most victims had been found in the early morning.

A not-so-small contingent of aurors began filing in and out of the flat, using it as a base of
operations. They had been directed to search for any place that held any significance to Price, and
an hour later, everyone had come up empty. Nothing. Draco slammed his fist on the desk, the vein
in his neck throbbing.

“It has to be somewhere within apparating distance of the hospital and this flat,” Draco mused.
“Can we narrow down the locations of any significance to Price in that circle?”

Another hour ticked by, and they were no closer to finding them. Despite Price being a complete
arse at the Ministry, he had kept pretty much to himself over the months he had been in the UK.
Little was known about the wizard outside of knowing where he was staying. Harry had contacted
MACUSA to alert them of the situation, but by the time they could offer any assistance, it would be
too late. No one knew if Price was seeing anyone, as that had been Draco’s next question; maybe a
girlfriend was involved.

Sparks filed into the room, muttering something to Potter; it took every ounce of restraint that
Draco had to stop from accosting the young auror. He was livid with him; how could he have let
Hermione out of his sight? If he had stayed closer to her, this may not have happened. The scowl on
his face deepened as he shuffled records on Price around his desk.

A sharp, searing pain radiated through his very bones that almost made him howl out loud. He
scrunched up his face, swallowing the urge to scream. A growl rumbled in his chest until the
feeling started to dissipate. Pansy blinked at him when he shook his head and turned away.

Another hour, it was almost four am. The constant ache in his abdomen still plagued him. He had
begun to relish it – a faint connection to Theo and Hermione. Part of him knew they were still alive
as long as he felt that.
Sparks flew into the study. A paper waved frantically in his hand.

“MACUSA,” he huffed, hunched over, catching his breath. “They sent this,” he jutted it into
Potter’s hand. “Marriage certificate,” he straightened up. “Jackson Price has a wife, Isla Price.”

Before Draco could interject, Harry responded.

“She traveled to the UK with him and has been using the name of Isla Cromwell.”

“Fuck,” Draco spat.

Tentatively, Pansy placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder and rubbed it softly.

“This is good, Malfoy,” Harry turned to Sparks. “Find any property that Isla Cromwell has in the
UK since she’s been here.”

“Already on it.”

In another sprint, Sparks dashed out of the room.

“They may have taken them to Isla’s home, Malfoy. We still have time.”

Draco wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, suddenly feeling unsteady and weak on his feet. The
color drained from his face as blood receded from his extremities. He was on the verge of passing
out. A quiet, defeated voice whispered in his ear- Hermione’s voice- the witch he loved.

“I love you, Theodore Nott. I Always will. Tell Draco how much I loved him.”

He collapsed down to one knee as a hand clasped the edge of the oak, desperate for some support.
In an instant, everything drained from him; he felt empty and void – it was like his magic had been
sucked out of him. Dizziness plagued him for a solid minute before his body slowly started to
regulate itself.

As quickly as the feeling came, it was slow to return to normal. He flexed his fingers and toes as
feeling returned to them. The only person who realized something was wrong was Pansy. She
sprinted over and crouched next to Draco, helping him back to his feet once the color had returned
to his face.

“Draco,” she whispered. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he choked down the bile in his throat.

In all the chaos, Draco had only realized that it was the three of them in his study. The rest of the
aurors were out, desperately chasing the lead down on Isla. Color flickered in front of him as he
returned to a standing position, Pansy still clinging to his side, afraid he might fall over again.

Magic swirled in front of him, lavender with flecks of gold.

“Potter,” Draco hissed. He darted across the room, wrapping an arm around Harry’s. “Fucking trust
me and hold on.”

Focusing on the magic, Hermione’s magic, he apparated with its location his sole thought. With a
pop, they reappeared outside a tiny cottage that looked to be in the middle of nowhere. Both
wizards drew their wands.

“Where did you take us, Malfoy?”

“Not sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure?” Harry hissed in a whisper.

“I’ll try to explain it later,” Draco snarled quietly. “I’m not even sure what it was. But I’m certain
they are here. At least, Hermione. And I would think wherever she is, Theo is as well.”

The sudden immense pain, followed by Hermione’s magic visibly appearing to him. Draco shook
the thought from his head, fighting back the threatening tears. Both his mother and Melody had
mentioned that they knew when their bond had broken. When they died, they felt that. And Draco
couldn’t stop the rising panic that. That Hermione was dead. That her magic was ripped from her
and found him.

Draco drew in a long, slow breath – willing his racing heart to steady. They needed him at his best.
Theo needed him. Even if Hermione…...he blinked rapidly and sniffed.

During his short stint with the Death Eaters, Draco fought against the use of dark magic. Never
killing anyone. Opting to suffer the endless torture that came from the tip of the Dark Lord’s wand
instead. It was the one thing he was able to control.

While Draco may not have killed Nott Sr. with his own hand, he was responsible for his death. He
should have done something about it years ago, for Theo. When they were at Azkaban, he wouldn’t
allow that pitiful excuse for a man to torment Theo any longer. And after he heard the despicable
things, the wizard had done to his own wife to torture her- he knew what he had to do.

Draco acted using the heightened tension of the moment after Nott Sr. spat such vitriol at
Hermione. When he dug his wand into the man’s throat, he uttered a quiet imperius – not allowing
Theo or Hermione to hear him. After they left the prison, he cashed in his favor with Savage –
asking him to accidentally drop a blade outside Nott Sr.’s cell.

Official records would show the wizard offed himself; and who could blame him. All those years in
Azkaban. No one needed to know that it was Draco’s influence that pushed him to draw the dagger
across his throat. One day, he had planned to tell Theo and Hermione – he wasn’t ashamed. Part of
him knew Hermione would take it better than Theo, but that he would relent quickly.

This time it wouldn’t be as convoluted; he didn’t need dark magic. He would kill Price and Isla
with his own hand, and not spare a second thought.

Harry turned away and signaled Draco toward an opposite corner of the home. There was some
extensive warding around the property, more than any standard wizarding residence would ever
need. Efficiently, the pair worked around the cottage, dismantling the wards. Price had clearly set
them up. With the final one down, Draco and Harry stood at the entrance.

Pushing the door open, Draco stepped inside, wand drawn. It was quiet, save for a few soft sobs.
He plowed forward, following the sounds of crying. A door was ajar towards the back of the house,
a yellow light spilling out. With a signal, Draco indicated for Harry to follow him.
 Prepared to kill first and ask questions later, Draco strode into the room. A breath caught in his
throat, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. Honey brown curls laid fanned out behind a pale
face on the floor. Eyes closed. Blood and sweat stained her swollen cheeks.

Chapter End Notes

**Makes pained face**

I don't think this chapter is going to be what people hoped for....BUT HEY......we got a Draco
POV - that's something, right.....RIGHT?!?!?! Also.....that revelation about Nott Sr.'s death....

**author trying every distraction technique to avoid vicious mob.....**

 Chapter 23 Rewrite the Stars
Chapter by DarkCloud190

Chapter Notes

Throws chapter and runs!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

He wanted to look away but couldn’t - Draco stared at Hermione’s limp figure on the ground.
Breaths erupted from his chest in short, painful bursts of barely there air. Only when a guttural sob
broke out did he take in the entire scene. There was, of course, Hermione, but only a few feet away,
another body lay motionless on the ground. Price. Fuck.

Draco wanted to be the one to snuff the lights from his eyes.

On the other side of the room, he saw Theo, hunched over in a chair, bloody and beaten- but visibly
breathing.

Torn between sinking to the ground next to Hermione and checking on Theo, another sob snapped
Draco’s head in a different direction. Isla backed up in a corner, crouching and fucking crying - like
she was the bloody victim - like this wasn’t all her fault.

If Potter was saying something, Draco couldn’t hear it. Blood thundered in his ears as rage
flickered across his eyes, turning the soft grey, black, and cold as ice. An unfeeling chill swept
through the air.
In two long strides he crossed the room and bent down, wrapping one hand around Isla’s thin neck.
Nails dug into the sticky, frail skin. A growl rumbled low in his throat while his nose twitched,
lifting the witch up effortlessly while she shrieked and clawed at his forearms.

Not nearly hard enough, he threw her small frame into the wall behind them, making her scream
out again. With his free hand, he painfully buried the tip of his wand in between the hinge of her
jaw and her throat, sneering at the grimace on her face as blood trickled form her scalp.

“I will paint the walls with your blood. You wanted a fucking Death Eater,” he slammed her against
the wall again. “Well, you have him.”

Fresh tears sprang out from her eyes, and Draco squeezed tighter around her windpipe, cutting off
her airflow. There would be something poetic about killing her with his bare hands as opposed to
doing it with magic. She wasn’t worth sullying himself for. Maybe the remnants of Hermione’s
magic still pulsed inside him - it was so beautiful. He wouldn’t taint whatever was left of her with
dark magic.

Shaking his head, Draco returned his attention to the manic witch in his grasp, frantically swiping
at his outstretched arm. A blue tint appeared on her lips as the last bits of oxygen fled her body. Her
nails dug into his forearm, drawing blood along where the Dark Mark was hidden. It wouldn’t be
long before she passed out. Her body would follow, turning limp and lifeless.

“Malfoy,” Harry hissed.

“Fuck off, Potter,” Draco spat, head cocked - still staring at Isla’s pleading eyes. He was waiting for
the moment when the last of her life flickered out of them.

Tears streamed down the witch’s face. None of it mattered. He would kill her himself; Potter would
do what he had to. Draco didn’t care. A wand dug in between Draco’s shoulder blades, making him
bristle for just a moment.

“Draco,” he bellowed low. “Hermione is breathing. She’s alive.”

Instantly, Draco released his grip around her throat. Isla crumpled to the floor in a heap of limbs
and was a blubbering mess - gasping dramatically to inflate her lungs. Time stood still as Potter
restrained the witch and kept repeating the same thing over and over again, words that didn’t
register with Draco at first. He wanted to occlude, to withdraw. Potter had lied - distracting him for
just a second to prevent him from killing the witch.

Saint Fucking Potter.

The thought was fleeting, but Draco wanted to kill Potter almost as much as he wanted to
eviscerate Isla. Then he remembered Theo was still alive – and he had never been more thankful.
The wizard he loved was in the room, breathing. Draco needed to be there for him, now and
always. And murdering Isla would have made that impossible.

Images of Theo’s hazel eyes and chocolate curls swam to the forefront of his mind. Draco slammed
his eyes shut, trying to focus on the wizard: every good memory, every soft kiss, every tender
touch. But then – he was flooded with memories of golden-brown curls and brown eyes, and tears
leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Every warm touch, gentle kiss, and sweet words – gone.
Forever.
“Check on Theo,” Harry directed calmly. “Sparks and Heath are on their way. We need to get Theo
and Hermione to St. Mungo’s. She is stable enough for now – but I didn’t get a chance to check on
Theo.”

Wait. What? Potter still couldn’t be putting on his little ruse. There was no need to anymore. He
already stopped Draco from strangling the witch. The game was over. Unless. It wasn’t a lie.
Hermione was breathing. Potter hadn’t made it up.

“What about, Price?” Draco questioned automatically, barely aware as the words left his mouth.

“Dead. Killing curse.”

Alive. Breathing. How long had it been since Potter said that? Oh, Theo – he furrowed his brow.
Draco rushed towards the body in the corner of the room, making quick work of removing the
binds that had him restrained to the chair. Tilting his chin up, Draco brushed the stringy curls off
his face. He sucked back the anger that was eager to spill out of him at the sight of his wizard.

Purplish bruises marred his olive skin, there were cuts around his eyes, and his lips were stained
with dried blood and sweat. Draco didn’t miss the subtle uncontrollable twitch in his muscles – a
distinct sign of the cruciatus curse. His chest burned with each steadying breath.

Fresh tears started to fall when his eyes found Draco’s. The pads of his thumbs swiped them away
before he kissed his forehead with as much tenderness as he could gather.

“Drake,” he choked. “Is Hermione,” he sniffed. “I felt it – it was draining and then a bright flash
of….”

“Shhh, Theo. Hush now, it’s alright,” Theo shook in his hold as he cradled his head to his chest.
“Potter said she’s alive,” his lips still resting on his face. “I’m going to take her to St. Mungo’s. Are
you okay with waiting here for Heath? He’ll bring you soon after, I’m sure.”

Draco didn’t want to leave Theo, but he needed to get Hermione there, now. He trusted Heath to
take care of Theo. More tears spilled out as he quietly nodded in Draco’s grasp, covering his hands
with his own.

“Everything will be okay, handsome,” Draco murmured along his skin. “I promise. I love you so
much, Theodore.”

“I love you too, Draco.”

Draco reluctantly pulled away with a parting kiss and crouched next to Hermione’s immobile form.
There was a small part of him that still wondered if Potter lied. But no, now that he was next to her,
he watched as her chest rose and fell unevenly with each beautiful breath that passed her cracked
lips. The leaden weight over her heart eased slightly.

Quickly, his gaze drifted to the other figure on the ground, Jackson Price. Draco watched his chest
intently, satisfied when he saw no signs of breathing or life. Harry watched silently, holding his
wand on Isla. Potter’s face cracked slightly from his professional facade when Draco bent down to
pick up his best friend.

Just as Draco carefully scooped Hermione into his arms, Sparks and Heath arrived along with a
small contingent of other aurors. Heath squeezed Draco’s shoulder reassuringly and whispered to
him.

“Go,” he said solemnly. “I’ll ensure Theo is taken care of; we won’t be far behind you.”

Draco tilted his chin in appreciation as he walked outside, cradling Hermione close to his chest.
She seemed even smaller somehow, more petite and frailer than he had ever seen her. Her golden
light and air stealing smile missing.

Unease swam in his chest as it constricted tighter and tighter like the Dark Lord himself was
squeezing his heart. Her face looked as swollen as Theo’s. There were fewer cuts on her face than
he had, only one across her bruised cheek- where dried blood pooled. He peppered soft kisses to
her face as he descended toward the established apparition point that one of the other aurors set up.

The tips of her fingers spasmed and his heart plummeted into his stomach; it was like he was free-
falling. There were none of her soft giggles, crinkling eyes, or contented hums when he kissed her.
Alive and breathing, maybe, but she wasn’t there.

“I’m so fucking sorry, darling,” he inhaled deeply. “No one will ever touch you again. Or Theo. I
swear it.”

Upon his arrival at St. Mungo’s, chaos ensued as hordes of healers descended on him and
Hermione. Heath must have alerted the hospital of their impending approach. He clung to her,
refusing to let anyone touch her and insisting on bringing her to a room himself. He relented only
when a familiar face appeared and gently wrapped a soothing hand around his arm.

“I’ve got her, Draco. You can stay in the room, but please, let us work.”

Padma’s tone exuded a calm confidence that Draco appreciated. She was perhaps the one person he
trusted with Hermione outside of Heath. He knew Padma cared about her, that they were friends,
and she would do everything she could for her. As much as he hated to, Draco gently placed
Hermione on the bed and stepped back out of the way, watching silently as healers surrounded her.
Every muscle in his body went rigid every time he saw hers spasm with the aftereffects of what
could only be assumed as the cruciatus.

His jaw would be sore from the pressure of clenching his teeth so fiercely.

Only minutes later, Heath arrived with Theo in tow. It only took Draco a few minutes of yelling to
see to it that both his partners were in the same room. It helped that Heath and Padma agreed that,
from a holistic perspective – having the two near each other would benefit their mutual healing.

Draco sat silently in the corner of the room as two teams of healers worked on each of them. Theo’s
treatment appeared more straightforward. Draco was no healer- but it looked like standard
diagnostics and mending charms. He couldn’t stop the painful swallow that caught in his throat
when he heard Padma mention something about cruciatus protocol.

On the other hand, the team surrounding Hermione was more frantic. They reassured him that her
vitals were stable and that the diagnostics showed nothing graver than bruising, swelling, and a
minor cut to her face. But what had them worried was what Theo had relayed to everyone. That
Hermione had been directly hit with a killing curse. The light blinded Theo, and when it dissipated,
all he saw was Hermione and Price, motionless on the ground.
Hermione hadn’t woken up and showed no signs of doing it anytime soon. The healers had been
quick to give Theo a dreamless sleep potion after tending to his immediate injuries while getting
the necessary information from him that they needed to treat Hermione. After hours, Padma talked
to Draco and told him they had done everything they could for Hermione. Now, they could only
wait and see if she would wake up.

Draco placed a chair between the two beds and interlaced his fingers with each of theirs - dozing in
and out of a fitful sleep.

Bright lights flickered around her until it was dark again. It was quiet, quieter than it had been in a
long time. The din of voices had been constant, not that she had ever understood what was being
said. For once, there wasn’t background chatter or noise – but a warmth enveloped her hand. Soft
and pliant. The pressure of a gentle squeeze abated quickly as the comforting heat faded.

Again, she tried to open her eyes. To speak, to do anything. It was like she was trapped inside her
own mind. Was this the other side? The brief stream of consciousness she enjoyed dissipated before
her mind went black again, succumbing to darkness.

Voices again, but most of them left. Only one remained, quiet and close. Another tender squeeze;
this time, Hermione willed herself to return the pressure, closing her fingers around the hand that
held her.

“Hermione?”

That voice - it was different. Familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Soft, it was a woman’s voice.
She wanted to open her eyes, but it was painful like they were glued shut. Light pushed against her
eyelids. Determinedly, she blinked until her lids flickered open, flooding too much brightness into
them all at once, making her squint until she adjusted to the foreign sensation.

Looking around, she saw white lights overhead, blank walls, and a wooden door. A window sat on
the wall to the side of her. Either this was a very dreary afterlife, or she was in St. Mungo’s.

“Sweetheart, you’re awake. I’m going to get the healer. Draco and Theo had to go to the Ministry
to give a statement. They put it off too long already. I’ll send them a message, but it might be a
little while before they return. They’ll be quite upset that they weren’t here when you woke up.”

Only after Melody Nott had left did Hermione register anything the witch had said. She was
definitely in St. Mungo’s; Melody went to grab a healer.

So, in theory, Hermione was alive. Or was this an elaborate afterlife crafted to make her think she
was? Tentatively, her fingers and hands coasted over her arms as if inspecting if she was solid or an
ethereal being. It appeared she was solid, alive.

Although, it made no sense that she was. The last thing she remembered was Jackson Price saying
‘Avada Kedavra’ and then a bright flash of green light. How was she here? What happened?

There was something else Melody had said, Draco and Theo. Theo was uninjured, or at least less
so than her if he was at the Ministry. They needed to give a statement. Hermione had so many
questions. But her head was pounding incessantly. The pads of his fingers stroked over her brow,
rubbing the ache between her eyes.
The door creaked open as Melody returned with another kind face; Padma smiled softly beside her
as she hovered over the bed and cast a quick diagnostic. Melody stood close by on the other side of
the bed and cautiously held her hand. Hermione welcomed the closeness and found herself leaning
into the touch, a small smile curving on the corner of her mouth.

“How are you feeling, Hermione?”

Padma worked diligently, evaluating the diagnostic carefully as she hovered over each part. Not
answering for a long pause, she chose to watch Padma for any sign of an adverse reaction to her
reads. When she gave none, Hermione gave in and answered truthfully.

“Exhausted. My head feels like it’s going to implode. My throat itches, and it’s a bit painful when I
speak. And my whole body feels like pins and needles, particularly in my hands and arms,” she
paused. “How long have I been here?”

Thoughtfully, Padma nodded while she extinguished the charm, happy with the results. With a flick
of her wand, she summoned a stool over, sitting down before speaking.

“That is all to be expected. I’ll bring you a pain potion and some hydration shortly. Now that you
are awake and talking again, the dryness in your throat should diminish quickly. The pins and
needles, that’s a side effect from the cruciatus curse,” Padma looked at Melody briefly before
continuing. “When you first came in, you had some body spasms, so this is progress. I suspect the
tingling feeling should cease in a few more days. As for how long you’ve been here, it’s been a
week.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide, her lower lip falling in shock.

“Completely normal,” Padma said confidently. “I’ll keep an eye on things, but now that you’re
awake, you should be able to go home in a few days as long as there are no setbacks,” she stood up
and pushed the stool to the side. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

Once they were alone again, Hermione tilted her head to the side and looked at Melody.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sure you wish it were anyone else here besides me. Theo and
Draco haven’t left your side once. Narcissa has spent a lot of time here as well. But they couldn’t
put off making a statement any longer. Draco said they should return here in about an hour or so.”

For some reason, Hermione was thankful it was Melody here with her. While she wanted nothing
more than to hold her wizards, this allowed her to ease back in. Her brain was already firing off a
mile a minute, and she didn’t think she would have been able to handle that with what would have
been too much emotion seeing them.

Guilt ate at her. She had treated Melody horribly, especially considering Theo wanted nothing more
than to have a relationship with his mother. He never said as much, but Hermione’s resistance to
her probably hindered his ability to jump in fully. Despite how she had been to her, Melody was
here when she woke up. With nothing but kind things to say, she was inviting and comforting.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Hermione whispered, squeezing her hand. “Truly. I’m the one that should
be apologizing.”

Melody smiled. “Never. You care so deeply about my son. You only wanted to protect him. I meant
what I said months ago, Hermione. I am so honored that you love my son. I know that he is safe
with you and Draco.”

Carefully, she scooched over to the side of the bed and patted an area next to her feet, indicating
Melody to sit on the bed. With a reserved smile, the witch sat down, her feet still pressed against
the tile – not entirely giving in. It was a start for both of them.

“Why am I here?” Hermione pulled at her curls.

“You were unconscious. They very well couldn’t let you leave the hospital,” Melody arched a
questioning brow at her. “I’d wager that Draco would have eviscerated anyone who tried to
discharge you in that state.” Before Hermione could respond, Melody continued. “He was in a right
state when he brought you here, especially after Theo arrived. He demanded that you both be in the
same room and berated most of the staff for hours until you were both stable. Narcissa called me
when she couldn’t control him, not that I could do much better.”

Blush crept up her neck; Melody was telling the truth. Draco would have been inconsolable, and
the only way he knew how to handle that was to exert complete control. She made a mental note to
get a small gift for the staff when she was discharged.

“That’s not what I meant,” Hermione paused, trying to find the words. “Why am I alive? Price used
the killing curse – I saw it. I remember feeling a searing pain when it hit and then darkness.”

Perching her feet under her on the bed, Melody leaned forward, taking both Hermione’s hands in
hers.

“Maybe we should wait until Draco and Theo get back. I only have theories, and a lot of them
hinge on what they’ve shared with me. I don’t have concrete facts for you. And I have a feeling that
may stress you more than help.”

“Please, Melody. I know the moment I see them, they will be my focus. As they should. But I want
to get answers while my head is clear, and it won’t be once they’re here.”

“Sweetheart, this is all theory.”

“I don’t care. I want to know.”

The air in the room shifted as Melody exhaled and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her
lips pursed and she nodded in acquiescence.

“Anima Trium; I don’t think you need me to tell you, Hermione. But I’m fairly certain that it
pertains to you, Draco, and Theo - that the three of you have a naturally occurring soul bond. A
smart witch like you probably figured that out ages ago,” she blushed at Melody’s compliment.

“Draco and Theo mentioned there had been instances for months now where you could see physical
manifestations of each other’s magic. Along with feeling intense emotions of the others, or physical
yearning and pain when separated for too long.”

The magic had been Hermione’s first clue. It had never happened before with Ron. Nor had she
ever heard anyone else talk about it. The corporeal nature only intensified over the last few months,
especially after they confessed their love.
Blissfully, the pain potion Padma had given finally started to kick in, making relaxing a little
easier.

“Theo recounted what he saw when that auror tried to,” Melody paused, breathing deep. “To kill
you. He said your magic pulsed around you, thicker than he’s ever seen. And then, he was hit with
an intense wave of nausea and all-consuming weakness. He assumed it was the pain and fear taking
over, or worse the bond severing as you passed. This could have been plausible, except Draco noted
a similar experience in his study around what would have been the same time. And you are also
alive.”

Hermione remembered a strong hum of magic around her but attributed it to her own fear and
sadness.

“I talked to Narcissa about it a little bit. And we both think that your magic called out to them and
that they answered it.”

A single brow arched at Melody when Hermione curled her hands together to rest in her lap as she
scooted up further on the bed.

“What do you mean by ‘called to them’?”

“It was always said that triad soul bonds produced powerful magic and, in theory, could wield the
magic of others. I believe that is what happened. You borrowed Draco and Theo’s magic in a time
of great need, and it combined with your own to protect you, even against the killing curse. Theo
said the curse exploded around you and ricocheted back – killing Price.”

“How is that possible?” Hermione mumbled, her chin dropping to her chest. “Nothing can block a
killing curse.”

Melody chuckled softly, lifting her chin up. “I think your friend Harry Potter would disagree with
that one,” Hermione bit her lip. “It’s only a theory. A rather good one if I had to wager. It’s an
ancient, unstudied magic, sweetheart. All I know for certain is that you are alive and that auror is
dead.”

Before she could interject, Melody spoke again.

“Draco mentioned that he could apparate to you and Theo after your magic appeared to him. It
seems your magic reached out to him for help after realizing you were safe for a moment.”

“That’s a lot,” Hermione murmured, tugging on her fingers.

“It is. Do you want some time alone? I can step outside. Also, I could distract them for a little while
when Draco and Theo arrive before they bombard you.”

Hermione snorted. “I don’t think anything could stop, Draco.”

“While I’m certain Draco would stop at nothing to get to you or Theo,” she winked. “You might be
underestimating me. I have something that would make even Draco Malfoy’s knees buckle.”

The witch leveled a stern gaze that rivaled Narcissa’s.

“The fear of a mother.”

An unguarded snicker passed Hermione’s lips, making her feel more at ease than she had since
she’d woken up.

“I think it’s okay. Please stay,” she slipped down into the sheets. “I think I’m just going to rest a bit
before they get here.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” she squeezed her hand and settled in a chair beside the bed. Summoning a
book from the edge of the room, Melody opened it.

Sweetheart. A tear pricked the corner of her eye as she turned to her side, away from Melody Nott.
She didn’t want her to see it. The term of endearment had been peppered into the conversation, and
each time, it sent a small jolt that tingled up the length of her spine. Images of her own mother
flashed in her mind. Of them sitting around the table, sipping tea, Jean Granger would kiss her
temple and say, ‘I love you, sweetheart.’

Something ached and longed for her mother. A few months ago, she would have hissed had Melody
Nott dared to call her that. The memory ticked in her brain, emotions swarmed, and thoughts
overwhelmed her. Melody Nott reminded her of her own mother, who was soft, protective, and
loving. Maybe that was why she hated the witch so much initially. Her mannerisms, the way she
spoke and carried herself. It was all familiar – it reminded her of home, of her mother.

She wanted to hate it - wanted to cringe when she called her sweetheart, or when she held her hand.
But she didn’t, not even a little. She craved it, and Hermione silently battled those emotions with
the witch right next to her, unaware of the effect she was having.

Exhaustion must have taken her because her eyes flickered open when feet stomped into the room
loudly as voices carried towards her. A soft smile curled on her lips as she gingerly pushed herself
up, stacking a few pillows behind her back to support her.

Melody had thrust herself up at the loud intrusion, and borderline snarled at Draco and Theo as
they entered the room. Her lavender robes billowed behind her as she strutted toward them, arms
crossed. The action made Hermione feel loved by a mother – for the first time in a long time.

“Will you two quiet down? She rested peacefully until you stomped in here like a wild herd of
centaurs.”

Long nails strummed along her elbow as she threw a reproachful stare at both the wizards. Despite
trying, Hermione couldn’t quell the playful giggle from her chest.

“You know,” Melody whispered over her shoulder. “That laugh kind of throws off the whole angry
mother motif we’ve got going here,” she winked, and Hermione laughed harder. A violent cough
caught with the next laugh, her throat still dry.

Strained eyes and furrowed brows softened as Draco and Theo walked tentatively closer to the bed.
She was used to seeing Draco with red eyes and dark circles, but not Theo. It looked like neither of
them had been sleeping.

“Can you give us a few minutes?” Hermione asked.

“Of course.”
As Melody strolled out of the room, she kissed Theo on the cheek and whispered something in his
ear before hugging Draco and quietly exiting – leaving the three of them alone.

Draco had an arm wrapped low around Theo’s waist, fingers curled firmly at his hip as if he was
afraid to let the wizard go. Heavy silence sat thick in the air around them, the jovialness of
Hermione’s laughter long since gone. Her heart cracked looking at them; in her lust for
information, she neglected to realize just how much pain they had been in for the last week.

They loved her just as she loved them. They were worried that she wouldn’t wake up. Softly, she
smiled and reached a hand out, gesturing for them to come closer. Draco stood rooted to the spot,
his blank face unreadable. But Theo was beside the bed and carefully sat on the area that Melody
had been in.

Silently, he conjured a glass of water, which Hermione eagerly took and drank down. “Are you in
pain?”

“A little,” she hummed. “Padma gave me a potion; I’m feeling much better.”

Afraid he might hurt her, Theo was hesitant to reach out. To hold her, touch her, kiss her, even.
Hermione craved their affection, their love. Fingers nudged against him until they were laced
together in a tight grasp that sent a comforting beat to her chest. Her eyes found Draco’s, still
frozen to the spot in the middle of the room.

“Draco,” she whispered. “Please,” she nibbled her lip. “I need both of you.”

That did it. The ice around his darkened eyes melted, revealing the steely grey that swirled freely.
The bed barely accommodated her, let alone Theo and Draco. He summoned the stool that Padma
used from the corner of the room and stretched his legs out uncomfortably as he leant in close,
resting his elbows on the bed. Hermione hummed as he moved closer, his lips finding her temple
and resting there after a lazy kiss. Her fingers raked through his hair as she turned softly and kissed
his cheek.

“I love you, Draco.”

Wetness trickled down her face, but it wasn’t her own. Tears streaked between their faces while
Hermione held him and silently urged Theo closer by tugging his hand until he was propped up
next to her.

Words failed them for a long time, preferring to sit together quietly - fire and ice, cedar and oak,
both hers. Theo nuzzled into her neck, lazily kissing and humming words of love into the soft skin.

I love you. I missed you.

“When can we go home?” Hermione whispered while her head rested on Theo’s chest.

“I’ll ask Padma,” Draco offered, standing up. His eyes red and glassy.

“No,” she yelped, reaching out for him. “Don’t leave yet.”

Taking her hand, Draco lifted it to his mouth, brushing a brief kiss to her knuckles.

“Only for a minute, darling,” he cooed. “Theo will stay here with you. I’m just going to ask Padma
about a timeline, and then I promise,” he kissed her hand again. “We won’t leave your side until it’s
time to take you home.”

True to his word, Theo and Draco had been a constant with her until she was discharged a few days
later. There had been some heated arguments between Padma, Hermione, and Draco. Padma
wanted her to stay at St. Mungo’s for an entire week before they considered discharging her, but
she was fine and wanted to go home. Eventually, Padma relented – too exhausted to battle both
Draco and Hermione.

Not that there was any question, but throughout her recovery, she had asked if she could move in
permanently. Theo had snorted; the action sent a twinge of pain to her chest, but it was quickly
washed away when he assured her that under no circumstances were they allowing her to ever
return to her flat.

The sun had just set when she finally got the last paper signed, discharging her from the hospital.
She swore that Padma purposefully sat on the paperwork all day- only to extend her stay. Padma
had gotten approval to set up a direct floo line to their flat, as Hermione was still too weak to
apparate – and probably would be for some time.

Guiding her through the fireplace, Draco accompanied her until they were stepping out into their
flat – Theo close behind. Draco kept a firm grip on her arm, steadying her. Going almost two weeks
without walking had taken quite a toll on Hermione’s muscles, making walking more cumbersome
than it ought to be. She stumbled like a newborn hippogriff.

“Are you hungry, my love?” Theo brushed through her curls.

Hermione had barely eaten since waking up in the hospital. She should have been starving, but she
wasn’t. They had been almost forcing her to eat and drink the last few days. Not that she protested
it; she didn’t feel hunger pangs or any urge or desire to eat.

Guilty, she shook her head. Afraid that it might disappoint them. She sucked in her bottom lip and
stared down at the floor. A long, pale finger dusted under her chin; tilting it up, steely grey eyes
met hers.

“We don’t have to eat now, whenever you’re ready. Is there anything you need tonight?”

“A shower,” she sighed. “Or maybe a bath instead.” She realized she couldn’t stand without Draco
or Theo holding her up for long, so a shower wasn’t perhaps the best idea. Cleaning charms could
only go so far, and Hermione desperately wanted to wash her hair.

“Anything for you, darling.”

Carefully, Draco slid an arm under her knees and lifted her until her body was cradled against his
chest. Theo led the way up the stairs and drew the water- filling the tub with the scented soaps she
liked. Too drained to notice at first, Theo had vanished her clothes. Leaning over, Draco gently put
her down in the warm water, offering her a soft smile.

“Do you want some time alone, or would you like us to join you?”

Gods. They were trying so hard to be so perfect with her. Part of her wanted time alone to
decompress. But if she was being honest, she couldn’t bear the idea of being apart from them either.
Also, she was still weak. Washing her hair was exhausting on the best of days – she would need
their help, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered. The words came out more desperate than she had intended.

In seconds, both were naked and sliding into the tub with her. Softly, Theo positioned her between
his legs until her back was pressed against his chest. His lips connected with her cheek in a reverent
kiss before he mumbled words into her skin.

“We would never leave you.”

Theo massaged shampoo into her curls, moving slowly through each section of her unruly hair. He
would rinse the soap, only to do another pass through her hair. Meanwhile, Draco rubbed soap over
her calves and the rest of her body, cleaning her. There was nothing sexual in their movements, but
they were so intimate. Hermione’s eyes fluttered lightly as sleep threatened. Warm water washed
over her head one last time as Theo rinsed out the last of her conditioner.

Slipping out of the water first, Draco summoned over three large towels. Quickly, he wrapped one
around his waist before extending his hand to Hermione. Gingerly, he helped her out of the
oversized tub before wrapping her up in the soft cotton. Theo cast some drying charms before
taming her curls into a plait.

Scooping her up in his arms, Theo kissed her lips soundly before placing a parting peck on her
forehead.

“Is there anything you need before bed? Water? Food?”

She curled into his chest, tugging on his neck. “Just you two,” she murmured.

Swallowed up by the down duvet, Hermione snuggled between Draco and Theo – one on each side.
Draco stroked her curls while Theo rubbed her back. She was right on the edge of succumbing to a
deep sleep. Soft lips rested on her temple when choked words fell from Draco’s mouth.

“There was no day while you were gone, Hermione. The sun had set, and we were trapped in
darkness. We missed you so much. I love you. We love you. Gods. Please don’t ever leave us
again.”

“Never again,” she hummed softly, clutching Draco. After a moment, she turned and faced Theo -
blinking the sleep from her eyes. “My moon and stars. We were written in stars. In the silvery glow
of the moon. In the bright beams of the sun.” Her thumb wiped away a stray tear that fell from
Theo’s eye. His fingers curled around her hand, tenderly kissing her knuckles.

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

All of them were granted extended leave from the DMLE. Although granted wasn’t the right word,
ordered was perhaps more accurate. Harry had told the three of them they weren’t allowed to come
anywhere near the DMLE for at least a month. With Hermione’s current state, Harry arrived at their
flat and extracted her memories from the night’s events so she wouldn’t need to come in. While
Hermione thought it was a bit excessive, she couldn’t be bothered to complain about unfiltered
alone time with her wizards.
Even though she argued with Padma about it, she still battled with fits of weakness and exhaustion.
One day after lunch, she fell asleep hunched over the kitchen island. Not sure who, but one of them
had carried her to bed and tucked her in. It was dark when she woke up again, just in time for
supper, before succumbing to sleep again.

Another week passed, and Hermione’s energy levels had started to even out. The three of them sat
outside on the terrace, drinking wine. Her legs were strewn over Draco’s lap, her back pressed into
Theo’s chest. She purred like a contented kitten as Theo pressed tender kisses into the crook of her
neck, his hands wandering under the hem of her blouse.

Her back arched as his fingers caressed over the lace of her bra before trailing back down, splaying
his palm over her stomach and rubbing softly.

“Theo,” she growled. “Stop being such a tease.”

“Sorry, my love,” he chuckled. “Healers orders, no strenuous activities for at least another week.”

She pouted and rolled her eyes. “I am also a healer, and I say it’s fine.”

Draco leaned over her, covering her body with his own. He kissed her and Theo before continuing
the lazy trail of his fingers over her calf.

“You’re adorable, darling. But no, I promised Padma we would follow her instructions. It was the
only way that stubborn witch would let us bring you home.”

Touching the rim of her wine glass to her lips, Hermione huffed animatedly before sipping on the
crimson liquid.

“Bossy and bratty as always,” Draco chuckled.

“You love it,” she snorted.

“We love you,” Theo added, to which Draco agreed.

Flames licked over the edge of the fireplace as they crackled, shooting embers into the night sky.
Hermione liked being outside, under the stars. Her fingers found the necklace Draco had given her
months ago—the sun. The night was comforting, the moon and the stars – and she had them
wrapped around her.

There was illogical about being destined for another, or two in this case. But Hermione couldn’t
fight it – they were truly written in the stars. Their magic intertwined, always bound to each other.

They had avoided conversations about what happened that night once they left St. Mungo’s,
determined to leave the past there. But the gist of it was what Melody had told her, that their soul
bond had saved her – had called Draco to her. Jackson Price was dead, and Isla Price was in
Ministry custody awaiting trial.

“Potter floo called earlier,” Draco mused, putting his glass down. “MACUSA is doing what they do
best.”

“And what is that?” Theo asked.

“Making a fuss and turning things difficult.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione whispered, leaning further into Theo’s touch.

“Kingsley is at MACUSA with Robards. They have some concerns as to why one of their most
decorated detectives was killed while on loan to the DMLE.”

“What?” Hermione spat. “They know what he did, they helped, what I don’t understand, Draco
what is…...”

“Shhh, darling,” he cupped her face. “Everything is fine. It’s just the Americans, they have to look
like they’re protecting their own. They know who the man truly was,” Draco laughed. “All while
they’re making a stink about something to save face, in the background they are asking the DMLE
to extradite Isla Price to MACUSA for trial. That’s more why Kingsley is there.”

More information had come out about Isla in the last couple of weeks, and well, Jackson, for that
matter as well. Draco had been the only Legilimens on staff, but the DMLE found Isla susceptible
to Veritaserum. They had attended Ilvermorny together and, by all accounts, were good students
who were besotted with each other. As tensions rose in Europe, Death Eater factions broke out in
the States and worldwide.

Isla’s parents, Steven and Sharon Snow, were at the forefront of the Death Eater movement in the
States. Like many people, they revered Voldemort and wanted nothing more than to garner favor
with the wizard. Her parents had arranged a marriage contract that would put them next to the seat
of power, one that made even Hermione’s skin crawl. Draco didn’t go into all the details, but there
was one memory in particular where Isla begged her mother to save her – and the witch just
laughed at her.

Corban Yaxley. Isla’s parents promised her not only to a Death Eater that was old enough to be her
father. But to a wizard who was malicious. If Isla hadn’t turned so cruel, Hermione would have
wept for her. She and Jackson fled and went into hiding to avoid fulfilling the contract. Jackson was
intent on protecting the witch he loved from the malice of her parents. Once Voldemort was dead, it
didn’t take long for them to seek out her parents and kill them.

The dark magic she used had a lingering effect on her, susceptible to its effects. She thirsted for
more, unable to fight its pull against her. Dark magic was always dangerous, but it affected some
more than others. At first, they targeted other Death Eaters, ones who had been close to her parents.
But eventually, her revenge twisted into something malignant when combined with the unfettered
use of dark magic and unforgivables - killing anyone she deemed unworthy. The witch had become
no different than Bellatrix Lestrange - tainted and twisted.

Jackson Price had arrested the forger and found out about Melanie Johnson and her true identity as
Melody Nott when he swept Thorne’s residence. It had been too much for Isla and him to pass up -
the chance to murder Nott Sr.’s wife. In their research, they found out about Theo, and Isla saw a
lot of herself in Theo’s background. She wanted to kill the witch as retribution for him and her
before discovering he was dating Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately for them, Isla had been consumed
by her bloodlust and tried to handle Melody Nott alone, but she was unsuccessful.

Hermione couldn’t help but see some similarities between Jackson and Isla and Draco and Theo.
Price loved Isla and went to extreme lengths to protect her – but their lust for revenge darkened
their hearts, making them unsalvageable.

That was the difference between them. Draco and Theo never allowed themselves to succumb to
malevolence, no matter how hopeless things may have seemed. Theo’s heart had always been so
pure and kind. While Draco harbored a more concealed hatred, he never let it consume him.
Something that both Price and Isla failed at. The dark magic they used fed on them like a starved
vampire until nothing was left of their former selves.

Dumbledore had once told Harry that one’s choices define them more than their abilities. But it was
more than that. The past doesn’t define someone. It is the choices they make, the path they choose
to follow that does.

“Why does MACUSA want to try Isla Price themselves?” Theo murmured.

“Cocky gits, want the glory I suppose,” Draco huffed. “I kind of hope Kingsley relents and gives
her over to them.”

“Why?” Hermione asked.

“If Isla is found guilty here, she will most likely get life in Azkaban. I have it on good authority
that MACUSA has a, well, unique way of dealing with murders. They get burned alive by an acidic
black pool that appears to be inviting when its more sinister nature is hidden.”

“Their own version of the Salem Witch Trials?”

“What’s that?” Draco and Theo asked in unison.

“I’ve got a book on it,” Hermione laughed.

“Of course, you do, love,” Theo snickered. “Only Hermione Granger would have a bloody book on
burning witches alive.”

As the evening ended, the three of them were curled up in bed. Ever since she got home, the two of
them rarely let her be anywhere else besides between them, and she loved every second of it. She
curled up on Theo’s chest, with Draco pressed against her back, a strong arm draped over her hip.
Gods, they had barely touched her – Hermione wanted to hex Padma. At first, it was fine; she was
always tired and just wanted to sleep. But the last few days, her core ached, and she had turned into
a desperate mess. Her fingers traced the hard planes of Theo’s chest, kissing her way down until
she reached the hem of his briefs and palmed his growing length.

“Love,” he hissed. “Another week,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Just something to take the edge off.”

“Needy, little witch,” Draco cooed along her ear, his palm splayed on her stomach.

“Your needy little witch.”

“Ours,” Theo nipped along her throat.

Long fingers dusted along the line of her knickers. Hermione bucked into it, starving for either of
them to touch her there.

“Gentle, darling,” Draco admonished. “If we make you come, will you be a good girl for the
remainder of the week and rest?”

She keened and moaned around them at the promise of an orgasm.

“Hermione, love,” Theo whispered, kissing her throat. “Answer, Drake.”

“I’ll be good,” she purred.

Draco shifted until his left arm slid under her and banded around her chest. His grip was
unrelenting as his muscles flexed with the strain of holding her immobile against him. She could
barely move.

Short, erratic breaths passed her lips when Theo cupped her cheeks and swallowed them in an all-
consuming kiss. His lips slotted to hers, moving against them with determination, his tongue
dipping in to claim her. Every moan caused her to writhe under Draco, but she was unable to go
anywhere. With a bite on her lower lip that was slightly painful, Theo reprimanded her.

“Stay still, love. We can’t have you getting hurt.”

Whining, she tried to steady herself as Draco’s fingers dipped below the waistband of her knickers,
making a breath hitch in her throat. Theo chuckled as he kissed and sucked along the column of her
throat and down her clavicle.

Rubbing through her folds, Hermione heard a low growl that rumbled in Draco’s chest as her body
reacted to his touch, her legs already shaking.

“Merlin. She is a mess, Theo.”

Unexpectedly, Draco sank one long finger into her fully, making her gasp. The delicious feeling of
fullness was gone as quickly as it came, making her sob. Draco lifted the finger, coated in her
arousal, up to Theo’s mouth until his lips parted, and he sucked the digit clean.

Little hums and moans pulsed around him until Draco removed the finger with a pop, sending a
fresh flood of arousal to her core. She was throbbing.

“Our poor witch,” Theo cooed, the pad of his thumb stroking her flushed cheek. “Make her come,
Drake. We can’t leave her like that.”

One finger entered her, barely filling her. She wanted more and bucked her hips into his hand.

“More,” she moaned.

“Easy, darling,” Draco groaned, adding a second finger.

Done with teasing, Draco pumped his fingers in and out of her, swiping his thumb along her clit
with each stroke of his hand. Theo continued to kiss and suck on her sensitive skin, making her
dizzy. Everything was on fire. Shamelessly, she ground and rode Draco’s fingers, chasing her
release. Her cunt fluttered with each thrust, the abyss about to swallow her whole.

“That’s it. Come for us, darling.”

With their names on her lips, she shattered around him, her body going limp in Draco’s hold as
Theo stroked the sweaty curls off her face. “Well done, love,” he kissed her brow. “No more
begging for another week, or Padma will skin Drake and me.”

Hermione offered a delirious chuckle before curling into Draco’s chest, chasing the warmth.
Chapter End Notes

Thank you everyone for 40k hits and 800 kudos!! <3 From the bottom of my heart! It is
absolutely amazing. I hope this chapter gave you all what you wanted and needed!!! Only one
chapter left and then chapter 25 will be the epilogue. Thank you to everyone that has been on
this wild ride with me.

This story has been a year or my life and it's crazy to think it's coming to a close!

Also - people mentioned the 'I'm Sorry' and 'Character Death' tags. The death tag was because
of Price and the I'm Sorry was in relation to me not knowing British slang....never thought it
would imply something else. Also, didn't realize I missed a HEA tag -_- until my beta
mentioned it.....so I went in and added it. I know understand why more people were freaking
out. I originally assumed it was non-tag readers that were.
 Chapter 24 Bound
Chapter by DarkCloud190

Chapter Notes

The last chapter <3 before the epilogue. Thank you everyone - I don't even know what to say!

Enjoy :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Four Months Later – October 2004

Finally, they were both due home that evening. It was a Sunday afternoon that Hermione had spent
lazily padding around the flat alone. For the first time since moving in about a year ago, she had
been truly alone for the last week. Theo had been traveling again for the DoM, but he assured her
this would be the last time.

Neither could tell her why this time, but Draco had to travel with him. Distractions were her plan,
and she tried every one of them over the last week. If Hermione had thought it had been
uncomfortable having just Theo gone, it was nearly impossible with both of them away. She
wondered if this was how Theo felt every time he had traveled alone in the past—stupid soul bond.

After the incident with Isla and Price, there was no denying that Draco, Theo, and Hermione were
bonded. A rare instance of a naturally occurring soul bond among a triad – Anima Trium. The only
one in recent memory. It was the only explanation of how Hermione survived Price’s killing curse.
Over the last few months, Hermione found and inhaled every text on the matter she could find – but
it was limited—more theory and myth than anything. Hermione had to become comfortable with
not knowing everything and learning as they went.

Narcissa and Melody became invaluable resources, sharing everything they could with her –
answering anything they were able to. But when all was said and done, they were unique and a
more intensified version of any created soul bond. Even naturally occurring ones between pairs
didn’t share the qualities that theirs had shown.

They had practiced or tried using each other’s magic at her behest. It didn’t appear as simple as
drawing from another magical core. They had been unable to replicate what had happened that day.
As Melody had said, it happened in a time of great need. They couldn’t call on another’s magic at a
whim – it gave Hermione a bit of solace.

One item they had no control over was the onslaught of emotions shared among them. While there
had been glimpses of this, as time moved on, it only intensified. Melody theorized that completing
a proper bonding ceremony would solidify the bond and heighten all those things they already felt.

She didn’t need Draco to tell her he had a bad day at the DMLE; she had an inkling by the time he
got home – his own frustrations echoing in her core.
The sex had always been superb – nothing like Hermione had ever experienced before. Every
orgasm was borderline cataclysmic; the way her body surrendered to their touch willingly – she felt
an ease that had existed before the war. They knew her body better than her own, and she knew
theirs. She could never have enough of them – never wanted to.

They were entuned with one another, and while it was challenging to manage – she wouldn’t
change it. Hermione had known for a long time now that they were the end for her.

Work had returned relatively to normal. Robards was back, but who knew for how long – the
extended stay at MACUSA had him talking more about retiring. They still hadn’t replaced Isla,
leaving Hermione and Heath as the only healers on staff for the time being. But after the fiasco it
had been, she almost preferred that it was only the two of them.

Things had quieted down substantially. No more serial killers, but the backlog of all the other cases
hung heavy on most of the staff. Sparks had passed his exams and become a full-fledged auror,
with a new class of trainees set to start in a few weeks. Somehow, the young auror had found his
way into their friend group, not failing to miss a single Friday night dinner at the Potters in the last
two months.

In the evenings, Hermione read, accompanied by Pippa. The elf spent most of her time at Nott
Manor with Melody. The pair had been putting a lot of work into the estate, the curse breakers
having just removed the last dark remnants throughout the home. At Melody’s request, Pippa had
spent most nights at the flat with Hermione, so she didn’t have to be alone while Draco and Theo
were gone. Narcissa and she had both invited Hermione to stay with them for the week, but she
refused.

She cherished their home and the cozy embrace it surrounded her with. There were hints of Draco’s
aftershave on his pillow and the subtle scent of Theo’s shampoo in the closet. It quelled the ache in
her chest if only a little. And things had returned to just ordinary – Draco was fine leaving her
alone. Well, maybe not fine. They had enjoyed saying goodbye to her over and over again the night
before they left. A shiver crawled up her spine at the memory of them wringing a string of orgasms
from her body that left her limp and sated.

A subdued sigh escaped her as she rested her book on her thighs. Her feet were kicked up on the
edge of the firepit, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, enjoying the crisp autumn air on the
terrace. Merlin, she missed them. Her core throbbed at the thought. She knew they would be just as
desperate as she was tonight.

The pad of her thumb trailed around the jagged scar that now rested just below her collarbone. It
was no lighting bolt, but another permanent mark. The remnants of Jackson Price’s attempt to kill
her. It was raised, but not tender. Not that Hermione needed another scar, but here she was with one
more.

Sipping on her wine, her eyes drifted to the discarded copy of the morning edition of the Prophet.
Isla Price had been found guilty by the MACUSA Supreme Court and sentenced to death.
Emotionless to the words on the page, the only thing Hermione could find comfort in was that it
was over. She was thankful when Kingsley agreed to extradite Isla to the States for trial. It meant
that she would not need to testify before the Wizengamot, nor would Theo. She was determined to
leave it in her past. Given her background, any modicum of sympathy she harbored for the witch
had long since been washed away.
Leaning forward, she curled her fingers around the end of the paper before gingerly tossing it into
the fire, watching as the edges charred and burned before devolving into ash. Watching the paper
burn was cathartic, the memories and pain from that day disintegrating with it. While it wasn’t like
what she experienced after the war, nightmares plagued her – and Theo to a lesser extent after that
night. It was always a bright flash of green light, Theo’s guttural scream of her name, and then
darkness.

Strong arms would wrap around her when she would shriek until soft words pulled her out of the
abyss. It was always the same: Draco holding her tight, his nose nuzzled in her curls while Theo
whispered quiet words of affirmation to her temple.

Although afraid to admit it, that was the one thing she feared when they were gone: she would have
a nightmare and wake up alone. Not that she hadn’t done that plenty after the war, but she didn’t
want to have to anymore. Miraculously, she had made it through the week without incident – Pippa
hovered close. Hermione didn’t doubt that the wizards had given specific instructions to the elf on
what to do if she woke up screaming. Not that there was going to be much that Pippa would have
been able to do to help besides being there, which maybe would have been enough.

Hermione hated it. It made her feel weak like she had slipped back into an earlier version of herself
- that she had reverted to the witch who once thought of herself as unworthy of love. The one who
had to suffer in silence alone. The one who wasn’t pretty enough or sexy enough. The nightmares
shook loose all those insecurities that Theo and Draco had spent the better part of a year
eliminating.

A quiet chuckle stuck under her breath. They were not wizards to be easily deterred. Their patience
and support had been unending. They had built her up once and did not balk at the opportunity to
do it again.

Yesterday, she had spent how she had almost every Saturday for the last three months, having tea
with Narcissa and Melody, just the three of them. Not long after she returned to work, Theo started
spending more time with his mother. When he could, he helped restore the estate, and despite his
protest, Hermione insisted on tagging along. After that day in St. Mungo’s, she felt closer to
Melody than she had ever allowed herself.

Spending time with Narcissa and Melody was like having a family again, filling a void she had
long accepted as part of her life.

“Sweetheart,” Melody strummed her nails on the table. “Did Theodore speak to that contractor yet?
The three of you can’t stay in that tiny flat for much longer.”

“Especially if we’re to have grandbabies,” Narcissa purred into her cup.

Blush tinted her cheeks while a smile curled on her lips as she pressed them onto the edge of her
mug, pausing momentarily. There had been a time when talking about babies with Narcissa made
her bristle, but now it sparked a fondness. They weren’t pressuring Hermione in the slightest. No,
they loved her – welcomed her with open arms – the closest thing to a mother she would have.

None of them wanted to settle into either estate; they were happy to let their mothers tend to them.
They wanted a home of their own, something that they built together. Draco had been a little
demonstrative, scaring away the first couple of the contractors. Theo had taken over and found one
he liked, who was confident in executing their vision for their home.
“Yes, he did. They are working on plans now. It could be about a year.”

Hermione wanted something cozy, surrounded by gardens, nothing too grand – which caused a fair
bit of grumbling from Draco. The posh prat still leaned on the side of extravagant. There had been
a long night where they argued about money, not the lack thereof – but more the wizards need to
flaunt it at every turn. Frustratingly, Melody eventually had her understanding and even accepted
what Draco and Theo dotted on her with—a large home with expansive grounds and gardens.

While she was a pureblood, her family was from Italy, and of modest means; it had also been an
adjustment for her when she married into the Nott line.

“With large vaults comes great responsibility, influence, and power. I can think of no one who can
do better with that kind of potential than you, Hermione. Don’t fight it.”

Ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away. Theo and Draco had been open with her regarding what kind
of portfolios their lines held, and it was unfathomable. It wasn't merely the gold and jewels in
Gringotts – real estate, investments, and businesses. Each had a team of solicitors and managers
that handled most of it for them, but Merlin, it was obscene. No one should have that much wealth.

One night, Hermione joked about them donating all of it.

“If that’s what you want, love,” Theo said, kissing her cheek. “As long as we keep enough for us
and our children, then fine.”

He meant it; of course, he did. Not that she intended for them to do that, but they would. No, she
would take Melody’s advice and do as much good as possible.

“What about a wedding?” Narcissa hummed. “My son has been frustratingly tight-lipped about
that.”

“Superfluous, isn’t it?” Hermione mused.

They were already technically soul bound; a marriage bond wasn’t vital. The three of them had
talked about their future and what they wanted, and it was a certainty that they would be together.
The talk about a ceremony had never come up, nor had Hermione thought about it in the last few
months. They were building a house together, a life – what more was needed?

“Dear,” Narcissa narrowed her eyes. “Would you deprive Melody and myself of the opportunity of
planning a wedding for our children and their beautiful witch?”

“You’re building a house; you’ve talked about children – but not marriage. Melody – these boys
have skipped an important step. We should talk to them.”

Gods, no.

“It’s fine, really,” Hermione puffed out, blowing a curl off her face. “Please don’t pressure them.”

A demur laugh followed as Narcissa placed her tea on the table and leveled a soft glare that made
her jaw clench.

“Dear,” Narcissa tilted her chin. “Theodore and Draco were raised in a manner that befitted a
proper marriage…...”
Pureblood nonsense aside, there was nothing that could ever waiver Narcissa’s aristocratic
upbringing. Certain things were expected of Draco and Theo, and Hermione too now, she
supposed.

“They do not get to dawdle about avoiding it. And I assure you, they know nothing of pressure –
not yet, at least,” Narcissa sipped her tea. “If it is not something you want, Hermione, I’ll leave it
be for now.”

Nervously, Hermione nibbled through a plate of biscuits on the table. It had been a year, certainly
something that was up for discussion. She didn’t see the need – it was all the same for them.

“Outside of some glorified party, I don’t see the point. We are already soul bound, we want to be
together,” she stared at the half-drained liquid in her cup.

“It’s a commitment, a statement to everyone. I know you don’t like it, sweetheart. But the Nott and
Malfoy names carry great weight. Seeing them committed to one another is a big deal and would
go a long way in solidifying the things I know you want to accomplish.”

No, not Melody too. She reached out, covering Hermione’s hand with hers and giving it a soft
squeeze.

“What are you afraid of, sweetheart?”

“That I don’t belong,” she whispered.

Words tumbled out of her mouth before she had time to think about an answer. A single tear
streaked down her cheek. Yes, she wanted to marry Draco and Theo. They had talked about it
briefly – they wanted to as well. But they could sense her reluctance—nothing to do with them, but
with the implications that came with it.

Content to give her all the time she wanted; they hadn’t pushed her on it again. Instead, she focused
on what brought her joy – the home they were building and their time together.

There were a lot of expectations if she married them, whether they wanted to believe it or not.
Draco and Theo grew up like that; it wasn’t new to them, but it was to her. No one had made her
feel like her blood status mattered – some would, though. Because of her, it was inevitable that two
millennia of pureblood lines would be ‘sullied.’ Her nose twitched in disgust.

Narcissa rose to her feet, ever the imposing figure in her perfectly tailored robes and manicured
nails. Slender and tall with pronounced features, the witch exuded power and precision. Her eyes
and mouth may have been soft, but her words could cut through marble.

“Hermione Granger,” she flinched at the sharpness of her tone. “No Malfoy,” her gaze flickered to
Melody, “or Nott Lady, for that matter, will ever think of themselves as less than. Carry yourself
with confidence and grace. You are a bright and beautiful witch, Hermione. Everyone wants to be
you. It’s time you start seeing that, believing that – being that.”

A lump stuck in her throat. How Draco’s mother could make her feel equal parts admonished and
powerful was impressive.

“You are the only one who could handle Draco and Theo,” Melody smirked. “The fact that you find
them worthy of you,” she looked away. “You do not belong in the shadows; it would be a
disservice. Stand beside them, sweetheart. That is where you belong. Forever and always – if that is
your wish. Do not let anyone else tell you otherwise, especially yourself.”

Gods, she wouldn’t cry around them, no matter how much she wanted to.

“Now that we’ve settled that,” Narcissa sat back down. “Are we planning a wedding then?”

Hermione snorted. “Let’s wait until they ask.”

“Semantics,” she huffed with a dismissive wave of her hand.

The distant sounds of the floo roaring to life made Hermione smile. She leaned over her bent knees,
allowing the fire to dance behind her eyes. Hues of orange started to glow over the terrace as the
sun dipped below the horizon, illuminating the colorful trees in the background. They had promised
they would be home before it got dark, and as if right on cue, the flames signaled their arrival.

With a swish, the terrace door opened, and Draco's mischievous smile was beaming back at her.
Grey eyes twinkled behind his glasses while his forearms flexed against his chest, making her
moan inwardly.

“Let’s go, darling.”

Unceremoniously, he wrapped her in his arms, tossing the blanket aside and effortlessly slinging
her over his shoulder, making her squeak.

“Oi,” she swatted at his back. “Put me down, you blonde brute.”

A brief sting followed the resounding smack of Draco’s palm connecting with Hermione’s arse. She
let out a surprised squeal as he rubbed over the spot before coming down again, making her squirm
in his grasp. It stung, but more than anything, it sent a pang straight between her legs – burning
against an ache that had been there for days now.

“Be a good, little witch,” he hissed. “Calling me a brute was unwarranted.”

The flat of her palms pushed against his sculpted back as she looked over her shoulder, narrowing
her eyes at him.

“If you didn’t manhandle me like a caveman,” she squirmed. “I wouldn’t have to call you a brute.”

Again he slapped her arse, this time lower. Wearing a skirt in October was ill-advised, but now, her
precarious position left her even more compromised. It was harder and landed perfectly where her
thighs met her center, ruining her knickers. She couldn’t hide the moan that escaped her.

“Brat,” he grumbled.

“Brute,” she spat back.

A brutal sting followed in the wake of his palm landing on her backside once more. Draco soothed
the reddening skin as he carried her up the stairs towards their bedroom.

“I had something else in mind,” he palmed her cunt, making her jolt. “But since you insist on
behaving this way,” she groaned, hearing the obscene noises from between her legs as he rubbed
back and forth over the fabric. “I have a better idea.”

Excitement mingled with anticipation and fear in her stomach – swirling like caged pixies. Draco
walked past Theo and tossed Hermione on the bed like she weighed nothing. He whispered
something to Theo as he kissed along the shell of his ear, his hand skating up and squeezing his
throat. Moaning into his touch, Theo keened, and Hermione whimpered, pushing herself up on her
elbows.

Theo stalked over to the bed and crawled over her, caging her beneath him. He brushed his nose
along the hinge of her jaw, inhaling her sweet scent before he nibbled her ear. His voice was thick
and lathed over her, sweet and heavy as molasses.

“Drake’s not happy with you, love.”

Kissing at the spot where her shoulder and throat met made her arch off the bed into him. Silently,
he sucked on the spot, bruising it as he tugged off her jumper and bra before sliding off her skirt,
leaving her in just her knickers.

“Is that so,” she whimpered, looking over his shoulder while her nails dug into the ridges of his
forearms.

Icy grey eyes peered back at her. Arms crossed over his chest, Draco cocked his head to the side as
his tongue darted out to wet his lip before his eyes turned narrow and stern.

“Theodore.” Each syllable was accentuated with such hardness that it could cut stone.

His name was a reminder. Of what? She wasn’t sure, but it echoed low and forcefully throughout
the room and made Theo freeze in his pursuit. Carefully, he gathered both her wrists in one of his
hands before pinning them above her head. He pulled a tie from his pocket and bound them
together before muttering a sticking charm to keep her secure.

“Alright?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she breathed, warmth and wetness pooling between her legs.

If this was some punishment, Draco concocted – well, she was only too happy to participate. If they
wanted to use her and wring endless pleasure from her – she would not object. Teeth closed around
her bottom lip, making her yelp. Theo bit down, just hard enough to bruise, before he kissed her
chastely and removed himself from the bed completely.

Pink tinged most of her body, aware of how exposed she was. Naked and on display like a prized
phoenix. The uncomfortable ache in her center had her shifting her lower body and pulling her
knees up, frantically seeking some sort of friction to alleviate the growing need between her
thighs.

Returning to Draco, he fisted Theo’s brown curls, angling his head back how wanted before he
claimed his mouth in a breath-stealing kiss. Hermione tugged at her restraints and moaned as Draco
swept his tongue along the seam of Theo’s mouth before he started rubbing the outline of his cock
in his trousers. With a nip on his lip, he pulled away, keeping his gaze locked with Theo’s – but his
words were for her.
“You like to watch, little witch,” Draco drawled. “Then you’ll lay there and watch – wet and
wanting.” He tugged Theo’s head, making the wizard groan. “You won’t be able to touch yourself,
and if I see you close your eyes once or try to grind that pretty little pussy against the mattress, I’ll
bruise your backside so that you won’t be able to sit for a week. Do you understand me?” he
growled.

“Fuck,” she hissed under her breath. “Yes,” she paused, narrowing her eyes. “Sir.”

Theo let out a low, throaty moan, knees buckling. Draco’s reaction to her words was more subtle.
The witch was challenging him. Quite cocky for someone in her position. It was one of the many
things he loved about her. He knew what she wanted and refused to give it to her—instead, he
opted to tilt his head to the side. Not breaking his icy glare at her – he stroked Theo’s cock, pulling
incoherent babblings from the wizard.

Fresh waves of arousal dripped down her thighs, past her already-soaked knickers. Sticky and hot.
Her body burned like fiendfyre as each ragged breath puffed past her bruised lips – courtesy of
Theo. Roughly, Draco tugged Theo’s jumper off and yanked him in closer by the waistband of his
trousers, making the brunette stumble.

Hermione and Theo simultaneously moaned as Draco sank to his knees and deftly undid his belt,
slipping the leather loose with a satisfying flourish. He dragged his nose along his straining length,
making quick work on the button and zipper.

“Hard for me, handsome.”

“Yes,” Theo groaned, tossing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Look at me,” he growled.

Draco wasn’t talking to her, but her eyes snapped open further at the command regardless. Her
arousal was thick in the air. She could smell it - she wondered if they could. Squeezing her thighs
together, she ground her hips into the mattress, hoping that it would give her even a modicum of
relief – it didn’t, and a quiet sob stuck in her chest. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, praying
Draco didn’t see her shamelessly grinding into the duvet.

“We’re going to give our witch a bit of show,” Draco yanked down Theo’s briefs, freeing his cock
and watching when it slapped against the defined lines of his stomach. “I’m going to suck you –
just the way you love. And then I’m going to fuck you while she watches.”

Ignoring her must have been part of his whispered words to Theo because they continued to avoid
acknowledging the needy noises that she made. They were no longer quiet – now full-blown moans
and sobs. Theo’s cock was hard and throbbing for attention. Hermione wished it was her on her
knees for him.

“You’re not to come, Theo,” his tongue licked the pearl of precum on his tip.

“Drake,” he whined.

“Don’t worry, handsome. You’ll come tonight,” he soothed. “You’re going to fill our witch’s tight,
little cunt before the night is through.”

“Please,” Hermione groaned, pulling against the restraints. “Let Theo fuck me now.”
Unbothered by her begging, Draco swirled his tongue around the head of his length before his lips
closed around and audibly sucked. His hands skated along the backs of Theo’s thighs, pushing him
further down his throat until Draco had swallowed the entirety of him.

“Gods,” Theo moaned, his hands digging into the silver strands. “Don’t stop.”

Draco hummed around him as he hollowed his cheeks and moved back and forth, controlling
Theo’s thrusts from the position on the backs of his legs. It wasn’t long before Hermione saw Theo
falter, the muscles in his legs and abdomen visibly shaking.

Only then did Draco pull away with a loud gratifying suck. He kissed his way up the wizard’s chest
and throat until his mouth found his, pulling him into another bruising kiss.

“On the bed, hands and knees, facing our witch.”

As Theo weakly shuffled into position, Hermione couldn’t look away from Draco as he slowly
undid each button on his oxford. He seemed to be taking special care not to look at her; instead, he
watched every movement Theo made, which was exhilarating. She could feel the wet spot that had
gathered under her on the blankets.

Once naked, Draco positioned himself behind Theo, his hazel eyes almost black and fixed on her.
His eyes traveled and got wide when he caught sight of her arousal on the bed and surely on her
knickers. He must have smelled her – this close. A growl rumbled low in his throat as he licked his
lips and silently stared at her.

Hermione watched as Draco murmured a lubrication charm and swirled the pad of his thumb
around the entrance to Theo’s arse – taking his bloody time. Torturously slowly, Draco dipped his
thumb up to the knuckle, pushing it in and out at a languid pace before he removed it completely.
Theo let out the most pitiful-sounding sob before Draco slipped his index finger in. After three
passes, he pulled out again.

“Drake,” Theo hissed. “More. Please.”

“Patience, handsome – have to make sure you’re ready for me,” Draco kissed a spot on the small of
his back.

Carefully, Draco slid two fingers in, up to the knuckle. Deliciously, Draco pumped his fingers in
and out of Theo as he scissored inside and stretched him. Hermione had finally accepted that she
was a voyeur, at least when it came to them. She loved watching the pleasure that Draco could pull
from Theo. It made her melt. Usually, though, she was involved or at least allowed to play with
herself. Her thighs quaked with a need that was boiling over.

“Please let me touch myself,” she moaned.

They ignored her. Her voice was no more than a pesky fairy buzzing around. Removing his fingers,
Draco bracketed Theo’s hips in a grip that would surely leave bruises. But Theo didn’t care. He
arched his head back at the contact. Moving one hand from the brunette’s hip, Draco curled his
fingers in the strands, forcing Theo’s head back and connecting his now black eyes with
Hermione’s. He was going to stare at their witch while Draco fucked him into oblivion.

Carefully, Draco filled Theo, making both him and Hermione moan. How she wished it was her he
was filling; her cunt fluttered around nothing. He set a slow pace, leaning over and covering Theo’s
back with his chest while he kissed and sucked around his ear and throat – his hand leaving Theo’s
hair and closing around his throat, squeezing it with each rut of his cock into Theo’s arse.

Draco looked up for the first time in what felt like hours, his grey eyes locked with hers. They
drifted down until they caught a glimpse of the sticky arousal that coated not only her thighs but
her knickers and the bed as well. Draco smirked while she groaned and ground her hips into the
mattress. Without breaking his pace, he tsked her.

“Look at the mess you’ve made, you naughty witch. I thought I told you not to rub your needy little
cunt on the bed. And look at you, doing just that,” he growled.

With a sob, her body stilled – realizing she was caught. “I’m sorry,” she groaned.

“You will be,” Draco uttered in a low, menacing tone, making her blood run cold. “Theo, are you
close to coming?”

“Fuck – yes,” he moaned.

Draco nipped on his ear before returning to his full height and pulling out of him, making Theo
groan at the loss. He knew it was coming, but the long build-up didn’t leave him any less frustrated.

Crawling over the bed, Draco rested a palm on either side of her hips – his eyes lazily roamed over
her body as if cataloging every bead of sweat and pink tinge to her skin. If she had to guess, her
eyes were black and wide, pleading in unspoken words. A chuckle mixed with a growl as he
hovered over her before his tongue darted out to flick her nipple, making her scream and buck.

“So responsive,” he murmured along the bud.

“Please, please, please,” she whispered.

“Going to call me a brute again,” his tongue swirled around the peak.

“No,” she whimpered.

“Good girl,” he cooed.

A slap at the apex of her thighs made her groan, the noise lewd. His fingers rubbed along the wet
spot on her knickers briefly before slipping down and inspecting the equally damp area on the
bedding under her. Draco crawled up her body until his mouth brushed the shell of her ear while he
removed the sticking charm and undid the tie around her wrists.

“Need to clean you up, darling,” Draco sucked a spot behind her ear. “You’ve made quite the mess,
haven’t you?”

He pulled her upright, and she nodded while he rubbed and kissed the tender spot on her wrists.
Satisfied that she wasn’t hurt, he urged her towards the foot of the bed. Draco sat on the edge, with
his feet firmly on the floor. Once he was situated, he vanished her knickers with a flick. The cool
air felt harsh on her swollen, burning cunt – the sudden feeling made her hiss.

Paying her no mind, Draco positioned her so she was sitting on his lap, his cock pushed up against
her arse, a leg swung over each of his. He banded a single arm around her waist, keeping her
immobile against him.
“Theo, come clean up our witch.”

Theo sank before them and positioned himself between Draco’s wide-set stance. Long fingers
closed around her throat, tilting her head back until it rested entirely on his shoulder. Teeth grazed
along the shell of her ear.

“Would you like that, darling? To come on Theo’s tongue and fingers.”

“Please,” she moaned. The word barely whispered as his grip tightened around her.

Draco slapped her cunt, making her cry out. “Beg me, witch. You did disobey me, after all. You
should apologize to me for trying to rub yourself on my bed. Ask me nicely to let Theo lick that
desperate cunt of yours,” his hand connected with her apex again, making her legs shake and her
body pulse.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” she moaned quietly. “Please let Theo lick me.”

Satisfied with her response, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Draco wordlessly flick his hand at
Theo, indicating he could continue.

Sparks of electricity buzzed through her when Theo swiped a long stripe of his tongue through her
entrance. After only two more passes with his tongue, her thighs shook – her orgasm threatening
after building inside her for the last hour watching them. His lips closed around her clit as he kissed
and sucked the bundle of nerves reverently.

Draco bit down on her lobe, making her squeal. “Tell Theo what a good job he’s doing. How good
he’s making you feel.”

Theo’s low moan hummed over her clit, making a squeal catch in her throat. “You are so bloody
perfect, Theo. Just like that. Don’t fucking stop – please. I want to come for you.”

“Stop,” Draco whispered low.

Theo pulled away, extinguishing the blaze he had just stoked inside of her. “No,” she sniffled.
Draco closed his lips around a tender spot just above her clavicle and sucked while Theo sat back
on his haunches. “Please, Draco,” she whispered. “Please, let me come.” Wordlessly, he nodded at
Theo as his fingers closed tighter around her throat making her gasp.

A single finger sank into her, and she clamped down, squeezing around it like she would die
without it. Pulling it out, Theo slipped back in, adding a second finger as his lips continued to lick
and suck along her clit. Her legs quaked more frantically with each thrust of his fingers inside her,
curling and tapping along the spot that made fireworks shoot off behind her eyes.

Maybe she really was the sun because she burned like it – her whole body on the precipice of
imploding like a supernova. She tried to twist and tug away from Theo’s ministrations, but Draco
held her firm around her waist and by her throat – his tongue flicking along her ear.

“No, darling,” Draco hummed. “You’re going to feel all of it. Take all of it.”

It only took one more stroke of Theo’s fingers and tongue before her orgasm detonated through her
like an exploding star. Lights flickered behind her eyes, her whole body shaking in Draco’s hold as
Theo worked her through each crest of her pleasure. Slowly, he pumped his fingers until he
removed them; Hermione drained, and she went limp in Draco’s arms.

“Good girl, Hermione. So good for us,” he kissed her temple and brushed the curls off her face.
“Let me taste her.”

Theo leaned in, slotting his mouth with Draco’s. The wizard moaned around his lips, sucking, and
licking at the wetness that was gathered there.

“She’s fucking perfect,” Draco growled with a nip on his lip. A finger slipped down the seam of her
arse, wetness pooling there with a muttered lubrication charm – instinctually, her body went rigid at
the implication. The pad of his finger swirled around her tight entrance.

“I want to fuck you here, darling. Is that alright?”

“Yes,” she murmured, as blush crept up her cheeks.

No matter how many times they did it, the implication of one of them fucking her in the arse
always made her a little shy. Draco sank a finger into her slowly while Theo stood in front of them,
lazily stroking his cock and chewing on his bottom lip. He added another finger, stretching and
scissoring inside of her - moving in and out at a languid pace.

“We’re going to go slow; I need you to relax for me and breathe.”

Lifting her off his lap, Draco carefully lowered her onto him, nudging just the tip inside at first. She
took a deep breath and focused on relaxing.

“That’s it, love,” Theo encouraged.

Slowly, Draco lowered her down further, stretching and filling her carefully until she was settled
firmly in his lap, his cock buried deep in her arse.

“You alright, beautiful?”

“I need you to move,” she groaned, grinding her hips against him.

A dark chuckle reverberated in his chest as his hands landed on her hips, stilling her movements,
and making her pout.

“Theo is going to fuck that perfect cunt of yours.”

Gingerly, Draco pushed his legs out wider, spreading her open and giving Theo more room to slip
between them. Her head fell back onto his chest as her arms reached behind her and wrapped
around his neck. Theo slotted between them and lined up the tip of his cock with her entrance,
dragging it through her folds and coating himself in her.

Only an inch at a time, he sank into her slowly. She nibbled her lip as she watched him lose himself
in her, his eyes rolling back as he dipped further into her. Her cunt fluttered and stretched around
him, molding perfectly to his cock. It was so tight and complete, both of them still inside as Theo
inched in the last bit until their bodies touched.

Theo bracketed her face in his hands, capturing her lips in a warm kiss.
“Gods, I love you, Hermione. You are perfection. You both are.” He pulled away and kissed Draco
soundly.

“If you love me, Theo,” she sobbed. “Please, for the love of Merlin, move.”

“Patience, Hermione,” Draco snickered.

Draco ground his hips into hers, only moving in and out just a bit. Once he set an even, tantalizing,
tortuous pace, Theo angled his hips and pumped into her, eliciting lewd noises from between them.
The pad of his thumb moved down and swiped deliciously over her clit as he hit that spot just
behind it inside of her with each stroke.

“Made for us, darling,” Draco whispered, grinding into her.

“Made for me, both of you,” she moaned, chasing the high that only they could give her.

Weakly, her head fell forward, colliding with Theo’s sweat-streaked chest. Draco peppered sloppy
kisses down the column of her spine, his own movements inside her becoming more erratic.
Merlin, it was perfect. They were perfect. Theo cradled her head to his chest while his other hand
gripped her hip.

“You’re close, love. Come for us.”

Theo’s words pushed her over the edge. The wave of her orgasm engulfed her like a volcanic
eruption, hot and consuming. Her body contracted under the force, her legs shaking and her
muscles taut.

Almost in unison, Theo and Draco came inside her with a roar and a moan, both filling her to the
brim. Slipping out of her gently, no one bothered or cared to clean up the cum that dripped down
her legs. Pulling the thick duvet over them, Theo maneuvered her spent form until it was nestled
perfectly between him and Draco.

Drawing small circles on her hip, Draco tilted her head back and kissed her.

“I love you,” he whispered. “And you,” he leaned over and kissed Theo.

Brushing her curls aside, Theo kissed along the length of her shoulder, whispering sweet words in
his wake. His lips paused over her scar. Words of love and adoration filled the air between them as
Hermione drifted off, more at peace than she had ever thought possible.

One month later

Portkeys, Hermione hated them. And international portkeys, she despised them, avoiding them at
all costs. Draco and Theo went through so much trouble planning this trip. She would stomach the
highly unpleasant experience. They had received approval for all three of them to have a week off
from the DMLE.

The only insight they had given her was that it was a well-deserved holiday, and they would need to
take an international portkey. She hadn’t even been allowed to pack. Pippa did it for her. Afraid that
it would give away the surprise.
Having arrived at their designated portkey departure, Hermione shivered even under the warming
charm. Theo had insisted that she wear a sundress, advising her that it would be quite hot when
they arrived at their destination. Draco and Theo sported tan linen trousers that left little to the
imagination, and Hermione couldn’t help herself from staring.

The old shoe started to glow once it hit midnight. Late, but her wizards insisted leaving so late was
necessary.

“On three,” Draco said. “One. Two. Three.”

On three, they all reached and grabbed hold of the discarded trainer. The unpleasant sensation of
being sucked and swirled through a long, narrow tube was longer than usual, not surprising given
that it was an overseas destination, but still nauseating. Once they arrived, Hermione toppled to the
ground, landing on her bum, legs sprawled out on some innocuous patch of grass.

Of course, her posh prats landed gracefully on their feet and looked none the worse for wear. On
the other hand, she had turned a pale, sickly shade of green and wondered when the earth would
stop spinning and why there were now two of everything.

“Bottoms up, love.”

Crouching over her, Theo handed her a vial with a sparkly lavender liquid that she immediately
recognized as a nausea potion. Hermione unstopped the vial and knocked it back quickly, praying it
would work instantly. It only took about a minute before she started to feel normal again as each of
them helped her up.

On her feet, Hermione smoothed down the front of her white and yellow sundress, thankful that
Theo had convinced her to put it on. Sweat was already beading down her neck. The sun was bright
and high in the sky. Looking around, Hermione tried to place where they were as her wizards stared
at her with reserved caution like she was a skittish puppy.

Metal roofs covered most of the homes; something ticked in her jaw; she had been here before, but
it had been years. Fear crept up her back, making the hair stand on end. Theo moved closer, sensing
something was wrong. His arms bracketed hers, eyes locking.

Recognizing where they were, Hermione jerked against Theo’s grasp, desperate to run away – far
away.

“Theo, no,” she shouted. “I can’t be here. Why? Why would you do this? Please,” she begged,
twisting and pulling against him trying to escape.

His grip on her arms tightened as he cradled her protectively into his chest, stroking her hair
soothingly. Draco stood steadfast at her back, his hand caressing the column of her spine.

“Love, shhh. Listen. You trust us, don’t you?” he murmured into her curls.

“Of course,” she sniffled. “But Theo, I can’t do this. Please. Let’s go somewhere else. Anywhere
else. Please,” she plead.

The row of houses, the street, the trees, the taste of saltwater in the air: all eerily familiar. At the
end of the cul-de-sac sat the home of Emily and Paul Scott. They had to know how much this
would hurt her, like some fresh torture. Why were they in Brisbane? And why were they walking
towards her parents’ house?

Tugging her into a secluded corner, he cast a quick notice-me-not charm around them while Draco
followed it up with a silencing charm after making sure no muggles were around.

“Hermione,” Theo kissed her temple. “This is where I’ve been coming. Every trip for the DoM has
been here, visiting your parents - specifically.”

“I don’t understand,” she sniffled, looking between the two wizards.

Draco rubbed soothing circles between her shoulders.

“I’ve been working with the DoM,” he inhaled deeply. “We found a way to reverse lost memories
with a traditional memory charm. It was a tortuously slow process and involved some trial and
error. I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t tell you, my love. I couldn’t risk seeing your heart shatter again if
it didn’t work.”

Words came from Theo’s mouth, but she didn’t dare believe him. Indeed, she must have
misunderstood what he was saying. But how could she? Why else would they be here? Long-
forgotten emotions stirred in her, ones that she forced down for years.

“Theodore Nott,” she whispered. “Are you telling me that my parents,” she swallowed hard. “That
they remember who they are? Who I am?” The last question was barely a whisper.

A tentative smile plucked at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, Hermione. They remember everything.
They have been desperate to see their daughter. But I had to be certain there would be no ill side
effects before I brought you.”

Tears burst from her like the flood waters of a busted dam as uncontrolled sobs racked through her
body. She collapsed into Theo as he held her tight. Draco wrapped them both up in his arms.
Neither said anything, instead giving her the time to feel and process everything, never leaving her
side. Eventually, she leaned back, eyes glassy and swollen.

“What do they know? Do they know about the war? Us?”

“Well, they just met Draco a month ago. But yes, they know the three of us are together,” he smiled
when Hermione tried to interrupt as she went pale. “They’re fine with it, my love. They just want to
see you. Mentioned something about polyamorous neighbors and being ‘hip’ to that – whatever that
means.”

A watery snort crackled in Hermione’s throat as Theo continued.

“I kept most of it vague. They know you hid them to keep them safe from the war. But I gave them
no details other than that Voldemort was dead, and it was over a few years ago. I figured you could
share any of that story with them if you wish. I told them how you’re a healer for the Ministry,” he
tucked a curl behind her ear. “They’re very proud,” Hermione sniffed. “They know Drake is an
auror, akin to some muggle policeman. Also, they are quite impressed with that. I couldn’t really
find a muggle comparable to give them for what I do. But I will admit, Jean Granger is a bit
flirtatious – I think both your parents like me,” he winked.

Draco smacked Theo playfully over the back of the head, making all three of them laugh.
“Do you want some time, darling? We have a hotel, a muggle one. We could go get settled before
visiting your parents.”

Musing over the idea, Hermione decided against it.

“No. I’m alright. I’d like to see them. Are they expecting us, me?”

“Yes,” Theo smiled, looping her arm through his. “They are very excited.”

Walking through the street like muggles, Hermione’s throat bobbed uncomfortably as they got
closer, her fingers closing like a vise around Theo’s. Moving up the path to the door felt surreal,
and a small part of her still wanted to run. What if they were angry or, worse yet, disappointed with
her? Maybe Theo had tried to sugarcoat how they really felt.

Draco lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “Ready?”

Buzzing with what had to be every emotion known to man, Hermione nodded, still contemplating
turning and sprinting. Not that she could, like he knew it was a thought, Theo held her arm snugly
through his. Draco knocked on the door and stepped back, slinging his arm around her waist.

Mere seconds later, the door swung open, and there stood Jean and David Granger, tears already
streaking down her mother’s face as she lunged forward, pulling Hermione into a hug that
threatened to shatter every bone in her body. But she didn’t care. Theo and Draco stepped back
when David Granger wrapped his arms around them.

“Mum. Dad,” Hermione said tentatively. “I’ve missed you.”

“We’ve missed you too, sweetheart. We love you so much.”

While maybe it was under the guise of a romantic holiday, the three of them spent their week with
Hermione’s parents. They never even bothered to check into the hotel; instead, they stayed in the
guest room at her mother's insistence. Draco did a fair bit of complex magic to at least make the
bed large enough for the three of them to sleep comfortably in.

She was thankful that Theo shielded them from most of the atrocities of the war. Losing their
memories and seven years with their daughter was enough. They didn’t need to know the rest. Nor
did Hermione care to relive it. And Theo was right; her mother was a bit of a flirt, and while it
embarrassed her, something was endearing about it.

Jean Granger didn’t miss an opportunity to share how fit she thought Hermione’s two young men
were, her father shaking his head and laughing. What made her endlessly happy was that they
accepted their relationship, openly and without awkwardness, like it had always been that way. And
they adored Theo and Draco in equal measure.

It was more than a little disappointing when, halfway through the week, her parents told her that
they wanted to stay in Brisbane. They loved it here and had friends and a life they would be leaving
behind if they returned to the UK. Hermione understood there wasn’t much left for them in London
anymore. Theoretically, it wasn’t difficult for them to visit; just a Ministry form for portkey
authorization.
Hermione had joked about visiting every Sunday for brunch. Draco just kissed her cheek and
squeezed her thigh.

“Anything you want, darling. I can have a regular portkey set up.”

Blush crept up her face, rather liking the idea, at least for a little while. It could have all been a
dream; she wasn’t confident it wasn’t, and it garnered more than a few laughs when she kept asking
people to pinch her.

On the last night of their trip, the three strolled hand in hand along the beach. It was the first real-
time they had been alone since arriving. Dinners and every moment had been spent with her parents
– all of it encouraged by her two perfect partners.

Toes in the sand, they watched as the sun hung low in the sky and waves crested into the beach.
Theo carried her thongs, his other hand entwined with hers. They walked through the sand, the
water kissing their feet until Theo gestured to a secluded spot behind an outcropping of rocks.
Draco conjured a small blanket that the three of them sprawled out on. Theo dropped his and
Hermione’s shoes to the ground as Draco followed suit, all of them burying their feet in.

Pink and orange glows erupted over the horizon, kissing the ocean with its color in a fiery display.
The heat had just started to break, but the cooling charms they had been casting kept the sun from
being too overbearing. Draco spread his legs and ushered Hermione into the spot, pulling her back
into his chest. Theo slid in, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder, rubbing a soft trail with his
fingertips along her arm.

“Thank you,” Hermione huffed. “For everything. This couldn’t have been more perfect.”

“Anything for you, my love,” Theo hummed, kissing her collarbone. “You know that.”

“I do,” she sighed. From the beginning, he had said he would do anything for her and always did.

They would do anything for her, and she would do anything for them.

“Hermione,” Draco murmured. She twisted around to face him. “Theo and I felt so lost until we
found you. Like a piece was missing, and I suppose it was,” he chuckled. “You make us whole. You
fill our hearts with so much love and acceptance. You love us just as we are. The dark and the light.
Fire and ice.”

Draco searched his pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box. A breath hitched in her throat, a
hand flinging up to cover her mouth. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, and her gaze darted
between them. Theo smiled, the pad of his thumb rubbing the apple of her cheek. Draco squeezed
her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“We know we’ve said forever,” Draco swallowed. “But we’d like to show it,” he flicked open the
box. “Hermione. Will you marry us?”

Quickly, she wiped away the tears. From inside the soft cushion, a stunning ring gleamed back at
her. A pear-shaped diamond set in a platinum band sat in the velvet, flanked by smaller moonstones
on either side—her moon and stars.

“Yes. Of course,” she forced out. “I was always yours,” she whispered.
 “And us, you, love.”

Theo slid the ring onto her finger as the sun set, harboring a new chapter for them. One that
Hermione knew would bring nothing but love and joy.

Chapter End Notes

The epilogue will be posted sometime later this week once I'm able to do some final clean up.
Thank you again for all your support of this story. It has meant so much to me. I am so happy
that so many of you have enjoyed it :)

As yes - a lot of you were correct with the theory about Hermione's parents and Theo!!!
 Chapter 25 Epilogue
Chapter by DarkCloud190

Chapter Notes

This is it folks - the final chapter and the epilogue. What a wild ride - I'm a little sad that it's
over. This story has been such a big part of my life for almost a year now, so it's just weird to
me that we're saying goodbye. But I cannot tell you how happy I am that so many of you have
enjoyed it. So, Merry Christmas if you celebrate. I have you find this ties up our fav little triad
in a happy little bow!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

1 Year Later – September 2005

Quidditch wasn’t Hermione’s thing, but she wouldn’t miss the World Cup. They had box seats in
the thick of it, courtesy of Britain’s star Chaser, Ginny Weasley. The roar in the stadium was
deafening as they maneuvered through endless stairs and rows to find their seats. Pansy and Harry
were trying to calm a pacing Blaise when they arrived.

“Mate, everything will be fine. Deep breath,” Draco encouraged, clapping Blaise on the back.

Shaking his head and snickering, Blaise finally sat down, his knee bouncing while his hand
fumbled with something in his pocket. Offering him a smile of comfort, Hermione sat next to Theo,
draping her legs over his thighs. He leaned in to kiss her while his fingers trailed a slow pattern up
and down her calf.

“Bets on if Blaise vomits?” Theo whispered.

“10 galleons he does before the match is finished,” Draco snorted, sitting beside Theo.

Hermione hissed at them. “Knock it off, you two; leave him be.”

“You want in, Granger?” he snickered.

Rolling her eyes, she pretended to ignore the glint of gold exchanged between her two wizard’s
hands. The match was exhilarating even if Hermione struggled to keep up. Throughout the game,
they gave her tidbits of information that she feasted on. She jumped to her feet and cheered
vehemently any time Ginny scored.

The crowd grew silent as both seekers sped shoulder to shoulder toward the snitch, a play that
would decide the game and the cup. Everyone was on their feet. Hermione dug her nails into
Draco’s bicep, burying her face in Theo’s shoulder, afraid to look. Cheers and screams erupted
around her and across the stadium. Hermione squealed as Theo lifted her by the waist. The
announcers’ voice rang out.

“Davies catches the snitch. Britain wins!”

In the chaos, Blaise vanished, striding out to meet his girl on the pitch. Reporters, family, and
friends flooded the field to celebrate the team’s victory. Hermione threw herself harshly against the
railing, leaning over as far as she could to watch. Bracketing her, Draco and Theo stood on either
side, stroking her back.

A reporter from the Prophet thrust his wand near Blaise’s throat, amplifying his voice as he
dropped to one knee, eliciting another round of rancorous shouts.

Vibrating with joy, Hermione only heard the last part of Blaise’s speech.

“Ginevra Weasley, light of my life. Will you marry me?”

Unbridled tears of joy streaked down Hermione’s cheeks while she watched Blaise lift Ginny up,
spinning her around, the diamond ring glistening on her finger. The pad of her thumb rubbed at the
stone on the ring perched on her left hand. Two of her closest friends were engaged, with her own
wedding only a couple of months away.

Draco wrapped his long fingers around her hip, pulling his in close. His teeth dragged along the
shell of her as he whispered just loud enough for her and Theo to hear.

“You know what is going to happen tonight? Since I won our bet.”

Hermione huffed indignantly. “I did not agree to any terms of a so-called bet, Malfoy. So, you can’t
have possibly won anything.”

“Theo agreed for both of you,” he clicked his tongue and arched a blond brow at the other wizard.

“Honestly. That’s not even legal to bet on another’s behalf,” she spun around to face Theo.

The wizard shrugged with a mischievous glint in his eye. “All’s fair in love and war, Hermione.”

Draco sucked on a tender spot just behind her ear making her knees buckle. “We. We should go.
Congratulate Blaise and Gin,” Hermione moaned.

“In a minute,” Draco purred low. “I need to explain my prize,” he nipped at her lobe. “I am going to
shag you senseless, Granger. Fuck you into oblivion while Theo watches until you are a weeping
mess in our bed,” she whimpered. “Only then will I fill you full of my seed.”

Tugging Theo closer, Draco nipped at the other wizard’s jaw.

“Then Theo is going to clean my cum out of your pretty little cunt until you are begging him to
stop. Your body will be so wrung out that, eventually, your sweet pleas will die on your lips. Maybe
then, we’ll let you rest, darling. But only if you are our good witch and do as I say.”

There was something to be said about having two mothers-in-law, particularly ones who took
wedding planning to the extreme. Hermione had little interest in the details of the day, only caring
about who was there and that it was a winter wedding. Robards had retired a few months ago, with
Harry replacing him as the new head of the DMLE. Harry becoming the new head of the DMLE
led to Draco’s promotion to Auror Captain. He was busier than usual and gave carte blanche to
whatever they wanted regarding the wedding.
“As long as you two are naked in my bed at the end of the night, with my ring on your fingers, the
rest is superfluous.”

Merlin, he knew how to make her blush.

Oddly calm, Hermione stood stoic and tall; deep breaths flooded her until it was time. Pansy and
Ginny flitted around her, smiling adoringly. The gown of her dress was heavy and pure satin that
shimmered in the light. A long-sleeved lace bodice decorated the top half of the dress with a demur
v-cut. Buttons trailed down the column of her spine.

Pansy had worked no small miracle on her hair, pinning her wild curls up into a tasteful updo
accentuated with a diamond hair clip holding it all together. Ginny passed her the bouquet of
crimson, white, and pink florals – all handpicked from Nott and Malfoy Manor. With a kiss on each
cheek, her friends took their bouquets and walked out to the pace of the music.

Flanked by her parents, Jean Granger remained markedly calm while her father fought with the
tears that swam just behind his eyes. The music changed and he whispered to his daughter.

“That’s our cue.”

Linking her arms through theirs, she walked through the double doors – eyes locking with the two
wizards waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Both were immaculately dressed in black dress
robes. If she hadn’t been so entranced by the men waiting for her, perhaps she would have had time
to take in the beautifully decorated manor gardens—the floral-lined aisle or the statues that
illuminated the dusting of snow on the ground.

Kissing her goodbye, her parents took their seats as a pair of hands reached up to guide her up the
platform.

Filius Flitwick, the only certified soul bonder for European triads, stood before them. Words of
love, commitment, permanence – echoed throughout the ceremony. The bond was sealed with the
tip of Filius’ wand, and golden ropes emerged, binding their hands and magic together – for
eternity.

The rest of the evening was a blurry haze. There were far too many people at their reception, a fair
bit of them Hermione didn’t even know, but she didn’t care. She danced with her wizards, kissed
them – and got a bit too handsy with them after one too many firewhiskey’s, but she was blissfully
happy.

At the end of the night, Draco apparated all of them home. To the beautiful home they had built,
which had just been finished in time for the wedding, to everyone’s relief.

“Rest tonight, my loves,” Draco murmured, kissing each of their rings in turn. “Because tomorrow,
and on our honeymoon. I can’t make any promises that you will get any sleep.”

October 2007

Merlin, she was exhausted; only after persistent insistence from Draco and Theo did Hermione
finally take leave from the Ministry, due to pop at any moment. It was early evening, and Theo
strolled with her through the gardens. It was down a cobblestone path that weaved through endless
hedges and floral arrangements surrounding their modest stone home. While the home had been a
compromise, Draco wanted something much larger. The home was nestled on vast acreage,
decorated with gardens, woods, and even a tiny unicorn population that Hermione adored.

Rubbing a hand over her swollen stomach, Theo laced his fingers through hers, resting their joined
hands on her belly. A light twinkled in his eyes when a little foot kicked, making their hands jolt.

“Going to be a quidditch player,” he murmured. Hermione just shook her head, focusing on taking
one step in front of the other. She really just wanted to crawl back into bed, but her healer insisted
she take at least one walk a day. Passed her due date; she would do anything to get these babies out
of her. “Are you ok, my love? A little bit longer or would you like to go lay down?”

“Just to the fountain and then let’s turn back. I’m tired and a bit hungry.”

Not that it was news; Hermione was always hungry, it seemed.

“Of course,” Theo hummed. “What do you want to eat?”

Blush crept up her cheeks while she bristled at his question. She had been craving increasingly odd
foods, and while Theo and Draco acquiesced to her weird requests, she had a feeling Theo would
not be so inclined to this time. Or maybe he would, and she was just embarrassed. Biting her lip,
she shuffled her feet before murmuring out her muffled request.

“Vanilla ice cream with bits of pickles sprinkled on top.”

Almond eyes turned wide as he arched a brow at her, shaking his head.

“Are you mad?” he snorted, making Hermione go completely red.

“Is who mad?”

Strolling up the cobblestone path, Draco appeared to have just gotten home from the DMLE – still
clad in his leather wand harness and traditional oxford. He splayed a large palm possessively over
her stomach while kissing each of them in turn before kissing her belly.

“Theo won’t get me the food I asked for,” she pouted.

“Theodore, seriously?” Draco hissed.

“Oi, I didn’t say that,” he looked at Hermione. “Tell Drake what you want love.”

“Not now,” she huffed, turning, and storming back towards the house.

“What is it, darling?” Draco moved beside her, slotting his fingers with hers.

“Vanilla ice cream with pickles,” she murmured.

Apparently, all that was needed to induce labor on an overdue pregnancy was the weird concoction
of pickles and ice cream. Later that night, Hermione’s water broke. Despite Theo’s protests – she
was adamant about giving birth at home. They notified Melody and Narcissa, and both arrived
within the hour of the message going out. Padma was at their home shortly after – at Draco’s behest
to ensure everything went smoothly.
By all accounts, it had been a difficult pregnancy. Magical pregnancies inherently carried more risk
but layered with their soul bond, and the fact that there were two of them – it only amplified it. For
the first three months, Hermione had been sick almost constantly. Weak and sleepy.

On more than one occasion she fell asleep in rather interesting places. Once in her office, sure.
Another time, in the Minister’s office, it was rather funny when Draco had to come gather her and
get her home. There was the other time she dozed off, teacup in hand at Nott Manor. Melody had
kindly put her to bed in a guestroom until Theo arrived to take her home.

Sweat beaded down her face, strands of curls sticking everywhere. She had been in labor for hours;
everyone kept reassuring her there was progress and it was almost time. Narcissa encouraged her to
push while Padma stayed settled between her legs. Squeezing down on Draco and Theo’s hand like
a vise, Hermione pushed as hard as she could before weakly collapsing back on the pillows.

“Bloody witch, are you trying to break my hand?”

Hermione growled. It would have been almost adorable if it wasn’t absolutely terrifying.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy. I know you did not just talk to your wife like that. Not right now,” Melody
hissed.

Few things made Draco shrink back; being admonished by his mother-in-law was one of them. He
tilted his head to the side and grimaced, shaking the pain from his fingers before threading them
back with Hermione’s, wiping the sweat off her brow with a cool cloth.

“You’re doing so well, darling.”

“We’re proud of you, love; you’re almost there.”

Encouragement of your almost done seemed to go on for hours. With a long push, a sound of cries
broke out in the room. Hermione may have broken Draco’s hand, but he stayed tight lipped if that
was the case.

“You’ve got this sweetheart,” Melody cooed. “One out, one to go. Another big push on the next
contraction.”

Nodding weakly, Hermione didn’t even have time to enjoy the sight of Draco holding their child in
his arms. Clamping down ferociously on Theo’s forearm, she pushed with all the vigor she could
muster on the next contraction; another set of cries filled the room. Kisses peppered her flushed and
sweaty face.

“Well done, my love,” Theo cooed. Melody cleaned up the baby after Padma gave it a quick once
over and confirmed both were healthy. Theo cradled the tiny infant in his arms, resting his temple
against hers.

“Look at what you made, Hermione.”

“What we made,” she whispered.

Draco sat on the other side, softly rocking the other baby from side to side. He was so tiny; their
baby boy looked absolutely minuscule in Draco’s large arms. Hermione kissed their son tenderly
before turning over to kiss their daughter in Theo’s arms.
Gingerly, Theo laid their daughter on Hermione’s chest as her arms carefully swaddled the little
bundle close to her.

August 2012

“Mum! Leo stole my chocolate frog!”

“Leo Scorpius Malfoy-Nott,” Hermione hissed. “I swear to Merlin, if you do not return Aria's
sweets, I will leave you in Australia.”

“Look what you’ve done,” Theo snorted. “You went and made mum, full name you. I’d do as she
says before she gets any scarier.”

Hermione had never been more thankful that there were three of them because their two children
were a handful. A lovingly adorable handful that she wouldn’t trade for anything. But they drove
her mad daily. While she loved visiting her parents, traveling with two five-year-olds via an
international portkey never ceased being an adventure.

With that crisis averted Hermione relaxed in one of the rocking chairs on her parents’ porch,
watching Leo and Aria chase her parents around their yard. Her mum and dad could barely keep up
with them, not that she could blame them; they could scarcely keep up with their children.

Exhausting though they were, Hermione could never stop smiling at their children. Theo and Draco
sat perched next to her, watching protectively. They never confirmed it, but when she looked at
Aria, all she could see was Theo in her – at least in looks. Long chocolate brown curls, almond-
shaped hazel eyes, and perfectly tanned olive skin. That headstrong little girl may have looked
exactly like Theo but had an attitude that rivaled Draco’s - clever, ambitious, and as stubborn as her
mother.

Leo was sweet and kind, and oddly patient for being so young. But there was no doubt he was a
Malfoy: white, blonde hair and those same icy grey eyes. Having grown up a muggle-born,
Hermione was a little caught off guard when both of them started showing signs of accidental
magic so young; they had been barely a year old when it happened for the first time.

They assured here that while most cases didn’t happen until a child was two or three that it wasn’t
unheard of. Except by the age of three, it was no longer accidental; their children had an unearthly
amount of control over the magic they wielded. After watching Sleepy Beauty, Leo and Aria took
turns changing Draco’s hair between pink and blue. Eventually, he gave up, realizing it was a losing
battle.

At the age of four, they had to sit down with their children and have a serious conversation about
magic and its responsibilities. They could cast certain spells and control them in a way that most
kids didn’t until around 11 or 12. Both were incredibly smart, and understanding of what Draco
was telling them. For the most part, they were good out in public. But that didn’t stop them from
lashing out at home when they were upset.

While reading together after the kids had gone to bed one evening, Draco mused into his wine
glass.

“They’re powerful.”
“Yes. They are,” Hermione sighed.

For all the pride that swelled inside her, it mixed with equal amounts of trepidation and a little bit
of fear. They had agreed to protect their children from the outside as much as they could. But
reporters hid everywhere, eager to get pictures of the Malfoy-Nott children. They feared the public
would find out how advanced their magic was. They were only too aware that with great power
came great responsibility, and there would be those who would look to use their magical prowess to
manipulate them.

Leo and Aria were bright, selfless children. They had every faith that they were raised to be good
and thoughtful. But Draco and Theo, more than most, knew the undue influence that others could
have on them. If anyone suspected – the thought, made a cruel shiver crawl up Hermione’s spine.

They limited their public outings as a family. Leo and Aria didn’t want for friends. They had grown
close to James and Lily - Pansy, and Harry’s children. Melody and Narcissa visited frequently, and
once every couple of months, they would go to Australia to see Hermione’s parents.

The papers frequently reported that Draco, Theo, and Hermione were hiding their children away –
which wasn’t wrong; they were. Everyone speculated that they were squibs and they were
embarrassed. And frankly, they were inclined to let everyone think that. At least until they went to
Hogwarts, then they would be old enough, mature enough to make the right decisions for them.
Hopefully, they could empower them enough to be sure of their convictions by the time they turned
11.

September 1st, 2018

The whirring of a train alarm rang out as a puff of smoke blew out of the floo, hanging thick in the
air. Throngs of people filled the platform. Some they recognized, most they didn’t. Harry and Pansy
flashed them a smile as James and Lily said their goodbyes to their parents, now starting their third
and second years, respectively.

Only too excited, Leo and Aria sprinted towards the train, trunks in tow. Hermione bristled,
realizing they had forgotten about them in the excitement. Theo pulled her to his side as Draco
called out.

“Aria. Leo. Back here now!” he hissed. “Say goodbye to your mother at least. Ungrateful little
sods,” he muttered just loud enough for them to hear.

It only took Draco about a year to perfect the disappointed scowl he now leveled at the pair of them
as they contritely walked back towards their parents. Leo threw his arms around Hermione’s waist
as he met her in the middle and pecked her on the cheek while Aria did something similar with
Theo and then Draco in turn.

“Love you, mum. Sorry, I just got excited. I’m going to miss you.”

“That’s alright,” she beamed. “I love you so much. We’ll see you for Christmas break,” she
squeezed him tighter, making him gasp.

“Easy, love,” Theo chuckled, rubbing her back. “Let the poor boy breathe.”

“Sorry, Leo. I’ll miss you too.”

Reluctantly, she released the hold on her son as he was quickly replaced with Aria. Confidentially,
the young witch threw her arms around her mother’s neck, kissing her cheek.

“Don’t worry mum. I’ll write to you every week and tell you about all the mischief I am getting
into in Slytherin.”

For years, Aria talked about being in Slytherin like it was a certainty. Granted, they all agreed with
her. There would have been a bit of shock if she went anywhere else; their daughter was, as
Hermione liked to put it, all the best parts of green and silver. Leo, that was a toss-up. He could
have been sorted anywhere, but Hermione had an inkling he was a Hufflepuff.

With a final kiss from each of them, they tugged their trunks and disappeared onto the Hogwarts
Express. Hermione sniffled and nuzzled into Draco’s chest while he rubbed the length of her curls
before tilting her chin and kissing her softly.

“They’ll be fine, darling,” Draco reassured her.

“But I won’t,” she sniffed.

Theo chuckled when he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Yes, you will. Drake and I will keep you
plenty entertained,” he waggled his brows.

“Theodore,” she hissed, smacking his chest.

Back at home, the three sat snuggled up by the fire, book in hand. Hermione had been
reading Where the Crawdads Sing aloud to them. It was late, but an owl knocked on the glass, tall
and proud. Unfurling the note, her eyes danced over the ink, and she smiled before tucking it away
and returning to her favorite spot, between Draco and Theo.

Theo’s head returned to her lap, while she stroked his curls. Draco, with his arm, slung over her
shoulder, the backs of his knuckles flirting with the hinge of her jaw.

“Who was that?” Draco murmured.

“Neville,” Hermione whispered. “Aria is in Slytherin,” she smiled.

“Naturally,” Draco beamed proudly.

“And Leo, he is in Hufflepuff,” her smile fell. “Neville made it sound like Leo may have been upset
by the sorting.”

Wordlessly, Theo sat up, and kissed them both before disappearing upstairs.

“I’m going to check on him,” Hermione hummed, kissing Draco.

He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be up shortly.”

It was quiet as she padded up the stairs, her hand gliding along the railing. Theo didn’t look upset
when he got up, but it was abrupt, given the news she had just shared. Turning around the corner,
she poked her head into the not-so-small library they had insisted on, and it was empty. Down the
hall, yellow light spilled out of the study, the door ajar.
Slipping in, Hermione watched as Theo handed a letter to their owl, passing it a treat before it
zoomed out the window.

“Everything alright?” she whispered.

Smiling, Theo pushed back from the desk and patted his thigh. Hermione moved closer and slid
into his lap, curling her arms around his neck, searching his gaze. Calmness swirled in his soft
hazel eyes. A few grey hairs had started to speckle his chocolate locks; Hermione found it only
made him more handsome – even though he blamed Aria and Leo for each one.

“Yes, my love. Just writing a letter to Leo,” he lifted her hand, brushing a kiss over her knuckles as
Draco walked in.

Draco walked behind the chair, tilting Theo’s head back before leaning down and kissing him.
Taking a deep breath, Theo answered their unspoken question.

“On the night of our own sorting,” Theo paused. “That dodgy hat wanted to put me in Hufflepuff.
Internally, I begged it not to. I pleaded with it to put me in Slytherin. Protested how angry my father
would be if I were in any house other than Slytherin.” Hermione drew soft circles on his chest as
she listened. “That manky old hat took pity on me I s’pose,” he snorted, Draco stroking his jaw. “I
remember hearing it say ‘Slytherin’ aloud, and the way I instantly relaxed.”

“Our Slytherpuff,” Draco beamed.

“I shared that story with Leo, not the parts about my father. But that I should have been a
Hufflepuff and how proud I am of him, that we all are.”

Hermione cupped his cheek, kissing him once more. “I’ll be happy if this is the only letter we
receive from Hogwarts this year.”

“Don’t count on it, darling,” Draco laughed. “I give Aria one week before McGonagall is writing to
us about her.”

Groaning, Hermione slid off Theo’s lap, extending a hand to each wizard. Cautiously, they each
accepted it, following her as she walked out of the room.

“For the first time in 11 years, we are all alone in this house.”

“What do you want, Hermione?” Draco growled.

“Both of you naked, in our bed. Making me scream your names.”

“Bossy witch,” Draco snorted.

“You love it,” she winked.

“We love you,” Theo cooed.

“And I love you – both of you,” she smiled. “Forever,” she purred.

“Forever,” they echoed.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for all the support, kudos, comments and love for this story and me! You all
brought me so much joy on some of my more insane days.

I do have a little additional surprise. Today I posted a Theomione fic, called Stick Season. It's
out now for Christmas. It takes place in Vermont and Theo plays guitar and sings and it is an
all-around feel good, cuddly Christmas fic if you are looking to snuggle up with something
sweet.

Also - just for some insight because I know some people are interested. Below I'm going to
share some other iterations of what The Black Rose story was originally meant to be. So, if
that's not your thing - peace out of the rest of the A/N cause some stuff I'm about to touch on is
sad/ non-HEA ideas.

In THE VERY FIRST draft outline of The Black Rose - BOTH Hermione and Theo were
going to die at the end. If you remember in the middle of the fic, they all read Where the Red
Fern Grows together. And the legend about the red fern is told. They were both going to be
killed with a red fern growing between their graves and their magic living on in Draco.

The second iteration - Melody Nott was going to die protecting Hermione. You can thank my
beta that this never happened. She sent me a SOBBING 5am voice note so it was just too
devastating to bring Theo's mom back just to kill her again - which she wasn't wrong. Theo
needed some love and happiness in his life.

In the third draft, I battled back and forth a lot about whether or not to kill Hermione. But in
the end - I couldn't do it. Selfishly I wanted the three them to be happy and in love forever.
And I must say - I am so happy that my beta talked some sense into me and got me off the
ledge. Because the final version of this story ended up being everything I wanted and more.

THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU. <3

Follow me on tiktok, twitter, or instagram if you want to hang! @DarkCloud190 is my handle

on all three. I have a dreomione fest fic being revealed on 12/31. The prompt is Northern
Lights, Magical Tattoos, and Collars/Leashes ;) so keep your eye for that. I am working on
another fest fic for the Love is in the Air fest for February (it will be another Theomione <3).
And I am currently writing my next full-length fic - Blood of the Immortal. It's a dark fantasy/
Royal AU Dramione that will be 40 chapters and around 200k words. It is fully outlined with
the first two chapters currently written - so keep an eye out of that probably early spring!
End Notes

Ron bashing getting started off early!!

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