Chapter Text
Chapter 20
Draco was dimly aware of a set of warm toes tucked against his calf. They tickled. He groaned, annoyed, as he pulled his mate’s body closer and buried his nose deep into the pillow of her hair. The scent of her, of them, washed over him in a comforting wave.
Warm. Safe. Soft.
It was a child’s understanding of love-- of home.
The feelings were so entirely foreign, that his heart lurched with a heavy thud and he was instantly alert.
“Draco?” his mate’s voice was rough with sleep. “You okay?” She rubbed her hand soothingly over his where he anchored her to him. When he didn’t reply, she pulled away gently and turned to look at him over her shoulder.
Her skin was pale and drawn, but her eyes were clear and she smiled gently down at him. She was gorgeous.
“I died,” he whispered.
“No,” she said.
“I did. I died. I could feel it.” It had been so cold. Reaching out for her and feeling emptiness. He’d been so certain it was over.
His mate pulled away further to roll over and face him. He pulled her back toward him, to be parted from her skin left him feeling unmoored.
“You were dying,” his mate conceded, “but we saved you. We’re safe now, Draco.”
“You saved me.” His eyes stung. Her hair was a mess, her lips were swollen, and on her neck he saw his claiming bite. He’d get to keep her after all.
“Well, it was just a little cleverness and fucking in the end.” She grinned naughtily and Draco thought he’d spend his whole life and entire fortune to keep that look on her face.
----
He flexed his hands against her hip, and pulled her against him until she straddled him with a low groan. She felt her pussy twinge in anticipation. She leaned down over him, her nose brushed against his. He quickly zeroed in on his bite. She ached for him as he ran the tip of his nose across the wound and pressed a gentle kiss to it.
“Can you feel it?” she whispered. One of his wicked hands squeezed her ass. “Not that,” she chided. “Our magic.”
His eyes were blown wide, she realized. He stretched his neck back, exposing the delicate play of muscle and veins, inhaling deeply. She saw a glimmer of his fangs and felt herself shiver, getting impossibly wetter.
“Fuck, Granger. You’re in me.”
“Well,” she rocked against his torso, “Turn about being fair play.” He groaned.
“It’s like ... “ he looked at her in wonder. “Flying.”
She snorted, shaking her head. “Typical.”
“Alright, swot. You do better. What’s it feel like for you?”
She closed her eyes, honing in on the awareness of him and them. Euphoric. Crackling. Champagne bubbles beneath her skin. She released a shaky breath. He was smirking, one fang on full display, when she opened her eyes. “Happiness,” she said. His eyes darkened at that. One hand was still firmly anchored to her bum, but the other came up to cradle her head. Between one breath and the next she found herself ever so deftly rolled on to her back. Her mate loomed over her with serious intent.
“If you don’t want to have sex again, I’d like to know now,” he said with perfect seriousness. Hermione’s answering laugh caught him off guard.
“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that, Draco, this is just a lull in the mating frenzy. It’s the first time you’ve been properly truly present with me, and the lulls between should get longer until the frenzy abates, but I hardly think we’re there yet. It’s only been a day.”
Draco tried to take in what she was saying. Frenzy. A mating frenzy. He looked at her in dawning horror.
“Oh calm down, you great masochist.” She squirmed beneath him to get him positioned just where she wanted him. “It’s been fine. And I dare say you’ll have more of your faculties about you this time around.” She pressed up against his erection, trying to tempt him. He reared back and away from her. Sitting up on his knees between her splayed thighs, he raked his hands over his face. His talons flicked out and he groaned. She sat up on her elbows, worried.
“Fuck, Granger. Your scent. It’s all over me.”
“Good.”
He looked at her, checking her expression to make sure she was okay.
“You’re all over me, as well,” she laid back and lifted her arms above her head to grasp at his headboard. In doing so she clenched her internal muscles and groaned. “You know this frenzy works both ways. Do you think you could return to the issue at hand and maybe fuck your insatiable mate?”
His wings erupted from his back as he fell on her. He sucked at her nipples, groaning, and, frustrated by his talons, dragged his mouth down her body.
“We’re bonded now. You-- your talons-- you can’ hurt me. You don’t need to be so careful.”
“Still can’t get my fingers in you like this-- need my tongue-- have to taste you.”
His fangs were quickly becoming one of her favorite physical traits. She could feel the way they rubbed against her folds and it heightened the already overwhelming sensations running through her. “Fuck, Malfoy,” she whined, burying her hands in his hair and gripping tight as he laved against her bud. The aching inside her grew; it was a fire let loose, and it consumed her whole.
As she came down from her climax, she opened her eyes to see Draco staring at her in wonder. She did her best impression of his self satisfied smirk. “Top marks, Malfoy.”
Their bond was open and she could feel his wonder. Her heart ached at what she recognized as gratitude. He wouldn’t believe she was his overnight it seemed. Letting her smirk fade, she said, “I’m glad it's me. In case you were worried. I’m glad it’s me that’s your mate. And…” she held out her hands toward him, “I’m glad it's you who was meant for me. I’m very much looking forward to building a life with you--” here she stopped as she choked up.
A frisson of alarm came through the bond. She smiled and sent him an image of them wrapped up in one another on a sofa in the library. It wasn’t a memory. It was a wish. He held her close and cradled her belly, heavy with his child, as she read to him from a book. At Draco’s whine, she pulled him to her and said, “I’m very much looking forward to everything, with you, actually.”
“I love you.” The words were a whisper between them.
Draco sank into her with a groan, all frenzied need forgotten, as he made love to his mate.
-----
“Draco, we have to get up.”
“Eventually,” he conceded.
“Our society doesn’t have a leader.”
“Insignificant detail. You know, I’ve always felt most people are genuinely good-hearted and perfectly capable of ruling themselves. Organized government is --”
“Completely necessary. Even if you trust the election and peaceful transfer of power to the toads in the Wizengamot-- which we do not -- there’s still a marriage law on the books.”
“Pansy won’t like us meddling, but I suppose we do owe Theo.”
“I don’t know that we’ll be able to reverse it… I’m sure some couples have already wed.”
“You are Hermione fucking Granger. There is not a single thing in the entire universe I don’t think you can do.” He scruffed his hand down the side of his face. “And anyway, shouldn’t the whole ‘the government was run by a nefarious egocentric madman who was manipulating everyone around him’ make the whole thing null and void?”
She sighed. “One would think. And I'm sure one would be very, very wrong.”
It was two days later and, while both Draco and Hermione were tender and decidedly sore, they were pretty certain the frenzy had passed. They were both struggling to find the energy to leave their bed. Tilly had been popping in to leave them food and ask if they needed anything, but Hermione knew they couldn’t stay locked away together forever. No matter how badly her veela may want to.
Once she managed to drag herself from the confines of their bed to take a shower, Draco was quick to follow. He tried to put on an air of detachment, but he seemed highly motivated to keep her within his sight at all times. He scowled at her in the bathroom mirror as she sent him a feeling of her amusement through their bond.
“I’m not a dog,” he said.
“I never said you were.”
He snorted. “I don’t have to follow you.”
“Of course not.”
“I just really don’t want to be away from you,” he said with a grimace.
“Because you’re madly in love with me,” she teased.
“Because my veela is an asshole,” he groused. “And yes, because I am horrifically and irreparably in love with you, Granger. Happy now?”
“Yes, I rather think I am.” Hermione was growing impossibly fond of the light flush highlighting Draco’s cheeks.
Downstairs they were greeted by Donka and Narcissa having a late breakfast. Draco made a point to pull out Hermione’s seat for her with an arched brow. He sat himself beside her and immediately started filling a plate for her. She sent him her annoyance through their bond, but he deftly ignored it.
I’ve been ignoring you being annoyed with me for most of my life, love.
She huffed and looked up to find Narcissa watching her with an adoring expression. Unsure and awkward with the woman she realized was, essentially, her mother-in-law, she turned to Donka. This was no better as Donka had a very self-satisfied smirk on her face.
Say something, she urged Draco. He rolled his eyes as he bit into a massive croissant and flakes fell everywhere.
“Alright then, let’s have it,” he said. “Does the world still spin outside these hallowed halls?”
Narcissa, reluctantly, pulled her adoring gaze from Hermione to address her son. “Let's see. Kingsley is being held under observation at St. Mungo’s. People can’t quite bring themselves to think of him as a war criminal and it is still uncertain to what extent those involved were controlled by Michaels and who was acting out of their own self-interest.”
Narcissa paused to delicately sip her tea. “The Interim Minister has put an indefinite halt to the Marriage Law for the time being. They have to determine who was involved and in what capacity. By the way, while the investigation is on-going, and seeing how Robards was likely Imperiused, the Interim Minister of Magic is Mister Potter.”
Hermione choked on a dry piece of muffin. Dismayed, Draco rapped her on the back until she coughed and cleared her airway.
“What?” she croaked.
“Yes,” Narcissa grinned. “It was announced yesterday. I thought to have Tilly bring a copy to you, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Mother!”
“What?” Narcissa was all innocence as she handed Hermione a copy of yesterday’s Prophet.
Splashed across the cover was her best friend standing in the Ministry Atrium giving a press conference. His face was serious, and his gestures forceful, but he seemed fully in control of the situation.
“Good Merlin,” Draco sounded horrified. “Am I going to have to deal with this all the time?”
She looked up from the paper to see him grabbing his chest. “What?”
He gestured to her lamely, “You feeling all proud and shite.” He shivered in disgust. “Saint Potter the Minister. Bet he fucking loves this. You better brush off your curtsey, Granger.” She rolled up the newspaper and smacked him with it.
Hermione turned back to her plate to see that Donka was adding a hefty slab of beef to it. “Oh no, that’s okay--”
“Eat,” she directed forcefully. “Veela babies need meat. Is good for them.”
Hermione whipped back around to look at Draco. Her shock was mirrored on his face.
“Donka,” he began.
“I knew this yesterday,” she said with a shrug.
“How? You know what-- no,” Hermione sat back in her seat. “I don’t actually ever want to know how you found out.”
Narcissa was smiling like a child on Christmas morning.
Hermione reached through the bond to Draco, but was met with a wall. He was occluding.
“Are you fucking serious?” she gritted out between her teeth.
“Huh?” Suddenly she was doused in his shock and tentative happiness. She sifted through it and found a jarring amount of concern. If she wanted this. If it was too soon. If a veela pregnancy would be harder on her than if he were a normal wizard. If she’d be okay. If she’d end up hating him after all.
“I wasn’t occluding,” he said, stunned. “I was just-- processing.”
Her heart melted and she sent warmth and home down the bond.
“You know what this means?” she asked.
“Yes, it means Donka has to live with us.” He turned to Donka and said, “Please. I know you were always only staying until I died or Hermione and I bonded, but please, we need you. We don’t know the first thing about raising children.”
“I am right here, you know,” his mother said tartly.
“Of course I am staying. You will have to kick me out to be rid of me.”
Draco smiled warmly at Donka.
“Oh-- that’s wonderful!” Hermione said. “I mean, I was thinking it means we only have nine months to make sure the Marriage Law is overturned and the Wizengamot is free of corruption so this sort of thing can’t happen again. But Donka, I’m very glad you’ll stay with us.”
Draco turned to her. “Well nine months to get married, free the wizengamot from corruption, and then overturn the Marriage Law.”
“We’re mated, I hardly think that we need to prioritize a wedding over--”
“Malfoys don’t have bastards, Granger.”
“No, they just are bastards,” she shot back.
“You’re my mate!”
“Yes, which is why I think--”
“So be my wife!”
“Oh that’s romantic!”
Narcissa and Donka exchanged smiles and snuck out of the room.
Epilogue
12 Years Later
“You should see Scorpius on his broom, Donka. You wouldn’t believe how he can fly; Quidditch tryouts are next week and I’ve bet Potter that he ties his record for youngest player to make a Hogwarts house team. And Adhara has finally worn us down; we’re getting her a dog for her birthday next month.”
Draco knelt by the grave of his friend.
“They miss you terribly. Hermione’s expecting again. I know I told you last time, but I believe I forgot to mention just how lost we are without you here.” He tried blinking away his tears, but one fell to the earth anyway.
“My mother says that immense grief is born out of tremendous love.” Now the tears fell freely. “You’re so absent from our home now. There’s this gaping hole --inside-- where you were.” His shoulders shook as a sob overtook him.
Desperately, he tried to get himself back together. There was no one around. No one there to see him cry, but Adhara was always exploring the grounds and she’d only just stopped crying for Donka to read her a bedtime story at night.
“You know, I’m going to have a hell of a time trying to convince Hermione she can’t name this one after you.” He felt an echo of Donka’s laugh in his mind.
“Thank you, Donka. For everything.”
Draco left the grave when he realized the sun was starting to set and soon Hermione would be looking for him to get Adhara ready for Sunday night dinner with his mother. He stopped once to look over his shoulder at the monument Hermione had designed to stand sentry over Donka’s final resting place. The outstretched stone wings, a perfect replica of his own, gleamed in the setting sun.
“Thank you,” he whispered once more.
Then he turned toward his home and the safe, happy, life he and his mate had built together.