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Hermione knew that the lockdown announcement was imminent, but she couldn’t help the pull that she had that led her Draco and his flat. Which is why at the exact moment the Ministry sent howlers to the household of every witch or wizard in Britain, her flat was empty -- save for Crookshanks -- and she found herself wrapped in Draco’s embrace. As much as those closest to her couldn’t understand it -- and outright disliked her love for the blond ex-Slytherin that they had all grown up to hate she craved being with him when they were apart -- he brought out a side of her that she never realised she had.
“I think that means you’re stuck here, Love,” Draco whispered in her ear as he caught her earlobe between his teeth.
“Oh, I am sure I can live with that,” she purred at him, pinning him down on the recliner.
Three months later, the lockdown was still in full swing and Hermione was still at Draco’s. Work was done from home, or wherever “home” was for the time being. Hermione was getting impatient with Draco. She hadn’t ever thought of living with him, seeing as what they had wasn’t a conventional relationship, anyway. Living together had never seemed right, and she was working out just how wrong their living together was. She had tried to use the Floo Network to get home a couple of times to no avail; apparently until this lockdown was lifted. it was out of order.
“Seriously,” she screamed from the bathroom. “Do you even know what a laundry basket is?” She was fed up of finding his dirty socks and underwear strewn across the floor. This might be his place, his bachelor pad, but she had hoped that while she lived here, he would have curbed of his… less hygienic ways. But, alas, it seemed that was not to be. She was not going to keep picking up after him, no way. She wasn’t his slave or skivvy.
His voice came from the other side of the door. “Sorry, keep forgetting you’re here you hide away so much.”
Hermione snorted at that, she hid away for a reason, as he full well knew. She wasn’t going to rise to the bait though. The sooner this lockdown was over, the better, as far as she was concerned.
Draco headed back into the kitchen, hands deep in his pockets and a smug smile plastered on his face. He loved Hermione, he had for a few years now; ever since they went back to Hogwarts to complete their education. She had been the only one to see that he was different, that he wasn’t the arrogant, stuck up boy that he had been raised to be. And he fell in love with her for that and had been in love with her ever since. Whether or not she felt the same way, he didn’t know. He wanted to change his ways for her even now, but he also had a surprise up his sleeve for her. And if that worked - heck even if it didn’t - she would see a whole new Draco yet again.
As he opened the kitchen door, the heavenly scent of the pasta bake he was cooking and the bread that had been baking especially for tonight’s dinner filled his nostrils. Thank Merlin for the charm he had put on the door to stop the smells from leaking into the rest of the flat and giving away his secret too early. He had banned her from the kitchen after lunch, not telling her why. He just made her promise not to come in. With some reluctance, she had promised, though he had put a charm on the door to alert him if she tried to come in, just to be on the safe side.
Once the food was nearly ready, he went to smarten himself up somewhat and lay the table. He could be romantic when he put his mind to it. And he wanted to show her that tonight. in the hopes that she would fall in love with him. He had grown to love having her here and didn’t want her to go again when all this lockdown stuff was over. But he didn’t want to just ask outright, and he didn’t want to make it obvious in case that annoyed her in some way or another. That was the last thing that he ever wanted to do.
“Hermione,” he called. She barely heard him from the room that she had claimed to be her own for whilst she was stuck here; a room she had barred him from entering upon pain of death. She needed her space. When she was around him, she was scared of showing too many of her feelings or acting stupid in some way or another. She groaned as she got up and padded over to the door.
“What now, Draco?” She asked, peeking her head around the barely-open door and calling to him, hoping that it was something important.
“I’ve made dinner!”
At the mention of dinner, her stomach growled, and she could smell the mouthwateringly good scent of it wafting through the flat. “Okay,” she called out. Following her nose, she made her way to the kitchen.
When she got to the doorway, she paused to take in everything, from the perfectly-laid table to the candles, to Draco dressed to impress. If they weren’t in the middle of a lockdown, she would have thought that this was all for someone else’s benefit. Despite the on-off flirting, and the cuddling to relieve the loneliness they felt, they had never been anything more than cuddle buddies; so she couldn’t think that this was all for her. But there was nobody else here, there couldn’t be.
“Is - is this all for me?” She stuttered out, not able to make herself take a step into the kitchen.
“Who else would it be for?” He asked, looking around for some elusive third person who wasn’t there.
“Don’t be like that,” Hermione warned him. She could easily turn around and retreat back to her room. “I just don’t get why you’ve done it.” She admitted.
“Come in,” he beckoned to her he hesitantly moved towards him. “Sit down and over the course of the evening you may find out.” She did as instructed, which made him smile sheepishly.
“We’re going to be here all evening?” She asked, perplexed and wishing she could get back to her book.
“Is that really such a bad thing?” His face fell as he put bread and a heavenly-smelling pasta dish on the table between them. A bottle of her favourite red wine was open and had been left to breathe.
“No, I’m just…” she didn’t know how to explain her feelings. On the one hand, she felt a rush of love for the man across from her. But there was part of her that thought this was all some sort of elaborate joke.
Draco smiled at her kindly, which made her heart flutter and her stomach churn. Could she cope with being around him so much without making a complete fool of herself? Well, she was about to find out.
As the evening wore on, the food was consumed, as was the wine, and they both began to relax around each other. The conversation flowed fairly easily. There were some stops and starts along the way, once they had finally put their spoons down. Having their fill of Black Forest Gateaux, Draco leaned back in his chair, stomach full to bursting, and gazed at Hermione across the table. A contented look passed across his face. “That was nice.”
“You would say that,” she said with a smirk “You cooked it. But I agree, it was lovely.” He’d made all her favourites--she hadn’t even realised he knew what they were. “Are you going to tell me what all this has been about?”
“I cooked it, from scratch. Pasta, sauce, bread and all - only the best for you. I love you,” He said, sitting up and resting his elbows on the table, “I always have done, I just never knew when to tell you. Having you here these past months, even if you may have hidden away for most of it, has been amazing. And I don’t want you to leave.”
“Really?” She smiled, her cheeks burning as the blush crept up to them. “You actually love me?”
“Is it that hard to believe?” He asked, his face falling. He noticed that she didn’t say it back.
“Well, yes. Because it’s me… and I never thought I would hear you say those words, or not directed to me anyway. I love you too, Draco.”
At that, he beamed. Jumping to his feet, he swiftly moved around the table and swept her to her own feet and pulled her close to him before kissing her. “You put me under your spell that first night back at Hogwarts after the war, you know,” he said between kisses. “Please don’t leave when they lift this lockdown?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she murmured around kisses.