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The day had been long and tiring, but she finally made it to the end of her shift at St. Mungo’s. The wizarding world was grappling with a severe outbreak of black cat flu. It was quite bad that all healers were required to wear a full protection gear and bubble mask to prevent the virus’s spread.
It was nearly ten o’clock at night when Hermione finally flooed into the living room. She kicked off her shoes and dropped her satchel unceremoniously on the floor, not noticing the lone figure lounging on the couch in the middle of the room.
“Tired, love?”
The sudden voice made her start.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, turning sharply. “Draco! I didn’t hear you— I thought you’d be asleep.”
“What kind of a husband would I be if I did not wait for my wife?” he smirked, eyes flickering with affection. “Come here,” he beckoned softly.
Hermione approached him and he looked up, smiling at her.
“How are you?” Draco asked softly, his voice warm and tender.
Hermione sighed deeply, sinking onto the couch and leaning into him. “Exhausted,” she admitted, her voice muffled but honest.
He gently pulled her into his embrace, holding her close as if anchoring her to sanity after a long day. She instinctively wrapped her arms around him, her head resting against his shoulder. Draco tilted his head, placing a tender kiss on her temple.
“I missed this,” she whispered softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Just us. Like this.”
He brushed a stray hair from her face and looked into her tired eyes. “Me too,” he whispered back.
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of green apples, mint, expensive cologne and Draco, that always calmed her restless nerves.
“Why are you still awake?” she murmured, nestling even closer, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Waiting for you,” Draco replied with a gentle smile, a hint of affection in his tone. “Didn’t want you coming home alone and exhausted. Have you eaten yet?”
“Susan brought me a sandwich from the cafeteria,” she replied. Actually, it was half of Susan’s sandwich, but her husband didn’t need to know that. Her fellow healer had to force her to eat because she knew of Hermione’s tendency to ignore her wellbeing whenever she was swamped with work.
Draco shook his head with fond exasperation. “Hermione, you’ve been working too hard. That was hours ago. You must be starving now. I’ve got something waiting for you in the dining room. It’s under a stasis charm, so it stays perfect.”
Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she tried to grasp his words. “Honestly, I’d rather go to bed.”
“Penny whipped up your favourite, duck confit with roasted potatoes,” Draco continued, voice smooth and reassuring. “Or, if you prefer, meunière. And if you’re craving something sweet, we can have Paris-Brest for dessert.”
Hermione’s half-asleep mind struggled to process. Duck confit? Her stomach growled softly at the thought. A meunière? That sounded tempting.
She forced herself to wake up a little more, a nagging feeling at the back of her mind. They didn’t dine at home that often—work always got in the way. Preparing so many dishes must have been quite an effort, even for Penny, their house elf.
Did she forget something? Did they have a special plan tonight? No. That wasn’t right. She didn’t think they had anything scheduled.
Hermione sat up slowly from where she had been lying atop Draco, her eyes finally travelling over his appearance.
Draco was always well dressed, even when they were just staying home—Malfoys always had to be prepared for anything, he kept insisted, and she’d often roll her eyes at him. But tonight, he looked especially sharp, as if he had stepped straight out of a fashion magazine. He wore a crisp blue button-up shirt, sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, paired with a sleek black dress trouser. His suit jacket lay neatly beside him on the sofa.
Hermione’s brow furrowed in concern. “Draco,” she began hesitantly, worry creeping into her voice. “Did we have a date tonight that I’ve forgotten?”
He chuckled, leaving back with a relaxed smile. “No, love. We didn’t plan to go anywhere tonight,” he said softly.
Her eyes fluttered with relief for a moment—but then she looked at him again, her heart pounding.
“But… you put so much effort into this,” she cried out suddenly, confusion and guilt bubbling up inside her. “It’s... it’s like you were trying to make me feel special or something.”
Her mind raced. Was today Valentine’s? No. Their wedding anniversary? No— they got married in August. Her birthday? No—that’s in September.
“Oh, Merlin,” she gasped, her eyes wide with alarm as her heart sank.
“No, no, no,” she whispered fiercely, honestly petrified.
And then it hit her—the truth, cold and undeniable. Today was June 5th. Draco’s birthday. Her husband’s birthday.
She stared at him, stunned, guilt flooding her entire being. She had forgotten her husband’s birthday.
“Draco…” she said softly, voice trembling as tears welled up. “I—I’m so sorry. I completely forgot your birthday.”
For a moment, Draco looked at her quietly, a mixture of surprise and tenderness. Then he reached out, cupping her face gently.
“Hermione,” he whispered softly, voice full of affection but with a hint of amusement. “Hey, love. It’s okay. I know you’re completely swamped at the hospital. I just wanted to have dinner with you.”
“I should have remembered,” she stammered, eyes filling with tears. “You went to all this effort— and it’s your birthday!”
He shook his head, smirking gently. “You’re so adorable when you’re stressed. Honestly, it’s just another day for me,” he said with a wink.
She looked at him, her heart aching, and then reached out to cup his cheek. “Still,” she whispered. “I feel terrible... I love you so much, and I’ve been such a terrible wife today.”
Draco’s eyes softened as he brushed her hand away from his face and cupped her cheek in return. “Shh,” he murmured softly, voice reassuring. “It’s okay, Hermione. Really. It’s not a big deal.”
“But—” she interrupted, voice trembling. “It is a big deal, Draco. I didn’t get you anything. I didn’t even wish you a happy birthday.” Her eyes shimmered with guilt. “I was so caught up in work, I forgot your special day.”
He sighed, leaning close enough that she could feel his warmth. “Hermione, love, you’ve had so much on your mind lately. We’ll have many birthdays in the future. One forgotten day doesn’t change how much I love you.”
She shook her head, tears welling again. “No, I should’ve remembered. You went through all this trouble, and I— I didn’t even bother to celebrate with you. You’re all alone on your birthday!”
Draco’s expression softened even more, a mixture of patience and affection. “Actually…” he began gently, “I wasn’t alone. When I realized you’d be stuck at work, Theo, Blaise, and Pansy came by to celebrate with me. We had a quiet and fun time.”
Her voice cracked, tears pouring down her cheeks. “That’s even worse…” she whispered, overwhelmed. “What kind of wife am I?”
She couldn’t hold back the sobs anymore, and her shoulders shook as she cried.
Realizing she was upset beyond words, Draco immediately leaned in, wrapping her tightly in his arms. His voice was calm and soothing. “Hermione, love, please… don’t cry. It’s really nothing. I swear to you. I’m not upset.”
“But—I’m sorry, Draco,” she managed to whisper between sobs.
He gently stroked her back, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay. We’ll celebrate properly tomorrow. This isn’t the end of the world, I promise. Just… trust me, everything’s fine.”
Her tears slowed as she pressed her forehead against Draco’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart and comforting weight of his love. Draco held her close, gently running his hand along her back, soothing her with each stroke.
“I love you so much,” she whispered softly, tears still glistening in her eyes.
Hermione took a shaky breath, trying to regain her composure. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then looked up at him, her expressing tender yet vulnerable.
“Happy birthday, Draco,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Without hesitation, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. For a moment, Draco hesitated, unsure, but then his instinct kicked in. when Hermione’s lips met his, he moaned softly, and her eyes fluttered open. She smiled, soft and full of affection, and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss with hunger.
“I’ve missed you, love,” Draco murmured softly, his voice husky with emotion, as his lips trailed from hers to her ear. He softly placed a few lingering kisses along her jawline. “As much as I want to do more right now, I know you’re exhausted. We don’t have to do this now.”
Hermione pulled back slightly, her eyes showing a hint of hurt, or perhaps slight annoyance. “You’re angry with me,” she said, voice wavering.
Draco looked surprised, then quickly shook his head with a small chuckle. “What? No. Where do you even get that?”
She huffed, crossing her arms. “You’ve never refused sex before,” she challenged. “You are upset that I forgot your birthday! Be honest.”
He reached out, cupping her face gently. “Hermione, I’m not upset. Honestly. I’m trying to be considerate. Please believe me, I’m not angry.” His smile was warm, reassuring. “Besides, you’re the one sitting on top of me. Can’t you feel how much I love this?”
Hermione gasped as Draco made a slow move to push her hips gently against him.
“Really? Won’t you be terrible upset if we just go to bed now?” she asked, biting her bottom lip, her eyes flickering with guilt. As much as she wanted to have sex with her husband, she was feeling really tired today.
“Absolutely,” Draco whispered, voice tender. “Now, come on.”
To prove his point, he carefully removed himself from the couch, keeping her in his arms, and with a sudden swish of his wand, they instantly apparated inside their bedroom.
“Sleep, Granger,” Draco said with a soft smile, helping her onto the mattress. “It’s my birthday today, but...” He leaned in closer, eyes full of fondness. “We can always have mind-blowing sex tomorrow—after you’re well-rested.”
Hermione laughed, feeling herself relax under his words. She reached out, pulling him down to her, kissing him warmly.
“Thank you, Draco,” she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude.
They quickly changed into their sleepwear, and Draco was the first to slip beneath the covers, Hermione immediately followed, curling into his side.
“I love you so much, Draco,” she murmured softly, her eyelids fluttering as exhaustion eased over her. “I’ll call in sick tomorrow, and we’ll have that mind blowing sex then…”
Draco gave a quiet smile, their bodies pressed close. “I’ll hold you to that, Granger. Sleep well, love.” She gently kissed her forehead, wishing her the sweetest dreams.
He was already smiling to himself—tomorrow, he’d get that mind blowing celebration. With a contented smirk, sleep soon claimed them both.