The Silver Envelope

Draco's Detour

Draco woke to find himself alone in his bed the next morning. Light poured in through the curtains, bathing the room in a bright and heavenly way that belied the frosty February weather outside. Though Hermione was absent, she had been replaced by a purring monster who was licking his orange fur at the foot of the bed. Draco rolled over, feeling strangely heavy and dizzy.
As memories of the previous night his nightmare, their fight, and what had followed flooded him, Draco sat up.
Where had she gone? Did she go back to her own bed?
Upon the rumpled sheets next to him, he spotted a small pile of silk, patterned in cream and gold. It was the scarf, the one she had been wearing last night to tie back her curls, still knotted in a bow.
He took it in his hands, letting the cool fabric slip softly through his fingers. It smelled like her, like that warm, floral scent that drove him mad. He fought the urge to tuck this scarf away as a keepsake of last night, but he knew that was too invasive. Maybe he'd buy her a new one first, then ask to keep this one if he could work up the nerve.
Another alluring scent hit him then, drawing him out of bed and into the kitchen.
Ingredients he hadn't known he owned were out and strewn across the worktop, and the curtains on all the windows in the flat had been drawn back to let a blinding amount of sunlight in. Draco squinted as he made out Hermione, who was in his kitchen, bustling around as if she owned the place and humming along to a song playing on a little wireless radio. She hadn't bothered to change out of her sleep clothes. His eyes caught on the sight of her bare legs as she reached into a high cupboard and the hem of her long shirt lifted up.
Draco cleared his throat to let her know he was there. She jumped and dropped the honey she had been taking down. He used his wand to whisk it back up to the kitchen worktop.
She blinked at him, looking uncertain as she held a spatula aloft. Suddenly, he wasn't sure how he should act.
Would she want to pretend like last night hadn't happened? He wasn't sure he could do that.

"Morning," he said, examining the mess in his kitchen.
Hermione bit her lip nervously.
"Er...I woke up hungry," she explained. "Sorry about the mess. I'll clear it up."
She was adorable in the mornings. Now unbound, her curls had a boisterous luster, looking almost golden in the bright morning light, and her eyes were alive with something he didn't recognize.
With dizzying relief, Draco saw no regret in her face as she gave him a shy smile, her cheeks a tad pink.
A pot of fresh coffee was brewing behind her. He slid past her to it, enjoying the electricity of the brief contact between them before reaching into a cabinet for a mug. Hermione, flushed and flustered, returned to the stove.
"What are you making?" Draco asked. It smelled delicious.
"Oh, I noticed you had a lot of green apples, so I made pancakes with cinnamon apples," she said.
Curious, he came up behind her to take a look, bracing his hand on her lower back. He ignored the small gasp she let out when he touched her, trying to focus on the food. A small pot of apple pieces in something sticky and sweet-smelling was simmering on a back burner, and a large frying pan was filled with pancakes. He thought he also smelled sausages, but he didn't see them anywhere.
They must be in the oven.
"This looks incredible. I didn't know you could cook," he said, genuinely impressed.
"I don't cook often," she said, shrugging one shoulder. "Usually just when I'm craving something in particular. I'm not very good at it, but I like to read recipe books, so-"
Draco cut off her nervous babbling with a slow kiss, unable to stop himself. He took her face between his hands, lingering and sucking at her lower lip. She let out a small whimper, melting closer to him.
The fact that he could do this, just take her and kiss her in his kitchen, felt like a dream. It made him want to lift her into his arms and haul her back to the bedroom. He could think of many, many ways to enjoy the morning with her. And every morning after today.
Hermione broke the kiss first, pushing away from him with a furious blush on her face. Panting, she turned back to the stove.
"They'lI burn," she said breathlessly, making to flip the pancakes.
He smirked as he served himself coffee. Every time Hermione blushed, wicked ideas about how to make her even redder flipped through his mind. He leaned against the worktop, wondering how she would react if he were to lift her onto the flour-dusted surface, spread her knees, and eat her for breakfast. Or perhaps he would steal her spatula and endeavor to find out exactly how red her other cheeks could become.
Draco sipped his coffee and made his way to a seat at the other end of the island, mulling over the possibilities. They had things to do today, of course. Leads to investigate, questions to research. But Draco no longer planned on keeping his hands off Hermione, and that was enough to make him feel as though he could fly without a broomstick
As soon as he got Ignoma home safe and sound, he was going to arrange for Hermione to go away with him somewhere. She needed a break, and he needed her.
Sobering, icy reality crashed over him.
Fuck. He needed her.
Last night, he had lost. He had been fighting to keep himself away from her, to give her the space and time and freedom she needed. Hermione had spent too long juggling the needs of others without taking care of her own, losing herself little by little in the process. And now here he was, another broken soul, throwing himself at her feet and begging for her help and love. Asking her to give away yet another piece of herself. A significant piece
Because after last night, Draco knew he would never be content with something temporary or shallow with Hermione. He was done trying to keep himself away.
Draco was staring into the black depths of his coffee, swimming in self-loathing when a plate appeared under his nose. It was piled high with pancakes and sausage, all topped with a gloriously
warm syrup of cinnamon apples.
He closed his eyes, willing his appetite to return.
Hermione perched on the stool next to him, digging right in. He fiddled with his first bite for a while, trying hard to will his mind back into his good mood of moments ago.
He couldn't take back what he'd done. Moreover, he didn't want to. Wishing he was a stronger person would fix nothing.
He took a bite.
"It's delicious," he said. And it was, even if he was trying hard to taste it under the bitterness of his own dismal mood.
Hermione smiled weakly, noticing his expression.
"You don't have to eat it if you don't like it," she said blithely.
"No, it really is good, Hermione. I'm just...in a mood. I'm worried about Ignoma." It wasn't technically a lie.
Hermione seemed to accept it.
"I had a thought," she said. "I was thinking about rounding up some of the most active members of
S.P.E.W. for a meeting, see if they have any ideas about our elf-nappers.
"Definitely," Draco agreed. "We can host them here tonight if they're available."
Hermione nodded, smiling a bit.
"I'll write to them all after breakfast."
Somehow, Draco finished his food, reminding himself with each bite that there was no point in regretting last night now. They both had to move forward, and no matter how selfish it was, he had no intention of doing that without her.
Then and there, with his mouth full of cinnamon apples, Draco resolved that if he was going to take a piece of Hermione, he would give one of himself back. It was obvious to him now that giving her space and time to be on her own would be impossible especially not if she continued to climb into his bed at night and demand his attentions-but he could give her all sorts of other things.
Protection, support, pleasure, financial freedom.. the list went on. If she would accept it, he would give her the world. That would have to be enough.
While Hermione tidied the kitchen with her wand, Draco went to his window to check his mail. In the small stack of envelopes, he noticed one bearing Hermione's name.
"Granger, you've got a letter," he announced, flicking it out for her to grasp.
She took it curiously, performing a quick spell to reveal any curses or secrets hidden inside before deeming it safe to open. She scanned it, her expression becoming concerned.
"Oh, dear," she said, looking up at him. "It's from Midgen. Someone tried to break into her shop last night."