Remain Nameless

Chapter 26

TRIGGER WARNING for this chapter: this chapter contains a brief mention of rape and sexual assault during a discussion about consent during sexual activity (neither Draco nor Hermione has experienced this type of assault).

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Hermione absently stirred milk into her tea and stared off into space. Did Draco have any idea what he'd admitted to her last night?

His words wouldn't leave her alone. Though her (admittedly, sort of adorable) drunken lover had all but fallen into her bed and was asleep within seconds, Hermione had been awake much of the night. Had Draco unwittingly revealed the true depth of his feelings for her under the influence of whisky?

In vino veritas. Or perhaps in Draco's case, In whisky veritas.

Was Hermione ready to return such serious sentiments? A pleasant shiver ran through her body at the memory of last night. Perhaps she already had her answer. Draco hadn't said anything quite so dramatic since that night at his home when he'd loudly confessed to being in love with her. The "L" word hadn't entered any conversations since, but last night was an extremely strong declaration of intent on Draco's behalf.

Hermione sipped her tea and honed in on her emotions. She should be afraid, right? She should be concerned that this was too soon and that there was too much bad history between them, or that one or both of them would only end up hurt. But when she searched her feelings, Hermione felt no trepidation. That Draco could feel something so monumental and everlasting for her felt... thrilling. Her face stretched into a stupid smile so wide she'd roll her eyes if she could see her own reflection.

Merlin help her, she'd well and truly fallen for Draco.

Giggling quietly to herself, Hermione switched on the radio and decided to fix some food for both herself and her, most likely, hung-over guest.

Hermione cracked a few eggs into the hot pan and hummed the chorus to one of her favorite songs when she heard a familiar drawling voice from behind.

"Are all your Muggle songs just blokes whinging about girls?"

Hermione shook her head and chuckled. "He's not whinging."

"That guitar sounds like it is."

"No, no, his guitar is gently weeping."

She looked back over her shoulder briefly and was rewarded with a predictably puzzled expression at his missing the Muggle pop culture reference.

"He's just shouting some witch's name."

Needling her about Muggle music was a favorite pastime of Draco's. Hermione gave the frying eggs a flip and responded, "It's about an unattainable love."

From his silence, Hermione could tell he wanted her to elaborate. "Layla is the wife of his best friend, but he's hopelessly in love with her. He doesn't think she's being treated the way she deserves, but well, she's married to his best mate, so obviously that results in some angst on his part."

Hermione left the eggs to finish cooking and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. "It's a true story, you know. He wrote about a real woman."

"What happened? Did she leave her husband?"

"She did." Hermione added some bacon to another pan. "She left her husband and, get this, they all remained friends."

"Bollocks."

"Nope! It's quite fascinating actually, I've read all three of their autobiographies."

Hermione filled up the mug with freshly brewed coffee and turned to hand it to Draco. She stopped short of handing him the mug, taking a second to appreciate the view before her. Draco leaned up against the kitchen island with one hip, arms folded across his chest, perfectly at ease. Hermione noticed lately that with each stay in her home, Draco became increasingly comfortable in her presence. He was clad only in his trunks and a t-shirt, and though the circles under his eyes betrayed a hint of a hangover, his platinum hair looked as pristine as ever.