“Could I stay with you for a while?”
It’s a terrible idea. The two of them sharing a space again guarantees two things: sex and heartbreak. Followed by unbearable try-hard cordiality as they split off into what they label an 'amicable breakup’.
Only amicable because Draco can never say no to her and Hermione knows it.
She moves in the next morning.
Draco’s flat is spacious. A duplex with soaring picture windows and five spare rooms. Yet somehow Granger is everywhere.
Her books are stacked high on his once fashionably minimal side tables. A stockpile of produce has overthrown all the meat in his refrigerator, ‘cows are friends, not food, Draco’. (Riveting, her new diet.) His wine stash is near depleted. And there are ring stains all over his furniture because she is still incapable of using a coaster.
By day five, Granger has found a permanent place in his bed.
She sounds the same when she orgasms. His name parting her lips like praise. Her skin inconceivably soft when she’s flushed and sated, nestled in his arms.
Eventually, he simply can’t take his hands off her.
A swift kiss on the curve of her neck while she’s brushing her teeth. Seeking her out after an hour or two in another room, realising he hasn’t touched her in a while and he misses her.
Eleven days later, Draco is bleakly aware he's in love again.
Eighth-year love. All touch and teasing and taste and torment.
The sensations come rushing back. Being stubborn and seventeen and utterly obsessed with Hermione Granger. Convinced his heart was shrivelled up, only to learn it just needed someone to beat the life back into it.
Recently, he wonders if he ever stopped loving her.
One evening, over dinner and the last bottle of vintage, he quits ruminating and just asks her. “Remind me why we broke up?”
Her knife grates porcelain, cutting her cauliflower steak into bite-sized pieces. “I moved to Australia, and you had to stay here, tending to your mother and manor.”
She looks up at him, mouth twisting. “We got into an argument.”
“Oh.” He remembers now. “Weasley was going with you.”
He shakes his head, refusing to rehash it all. “You told me not to come.”
“Because your mother was unwell, and you had plans to sell your home. You had responsibilities, Draco. Just as I did.”
“Didn’t you know I would have done anything for you?” He drops his fork and knife, his appetite spoiled. “I even agreed to stay friends after you broke my heart.”
“We can’t abstain from one another’s lives,” she insists stubbornly. “It’s impossible for us.”
He sighs as an impending headache blooms at the back of his skull. “Why are you here, Hermione? Couldn’t you have stayed with Potter?”
Beneath the table, he senses a nudge on his ankle. Her skin is starkly cold and the look she gives him is all trouble as she strokes his leg with her foot.
Draco’s disappointment obscures, quickly drowned out by his heartbeat.
“Where did you learn to smirk like that?” Admiration bleeds into his voice.
“I had a Slytherin roommate once.”
“Very,” she agrees, drawing lazy lines over his shin. “He had a way of surprising me.”
“By making me love him.” She rests her chin on her hands, looking up at him through long smoky lashes. “I loved him even after we broke up, and I love him now.”
“Hermione…” Draco swallows heavily as reality creeps in. “You’re only going to leave again.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” Now, she looks positively devilish.
“We fell in love like this, sharing a home.”
Something trivial, like hope, passes through his veins. “You’re not really waiting on a new flat, are you?”
She gives him a sheepish look. “Not unless it’s this one.”
He laughs so hard, Crookshanks startles off the counter and lightning-bolts across the room, yowling.
Draco jumps to his feet, drags Granger’s seat back, and scoops her up into his arms. “I get half the bookshelf space.”
“A third, but you can have the larger shoe closet.”
He pretends to deliberate, before sealing the deal with a kiss. “Fine.”
(705 words, prompt: amicable breakup)
