This fic is dedicated to my amazing friend HeartOfAspen who has a very special day today and deserves all the best wishes out there. I hope you'll enjoy today to the fullest with your beloved ones! *hearts*

A big thank you to I_was_BOTWP for her wonderful alpha and beta skills, and, especially, to Riptide for polishing this fic until it sparkled. Your help is very much appreciated!

Cross-posted from AO3 where my penname is sarena. There you can also find the aesthetic to this story :).

Drawing her thick coat closer to her body, Hermione refreshed the Disillusion charm once again. The late October fog laid heavy in the air, rendering the surroundings bluish-grey and eerie. The grass changed to shrubs as she proceeded, the cold wetness of the fading green blending into the clinging of little thorns on her jeans. She peeked ahead, straining her ears and trying to make out words within the subdued murmurs as she sneaked further but the dense foliage muffled whatever words her quarry might utter. Only a warm shine was visible.

Quieting her breaths, she slowed her pace, careful to not give away her position. She couldn't fathom what would happen if they noticed a Muggleborn intruder. The air felt warmer, now, with the shrinking distance; burnt wood and an indiscernible mixture of what she suspected were herbs and magical plants in the air. They lifted the dank atmosphere, letting Hermione breathe more freely, too.

Halting immediately when a twig cracked beneath the sole of her boot, her heartbeat jumped in her throat. She was too far away from the main site, still not having breached what looked like a circle of old hawthorn trees interspersed with holly bushes which formed a living wall of protection. After a few minutes of absolute impassivity, she renewed her muffling spells and crept forward carefully. The quiet conversation in the hallway had been vague about the exact location but this must be it.

She searched for a row of trees close enough to each other to shield her from suspicious looks, but with a crack generous enough for her to peek in, carefully avoiding the bigger opening where the participants must have entered the inner circle. Finally settling for a cluster of trees and bushes with a small fissure between them, she pressed the right side of her face against the seasoned bark and looked inside.

The most prominent element was the bright bonfire feeding off thick, long beams of wood, crackling and flickering with huge flaming fingers. The heat warmed the small strip of her skin which was exposed to the scenery, creating a stark contrast to the rest of her body, which had started to get quite cold by now.

The forms inside wore dark, flowing robes, each and every one buttoned up from their toes to their necks while the attached hoods hung heavily from their shoulders. Forming a human ring around the fire in the middle, they murmured as one what must have been an incantation. Hermione's eyes widened when she recognised the couple, who seemed to lead the ritual, weaving through the line of worshippers as their fingertips trailed along shoulders and collarbones with the ongoing chant.

The hair colour was unmistaken; the elder Malfoys must be the masters of the ceremony.

Hermione wracked her brain to filter through the books she'd read about Samhain rites but none fit so far. Or maybe she'd missed too much of it already on her long search for the correct site. When the figures finished their intonation, they simultaneously threw something into the fire, which blazed up in a myriad of sizzling sparks, making her blink her eyes with the blinding light.

"A voyeur, are we?"

Hermione jumped, and squeaked in a manner most undignified at the sudden baritone in her left ear. She tried to turn around to face the person who'd discovered her, but his arms caged her tightly against the wooden palisade pressing into her front.

"Let me go!" she hissed, still attempting to be quiet, not wanting to attract attention, or maybe even interrupt the ritual.

"I don't think so," he answered into her ear, and she swore she could feel his lips grazing the shell of it.

"Malfoy, I know it's you. Let me go. I won't talk about what I've seen, I promise."

He chuckled. "Believe me, you talking about it or not won't make much of a difference. This here—" He adjusted his arms, pressing them even more against her sides. "—is no secret. Wizarding folk have been celebrating Samhain for millennia."

"Then why are you so secretive about it? I've checked the literature—"

"Of course you did, lest there be something you don't—"

"—only vague information, and hushed conversations in the—"

"—not only a voyeur, but also eavesdropping when others—"

"Oh, shut up and let me go!" Her bucking hips, intending to bring her more freedom from his grasp, only caused the opposite. He pressed his body flush to hers, rendering her mostly motionless.

"I don't think so. Now stop moving, or you'll disturb the ritual." His voice sounded suspiciously amused, and she turned her head, trying to catch his facial expression.

"Are you enjoying this? Malfoy, do you think that's funny?" She said quietly, not sure if she should be grateful that there didn't seem to be dire consequences, or upset that he was making fun of her.

"You'd better watch, Granger. They are not going to repeat it just because you let this one chance pass."

That shut her up efficiently. She huffed, the warmth of his body trickling through the layers of her coat despite its sturdiness, while she concentrated on the scene in the middle again. The ring of witches and wizards moved around the fire in small steps, always setting the moving foot securely down on the moist forest floor before the next step.

"What are they saying?" she whispered. "I can't understand them."

"These words are from the beginning of times. Well, more likely some wizard has figured out that incantation, but the sentiment is all the same. They're old. You don't understand because the magic doesn't want you to understand. You don't belong."

She bristled, his words ripping a wound open she suspected would stay susceptible to damage. Trying to push with her palms and thrashing against his hold, she grit out, "Let me go. I swear I'll hex your precious family assets so badly that your soon-not-so-possible-anymore great-great-grandchildren will still feel the effects!"

Speaking a variation of a muffling charm, he pressed her more powerfully into the wood, bringing his face closer to hers, just shy of touching it. "Can't you keep still for only a few minutes? You won't understand until you're a full member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Happy now?"

The agitation of her movements slowed down as she felt the heat his skin emanated on her cheek, and she looked at the fire inside again. Surrounded by a cloud of smoke, the fire had passed its peak now and the remaining pieces of wood burned down more quickly than she'd expected. The air smelled sweet with an undertone of tartness, inciting her to take a deep breath, letting it linger in her lungs. A remnant of Malfoy's aftershave came with it, just like when she'd inhale just a little deeper than usual after he'd left her office at the Ministry.

The people around the fire started to loosen up the strict circle and couples paired up, grasping each other's hands while they still faced the flames. Finding a place between the others, the Malfoys exuded an impalpable aura of authority and belonging. The grey smoke wavered between them and it began to form figures just like cumulus clouds would do on the sky instead of dispersing in the air.

"What is happening there? Is the smoke magical?" Hermione asked, momentarily forgetting to keep her voice low.

"Some seers are fabled to have seen aspects of the future in it but there hasn't been one for several generations. Now, the smoke is supposed to bear powerful magic, so attendees make sure to take in as much as possible."

Hermione filled her lungs but didn't detect anything other than the sudden bite of carbon and tar. Barely stifling a cough, she decided it might not be worth the risk of smoke poisoning.

"Without choking to death." Malfoy laughed behind her, his puffs of breath warming the clammy skin of her neck. "I think it might be different for the ones supposed to be there." She felt him shrugging behind her, his cage of arms getting a little less stringent.

"Why did they pair off?" She noticed that the couples moved closer to each other, some heads resting on their partner's shoulders while they stared into the decreasing flames.

"Those are the married and the magically betrothed couples. Some other long-term relationships, too." He shifted behind her. "Only couples are allowed at the festivities on Samhain, different to how it is on Beltane."

Observing the dark figures for a while and then looking over her shoulder to only catch a glimpse of his open collar, she asked, "Is that the reason why you don't attend? Because you never commit?" Her voice acquired a bite, and she clamped down on her tongue to keep the rest of what threatened to spill out in.

Not even reacting to her remark, he continued, "Beltane symbolises the beginning of life, hence the magic encourages unions of all kinds. Samhain symbolises the sustenance of life during winter, and this is easier done in established relationships and kinships. Or so is the interpretation."

"Yeah, you surely didn't object the magical interpretation of Beltane, back in May."

"If I remember correctly, and I know we both do as neither of us had been drunk, I asked you three times, Granger. And all three times you agreed that, yes, you wanted to have sex with me." He moved his mouth closer to her ear again, murmuring, "And that last time you even begged."

Humiliation washed over her in a chilling wave and she went rigid. "Let. Me. Go."

Behind her, he sighed and finally released her. She whipped around as soon as he pulled his arms back, drawing her wand in a smooth move out of its holster in her other sleeve. Sliding it a little down, she pressed the tip firmly under his chin. That she elbowed him with the movement, making him grunt, was only a welcome bonus.

"Never, Malfoy, never try to lock me in place again." Increasing the pressure until he winced and lifted his chin a little higher, she snapped, "And never, ever, mention that night again. You've made it clear enough what it was for you."

"Granger, it's not what you—"

"Oh yes, it's exactly what I think it is!" Hermione stabbed the underside of his chin until the tip of her wand was dug deeply into the patch of stubbly skin. Inadvertently, her eyes flickered only a few inches off to the spot which drove him wild. Despite the distracting memory, she kept her wand firmly in place and hoped it hurt.

She'd realised a while ago how foolish she had been to hope there would be any reasonable pursuit of her little crush on somebody who just happened to work in the same building as her. The little interactions they'd had had been short-lived, too, with them finishing their shared project in record time. In hindsight, she wondered if he'd pulled some strings behind her back.

"I was not the one putting on the ignorance act after!"

"Oh really? Guess what, Malfoy." Raising her voice with her rising anger to cover the memory of the disappointment she'd felt in the past few months, she spat, "I was not the one sneaking out of somebody's bed before the sun had even risen!"

He grabbed her wand hand and forced it down. "And I'm not the one sharing a flat with Potter, for fuck's sake!"

"Of course, fucking the Muggleborn on Beltane is perfectly acceptable, but facing her in the morning or—Merlin forbid!—her friends definitely isn't!" Hermione felt her hair freeing itself out of the chignon she'd put it in on that morning, curling up with magical energy.

His voice gained volume, as well, just below outright shouting, as he replied, "Oh, and your offhand remark that, let me quote your words of wisdom, 'it's clear that anything happening on Beltane lacks not only any meaning but also any depth, so don't you worry about it,' after I sent you flowers, and red peonies with honeysuckle and fern at that, is perfectly acceptable, of course!" A little quieter but not any less furious, he added, "You even sent the books back to Flourish and Blotts."

Hermione thought that, if she were a dragon, smoke must have been curling out of her nose and ears. Preparing a flood of words she still had to formulate in her head, she was interrupted by a clear voice.

"Draco, what's all that ruckus?" Narcissa Malfoy stepped around the ring of trees circumventing the ritual site, her husband in tow. "Oh, Miss Granger, it's you."

Hermione cringed, running her tongue along the upper row of her teeth before she mustered enough courage to greet the elder witch. "Mrs Malfoy, I apologise for the disturbance. I didn't—"

Waving her off, Narcissa took a couple of strides until she stood before her son. Malfoy seemed to shrink, like a little boy knowing that a dressing-down was about to happen, while his father observed the conversation. His glance grazed her, only acknowledging Hermione with a firm nod, like he was wont to do during the rare times they met.

"Draco, you need to fix this."

"Yes, Mother. I was about to but she—"

The Malfoy matriarch cut him off. "No more excuses, Draco. You should have fixed it months ago. And make sure to stay out tonight. Your father and I need the manor for the next couple of hours."

"Mother!" He sounded mortified. "I really don't need that image in my—"

"Hush," she replied. Turning to Hermione, she said, "Miss Granger, we invite you to watch the rest of the ceremony. Draco can explain the proceedings, and you really should tell me what he said when we meet for your monthly tea. It's a marvellous opportunity for you to learn a little about ancient magic, I believe." Casting a sharp glance to her son and her husband, she added, "Is it not, Draco? Lucius?"

"Of course, dear."

"Why haven't you told her—" Faltering at the stern glare of Mrs Malfoy, he assented with a barely concealed sigh, "Yes, Mother."

Hermione squinted her eyes at the Malfoys' unexpected submission but chalked it off on the respect the accomplished witch so obviously demanded. Watching the couple leave with confident steps, Hermione jumped a little, when Malfoy suddenly stood next to her.

"Come," he said, inclining his head towards the crack between the trunks. "Observe the rest of the rite."

She harrumphed a bit but went back to the gap between the trees and observed the shifted scene. The fire was almost extinguished, only sporadic tongues flaming up on the big, filled mound of embers. The atmosphere felt calmer and fortifying now instead of the lively dance of the flames from earlier.

"The couples are still staring into the fire," she murmured, trying to memorise everything, although she'd missed large chunks due to the argument between her and Draco. The Malfoys took their place, again, among the others as if nothing had happened.

"Everyone has to stay until the last flames stop flaring up. Then the ritual is to be finished among the couples."

Her head whipped around to face him. "What do you mean? Are they going to… I don't know, shed blood?"

"Uh, not quite." In the shine of the small streaks of light seeping through the gaps, she saw his face flush.

"Then what?"

Malfoy rubbed the back of his neck. "Basically, the same as on Beltane, just that its power is rooted in the couples dedicated to each other."

"Oh," she said, feeling warmth creeping up her face, as well. With another thought, she asked with an uncertain wave of one hand, "Are they going to… you know, have sex here? I'm not sure I'm comfortable with watching your parents… in congress."

He barked a low laugh. "There was a time they would have, in the old days. Not as excessive as was common on Beltane, but yes, it used to be like that. A couple of hundreds of years ago, the Wizengamot first made it optional, and nowadays nobody even dares to. Not to mention that the sticks and stones probably poke you in the most unfortunate of all places. Or so I imagine."

"So, you've never participated?" Observing how the attendees filed out of the circle of trees, Narcissa and Lucius leaving last, she heard a series of Apparition pops.

"No." He paused, and Hermione watched the dying light bathe his pale face in planes of orange. "We can go in now that the last couples have left, and the fire has stopped burning. The embers are self-contained. They won't spread but they are still hot." Casting a quick glance at her, he added, "If you'd like to warm up a little."

Hermione was torn between rushing home, letting the events replay in her head and licking her wounds a little, and the prospect of getting closer to the magical site. Maybe she could get an impression of the lingering power and see if the heat of the still-glowing embers would feel any different on her skin. She gnawed on her bottom lip.

"Come," he said softly. "Let's sit by the fire for a bit." His hand reached out to her until he thought better of it and pulled it back with an awkward expression on his face.

Hermione followed him around the bow of the copse and past the gate-like opening between two tall and broad hawthorn trees. The inside was quiet except for the occasional rustling of autumn leaves, and the air smelled clean and invigorating, now that the weirdly persistent smoke had disappeared with the last couple.

Speaking a cushioning spell, he prompted her to take a seat next to him. Reluctantly, she wrapped her coat around her legs and sat down, not sure what to do now. From the corner of her eyes, she saw him fidget, fixing his gaze on the embers but obviously not feeling comfortable.

Turning her head to the fire, she watched the remaining orange turn grey, soaking up the warmth radiating off the remains of the fire.

"Pansy, Theo, and I used to enact our own little Beltane when we were children. Mother and the house elves indulged us. Not on the actual day, of course. Of Samhain, too. Until the adults thought we were getting into a dangerous age for fertility games." He cast her a wry smile, and Hermione couldn't help but grin at the mental picture of the three as small children running around a ring of fire.

Looking at her, he said, "It was my first proper Beltane this year, you know."

The pause that followed seemed to be significant, but she couldn't figure out why. Instead of asking, she mentally went through the information she'd soaked up like a dry sponge when she'd been researching the topic. Coming up blank, she inquired, "I saw people much younger than us participating. Why was it your first time?"

He shrugged. "It was your first attendance, too, right?"

"Yes, but I'm a Muggleborn and didn't grow up with these traditions."

Giving a heavy sigh, he answered with a single, "Yes."

"Look, Malfoy, if all you're going to do is let me wonder and ponder, then you're wasting both of our time." She made to get up and added, "Please give my regards to your mother. Have a good—"

He interrupted her with a fast grip on her arm. "Stay, Hermione. It's complicated. The old magic and its entanglement in and between the families is complicated. And I thought my mother would—" He gestured vaguely.

She glared at him. "Yes, I am aware it's complicated, but nothing you've said so far has been very forthcoming."

With a contrite half-smile, he admitted, "I guess so. I only participated in Beltane this year because there were rumours that somebody else would be there, too."

Still on the route of confrontation, she bit out, "And then, lucky for you, there was a willing substitute."

He furrowed his brow. "What? Granger, what the hell? I was there because you were!"

She snapped her mouth shut, squinting at him in doubt.

"This would be much easier if you'd... Have you never read anything about pure-blood traditions? You must've read every magical book in Britain!"

"Honestly, Malfoy, not every single one."

Scratching his neck, he began to explain, "If a witch or a wizard has intentions, Beltane is a good opportunity to make them known and to receive the land's blessing." He stared at her intently, waiting for a reaction.

Hermione shrugged. "And?"

With a groan, he continued, the dying red of the fire not enough to cover for the blush she saw intensifying on his cheeks, "If they ask three times for consent, and the partner answers with yes every time, the magic acknowledges these intentions and the willingness of the recipient, forming a preliminary bond. It can be fortified, even sealed, on the same year's Samhain, or dissolved."

"I don't feel any kind of bond to you."

"It's not like a Veela mating bond, not by far, I think. More like an enhanced awareness. I would know you're in a room before I even saw you. I'd pick up on your mood before you even started to speak."

"Smelling you for hours after you left my office."

He leaned towards her, just a fraction. "Yes."

Her eyes flickered down, taking in the rosy hue of his lips, and when he moistened them with a quick lick of his tongue, she copied the movement.

"Why did you never say anything? Or leave any hint," she murmured, glancing up into his eyes again.

"I thought you knew. And then you made it clear you regretted it after I sent you gifts."

"Pish, they were only your way to ease your guilt. You made it clear that you didn't even deem the night with me important enough to stay for breakfast!" Hermione repeated without hesitation.

"They were not! You said what happened on Beltane was insignificant!"

She rubbed her temples. "We're moving in circles here." She paused, appraising his pinched face. Painting patterns onto her bent knees, she tipped her head askance. "Did your mother know?"

Malfoy put his face in his hands, muffling his next sentence. "What were you even talking about when you meet her for tea?"

"Surely not about me having sex with her son!"

He lifted his head and blanched a little. "Fair enough."

"You meddled with our project." It was only a guess, but she watched him closely.

The small crow's feet at the corner of his eyes were deepening. "Relationships between collaboration partners are frowned upon," he answered, confirming her suspicion.

Turning fully to him while she straightened her back in indignation, she called out, "And you thought accelerating our project with ill means wouldn't make me frown? It's wrong and I happened to like working on it!"

"I didn't meddle, and bloody sure not through ill means. I just made sure it got heard by the right people." He seemed to pick up on the discontent on her features as he reached for both of her hands. "I'm sorry. I thought it meant removing an obstacle." The pads of his thumbs drew circles on the backs of her hands and she calmed a little.

"Malfoy," she started and then tilted her head, catching the flitting thought in her brain. "Why are you even here?"

"Why are you here?" he countered, making her roll her eyes up to the starry night.

"Your mother was on a floo call last time I visited, talking to somebody about the preparations for a ceremony. And then I overheard two colleagues talking about a big bonfire happening in the forest west of Malfoy Manor and if the other one would be there. It was easy to connect the two, really." Preening a bit in the light of her own cleverness, she looked at him expectantly.

He snorted. "I believe my mother's words were, 'Don't dawdle, Draco. Miss Granger will be present at the rite.'"

"Oh." Deflating, Hermione stared into the slowly cooling embers.

"My mother isn't a Slytherin for nothing." He pressed a row of kisses on her knuckles, then released her hand. "We both got played, you just much subtler than I. But the outcome could be to both our benefits." He brought her other hand to his mouth and continued with his pecks. "Let me court you like you deserve." Scooting closer, his free hand snaked behind her neck. One thumb stroked behind her ear, making Hermione's heart pump faster.

She moved closer to him and rearranged her legs to make room for his. "What kind of benefits?"

"All kinds." When she barely smothered her laugh at his somewhat uninspired answer, he grinned. "Give me a break, Granger. I haven't tried to seduce anyone in half a year." Getting more serious again, he said, "Dates in nice restaurants, theatre tickets, flowers—and you had better tell my mother to teach you their meaning. Books, of course."

His face was close enough for kissing now. Hermione's heart skipped a beat in anticipation and she almost let her eyes fall closed. But then he only pushed a stubborn curl behind her ear, making her exhale a shaky breath.

Grazing the tip of his nose from the line of her jaw across her cheek to her temple, his lips lingered near her ear. "Can I kiss you, Hermione?" His timbre sent a pleasant shiver down her back.

She nodded slowly, tilting her head to give him more access to her neck or to let him slant his lips over hers. Both were fine in her book, but he only trailed a slow path of caresses along her jaw until he reached the corner of her mouth.

"May I kiss you?" he whispered against her skin, burying one hand in her hair while the other one cupped her face. The pad of his thumb brushed over her cheekbone.

Closing her eyes to concentrate on the feeling of his tongue tracing her lower lip, she concurred again, and wrapped her arms around Draco's neck. The strands of his hair were soft between her fingers, and he groaned when she raked her fingernails over his scalp.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" he breathed, his warm breath fanning over her lips.

Despite the goosebumps of excitement running across her body, she pulled back a little, opening her eyes. She inquired, with one brow raised, "Do you think I didn't notice you asking me for consent thrice, Draco?"

He considered her with an imperceptible lifting of the corners of his lips. "Of course not. You're a smart witch. I promise you won't enter any unbreakable magical union." He swept his hands along her back, tracing her spine until they came to rest on her hips. Dipping his head down to nibble on her pulsepoint, he added, "Just to keep that bit of a connection we had in the past couple of months. One of the benefits of magical courting, you know."

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut with a low moan escaping her throat when he started to suck harder on her skin. She knew she'd have to cover the love bites he left with a charm but instead of protesting, she clutched his head even closer. The sensation of his hot lips sending warmth to her core, of her own attraction to him being so cleary reciprocated, made her decision easy.

Moving his mouth closer again with kisses and licks, he hovered his lips just a hair's breadth from hers. "So, what do you say?" he murmured, pulling her flush with his body and splaying his fingers on her arse. The evidence of his eagerness pressed into her stomach.

"Yes." She opened her lips a little, letting the tip of her tongue run along her upper lip.

Surging up and finally capturing his lips in a fervent kiss, she sighed against his mouth. It earned her a squeeze which made her gasp. As she pushed on his chest with the palms of her hands to make him lay down, he hooked his palms under her thighs and pulled her on top of him where she settled in contentment. Hermione examined his face. Grey eyes half-lidded, his intense gaze met hers, conveying an earnestness he often hid behind lofty sarcasm. She leaned down to meet his lips and felt him smile as he finally closed his eyes.

The glowing embers lost their intensity, slowly turning to ash as the minutes passed but their kisses and touches continued, sometimes reverent and, at other times, aimed to incite each other until Hermione released his lips with a gentle nip.

She appraised him from under her lashes. "I believe you need a sofa to sleep on. I happen to have a free one."

"A sofa? What's wrong with your bed?" He furrowed his brows, one hand still securely locked on her arse while the other one was tangled in her curls.

"Presumptuous, are we?" She grinned.

He grumbled something to himself. "Then the sofa it is."

Scrambling up, Hermione stretched her stiff legs and watched him getting up, too. His lips twisted into a charming smile when he pulled her close again and planted a long kiss on her mouth. "But you never specified that I have to sleep on it alone."

ooOoOoOoo

Harry Potter's first reaction after he'd stumbled out of the floo and into the living room he shared with Hermione, all dishevelled and still on a wave of euphoria, was a diagnosis spell on his glasses.

But when that didn't remedy the scenery in front of him, he postponed accepting the fact that Hermione seemed to like being the big spoon behind an obnoxious blond git. Perhaps to after a six-hour nap and a pot of black tea, extra strong.

Some things just couldn't be stomached without a certain preparation.

Hawthorn and Holly are both plants associated with protection. (wherethemothsdance dot wordpress dot com)

The bouquet of red peonies with honeysuckle and fern are meant to symbolise devotion, bonds of love, and sincerity (languageofflowers dot com). You won't be surprised that Draco felt quite rejected when Hermione didn't accept them!

Please let me know what you think! Praise and constructive criticism are very welcome :). If you find a mistake, please don't hesitate to contact me on tumblr: o0sarena0o and I'll try to fix it as soon as I can.