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The sound stops him in his tracks. Draco’s halfway down the grand staircase when light, carefree laughter blesses his ears. He pauses and turns to look.
Instantly, he wishes he didn’t.
A flash of red assaults the space beside her, taking away from the brown curls he seeks out. Fucking Weasley. He doesn’t deserve her laughter, her smiles. Draco is the one who was there when the Weasel made her cry. Draco is the secret friend she confides in. Draco is the one who made her laugh at her lowest, and suddenly it became an addiction. A sound he yearns for, one he promised himself he’d hear as long and as often as she’d let him.
Not the fucking Weasel.
They’ve had to keep their friendship a secret because she doesn’t want to upset the red-headed oaf. Not that he ever offered her the same courtesy.
He’d traipse around the castle with his fucking conquests. Merlin fucking knows how he caught anyone’s interest, let alone Granger’s. Surely has something to do with the Order of Merlin First Class, not that that explains away Brown from sixth year. Though, she was all too willing to hop onto any cock that pointed in her direction.
But Draco shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.
Unless, of course, they deserve it.
“C’mon, mate!” Theo calls from the bottom of the staircase where he stands beside Blaise.
Right. His friends, who think his obsession with staring at Hermione Granger remains rooted in bigotry and misogyny. When in reality, he thinks she might be embarrassed to be seen with him. Not that he can blame her.
So, he’ll continue to be her dirty little secret. Sometimes, admittedly, he likes it that way. The midnight rendezvous sneaking around the castle. Meeting up late at night to study or brew or just talk.
Well, mainly listen. Granger has quite a mouth on her, that one. One he can’t help but stare at, especially when she sucks on those damned sugar quills…
By the time he gets down to the bottom level to his friends, Draco doesn’t miss the silent exchange they share.
“What?” he snaps, irritated that they’re talking about him, irritated at the fucking ginger git, irritated that the fucking mark marring his arm makes it impossible for Hermione Granger to ever see him more than a secret.
“Staring at Granger again?” Theo asks, glee in his tone.
“Fuck off.”
“You gotta let it go, mate,” says Blaise. “It’s getting creepy.”
“What’s creepy is the number of your mum’s husbands that have ‘mysteriously’ died,” Draco retorts.
“Oh ho ho!” Theo yells, bouncing on his toes. “If we’re going to start talking about mums—”
“Watch it, Theodore.” Draco punches him in the shoulder.
The boys cackle as Draco glowers at them.
“Are you finally going to tell us why you’re always staring at Granger?” Blaise asks, though his smile says something else entirely. Perhaps they realise it’s not out of hatred but…
Salazar’s fucking tits. When did he become such a fucking lovesick plonker.
He sniffs, not falling for the bait. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We can always go back to talking about Narcissa,” Theo says, waggling his eyebrows.
“Piss off.” Draco brushes by them. “I have to study.”
“Staring at Granger so much you’re starting to become her!” Theo yells down the hallway after him.
Draco throws up his middle finger over his shoulder, flipping off his friends, much to their delight if their laughter is anything to go by.
When he pushes into the library, he slinks through the stacks to his usual table by the restricted section. He prefers this table, knowing it allows for more privacy and quiet.
At least it used to, until Granger bumbled her way into his orbit and started taking up every spare moment and thought of his day. She claimed to need quicker access to the restricted section and space away from the distractions of her hairbrained friends, not that Draco could blame her. He feels the need to shower after sharing classes with the Gryffindors, breathing in their same air for forty-five or more minutes. He can’t imagine living with them. He shudders at the thought.
Granger should’ve never been in Gryffindor to begin with. Not that she doesn’t embrace their qualities with a fiery streak that makes his cock jerk to life. But she’s too bright. She should’ve been a Ravenclaw.
Then he wouldn’t be tortured sharing classes with her. There’s both pros and cons to that logic. Perhaps then he wouldn’t be consumed with wondering how she might look in other situations. If she’s as…eager and attentive as she appears in class.
If she’d gasp like she does when she knows the answer to a particularly hard question, or would the sound be softer? Or…louder?
Fuck.
He digs his textbook out of his bookbag and waits. He doesn’t actually need to study. Merlin, spending time with Granger has ensured all his classwork is done days before it needs to be. If only because he enjoys the way her lips part and cheeks heat when he beats her to finishing a project. He smirks and shifts in his seat.
He should be alarmed by the sound of footsteps bumbling his way toward his sacred corner. Normally Granger moves so silently she sneaks up on him. But today, there’s an unmistakable drag of shoes against the wooden floors paired with a harsh mumbling.
When the person responsible for making all the noise assaults his senses, it makes a lot more sense. The sneer forms on his lips automatically.
Granger appears, yes, in all her messy-haired glory. But the ginger oaf is still beside her, ruining Draco’s perfectly good view.
“I just don’t understand why I can’t study with you,” the Weasel argues.
“Because you don’t study,” Granger replies with exasperation. “You just distract.”
“But we haven’t spent a lot of time together lately. I miss you.”
Oh, kill me now. Draco has to contain his gag reflex, but he can’t stop the way his eyes roll toward the back of his head.
As Draco flips open his book, the movement catches the eye of the horrendous intruder. The Weasel does his best impression of looking tough and angry, but mostly looks like a constipated hippogriff.
“What are you doing here?”
“I know you’re particularly slow and don’t know what the word means, but I’m studying,” Draco drawls and taps his parchment with his dry quill.
“Fuck off, Malfoy—”
“Ronald,” Hermione hisses. “If you want to study, then ignore him and sit. Down.” She points at a chair at the table in front of Draco’s.
Thankfully, Granger moves around the table to sit across from her boneheaded friend, giving Draco a clear view of her chocolate eyes and the constellation of freckles splattered across her cheeks.
Unfortunately, as she reaches into her bag and pulls out a purple sugar quill, Draco has a perfect view of her sucking on that as well. Her lips wrap around the candy, holding it between her lips as she reaches into her bag once more.
Draco can’t stop staring, feeling jealous of a fucking sugar quill. The things he’d do to have those lips wrapped around him instead…
He shifts in his seat, and the movement distracts the pretty brunette. She looks up at him for a moment, just long enough for her bag to tip over on the table. The other sugar quill she’s recently started carrying falls out of her bag with the rest of her notes.
Weaselbee reaches for the candy, tainting the packaging. “Why do you have a honey flavoured sugar quill? You hate these.”
Granger snatches it from his hand, her eyes briefly flicking up to look at Draco. “It’s for a friend.”
“Who?”
“I have other friends beside you, Ronald,” she says, sighing.
Draco can’t hold back his snort.
“Something funny, ferret?” Weasley snaps, turning in his chair to offer the most pathetic glare Draco has ever seen. A pygmy puff would be scarier. “Is it so hard to believe that ‘Mione would have friends?”
Draco’s nose wrinkles at Granger’s horrid nickname. “No, what’s hard to believe is that she continues to waste her time on you.” He doesn’t deign to look at the red-headed idiot, holding eye contact with Granger as he says, “We both know she can do better.”
“Oh and who would that be? Someone like you?”
Draco smirks, this time meeting the hard blue gaze under the unruly mop of red hair. “Glad to see you’ve finally grasped that I’m better than you, Weasley.” His eyes slide back to Hermione’s. He nods at her. “Maybe now she’ll finally see it too.”
He doesn’t listen to whatever half-arsed retort Weaselbee throws his way. Instead, Draco packs up his bag and leaves the library, only pulling his gaze from those big, chocolate eyes at the very last second.
***
Hours later, when the corridor sconces struggle against the dark shadows swallowing every corner of the dungeons, Draco sits on the ground, leaning against the materialised doors to the Slytherin common room.
The little light previously illuminating the space is suddenly cut off, taken over by a shadowy silhouette of riotous curls.
“I’m sorry.”
“Whatever for, Granger?” he drawls.
She shifts on her feet, the flickering light slipping past her for a second. “For Ronald. And the library. We had a date—”
“A date?”
“Well, erm, a study date,” she hurries to correct.
“Right.” He chuckles to himself sadly. “No need to apologise.” He stands finally, brushing off his trousers.
“I do. I… I look forward to our…”
“Study dates?” he concludes blandly.
She nods. “And Ronald is a complete arse—”
“As I’ve been saying since first year, yes,” Draco adds. He can’t see her reaction in the obstructed light, but he likes to imagine her fighting a grin at the ginger’s expense. He switches topics, if only to keep her here longer. “So… did you really come all the way down here to apologise?”
She nods once, a determined little thing. “I did.”
He props his foot on the wall behind him, twirling his wand between his fingers casually. “What if I wasn’t sitting outside the common room? What would you have done then?”
“Well, I, erm, was going to check the Potions’ classroom, actually, but found you here first.”
He watches her, revels in the way he makes her nervous, the shift of her feet, the aversion of her chocolate gaze.
As expected, she continues rambling. “I mean, you obviously weren’t anywhere in the library so I checked the quidditch pitch and then the hill by the Black Lake and didn’t find you there. I passed Zabini and Nott in the courtyard and you weren’t with them so I thought…”
He tugs his bottom lip in between his teeth, pushing off the wall to walk toward Granger. “So…you ran all the way around the school…just to find me?”
He loves the way her cheeks turn pink under his attention. “To apologise,” she insists.
“Right.”
“And to give you this.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a yellow sugar quill.
“Honey?” he asks, though he already knows the answer. He just likes making her squirm, making her confront the effort she puts forth for him.
She shrugs, unable to hold his gaze. “It’s your favourite.”
“Thanks for not giving it to Weasley.”
“I got it for you.”
“I heard. ‘It’s for a friend.’” He takes another step closer to her so she has to tilt her head back to look up at him. “Is that what we are then, Granger? Friends?” He reaches for one of her curls, tucking the rogue strand back behind her ear.
Her eyes widen and her lips part. She hesitates. She hesitates.
Fuck. What the fuck am I doing?
Her laughter, her moon eyes over that ginger fucking prick. She doesn’t want me. She wants him.
Draco takes a step back and plasters on his cocksure smirk. “Right. We’re friends.” He lifts the sugar quill up. “Thanks for the candy, Granger.”
He doesn’t wait for her reply as he slips through the common room doors and disappears to his room.
***
Draco avoids his usual haunts for the entire next week. He feels like a fucking addict, detoxing from Hermione Granger, and fuck if the withdrawal isn’t painful.
When did he let the little Gryffindor get so far under his skin?
He takes up residence in the Room of Requirement. Sure, he could hide out in his dorm, but now there’s the risk that every time he leaves the Slytherin common room, Granger will be in the corridor waiting for him. At least here, she can’t get in, if only because he created the room intentionally to keep her out.
Yet, somehow, that Friday night, when he steps out of the room to go back to his dorm, it doesn’t shock him to find wild curls and a fiery glare awaiting him in the seventh floor corridor.
She stands with her arms crossed over her chest, her grey jumper soft and worn, her tennis shoe-glad foot tapping on the floor.
Draco’s eyes lock on the angry taps, his gaze trailing over her denim-clad thighs, raising slowly to find her pursed lips and flared nostrils.
Hermione Granger is pissed. But he can’t imagine why.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
Draco sighs. “Why does it matter, Granger?” Why does she keep looking for him? And how did she even know where he was?
“Because I thought we were—”
“Friends?” Draco spits out. He scoffs. “Right.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Draco doesn’t say anything, and every time he moves to walk around her, she sidesteps him, cutting off his path. “Drac—”
His eyes snap to hers. Fuck. He’d imagined it, fantasised over hearing his name fall from her lips in a variety of different ways. Somehow, even in anger, hearing it is better than anything he’d dreamt up.
“Because I don’t want to be your fucking friend, Granger!” he yells.
She takes a step back as if he’d physically laid a hand on her. Her face falls, her arms dropping in defeat to her side. “O—oh. Of…of course. I should’ve—”
“No.” He follows after her, step for step, this time not letting her get away. “You misunderstood. I don’t want to be just your friend.”
Those chocolate eyes widen, landing on his, her pretty pink lips parting in an ‘o’.
He lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah.” He turns to leave, heading for the staircase as fast as his long legs can manage.
“Draco…” Her voice is a whisper this time, a broken, confused wisp echoing in the barren corridor.
He nearly flinches. Somehow, hearing his name leave her lips sounding like that is worse than not hearing it at all.
***
A piece of crumpled up parchment hits Draco’s forehead where he lies on his bed. An annoying voice follows. “Get up, you pathetic fucking bellend. I’m getting embarrassed for you.”
“Fuck off, Nott.”
“Get up, mate. We’re going to Hogsmeade,” Blaise insists.
“No.”
“It’s non-negotiable, actually,” says Theo with an irritating grin.
“You’re not my fucking—” Draco cuts himself off, but the damage is already done.
“Oh, do please finish that sentence. I’ll take any opportunity to talk about your mum.” Theo grins.
Draco shoves at his friend.
“No, we’re not your mother, we’re your friends,” Blaise says, always the more rational of the two of them.
“Maybe if I’m lucky, though, I could be your step-dad.” Theo jumps out of reach before Draco can hex him. “I can go all day, mate. Something Narcissa will find out sooner or—”
“Will you get him to shut the hell up?” Draco snaps at Blaise.
“Only if you come with us.” Blaise cocks his head to the side. “Firewhisky’s on Nott.”
“What the hell?”
“Deal.” Draco gets out of bed and shoves his feet into his dragonhyde boots.
The walk to Hogsmeade seems to take fucking forever. On the trails, they pass by too many of their schoolmates; a bunch of Hufflepuffs, a few Ravenclaws, and worst of all, so many fucking Gryffindors.
“Is fucking everyone going to Hogsmeade tonight?”
“It is a Friday night, mate. Not everyone wants to stay home and mope in their beds.” Blaise bumps his elbow against Draco’s.
Draco can’t stop noticing everyone around him. With every flash of lion-red, he searches for a curly mane. His ears search for her laughter, though he loathes to see who’s making her laugh.
He picks up the pace, hurrying toward the promise of firewhisky.
Theo’s steps, however, slow down. “Mind if I pop into Honeydukes?”
“No,” Blaise says at the same time that Draco replies, “Yes.”
He can’t go into Honeydukes. He’ll risk doing something stupid, like buying out the entire stock of lavender sugar quills, as if bribing her with candy will make her fall in love with him.
“I’ll be at the Three Broomsticks,” Draco tells them, pushing past the candy shop, not looking through the windows to see if he spots a perfect smile and big, chocolate eyes.
Pushing open the door to the Three Broomsticks, he nods to the barman, Thad, who offers him little more than a grunt in greeting. At least he doesn’t get kicked out of here. Anymore.
“Firewhisky. Put it on Theo Nott’s tab.”
“That boy still owes me from the last time you lot came in here.”
Draco rolls his eyes and snarls, “Then put it on Blaise Zabini’s.”
Muttering under his breath, Thad grabs a tumbler and pours two fingers’ worth over some rocks.
“I wanted it neat.”
“And I want my money.”
Draco snags the glass and grabs a corner table to wait for his friends. When the door bursts open a few minutes later, the booming, obnoxious voice of Theo Nott is unmistakable.
“Thad! My man!”
The barman glares at the rowdy Slytherin. “Come to settle your tab?”
“Actually, I came to add to it.”
Thad grunts.
“Aw, come on. Don’t be like that. We’re friends! We go way back!”
“I’ll take a firewhisky,” Blaise cuts in.
“Make it two, Thaddeus.” Theo grins, using his charming smile on the barman.
Thad pours one whisky. Neat. The bastard.
Blaise takes his drink and joins Draco at his table while Theo continues to argue and try and flirt his way out of what is surely an obscene bar tab.
“Alright, spill before Theo comes over. What’s going on with you?” Blaise sips his drink. Draco stares at the not-watered-down liquor with jealousy.
“I don’t need to fucking talk about it.”
“I’m pretty sure you do. You’ve been a right arse since… Well, honestly, since I’ve known you, but it’s been especially apparent lately.”
Draco flips him off.
“I know it has something to do with Granger.”
“Fuck off.” He takes a sip of his whisky, irritated at the way the ice hits his lip.
“I’m not fucking blind.”
He slams his glass down harder than he should. Thad looks over at him with a glare. “No, you’re too fucking nosy,” he says to Blaise.
“Maybe I can help.”
Draco snorts. “You can’t.”
“Try me.” Blaise looks over his shoulder back toward the bar. “We have maybe another minute until Thad gets sick enough of Theo to give him a drink just to get rid of him.
Draco groans. Just as he’s about to finally tell Blaise everything, the door to the Three Broomsticks opens, and four people burst inside. They don’t notice Draco and Blaise sitting on the right-hand side of the bar as they turn to the left, beelining for a table.
His hand wraps tightly around his glass. He’d know that curly mop of hair anywhere. Sadly, he’d also know the three others with her; the ugly red hair, the messy black mane, and… girl Weasley.
Fuck. Are they on a double fucking date?
They grab a table, Potter and Weaselette sitting with their backs toward the door, giving Draco a front row view of Granger and the ginger prick. Fuck this.
Blaise’s head falls back on a laugh. “Holy shit. I didn’t realise you had it this bad.”
“Fuck off.” He downs the rest of his drink and tosses the tumbler on the table. “Go get me another fucking drink.”
“Go get yourself one.”
“Thad fucking hates me.” He motions to the near-empty glass in front of him, as if the ice is enough proof of the barkeep’s dislike.
Blaise cocks his head to the side, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Tell me about Granger and I’ll get you a drink.”
Draco grinds his teeth together. “Get me a drink and I’ll fucking tell you.”
Blaise laughs, muttering under his breath, “Too fucking easy,” as he stands from his seat and goes to grab the next round.
Without a drink to distract him, his focus is solely on Granger. She hasn’t noticed him, and a part of him is glad he gets to watch her interact with her friends naturally.
Granger leans across the table toward the Weaselette before throwing her head back on a laugh. Her smile is bright and warm, easy. His eyes trace down the column of her throat, aching to feel the vibration of her sighs there against his lips.
Has she thought about what he said at all? He hasn’t seen her since last night, since their run in outside of the Room of Requirement. He’s still not even sure how she found him there.
It certainly doesn’t look like she’s spent a lot of time thinking about it. Doesn’t look as if she’s spent any time thinking about his confession.
He’s such a fucking idiot. And now here she is with fucking Weaselbee on a fucking date with her gang of do-gooders and how the fuck could he be stupid enough to admit his feelings to her? It’s not as if he planned to. They just blurted out when she kept telling him they’re friends.
He’s so fucking sick of that word.
“Here.” Blaise returns, this time with Theo in tow. “Drink up and spill.” He looks over at Theo. “Drakey’s going to tell us about his crush on Granger.”
“Finally!”
“Fuck you both.” Still, he grabs the tumbler and downs the drink, already wishing he had another in front of him. He eyes Blaise’s glass, tempted to snatch it for himself. “We’re just…” Fuck, there’s that fucking word again. The bane of his fucking existence. “Friends.” He spits it out between clenched teeth.
Blaise and Theo glance at one another, the amusement clear on their faces.
“Fuck you.” He steals Blaise’s glass. Call it payment for his mockery.
“Dude!” Blaise snaps.
Through barely-contained laughter, Theo asks, “You and Granger? Are friends?”
“Yes.” His teeth snap together noisily.
“Since when?” asks the more irritating of Draco’s two friends.
“Are you sure you’re actually friends?” Blaise asks. “I’ve never seen you two…interact.”
“What? Do you think I’ve made it up?” Draco asks incredulously.
“Well, you did undergo the cruciatus curse like, twenty times,” says Blaise.
Draco smacks his palms on the table. “I didn’t fucking make it up.” The volume of his outburst paired with the smack of his palm against the wood garners the attention of the other patrons.
Including the table directly across from them.
“Fuck.”
As Draco stares past them, Theo and Blaise turn around and spot her at the same time.
Granger looks directly at Draco, eyes wide. He doesn’t bother to meet the gaze of her other tablemates, but he can feel the glares being thrown at him from the three others.
“I don’t know, mate.” Blaise throws a thumb over his shoulder as he turns back to Draco. “She looks pretty terrified of you.”
“Yeah, why don’t you go say hello to your friend?” Theo snarks.
“We’re…secret friends.” Fuck. This is more embarrassing than confessing his feelings to Granger. He sounds like Luna fucking Lovegood. Completely barmy.
Theo and Blaise burst out laughing.
Draco glances over their shoulders and finds Granger’s eyes on him again or still, he’s not sure. She offers him a small, pathetic, pitying smile.
“I told her I didn’t want to be just friends,” Draco says. The confession cuts through his friends, their laughter subsiding.
Blaise and Theo glance at one another before Blaise asks, “What did she say to that?”
Draco’s hand forms a fist atop the table. “Nothing.”
“Oh, fuck,” Theo murmurs.
“Sorry, mate,” Blaise adds.
Draco clears his throat, eyeing his empty tumblers, wishing they’d magically refill themselves.
Theo claps loudly, drawing his attention back. “Well, then. You need to get laid.”
“What?” Draco asks blandly.
Theo loudly downs his drink. “You know what they say. The best way to get over somebody is to fuck somebody else.” Theo wiggles his brows.
“I’m pretty sure only you say that.” Blaise snorts.
“And it’s never done me wrong.” Theo winks. “So! Blaisey, who should we set dear Drakey up with?”
“Preferably no one,” Draco says, but his friends simply ignore him.
“What about Tori?” Blaise offers.
“Who the hell is Tori?” Draco asks.
“Daph’s little sister.” Blaise supplies. Draco stares blankly. “Astoria?” Draco shrugs.
Theo shakes his head. “She doesn’t seem to be the fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type.” He taps an irritating finger on the table top.
“Oh! Oh. Oh ho ho.” Theo lets out an evil laugh. “I know the perfect person.”
Draco arches a dark brow. “Who?”
“Do you trust me?” Theo asks.
“Not even a little bit.”
That just makes his mischievous grin stretch wider.
***
Draco’s waiting by the grand staircase when someone bumps into him from behind.
“Shoot. I’m sorry.”
Fuck.
He turns around and Granger’s brown eyes are wide, her cheeks pink. Clutched to her chest is a book, the title hidden by her palm, as if she protected the text from falling to the ground.
“Oh. Dra—h—hi,” she stutters.
“Granger.” He assesses her cooly. Her hair is barely contained atop her head with her wand stuck between the tresses. Her sleeves are rolled to her elbow and she has ink stains on her fingers, eyebrow, and the side of her palm.
She’s a gorgeous mess.
“You, erm, look nice.” He pulls his gaze from the ink stains splattered across her skin, but her eyes are trailing over his outfit. His fitted black trousers, the chocolate brown jumper.
“Thanks.” He looks at his watch, the black leather band embossed with his initials. Whoever his date is, she’s late.
He can’t believe he agreed to a blind date set up by Theo. This could go wrong in a million different ways.
“Are you going somewhere?”
His gaze flits to Granger’s before staring off down the corridor. “Yeah, I—”
“Draco.”
He’d been so distracted by Granger he hadn’t heard anyone approach. While he was waiting at the steps, she’d clearly come from the dungeons.
“Tracey.” Surprise furrows his brows and colours his tone. “Hi.”
“You look handsome.” Her eyes flit to Granger. “Am I…interrupting something?” she asks, her nose wrinkling.
Draco looks to Granger, as if waiting for her to say something like, yes, actually. You are interrupting us. And stake her claim by possessively touching him or grabbing him or, fuck, kissing him, but he knows that’s nothing more than an unattainable fantasy.
“No,” Draco answers. “Ready to go?”
Tracey nods, pulling her gaze from the Gyffindor.
“You look…” He doesn’t know what to say. She clearly put effort into her appearance. Her long, dark hair is straight down her back, pinned back behind her ears. She’s wearing a black dress that shows off her cleavage and strappy high heels that look like a death wish. Her lips are painted red, her cheeks rouged, and all he can do is compare the intention she put into her look to the smudges of ink smeared across Granger’s olive skin. “Lovely,” he lands on at last.
Younger Draco would have dreamt of marrying a girl like Tracey Davis. A Slytherin with a noble family, and objectively, she’s very attractive. She’s small and smart and witty and he’s known her since they were kids. Hell, he wanked to her enough times since she hit puberty and started keeping the buttons of her Oxford school shirt undone a bit too low, but now, Merlin knows why, her seductive grin and tight dress aren’t doing it for him.
Who the hell is he kidding? Of course he knows why she’s not doing it for him.
Ink smudges, worn jumpers, and oxford shoes get his rocks off.
What the fuck happened to him?
***
Three hours, five courses, and two bottles of wine later, Draco is ready for his date to end. The entire walk back to the castle, Tracey talks his ear off, laughing to herself, touching his arm, falling into his chest.
He knew those shoes were a hazard.
She’s still clinging to him by the time they make it back to the dungeons and to the Slytherin common room.
“Tonight was fun,” Tracey says, batting her eyelashes at him.
“It was nice,” Draco relents. It wasn’t the worst date he’s ever been on. He just wishes a different witch were sitting across from him, and that’s not Tracey’s fault.
“I have to confess something,” she starts, biting her red lip. The lipstick hasn’t budged despite all the food and drinks. “I wasn’t sure about going out with you tonight.”
“Oh.” He wasn’t expecting that.
“It’s not that I was…opposed, per se. You’re…you. And you’re very handsome, but always so serious. I didn’t know if you’d be…” She pauses, considering her words as she steps toward him, into his space. “Interested.” Her hands land on Draco’s biceps, her eyes finding his as she tilts her head back.
“Oh.” He breathes out the word on an exhale.
“I just got out of a serious relationship and I’m not really looking for another one right now, but Theo said you needed a fling.”
“Did he?” he bites out.
She doesn’t catch his tone. Tracey nods her head, her eyes flitting to his lips. “He also told me he’d stay out of your room tonight. He’d go out with Blaise so we could have some time…alone.”
“Alone,” he repeats.
Fuck. He shouldn’t. He really fucking shouldn’t. Should he? Could he? Sure, Tracey is attractive. And she’s inviting herself to his room, so she’s clearly willing. But he can’t stop fucking thinking about Granger.
That’s the problem, isn’t it? Maybe Theo is right. Maybe there’s only one way to get the little Gryffindor out of his system.
Taking Tracey’s hand, he pulls her through the doorway and through the common room. The space is mostly empty, most people out on their own on a Friday night. He leads his date wordlessly to his bedroom and closes the door behind them.
As soon as the lock is in place, Tracey is on him. Her palms slide over his pecks and up around his neck as her lips find his. Draco nearly stumbles backward as her body pushes against him.
On instinct, his hands find her waist and she giggles lightly against his lips. Her hands make a map of him, sliding down his jumper and slipping under the fabric. They walk backwards toward his bed as Tracey’s hands find the buckle of Draco’s belt. His hands slide up her back, sinking into her silky straight hair that feels all sorts of wrong.
“Wait.” Salazar’s fucking tits. “Wait. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I can’t do this.”
She steps back and sighs, offering him a soft grin. “I’m surprised I even made it into your bedroom.”
Draco chuckles. “Let me walk you to your room.”
“I can cross a hallway on my own, Malfoy,” she says with a laugh, rolling her eyes that are the completely wrong shade of brown. “But let me know if you change your mind.” She winks and leaves his room.
Draco sits on his bed. Dammit. His leg bounces and he runs a hand through his hair. He can’t fucking sit here.
He stands abruptly and storms out of his room. He walks mindlessly through the castle, leaving the dungeons and slinking quietly through the corridors.
He only realises he’s led himself to the library when he gets to the door. With a resigned sigh, he pulls open the door and steps into the dark library.
He follows another memorised path, through the shelves and desks until he finds his favourite table. When he rounds the corner, the levitating candles are already lit. There’s already someone sitting in his seat.
She looks up the minute he reaches the table. Her eyes dip and harden, narrowing in their gaze. It’s a look he hasn’t gotten from her in a while. They trail lower and he looks down, following her eyes where they catch on the rumbled hem of his jumper.
“Granger.”
Her jaw clenches. “You have lipstick on your mouth,” she says in greeting.
He almost wants to laugh. Tracey’s lipstick didn’t move through the glasses of wine or through a five course meal, but one brief kiss and the evidence stains his mouth.
Draco drags his thumb across his mouth in an attempt to clean his lips.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, the anger in her tone whipping at him like daggers.
“Looking for a distraction.”
Granger snorts. “Davis wasn’t good enough for you?”
Draco cracks his neck with irritation. “No, actually. You see, I have this really irritating problem—”
“Oh, sure, Draco Malfoy has problems. What, too much money in your vault? Too many witches to choose from?” She grips the end of her quill tightly.
“No, actually. The problem is this witch I can’t get out of my head, the one who has no interest in me because she’s too busy mooning over her poor best friend.”
She scoffs. “Money isn’t everything, Malfoy.”
“No, clearly not.”
“You’re such an arse!” She stands. “You go on a date then show up here, in the library, in our—” She cuts herself off abruptly. “And you have lipstick on your mouth and your clothes are rumpled and if you came here after having sex with that—that—” She lets out a deep, angry screech. “That girl who is probably a much better match for you than—”
He blinks, her angry words settling over him slowly.
“Than who?” Draco steps toward her. He tries to temper the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. His heart races in his chest, pounding painfully against his ribs.
The stubborn lion doesn’t want to budge.
“Than who, Granger?”
Granger looks at him, and suddenly she looks wrecked. Her shoulders drop; her eyes clouded with pure exhaustion. “Than me,” she whispers.
“Granger…”
“I was driving myself mad sitting here while you were on your date with her. Wondering where you took her, what you were doing, did you kiss her goodnight? Clearly, that answer is yes. I hadn’t considered you’d do more than kiss her goodnight—”
“Granger, I didn’t.”
“What?”
“I mean, yes. She kissed me. And I tried to kiss her back. But I kept thinking about this annoying little Gryffindor I can’t get out of my head.”
“Oh.”
He steps around the table toward his girl. “Tracey is nice, and pretty, and polite.” He almost wants to keep complimenting her to see just how angry Granger can get. Will she snap her quill? Will her hair spark with restrained magic? “She’s a Slytherin, we come from the same social circles—”
“I get it. She’s perfect for you.” Granger spits out the words like they’re bitter on her tongue.
Draco shakes his head. “I prefer curly hair. Strands I could tangle my fingers in and not worry about messing it up.” He reaches for one of her loose, messy ringlets. “I prefer fire to politeness. Competition to complacency. Lions…to snakes.”
Granger lets out an unsteady breath.
“Chocolate brown eyes and oxford shoes and ink stains.”
“Draco…”
He can’t stop his grin from tugging at his lips. “Say that again.”
Granger grins, that fire darkening her delicious eyes. She pushes up on her tip toes so her lips practically brush against his. “Draco.”
He takes the unspoken invitation, grabbing her hips and crashing his lips to hers. Fireworks ignite in his veins at having Hermione Granger pressed against him, her body to his, her lips meeting his with every motion, her tongue matching him stroke for stroke. He groans, pulling her tighter against him, never wanting to let her go.
Eventually, she breaks the kiss, because if he had it his way he wouldn’t stop for the rest of the night. Or possibly ever.
She wrinkles her nose as she looks up at him. “You still have another girl’s lipstick on her lips.” She practically pouts as she says it.
He grins. “You were jealous.” And here he thought… No. He won’t think about her bumbling idiot of a best friend while she’s in his arms. He doesn’t want her to mistake him for impotent.
She rolls her eyes. “Shut up.”
She tries to turn away but he doesn’t let her. He’s not letting her go, not ever. “No. Admit it, Hermione.”
She inhales sharply, her eyes flashing at the sound of her name. Licking her lips, she nods, resigned. “Okay. I was jealous. I am jealous.” She uses her thumb to try and wipe away the red stain Tracey left behind. Her brows furrow with determination. “Maybe this is a sign we should call it a night.”
“I don’t want to call it a night. I just got you.” He tugs on her hips tighter, holding her closer.
She nibbles on her bottom lip. Draco can’t stop envisioning doing the same thing. “We could go to the prefect’s bath…get all cleaned up…”
Fuck. As if his cock wasn’t already half hard from their first kiss, it’s fully awake now. And yet, he can’t believe the words that are about to come out of his mouth. “As much as I want to do that, and trust me, I do. More than anything…I don’t want to be your secret anymore, Granger.”
Her hands slide up his chest and slip around his neck to toy with his blond strands. “You were my secret friend. You don’t need to be my secret boyfriend.”
“So I’m your boyfriend now? Is this how you’re asking me? I’m a little underwhelmed. I mean, I gave you a whole confession—”
She shoves him and he laughs. “We can tell people tomorrow. As for tonight…” She arches a brow and tilts her head toward the exit of the library.
He grabs her hand and practically runs toward the doors of the library, revelling in the sound of her light laughter that now belongs to him.
***
The next morning after they wake up, Hermione excuses herself to get a change of clothes and promises to see him at breakfast.
Draco heads back to his own dorm, and is greeted by obnoxious hoots and hollers as he steps inside.
“Oh ho ho! Look who’s doing the walk of shame now! See, I told you you could trust me. How was it?” Theo waggles his brows suggestively.
“I wasn’t with Tracey.”
“Two girls in one night?!” Theo’s eyes go wide before his hand falls to his chest and a grin tilts his lips. “I’m so proud.”
“Fuck off.” He pulls off his jumper and throws it at Theo. It hits the table beside his bed, sending the most recent bag of candy he bought from Honeydukes to the floor.
“What happened last night then?” Blaise asks.
But Draco is focused on the mess of treats beside Theo’s bed where he spots a lavender flavoured sugar quill. He struts over and reaches down, snagging it from the floor. “I need this.”
“Hey! You owe me.”
Draco rolls his eyes. “I’ll buy you every flavour of sugar quill next time we’re at Honeydukes.” Well, every flavour but lavender. He’s only going to buy them for one person.
After showering, he gets dressed and heads down to the Great Hall for breakfast.
As soon as he steps inside the massive room, he glances at the Gryffindor table. He grins, spotting Hermione sitting beside her friends. Perfect.
He struts toward them, walking around the long table to get to her. Hermione’s eyes widen and a flit of panic covers her face for a moment. But then she steels herself, his brave little lion.
“What the hell do you want, Malfoy?” the Weasel sneers.
Draco ignores him, knowing that what’s coming next will be better than any retort anyway.
“Granger,” he greets. “I got this for you.” He passes her a purple sugar quill.
She grins shyly and reaches for her own bag. “Funny. I got this for you.” She hands him a honey sugar quill.
“Wait.” Draco forces his attention to turn toward the redheaded git, despite the look of him practically burning his retinas. “He’s the friend you bought them for?”
Draco chuckles as he looks at Hermione. He cocks his head to the side, a silent question. Are you going to tell him or should I?
“Well…technically, yes…”
“You’re friends with Malfoy?”
Draco’s broad grin nearly makes his cheeks ache. “Oh, no, Weaselbee. We’re not friends.” He brackets his hands on the table on either side of Hermione. He keeps his gaze on the Weasel’s, his smirk still etched on his face. “We’re so much more than that,” he says, before leaning in and kissing Hermione Granger in front of all of her friends.