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“You want to kiss me, Granger.” Draco reminded her for the third time that evening.
Before dinner in the library. During dinner when Astoria left the room. Now after dinner in the corridor. She couldn’t avoid him in his own home, no more than she’d been able to avoid him at the Ministry for months before now.
Her arms folded over her rib cage, hands balled into fists and shoved beneath her biceps. “I don’t know that I could look either of them in the eye if we do this.”
“You’re wondering about our chemistry.” Draco toed the line of innocence. “Satisfying a curiosity.”
“And if it’s a mistake?” She asked sharply.
Draco shrugged. “Better an ‘oops’ than a ‘what if’.”
“Do you really believe that Astoria won’t figure it out?” Hermione eyed him with the careful sort of precision that one would need to scrutinize someone for the truth.
He didn’t blink. “She might. Astoria is a clever witch. Cleverer than the Weasel, at any rate.”
“Ron is plenty clever!” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“It wasn’t clever of him to leave you alone in my care whilst he traipsed off with the aurors like an oaf.” Draco raised a brow at her and took an infinitesimal step forward.
Hermione tried not to smile at him, truly, but the hint of it still flirted with the edge of her lips. “It wasn’t clever of Astoria to allow it, either.”
His hands rested atop her shoulders, body closer still. She blushed from the roots of her hair down to the flesh of her chest and closed her eyes. Draco didn’t let her avoid him for long; his long fingers slid against the side of her neck, featherlight, until they reached her jaw and forced her chin up. She swallowed around a dry patch in her throat and summoned all her Gryffindor courage to crack her eyes open.
When their gazes met, her breath hitched, and she knew he won. So did he, judging by the beginning curl of a smirk on his face.
“Why did you offer your home as my safe house?” Hermione asked him breathlessly.
“Because, Granger—”
Draco stepped forward causing Hermione to step back, over and over until her back hit the wallpapered wall behind her. His hands glided from her jaw to the mass of curls at the base of her skull and he wrapped himself in them tightly.
Her heart thudded a wild pace and her eyes dropped to his lips.
The angel on her shoulder chastised her.
Tell him no; this is a terrible idea.
The devil on her shoulder championed her.
It’s one kiss—one.
“Draco—”
“You smell like Amortentia,” he whispered softly and before she could gather her thoughts enough, Draco’s lips descended onto hers.
Her eyes stayed open, shocked that he’d actually kissed her. Draco pulled away only an inch, eyes still closed and shaky breath washing against her face. Something coiled inside of her, a hot feeling that spread sinfully through every nerve of her body. Hermione raised her hands from her sides and planted them firmly against Draco’s chest. He braced himself, muscles twitching underneath her fingers. Instead of shoving him away, she curled her nails into the cotton of his shirt and pulled him back down to her lips. The noise he made — surprised, a growl — traveled straight to her core.
She wrenched herself away and kept her eyes squeezed shut.
“What’s the verdict, Granger?” His lips were so close once again that she felt them against her own as he spoke.
She was so absolutely wrecked.
“Oops—”
The word barely left her. Draco had her pinned to the wall with his hip, knee pressed between her legs, and tongue coaxing hers to follow his.
Hermione’s final, fleeting thought before falling into one of the many manor bedrooms with Draco was that nothing would ever be the same after this.