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One afternoon, Draco, Blaise, and Theo were wandering back from the Quidditch pitch, laughing about Gryffindor’s latest dismal practice session. As they passed an empty classroom, Draco heard a faint rustling inside. Glancing through the partially open door, he spotted a familiar head of curly hair. Hermione was standing by the windows, slipping out of her skirt and into a fresh one, clearly having been splashed with mud and caught in the rain storm.
Draco’s heart leapt, but he immediately whirled around to block the door. “Go on, I, uh, left something back here!” he said, shoving Blaise and Theo further down the hallway.
Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Left something? In an empty classroom?”
Theo narrowed his eyes, leaning to peer around Draco, but Draco blocked his view with a poorly executed yawn-and-stretch maneuver.
“Yes,
left something
, Zabini,” he snapped, voice strained as he fought the urge to look back inside. He could hear Hermione muttering to herself, totally oblivious. “Just go.”
But Theo was no fool, and he exchanged a smirk with Blaise. “Something you need…or someone?”
“Shut up, both of you,” Draco hissed, his ears burning.
Blaise grinned, catching on. “Who’s in there? Wait…is it Granger?”
Draco’s glare would have scorched the stone walls if looks could kill. “Don’t you dare look,” he whispered furiously. “Just…give her some privacy, will you?”
Theo chuckled, crossing his arms. “Sounds like you’re the one who’s been getting a little too…familiar with Granger’s changing habits.”
“Shut up,
both
of you,” Draco muttered, his jealousy flaring as he glanced back at the door, heart racing. Hermione, finishing up her outfit change, finally tugged on a fresh skirt, completely unaware that three Slytherins were lurking in the hallway.
Once she was out of sight, Blaise gave Draco a knowing look. “You’re really gone for her, aren’t you?”
Draco scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
But the pink on his cheeks betrayed him, and his friends just laughed as they walked off.
Draco Malfoy couldn’t get the image out of his head. It was maddening, like a charm gone wrong, lodged deep in his mind, impossible to shake. It had been an accident—truly. A twist of fate, a bit of bad timing, maybe. He’d been rounding a corner when he’d seen her there, half-hidden in a shadowed nook, adjusting her shoe laces, and for the barest second, he’d caught sight of them.
Arse in the air. Skirt short and hiked up.
Green. Satin. Knickers.
They’d matched the very shade of green he wore proudly on his Slytherin tie. That small detail, perhaps more than anything else, undid him.
His mind replayed it constantly, the soft shimmer of the satin catching the low light, perfectly pressed against her skin. Hermione Granger, the girl who’d been in his life since childhood as his enemy, his rival, his polar opposite in every way—and yet here he was, tormented by the thought of her in that dark, soft green. The irony wasn’t lost on him, and it just made things worse.
He’d catch himself drifting off in Potions, the professor’s droning voice fading as he thought about her, wondering how often she wore them. Was it just once, or were there more pieces in that same dark green, a deliberate choice or a mere coincidence? Was it her favorite? Did she have others? Merlin, he had no business thinking about her like this, but he couldn’t stop.
She’d walk by him in the corridor, completely oblivious to his thoughts, and he’d feel a rush of warmth rise up, that secret knowledge burning behind his eyes. He knew something private, something about her she didn’t know he knew.
And in those fleeting moments when they crossed paths, he’d almost feel guilty. Almost. Because as much as he’d tried to banish the thought, part of him wanted her to know—to see the way he looked at her, as if it might give him the satisfaction of her understanding his struggle.
Another close call happened a few days later in the library. Draco had taken to sitting at the far back, hoping to catch glimpses of Hermione as she wandered by with towering stacks of books. Today, however, his luck took a bizarre turn.
Hermione, rushing to meet her tutoring session with some younger years, had miscalculated the stack of books she was carrying, and a heavy potions tome toppled from her arms. The force of it pulled her sweater sleeve loose, and she muttered under her breath, setting the books down and quickly pulling off her sweater to adjust her shirt underneath.
Draco, sitting just a few rows down, caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye and nearly knocked over his inkpot in shock. There she was, in a plain white blouse, sleeves rolled up as she adjusted her shirt—her soft curls brushing over her shoulders, completely oblivious.
He sat frozen, heart pounding, until Theo snuck up behind him, whispering, “Careful, Malfoy. You’re practically drooling.”
Draco spun around, nearly sending his parchment flying. “Shut up, Theo!” he hissed, elbowing his friend away, desperate for him not to peek over.
Theo chuckled. “Relax, mate, you’re the one who’s acting like a lovesick Hufflepuff.”
Hermione finally looked up, her brows knitting in confusion as she saw Draco and Theo whispering heatedly just a few feet away. “Is everything all right?” she asked, giving them both a suspicious look.
Draco flushed and looked down, trying to seem casual. “Uh, fine. We’re just…debating…ink brands.”
She gave him an odd look but shrugged, gathering her books with a small smile and heading off. Theo smirked at Draco as soon as she was out of earshot. “Mate, you’ve got it
bad
.”
Hermione was in one of the unused classrooms on the third floor, her robes hanging neatly over the back of a chair as she swapped her blouse. She’d only just slid her arms out of the sleeves when the door creaked open, and she froze, wide-eyed, clutching her shirt to her chest.
Standing there, just as shocked, were Draco, Theo, and Blaise.
“Hermione?” Blaise asked, his brow lifting in amused surprise. “Didn’t realize this was, uh, your changing room.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she let out a half-laugh, half-sigh as she stammered, “Oh! I… I was—um, it’s just—my blouse, it got, er, ink on it! Yes, ink! And I needed… a… clean one.”
Draco glared at Theo, who had started smirking. “Right,” Draco muttered, his gaze shifting back to her, barely able to tear his eyes away from the bare skin of her shoulders.
But Theo couldn’t resist. “Well, Hermione, if you need help with your wardrobe, feel free to ask.” He threw a wink in her direction.
Draco’s jaw clenched, and before he could stop himself, he’d pushed Theo backward. “We’ll give her some space. Now.”
He cast one last look at Hermione—caught somewhere between embarrassed and amused—before shutting the door firmly behind them, ignoring Blaise and Theo’s snickering the entire way down the corridor.
This time, she’d tucked herself into a rarely-used study area tucked away in the stacks of the library, changing out of her muddy skirt after a particularly disastrous Herbology class. She’d just stepped out of her skirt when the door clicked open, and she spun around, nearly tripping over her feet.
“Oh, Merlin!” she yelped, grabbing her robes and holding them in front of her. “What are you doing here?”
Blaise blinked, his eyes widening with surprise and delight, while Theo just folded his arms, smirking. “This keeps happening, doesn’t it?” he asked, eyeing Draco. “You sure you’re not just following her around, mate?”
Draco’s face darkened, and he shot a glare at Theo. “I’m not the one looking right now.”
Hermione stammered, trying to explain. “I-I had to change—there was, um, dirt all over my skirt, and I—plant acid--burns.”
But Blaise just chuckled, clearly enjoying her flustered response. “Hermione, you really don’t need to explain. We’re not complaining.”
Draco shoved both of them back toward the door. “You two have seen enough,” he muttered, his possessive jealousy barely hidden as he cast one more lingering glance in her direction. She caught his eye, her cheeks flushed, her own expression softening, just a bit.
“Thank you, Draco,” she managed quietly, and for once, he didn’t respond, just nodding curtly before pulling the door closed.
Draco couldn’t get the image out of his mind.
He’d been with Theo and Blaise in the library, studying late at night, when Hermione Granger had walked by again, struggling with a massive pile of books. She’d tried to shift them in her arms, and just as she adjusted her grip, a few toppled from the top of the stack. She bent to retrieve them, and in that small movement, her shirt slipped open just enough to reveal… white lace.
A soft, delicate white lace bra, so entirely different from the practical, no-nonsense image she usually projected. It had stunned him into silence, every detail imprinted in his mind, from the way the lace rested against her skin to how she’d quickly pulled her shirt back up, entirely oblivious to the momentary reveal.
But the worst part? Blaise and Theo had noticed, too.
Draco’s jaw clenched as he thought about their reactions afterward. They hadn’t laughed or teased the way they might have if it had been someone else. No—Blaise had simply raised an eyebrow, casting a curious glance at her as she hurried off, clearly flustered from dropping her books. Theo had given a low, appreciative hum, muttering something under his breath about how he’d never realized she had a “bright smile. It’s like she has a spell on me.”
Draco had felt a flash of possessive anger that he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t as if he had any claim to Hermione—she was just Granger, wasn’t she? But hearing Theo and Blaise discussing her like that, admiring her with a newfound interest… it drove him mad.
Blaise had glanced over at Draco, a glint of mischief in his eye. “I don’t know, mate. She’s got something about her, doesn’t she?” he’d said, his tone deliberately casual, as if he was testing the waters.
Draco had shrugged, doing his best to keep his expression neutral. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, hoping to end the conversation then and there.
But Theo wasn’t about to let it go that easily. “I’m just saying, she’s kind of interesting,” he continued, his eyes flicking in Draco’s direction with a barely hidden smirk. “Smart, passionate, maybe even a little fiery. Might be worth getting to know her better. Don’t you think, Draco?”
Draco scowled, feeling a surge of irritation he couldn’t quite hide. The thought of either of them getting close to her, learning the little details that he himself noticed when no one else did, sent a sharp pang of jealousy through him. And he couldn’t stand the way Theo was looking at him, almost as if he
knew
.
“Since when do either of you have a thing for Granger?” he snapped, trying to keep his voice steady but betraying just a hint of annoyance.
Blaise’s mouth quirked up in a smirk, and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Just because she’s not in Slytherin doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate her. Besides, Draco, you’re the one always running into her. You’d think you’d be a bit more interested in the fact that she’s actually… well, let’s just say, not bad on the eyes.”
Draco felt his face flush. They were testing him, he knew it. Trying to see if he’d slip up, if he’d finally admit that maybe, just maybe, he had feelings for her that went beyond their childhood rivalry.
Theo chuckled, giving Blaise a knowing look. “Exactly. In fact, maybe I’ll ask her out sometime,” he said, throwing the suggestion out with a casual shrug that was anything but innocent.
Draco’s fists clenched under the table, his knuckles going white as he struggled to keep his cool. The idea of Theo—
Theo
—thinking he could just waltz up to Hermione, flirt with her, make her blush, make her laugh… It was infuriating.
“You two have lost your minds,” he muttered, his voice sharper than he intended. “I’m sure Granger has no interest in either of you, so there’s no point in embarrassing yourselves.”
Theo raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at Draco. “Funny, isn’t it, Blaise? How defensive he’s getting over Granger. You’d almost think he didn’t want us anywhere near her.”
Blaise’s smirk grew, and he nudged Draco’s shoulder. “You sure there’s nothing you want to tell us, Draco?”
Draco clenched his jaw, the image of Hermione’s white lace bra still haunting him, tangled with the idea of her laughing with Theo or leaning close to Blaise in a quiet corner. He couldn’t stand it. But admitting his feelings to them? That was a step he wasn’t ready to take.
“Think what you want,” he muttered, looking away, trying to keep his face impassive. “But I’d suggest you keep your fantasies to yourselves.”
Blaise and Theo exchanged an amused, knowing glance, but thankfully, they didn’t press the matter further. Still, as they went back to their books, Draco couldn’t shake the possessive ache gnawing at him. He knew they’d continue their harmless interest in her, making little comments here and there, trying to goad him.
And worse, he knew that the more he tried to deny it, the more obvious it became—to everyone except Hermione herself.
The dungeons were cold that afternoon, dimly lit as Draco, Theo, and Blaise made their way back from a study session in the Potions classroom. They were laughing over some outrageous theory Blaise had about Professor Slughorn's latest hair-brained potion, and as they turned a corner, Draco nearly ran right into someone.
To his shock, it was Hermione. She was by herself, standing against the wall with her skirt half-zipped, clearly in the middle of a quick outfit change. Her cheeks flushed as she realized she wasn’t alone, her hands instinctively clutching her new skirt as she fumbled to pull it up.
“Oh, Merlin,
Malfoy!
” she yelped, her voice exasperated. “You three need a bell or something!”
Draco’s heart practically stopped. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, feeling a bizarre mixture of surprise, desire, and protectiveness. But Theo and Blaise were right there with him, and he noticed their eyebrows shoot up in interest as they, too, spotted her.
Blaise, ever the flirt, raised a brow, the faintest smirk on his face. “Well, well. Fancy meeting you here, Granger.”
Draco immediately tensed, stepping forward to block their view of her. “Don’t you two have anywhere else to be?” he snapped, throwing his arms out just enough to obscure her from their gaze.
Theo gave him a sly look, his lips twisting into a knowing smirk. “What’s with the attitude, Draco? It’s just Granger,” he teased, though his eyes darted past Draco’s shoulder for a glimpse.
Draco’s jaw clenched, the faintest hint of a growl slipping into his voice. “Yes, just
Granger
, who you both don’t need to be ogling right now.”
Hermione, still clutching her skirt, narrowed her eyes at him. “Ogling? Who’s ogling?” she muttered, giving him an indignant look as she hastily zipped up her skirt.
Blaise gave an exaggerated sigh. “You know, Draco, you could just move out of the way and let us all pass like civilized people,” he said, his grin widening as Draco glared.
“Or,” Draco shot back, his voice edged with possessiveness he could barely hide, “you two could
leave
.”
Theo and Blaise exchanged an amused glance, their smirks growing. Blaise put a hand on Draco’s shoulder, squeezing it in a way that made Draco clench his fists even harder.
“Possessive, aren’t we?” Theo muttered, clearly entertained. “What, got a bit of a claim on Granger now, Draco?”
Draco’s eyes flashed, and he half-turned, pushing Blaise’s hand off his shoulder as he straightened up. “Believe me, if I wanted to claim something, you’d know about it,” he shot back, his voice icy but charged with a hint of challenge.
Hermione’s brows lifted at his tone, and for the first time, she seemed genuinely curious—and maybe a little amused herself. “Malfoy, what exactly are you trying to say?” she asked, her gaze piercing.
Draco’s cheeks turned faintly pink, but he didn’t back down. “I’m saying,” he muttered, his voice softer now, “that Blaise and Theo have no business bothering you.”
Blaise raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. We’re not
bothering
Granger. Relax, Draco,” he said, chuckling as he took a step back. “But you should know, it’s a bit obvious.”
“What’s obvious?” Hermione asked, her gaze darting between them, though her eyes lingered on Draco, her cheeks still pink from the whole ordeal.
Theo grinned, leaning casually against the wall. “Draco’s very…keen…on your privacy, Granger,” he said with a mischievous glint. “Especially when it comes to anyone else seeing you like this.”
“Absolutely no one needs to see her like this,” Draco snapped, glaring daggers at Theo.
Hermione folded her arms, watching him closely, a little smirk finally surfacing. “Is that so, Malfoy?” she asked, her voice teasing but with a hint of something more—something Draco was still trying to figure out.
Blaise let out a low whistle, chuckling. “I think that’s our cue to leave,” he said, nudging Theo as he gave Draco a final knowing look. “Good luck, Draco. You’re going to need it.”
With that, Blaise and Theo left, shooting Draco one last smirk each before disappearing around the corner.
Once they were gone, Hermione raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she watched Draco, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Very protective today, aren’t we?”
Draco let out a frustrated sigh, feeling his cheeks grow warm. “I just didn’t want them to…to…” He stammered, unable to find the words, his mind filled with the way she looked, flustered and close, still adjusting her clothes.
She took a step closer, clearly amused. “Didn’t want them to see me…what, Malfoy?” she pressed, eyes twinkling with a curiosity he rarely saw in her.
He swallowed, his heart pounding. “You’re just…not theirs to look at,” he muttered, the words escaping before he could stop them.
Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise, her smirk softening into something more genuine. “Not theirs, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter, almost vulnerable. “Just…just mine to look at, I guess.”
For the first time, her face softened, the usual teasing replaced by something warm. “Well, maybe I should tell you that next time I decide to change in a dungeon hallway.”
A faint smile flickered across his face, and he met her gaze, finally feeling as though they understood each other in this strange, unspoken way.
Draco was trying to focus on his Potions homework, but his mind kept wandering. It was always the same: Hermione’s laugh, the way her hair bounced when she walked, the memory of how flustered she’d been the last time they crossed paths. He couldn’t shake the image of her blushing face, and he cursed himself for it.
When he heard the door creak open, he looked up, only to find Blaise and Theo slipping into the abandoned classroom across the hall. They were smirking at something only they seemed to find funny.
“Hey, Draco!” Theo called out, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You seen Granger around? I heard she was—”
Draco’s heart dropped. “You know what? Forget it,” he snapped, jumping up from his desk, panic flooding through him. He burst through the door, ready to cut them off before they could embarrass her again.
“Why the rush?” Blaise called after him, but Draco didn’t answer. He rounded the corner, heading toward the storage room he knew Hermione often used to change after particularly messy classes when she didn’t have time to hike up seven floors to her dorm.
When he pushed open the door, he was met with a sight that sent his heart racing: Hermione stood in front of a mirror, her back to him, fumbling with a shirt, completely unaware of the three boys’ approach. She was halfway dressed, one arm struggling to get into her sleeve, and her skirt lay discarded on the floor.
“Granger!” he barked, but it came out more like a growl. “Get dressed!”
She spun around, eyes wide with surprise, and Draco immediately regretted his tone as he took in her startled expression. “What—oh! Draco!” she exclaimed, cheeks flaming as she yanked the shirt down over her head.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, glancing nervously at the door. “You can’t just change in here!”
“Why not?” she shot back, still flustered but clearly annoyed. “This is a quiet room, and I didn’t think anyone would be coming by! Besides, it’s not like I’m breaking any rules.”
Draco ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up inside him. “It’s not about breaking rules, it’s about—”
Just then, Blaise and Theo came barging in, grinning like they owned the place. “Found you!” Blaise announced, clearly unaware of the delicate situation unfolding in front of them.
Draco’s heart sank. “What are you doing here?” he spat, stepping in front of Hermione, his back to his friends as he tried to shield her from their view.
Theo raised an eyebrow, taking in the scene. “Looks like we walked in on something, didn’t we, Blaise?”
“Just a little something,” Blaise added, a knowing smirk spreading across his face.
“Shut up,” Draco snapped, his voice low and dangerous. He could feel Hermione’s presence behind him, and the urge to protect her surged. “Granger needs some privacy, and you two need to back off.”
“Privacy?” Theo echoed, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Is that what you call it? Looks like she’s just having a little fashion emergency.”
Hermione cleared her throat, her cheeks still pink as she stepped out from behind Draco, arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to regain some composure. “I’m fine, really! I was just—”
But Draco wasn’t having any of it. “No, you’re not,” he insisted, his voice sharper than he intended. “You shouldn’t have to deal with them, especially when they can’t keep their mouths shut.”
The lighthearted atmosphere shifted, and Blaise and Theo exchanged glances, their teasing expressions dimming slightly. They knew Draco’s protective streak, but they also saw how uncomfortable Hermione was.
“Alright, alright,” Blaise said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “We’ll give you two some space. But if you need help getting dressed, Hermione, you know where to find us.”
With that, they stepped back, chuckling to themselves as they left the room, their voices fading down the hall.
Draco turned back to Hermione, who was still adjusting her shirt, clearly embarrassed. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone softening, the irritation giving way to concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, but her voice wavered just a bit. “Thanks for… you know, for stepping in.”
“Just… don’t do that again, alright?” he said, his expression earnest. “You shouldn’t have to deal with them like that. They’re idiots.”
Hermione smiled, a hint of warmth breaking through her embarrassment. “You know, you don’t have to act like my bodyguard every time I change. I can handle it.”
Draco took a breath, the frustration fading as he felt a rush of something else—something more tender. “Maybe I want to,” he said, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe I want to make sure you’re safe.”
She met his gaze, her eyes searching his, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged with unspoken feelings. He didn’t say the words he wanted to, but in that instant, they both understood that things were changing between them.
“Just… be careful next time, alright?” he added, turning away slightly to mask the flush creeping up his cheeks.
“Okay,” she replied, her voice softer now, almost teasing. “But I can’t promise not to change in strange places. You’ll just have to keep an eye out for me.”
Draco felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “I can live with that.”
It had become absurd now. Hermione was certain the universe was conspiring against her—or at the very least, against her privacy. She was on the Quidditch pitch this time, having slipped under the bleachers to change out of her practice robes. But just as she was halfway into a fresh shirt, the telltale sound of footsteps made her whirl around.
And, of course, there they were again—Draco, Theo, and Blaise, frozen mid-step.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake!” she groaned, clutching her shirt to her chest as her cheeks flushed scarlet. “Why do you three keep doing this?”
Blaise grinned, his gaze flickering over her bare shoulders. “Pure coincidence, I swear,” he said with a chuckle.
Hermione rolled her eyes, her expression half-amused, half-mortified. “I… I needed to change out of my robes. I had to oversee Gryffindor Quidditch practice for the younger years,” she stammered, trying to explain herself as if this situation wasn’t becoming painfully routine.
Draco felt a rush of irritation he could barely keep under control. He turned to Theo and Blaise, his voice low and forceful. “Go away. Now.”
Theo shot him a knowing smirk. “Alright, alright. No need to get jealous, Draco.”
Draco’s jaw clenched. “I’m not jealous,” he snapped. But even he could hear the possessiveness in his voice, and so could Hermione, her expression softening as her eyes met his.
Once they were alone, she looked at him, an unreadable expression in her gaze. “You… didn’t have to do that, you know,” she said quietly.
“Maybe I did,” he muttered, swallowing hard. He was desperate to deny his feelings, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting to be the only one to see her like this.
Hermione’s cheeks flushed deeper, and she gave him a small smile, tucking her hair behind her ear as she looked down. For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world, sharing a secret neither one could quite admit out loud.
The next time Draco stumbled upon Hermione, he was alone—and unfortunately for his sanity, she was in the middle of changing her shirt. Not her skirt. The skirt with the dark green knickers hidden underneath for his eyes only.
Satiny knickers that would feel delectable against his face.
They were satin, right? He’s seen her in so many various precarious clothing situations the last month that they were all starting to blend together.
It was early morning, and Draco had been up to return a borrowed Quidditch textbook he’d snagged from Blaise. He turned a corner, heading toward the Great Hall, when he spotted Hermione in a quiet hallway, fumbling with the buttons on a new blouse. Her old shirt lay crumpled beside her, apparently soaked from a botched attempt at morning tea.
Draco froze, ducking behind a suit of armor, half of him wanting to avert his gaze and the other half glued to the sight of Hermione—her cheeks pink, her hair a little messy, her new blouse only halfway buttoned.
Before he could make his escape, however, Hermione caught sight of him in the reflection of the nearby window. She spun around, her eyes wide.
“
Malfoy!
” she blurted out, hastily covering herself with her unbuttoned shirt. “Are you
following
me?”
He stammered, his own cheeks bright red. “No! I was just…passing by! Merlin, Granger, it’s not like I…planned this!”
Her gaze softened slightly, and she let out an exasperated sigh. “This is, what, the
fifth
time?”
“Fifth?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
He supposed it was only the fifth time that she knew about.
To Draco, this was easily at least the eighth time.
“Yes,” she muttered, glancing at him with a newfound realization. “And every time, it’s
you
, Malfoy.”
He opened his mouth, words completely failing him. She took a step closer, her gaze curious and maybe a little amused now.
“Malfoy,” she said slowly, crossing her arms. “You’re…not doing this on purpose, are you?”
“No!” he yelped, but then quickly added, “I mean…
not entirely.
It’s not like I want to see you—” He caught himself, stammering, “I mean, it’s not like I
don’t
want to see you. I just mean I didn’t want this to be…a thing.” He shut his mouth, feeling like he was digging himself deeper by the second.
She raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Malfoy…are you saying that maybe you
do
want to see me?”
Draco blinked, his face going through a series of shades from pale to bright pink. “I—well—maybe,” he stammered, finally meeting her gaze, his usual cool demeanor completely shattered.
Hermione’s eyes widened, and for the first time, she truly looked at him, as if seeing him in a new light. She let out a soft laugh, her expression both surprised and curious. “Well…perhaps I’ll stop locking doors and using empty classrooms more often,” she said, her voice teasing, as if challenging him. “I can’t let my bodyguard get bored now, can I?”
He stared, dumbstruck, until she shot him a final amused glance and walked away, leaving him to process what had just happened.
It was late in the evening when Draco, Blaise, and Theo wandered through one of the quieter corridors on the fourth floor. They’d been talking about their latest strategy for the upcoming Quidditch match, laughing as Theo mimicked one of their rival players. The castle was nearly deserted at this hour, and they had their voices low, voices echoing slightly in the empty halls.
Draco pushed open the door to the old study room near the staircase, figuring they could cut through it as a shortcut to the common room. But as the door swung open, he froze, his breath catching in his throat.
There, in the middle of the room, was Hermione Granger. Clad in dark-as-sin lacey black bra and knickers that did little to conceal her immaculate body.
Her hair fell in a tumble of curls around her shoulders, her eyes wide with shock, mouth parted in a silent gasp. She was clearly in the middle of changing—her robes were draped over a nearby chair, a few books scattered on the desk beside them. For a split second, she seemed just as frozen as he was, her cheeks flushing as she realized who stood in the doorway.
Draco’s heart pounded, and he felt every cell in his body scream to look away, but he couldn’t. It was as if time had stopped, the image of her forever burned into his mind, soft curves and bare skin bathed in the dim evening light streaming through the window.
Blaise and Theo, standing just behind him, took one stunned look and, predictably, Blaise let out a low whistle.
“Bloody hell,” Theo muttered, wide-eyed, his gaze lingering for just a moment too long.
But that moment was all it took to push Draco over the edge. Without thinking, he shoved Blaise and Theo back, practically slamming the door shut in their faces. “Out. Now,” he growled, his tone sharp and filled with a possessiveness he hadn’t realized he felt so deeply.
Blaise and Theo exchanged amused, knowing glances, but Blaise raised his hands in surrender, chuckling as he backed away. “Alright, alright, Draco. We get it. Enjoy, mate.”
As soon as they were gone, Draco turned back to Hermione, his heart still pounding as he caught her gaze. She was blushing furiously, her arms instinctively wrapped around herself, though she seemed rooted in place, her own shock mirroring his.
He could feel the tension thickening between them, and he realized, perhaps for the first time, that she wasn’t simply embarrassed. There was something more—a spark in her eyes, an unmistakable glint that told him she didn’t entirely mind that
he
had seen her, that it had been him and not someone else.
“Granger,” he began, voice soft, feeling the weight of her gaze.
“Malfoy…” she whispered back, her voice barely a breath, her cheeks still flushed but her eyes searching his.
They stood in silence, both of them caught in a strange, raw vulnerability, neither of them moving, neither wanting to break the charged stillness. Finally, Hermione managed a nervous smile, her eyes dropping to the floor for just a moment before meeting his again.
“This is… not how I expected to see you tonight,” she admitted, her voice trembling but laced with a hint of humor, trying to defuse the tension.
Draco let out a shaky laugh, his usual bravado melting away as he took a step closer. “Believe me, Granger, it’s not what I expected either.”
For a moment, his hand reached out instinctively, as if he wanted to touch her, reassure her, let her know he wasn’t going to laugh or treat her with any less respect. But then his hand stilled, hovering just beside her shoulder, afraid he was overstepping some invisible line.
But to his surprise, Hermione didn’t move back. Instead, she looked up at him, her expression softening, her own hands dropping from where she’d been shielding herself. She took a shaky breath, glancing at his hand, then back into his eyes, her gaze softer than he’d ever seen it.
“You’re not going to tell anyone… are you?” she asked, a faint vulnerability flickering in her voice.
“Of course not,” he whispered, the words coming out with a surprising gentleness he’d barely realized he had. “I’d never… not like this.”
The silence between them deepened, a thousand words unsaid hanging in the air. For the first time, he realized how close they were standing, how easy it would be to lean forward and kiss her, to pull her into his arms and let all those unspoken feelings find their place.
And then, in a whisper, so faint he almost missed it, Hermione asked, “Is that why you pushed Theo and Blaise away?”
Draco felt his face grow warm, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he took a deep, steadying breath and met her gaze head-on. “Maybe… maybe I didn’t want them to see you like this. You’re… you’re not theirs to see.”
Her cheeks deepened in color, and for a moment, she simply looked at him, the tiniest, hesitant smile forming on her lips. “And I suppose you think I’m yours to see, then?”
Draco’s mouth went dry, his heart hammering as he whispered, “I don’t know. Maybe I’d like you to be.”
At that, Hermione’s smile softened, her gaze melting into something he’d only dared to imagine. She didn’t answer, not in words, but her hand reached out, brushing his ever so softly, grounding him in the reality of this impossible, unexpected moment.
The sun filtered through the tall windows of the Great Hall, illuminating the chatter of students as they dug into their breakfasts. Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, a steaming cup of tea cradled in her hands and a stack of books open in front of her. She was completely absorbed in her notes, oblivious to the attention she was drawing from the two Slytherins who had just entered.
“Look who it is,” Blaise whispered to Theo, nodding toward Hermione. “The smartest witch of our age, deep in her studies as usual.”
Theo smirked, glancing over at Draco, who was sitting a few seats down with a scowl etched on his face. “I think it’s time we brighten her day a little, don’t you?”
Without waiting for a response, Theo sauntered over to Hermione’s table, his swagger on full display. “Hey, Granger!” he called out, his voice dripping with charm. “What’s more fascinating than our charming selves?”
Hermione looked up, eyebrows raised. “I’m busy, Theo,” she said, trying to sound dismissive but unable to hide the amusement in her voice.
“Busy is good, but don’t you ever get bored with all those books?” Blaise chimed in as he joined Theo, leaning casually against the table. “You should really take a break. How about we show you some real fun? Maybe a friendly game of wizard chess? I promise I won’t let Theo cheat this time.”
“Oh, please,” she replied, a hint of laughter in her voice. “You two? Fun? That’s rich.”
Draco, watching from a distance, felt a surge of irritation at their banter. He had always known Blaise and Theo enjoyed riling him up, but he was growing increasingly annoyed with their attention toward Hermione. She was brilliant, funny, and undeniably cool—but she was also
his
friend, and the way they were flirting with her was testing his patience.
“Honestly, Hermione,” Theo continued, leaning in closer, his voice low and conspiratorial, “you could be doing so much more than just studying. Imagine all the adventures you could have with us. I mean, I’m not saying we’re better than your Gryffindor friends, but…”
“Really, Nott? You think this is going to impress her?” Draco interjected, his tone sharper than he intended as he stormed over to them. “Can you both leave her alone?”
“Oh, come on, Malfoy,” Blaise laughed, his grin wide. “We’re just trying to have some fun. Don’t you want Hermione to have a good time?”
Draco crossed his arms, glaring at both of them. “She’s fine. She doesn’t need your
idea
of fun.”
Hermione looked between them, caught off guard by the sudden tension. “I can handle myself, really,” she said, her voice firm but tinged with confusion. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m okay studying.”
“I bet you’d look even better in a different outfit, though,” Theo teased, throwing an arm around Hermione’s shoulders, an attempt to tease Draco further. “What do you say, Hermione? Want to swap that school uniform for something a bit more Nott-ish? I have some nice robes I could lend you.”
Draco felt his blood boil at the sight. “That’s enough, Nott!” he snapped, pushing Theo away from Hermione with more force than he intended. “She doesn’t need your
robes
or your attention!”
The Great Hall went silent as heads turned to watch the confrontation. Hermione’s cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and surprise. “Draco, it’s fine. I—”
“No, it’s not fine!” he interrupted, and suddenly he had an idea, something ridiculous yet undeniable. “You know what? I’m tired of finding you around my friends,
undressed
or whatever! You’re wearing my clothes from now on.”
Hermione blinked, clearly taken aback. “What?”
Without waiting for an answer, Draco turned on his heel, determination coursing through him. He marched to the Slytherin common room, rummaging through his belongings until he found an oversized black sweater and a pair of joggers that he thought would fit her. He imagined how good she’d look in them, and the thought ignited a possessive urge he couldn’t quite shake.
“Malfoy!” Theo called as Draco returned, nearly panting with determination. “Where are you going?”
Ignoring him, Draco marched back into the Great Hall. He spotted Hermione still sitting at the table, looking thoroughly confused by the attention. She didn’t see him until he was right in front of her, the clothes draped over his arm.
“Granger, put these on,” he said, thrusting the oversized sweater and joggers toward her.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “You want me to wear your clothes? Here? Now?”
“Of course,” he replied, trying to sound casual, though he felt his face heat up. “They’re way more comfortable than that boring uniform. Plus, I can’t have you looking cute and stylish for these idiots.”
Theo raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “So you admit she looks cute?”
Draco shot him a glare, not even bothering to respond. Instead, he focused on Hermione, who was now holding the clothes, looking bewildered yet amused.
“Seriously?” she said, trying to suppress a smile. “You want me to wear your clothes in front of everyone?”
“Unless you’d prefer to keep getting harassed by them,” Draco said, waving a hand toward Theo and Blaise, who were practically vibrating with laughter. “Your choice.”
With a resigned sigh, Hermione stood up, an amused sparkle in her eyes. “Fine, I’ll give it a try,” she said, heading toward the girls’ bathroom, the oversized clothes clutched tightly in her hands.
As she walked away, Blaise leaned closer to Draco, a smirk plastered on his face. “This is quite the power move, Malfoy. Are you sure you want to make it so obvious?”
“Shut it, Blaise,” Draco muttered, fighting back the warmth creeping up his cheeks. He could hear Theo chuckling beside him, but he barely paid attention. He was too focused on the moment Hermione would return, the anticipation and a hint of pride bubbling inside him.
When she finally reemerged, the oversized sweater hung loosely over her, the sleeves nearly covering her hands, and the joggers cinched at her waist. She looked both comical and adorable, and for a moment, Draco was struck speechless.
“Ta-da!” Hermione announced, twirling around in a playful fashion. “What do you think?”
Draco felt his heart skip a beat. “You look… better,” he said, a little breathless. “Much better.”
“Definitely better than whatever Nott was offering,” Blaise chimed in, nudging Draco with his elbow. “I mean, you’ve outdone us all, Malfoy.”
Hermione laughed, a sound that lit up the room. “I think I’ll stick with Draco’s style from now on. Who knew he had such a keen sense of fashion?”
Draco shot Blaise and Theo a warning look, feeling a possessive satisfaction settle in as he watched Hermione revel in the attention—his attention. He’d staked his claim in the most absurd way possible, but at least now she was dressed in his clothes, and maybe, just maybe, that would send a message to everyone who dared to flirt with her.
As the banter continued around them, Draco felt a sense of relief wash over him. No one else could touch her—not while she was wearing his clothes. And that made him feel a little less ridiculous and a whole lot more determined.