A Dangerous Game
The soft light of the evening had dimmed as the conversation between Hermione and Percy lingered in the quiet air. The fire crackled gently in the hearth, its warm glow casting flickering shadows across the room. The atmosphere between them had shifted once more—there was something charged, something that made the space between them feel smaller, despite the comfortable distance they’d kept moments ago. They were both tipsy now, the alcohol loosening their tongues, but something deeper than the wine lingered in the air.
Hermione’s fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of her wine glass, her mind still reeling from the conversation they had just shared. She had felt it—every word Percy had spoken about his ideal woman. It had been impossible to ignore, the way his descriptions seemed to line up so perfectly with who she was. She hadn’t said anything, though; the words had stayed stuck in her throat. She wasn’t sure what to do with the way it made her feel.
But now, the focus was back on her. Percy turned to her, his posture slightly relaxed, but there was something playful in the way his eyes gleamed. “So,” he began, his tone light, but the faintest edge of curiosity in his voice, “I’ve shared what I’m looking for in a partner. Your turn, Granger.” He leaned forward a bit, as if eager to get a reaction, his voice a little teasing. “What about you? What’s your perfect man like?”
Hermione met his gaze, her lips curling into a smile, but she shook her head lightly, a playful glint in her eyes. She took a deliberate sip of her wine, the cool liquid slipping down her throat as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. “Oh, I’m not going to tell you,” she said, her voice light but filled with the kind of mystery that she knew would intrigue him. “That’s a secret, Percy.”
Percy raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by her answer. He chuckled, a low, amused sound that filled the space between them. “A secret, is it?” he said, his voice dropping to a slightly more playful tone. “Well, now I’m curious. And you know how I am when I’m curious.” He leaned in a little closer, his posture shifting as he looked at her with a mixture of amusement and challenge. “I think I could guess what kind of man you’d go for.”
Hermione leaned back a little, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Oh, really? Go ahead, then. Let’s see if you can figure it out.”
Percy’s expression grew more focused as he leaned back in his chair, fingers lightly tapping against the side of his glass. He seemed lost in thought, as though he were carefully assembling the pieces of a puzzle in his mind. There was a certain deliberation in the way he studied her, as if considering every possibility before he spoke. Finally, with a calm yet assured voice, he began, “Okay, let’s see if I can get this right. Your perfect man would have to be someone who… has a sense of purpose. Someone who knows where he’s going in life. He has goals, ambition, and doesn’t waste time. He’s driven, knows exactly what he wants.”
His eyes locked onto hers as he spoke, watching her reaction carefully, as though testing the accuracy of his observation. “Is that right?” he asked, his voice soft but deliberate, a slight challenge in the question.
Hermione’s breath hitched, and she could feel the warmth of a smile tugging at her lips. It was a smile of agreement, but also one of subtle surprise. How does he know? she thought, her heart giving a small, startled skip. She nodded, her gaze never leaving his, a little smile forming as she replied softly, “Yes,” her voice a little more sincere now, “That’s important.”
Percy’s smile broadened, the corners of his lips lifting with the satisfaction of getting something right. His confidence seemed to grow with each word, and he continued with a slight shift in his posture. “Right,” he said. “And, of course, he’d have to be clever, wouldn’t he? Not just someone who gets things done, but someone who can actually think for himself. Someone who can have an intellectual conversation with you without you feeling like you're carrying the conversation for him.” He paused, his gaze unwavering, studying her every little change in expression. “He’d be clever, witty, and have a sharp mind. Someone who challenges you. Am I getting warmer?”
Hermione’s fingers curled slightly around the stem of her wine glass as her breath became just a little shallow. She couldn’t help but agree, each word striking her like a series of little electric shocks. She felt herself drawn deeper into the game, even as she knew it was dangerously close to revealing too much. “Yes,” she said quietly, almost in a whisper, her voice thick with a tinge of realization. “I definitely like someone who can challenge me.”
Percy’s smile grew, now with a little more playfulness, as if he could sense he was on the right track. He leaned forward a bit, placing his glass carefully on the table. There was a subtle shift in the way he regarded her, as though he could feel the tension in the air building, but he wasn’t backing down. “And,” he continued, his tone dropping slightly, growing softer and more thoughtful, “he’d have to be someone who can make you laugh, wouldn’t he? Not just someone who’s always serious or focused, but someone who knows how to find humor in the darkest moments. Someone who isn’t afraid to be a bit cheeky when the situation calls for it. Someone who can lighten the mood, make you laugh when everything feels heavy.”
He glanced at her then, eyes bright with curiosity, watching her closely for any signs that he was getting closer to the truth. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he added, “Is that right?”
Hermione’s pulse quickened. She could feel the fluttering warmth in her chest as he spoke, every word threading into something that felt just a little too familiar, a little too close. She let out a soft breath, her smile now a little more guarded, but no less genuine. Her voice was quieter now, almost as if speaking too loudly would break the fragile bubble of the moment. “That’s right,” she murmured, barely above a whisper. She couldn’t help herself; the wine had loosened her defences, and now she found herself agreeing with him at every turn. It was both exhilarating and terrifying, knowing that he was unknowingly painting a picture of exactly what she had always wanted—a picture that seemed to be getting clearer with every word he spoke.
Percy leaned in closer, the shift in his posture now unmistakable. He was close enough now that Hermione could feel the heat radiating from his body, could smell the faint scent of firewhiskey and parchment on his skin. His gaze was focused, intent, his eyes bright with a sense of purpose as he continued. “And,” he said, his voice lower still, “he’d have to be strong, right? But not just physically strong. He’d need to be emotionally strong as well. Someone who can handle the tough stuff, who can face whatever comes his way without flinching. But also someone who’s not afraid to be vulnerable when the situation calls for it. He’d know when to lean in, but also when to let you lean on him.” He paused, his lips curling up just slightly at the edges, waiting for her reaction.
Hermione’s chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat as his words washed over her. It was as if he had reached into her mind and spoken her deepest desires aloud. The connection between them felt so tangible in that moment, the words too real to be ignored. Her fingers curled a little tighter around her glass, but her gaze remained fixed on him. The room felt warmer now, the fire crackling in the hearth almost too faint to notice as the air between them thickened. She nodded slowly, almost reluctantly, but the words slipped out before she could stop herself. “Yes,” she whispered, the word hanging in the air like a secret. “That’s exactly right.”
Percy leaned in even closer, his face only a few inches from hers now, his eyes never leaving hers. There was something magnetic about his gaze, an intensity that made the space between them feel electric. “And,” he murmured, his voice a low, smooth whisper, “he’d have to be someone who’s not afraid to take risks. Someone who knows that sometimes the best things in life come from taking a leap of faith. He’d have to be someone who can be spontaneous, who can throw caution to the wind when it matters.” He let the silence stretch between them for a moment, his lips curling into a playful grin. “Am I getting closer?”
Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest now, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. She couldn’t stop herself from nodding, even as her mind screamed that he was getting far too close, that he was describing her—describing what she wanted in a man, and more disturbingly, describing herself. She wasn’t sure when the game had shifted, but it was no longer just about answering questions. It was about something much deeper, something she hadn’t planned for.
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her chest tight with the weight of her unspoken thoughts. “You’re getting closer.”
Percy’s smile softened, his eyes now filled with something deeper than amusement, something that spoke of a shared understanding, an unspoken realization that neither of them was willing to voice just yet. He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against her skin, his gaze fixed on her lips for a moment before he met her eyes again. The air between them seemed to hum with a quiet, almost magnetic tension, and Hermione could feel her pulse quicken, her breath becoming shallow, as though the moment had shifted into something far more charged than either of them had anticipated.
The space between them had narrowed until they were almost touching, the distance so slight that it seemed impossible not to feel each other's presence, each other’s energy. The room felt suddenly too small for what was unfolding, as if everything had quieted down around them, leaving just the two of them in the centre of it all. His eyes were locked on hers, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for one of them to make a move, to acknowledge what was hanging between them.
Percy’s voice dropped, barely above a whisper, as though he were unsure how to articulate the words that had been hanging in the air for so long. “And that man…” he murmured, his lips barely moving, his voice low and thick with meaning. “Sounds like me.”
The words hung there, lingering in the quiet space between them. Before Hermione could even react, before she could gather her thoughts or process the way his words had sent a jolt through her system, his lips brushed lightly against hers—a soft, tentative touch that was more of a question than an answer. The contact was brief, a whisper of a kiss that didn’t demand anything, didn’t try to overwhelm her, but instead left her heart racing and her mind scrambling to catch up with the sudden wave of emotions crashing over her.
She froze for just a moment, stunned by the unexpectedness of it all. Her breath caught in her throat, and the heat in her cheeks flared, a rush of warmth flooding through her body. His lips had been gentle, almost teasing, but it was the quiet understanding between them that struck her the most. Neither of them had fully acknowledged the tension before, but it had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface. And now, in this fleeting moment, it felt as if they were both finally allowing themselves to feel it, to embrace the connection they had been dancing around for so long.
Hermione’s hand rested on the arm of the chair, her fingers curling slightly as if trying to ground herself in the moment. She could feel the heat of his presence, still so close, and it was as though the world outside of them had ceased to exist. There was no rushing now, no urgency to the moment—just the gentle thrum of something deeper, something more meaningful that had bloomed between them.
Percy pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her gaze again, his face still inches from hers. His expression was softer now, but there was still that same intensity in his eyes—an intensity that made her heart race all over again. He didn’t move away, didn’t break the connection they had in that brief, lingering moment.
Hermione could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breath still shallow, but she wasn’t afraid. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t unsure about what was happening between them. There was no rush to define it, no need to push it into any particular category. It was just… there. Real. Tangible.
“You really know how to guess,” she said, trying to lighten the mood, though her voice still carried the remnants of the tension between them. Her smile was playful, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes—not because she wasn’t happy, but because she was still trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened.
Percy gave her a small, knowing smile, as though he was fully aware of the shift in the air, of the subtle changes that had taken place between them. He sat back slightly, giving her just enough space to breathe, but his gaze remained fixed on her, thoughtful and still holding that quiet intensity.
“Maybe I’ve just been paying more attention than you think,” he said. “Or maybe I’m just lucky.”
Hermione’s heart skipped a beat, and she could feel the warmth in her chest spreading again. She wasn’t sure what they were doing or where they were headed, but she knew, in that moment, that things had changed. The game they had been playing was no longer just a game. It was real, and it was happening right now.