Social Media Mayhem

Neither Draco nor Hermione break away from their embrace. Draco holds on tightly to her waist only tightens and she is pulled even closer to him and his scent. A bit of firewhiskey with parchment and mint. He hears Pansy, but continues to look into Hermione’s eyes.

His lips curl into a smirk as he says “That was bloody brilliant…Hermione.” He leans in softly kisses her lips, then drags his mouth down her jaw to plant a more heated kiss below her ear. The grip she holds on his hair tightens.

“What. Is. Going. ON?” They pull away enough to face an irate Pansy. “Firewiskey? Wine? A MUGGLE RECORD PLAYER? Theo- is that a Gryffindor tie? And a CHANDELIER?!?”

“I’ve got one too, love!” Blaise teases as he saunters over to her, glass in hand. “Would you care to join in the festivities?”

Pansy takes the glass of fire whiskey. Instead of answering, she downs the large pour in one swift motion. She looks around, seeing the banners and the discarded pink leopard print rug. “I’m going to need a few more of these before I can start talking,” she sputters out.

I don't remember the last time I've seen her so flustered." Blaise whispers to Theo.

"I do. It was when you jinxed her hair blonde and it didn't go back for three days." He reminds Blaise.

Draco is skimming his fingers over Hermione’s lower back, watching events unfold. Hermione rests her head against Draco’s chest, curious eyes trained on the she-snake.

It did not, in fact, take a few more drinks for Pansy to regain the ability to form coherent sentence. Gracefully throwing back one more and gesturing to Blaise to bring her another, she starts talking.

“What is going on? What is this? Why is she here? Why are you two…like that? What have you done with your dorm?”

Theo cuts her off. “Pans, love, have you been on Twitter or Facebook this lovely evening?”

“No. Why?”

Stifling a laugh, Theo says, “go on there and check out Draco’s posts.”

“Draco has social media?” She asks incredulously.

Blaise waves his wand and an armchair glides to Pansy, who sits, holding out her glass for a refill.

“She may need a fainting couch for this mate” Theo quips”

“Great idea Theo,” Draco says, briefly moving his hand from Hermione’s body to transfigure the chair into a fainting couch.

Not removing her eyes from her phone, Pansy says, “What exactly did you….HERMIONE GRANGER’S TITS?”

“You know,” Theo drawled, “That would make for a great curse! We already say “Merlin’s tits, and Hermione is the brightest witch of our age, so it’s quite fitting, if I do say so myself.” He plops down next to Pansy and levitates the bottle of fire whiskey over to him.

There are a few moments of silence as Pansy scourges Draco’s online activity.

Blaise looks towards Hermione and Draco, who are still embracing. “Theo, Pans, let’s take this to the common room. We will explain everything.” He turns towards Hermione and gives her a wink. Before he closes the door, he says “have fun you two.”

The door shuts and they are finally alone. Draco is about to speak as the door opens and Theo sticks his head in. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

The door opens one more time. Theo again. "Don't forget to cast a muffilato!"

Click.

They’re alone.

And holding each other.

Alone. Together.

“Come, sit.” Draco says, taking both her hands in his.

“Thank you, but I am not in need of a fainting couch” Hermione chuckles. “We can sit on your bed, if you don’t mind. I promise it’s still Slytherin green."

“O…ok.” Draco stutters. His mind is racing. Elation, confusion, desire…and hope. 'Don’t over think Draco don’t over think Draco', is the mantra changing in his head. Too many thoughts are battling for dominance in his brain.

“Perhaps you should sit…Draco.” Hermione proposes. Saying his name clears his head, and he walks with her over to his bed.

Hermione leviosas some of the floating orbs to the top of his canopy and closes the curtains.

'This is fine this is fine this is fine everything is fine', Draco chants in his mind.

She settles herself into the bed facing Draco, trying to sit cross legged. Her barely there skirt riding up. She takes a pillow and places it on her lap. She looks up at Draco, who mirrors her position, pillow on his lap as well.

“Her- Gran- Hermione,” Draco begins, his fingers kneading into the silk of the pillow case. He takes a deep breath and looks into her eyes. “I don’t know why you came down here and saved my stupid arse. But I am so glad you did. And not just because you managed to make me not look like a fool- but because…” he closes his eyes and takes another breath. “I am not good at speaking from…the heart, which I am sure you know. Please don’t interrupt me because this is difficult but I want to say this… I have thoroughly enjoyed every moment of this evening.” He stops fidgiting and reaches one hand out to hers as his other gently caresses her cheek. “I have enjoyed every moment tonight being with (I) you. Thank you for what you did. You…I’ve always thought that you were absolutely incredible. I’ve just never had the courage to tell you that. And after what happened,” he swallows, eyes glistening with unshed tears, “at the Manor, I- I don’t deserve this sort of kindness from you. I wasn’t able to help you. I wasn’t able to protect you and I can never forgive myself for that.”

Hermione takes her hand and cups it over the one he has cupping her face. She smiles faintly and says, “you know, it is quite late right now.”

“Oh. Oh, of course. May I walk you back to your dorm?” Draco feels empty, deflated. She doesn’t owe him a response. He knows this. But his heart still breaks a bit that he can’t make one thing- just one thing better. He can’t mend one wrong, or have the acknowledgment that he made an effort. Especially from her. The most important mistake.

“Well, I was thinking,” Hermione says softly, looking up at him through her long lashes, “could you transfigure this into some pajamas? " She gestures at her clothes. "It’s late. We could get comfortable and talk and sleep will come when it comes. If that is alright it’s you?”

Draco cannot remember a time where he had been lost for words as much as he had been this evening.

“You…want to stay? And talk? And stay? You don’t want to leave?” He manages to get out. He think he sounds desperate. No. He knows he sounds desperate.

“I don’t particularly want to leave,” she says with a small smile, “if that’s ok with you?”

Draco lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “I don’t think I ever want you to leave.”

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