Dramione Drabbles [twitter/Bluesky prompts]

The slow dance kicked up a notch as Draco extended his hand and Hermione smiled, accepting it without question. It was their final night as Auror partners.

Their last chance to say what hadn't been said before.

Fingers clasped, hands pressed to hands. They started their dance. Hermione licked her lips, trying to not notice as he did the same. Swallowing as his Adam's Apple bobbed. He was as nervous as she.

Their cover was as lovers. The target was the last member of a drug cartel that had been hounding the ministry for over a year. An elderly Bulgarian wizard.

Hermione inhaled Draco's cologne and resisted the urge to lay her head on his chest. She desperately wanted to just rest against him, moving to the music, and enjoy this last time together.

Tomorrow, he'd be leaving the Aurors to take over the family business, in the wake of his father's untimely death.

Tomorrow she'd be assigned a new partner. Someone wet behind the ears for her to train. It was an exciting new challenge. And Hermione loved challenges. Being Draco's partner had been the most exciting one in years.

But she didn't want this challenge. She wanted to continue working with the man who was currently holding her close. Tightly. Like he was afraid to let her go.

She wished.

Hermione pulled back slightly, determined to do her job at least. Their target was in the room. She had to keep an eye on him. Her current dance partner was making it difficult tough.

Through his robes. Through her dress. She felt it.

Hermione suppressed a gasp.

Is that for me? She wondered.

Either he was hard or Draco had transfigured his wand.

Hermione looked up into his eyes. Darkened. Intense. Pupil dilated. She swallowed heavily again. Something had to give. She wanted to reach up and pull his mouth down to hers. She wanted to grind against the obvious erection and fuck him on the dancefloor.

Just one time. If that's all the deities above would allow her. She decided to be bold and pressed a hand to his hip, digging her nails in. He groaned, very obviously turned on as she ground herself against him.

"Is that for me?"

Her voice was breathless and needy.

"It's for you," he whispered, and captured her lips.

They swayed to their own music. Held onto each other in quiet desperation. A culmination of months of dancing around each other. A promise for more. Tonight. Tomorrow. It didn't matter. This was something to hold onto.

Fuck. She was gone.

And, apparently, so was their target.

Damnit.