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Hermione Granger knew there were times when it was better to say nothing. Moments when the irony of the situation was so strong that there was no need to voice it aloud. However, she had never been particularly good at staying silent.
Sitting on the couch across from Draco Malfoy, she watched him try to assemble a flat-pack bookshelf. It was the fourth time he had attempted to attach the top shelf, and the fourth time everything had collapsed in a loud crash. The blond paused, glaring at the scattered pieces of wood around him, his brows furrowed in frustration.
“Do you want me to help?” Hermione offered with a smirk.
Draco shot her a dark look, but there was an amused glint in his eyes. “No, thank you, Granger. I’m perfectly capable of assembling a simple bookshelf.”
Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. “Ah, because those last three attempts were just warm-ups, right?”
He straightened up, a sly smile on his lips. “Exactly. One must let the Muggles believe they have an advantage with these things, after all.”
She shook her head, amused by his stubbornness. “Of course. Except the Muggles actually read the instructions.”
Draco sighed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, I’ll let you read those blasted instructions, but only because I find you irresistible when you’re being all scholarly.”
Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. She took the papers and quickly scanned them before handing them to him. “It’s simple, you just need to follow these steps in order.”
He grabbed the instructions, but instead of getting back to work, he suddenly pulled her onto his lap, making her fall against him. “What if I’d rather kiss you than follow instructions?”
She pretended to consider it. “Hmm, I suppose that would be an acceptable alternative.”
Draco didn’t waste any time kissing her, a sweet and playful kiss that quickly deepened into something more intense. His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, and Hermione felt the warmth of his body against hers. When they finally broke apart, her breath was ragged, and she could see the hunger in his eyes.
“You know,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry, “maybe we should leave the bookshelf for later.”
Draco’s lips brushed against her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “And what exactly do you suggest we do instead?”
Hermione grinned, running her fingers through his hair. “I think we can find something a bit more... stimulating to occupy our time.”
Draco’s response was a heated kiss that left no room for doubt about how they would be spending the rest of the evening. The unfinished bookshelf lay forgotten, as they explored a different kind of assembly—one that required no instructions at all.