Can I touch it?
There was a mastery to the movements of his wand, a grace in each slash and tight pivot. The air before him shimmered as the protective enchantments weaved into being in a complex and indecipherable pattern to all but its maker, Draco Lucius Malfoy. His closing act was the sharp incision of his palm, splattering his blood so it soaked into the magic of the shield, tinging the formerly blue shimmer a pale red.
“It’s finished.”
“Can I…touch it?”
Turning to face his client, he motioned for her to step forward and check the security for herself.
The calm assurance with which Hermione Granger reached out a hand was at stark odds with her hesitant request for permission. It revealed her trust in him. There was a time when he would have been included in the restrictions to her property, but that was several years ago now, long before their tentative truce, eventual friendship, and current working relationship. She caressed the border with all the care of a lover.
“It’s warm.”
“Yes,” said Draco, clearing his throat and tucking away his wand in an attempt to hide his shock and desire.
It was one thing to focus on the task at hand, one he was confident in and could do blindfolded and spun around ten times. This, though? The sight of Hermione’s slim hand pressed up against his magic felt somehow erotic. He forced himself not to stare, looking instead at a random point just over her shoulder. His sigh of relief when she finally pulled her hand away stopped just as suddenly when she turned her smile on him with all the heat of a million wattage spotlight.
“Thank you, Draco.”
Those eyes of hers, large and all-encompassing. They stripped him bare and made him feel…something. He wasn’t sure how to describe it.
“You’re welcome.”
“Can I touch you?”
She asked him straight—no tremble, no teasing lilt. Even then, he must’ve misheard her.
“What?”
“Can I touch you? I’m curious if I can feel the similarity in this blood magic and its caster.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.”
He held his hand palm up, expecting her to rest hers on top much like she had when touching the wards.
He should’ve known she’d surprise him once again.
She stepped close, far too close to be considered professional or proper, and took his hand with both of hers, enveloping it in her warmth as she closed her eyes. His throat dried up while his face lit up like Fiendfyre. She was…so close. Was that lilacs he smelled in her hair? How was he burning up while simultaneously bathing in her perfume?
“Mmm, I do feel it. This magic is unmistakably yours.”
Opening her eyes, she tilted her head up and trapped him within her own golden enchantment.
“And now, it’s also mine.”