That would be inappropriate
He was here, just like she hoped he would be. And why not? This club belonged to one of his close friends, after all.
Rather than sitting in the VIP lounge a few floors up and looking down at the plebeian masses gyrating on the dance floor, Draco opted to sprawl across the back of a circular booth in the corner. The spot afforded him a semblance of blending into the crowd, while still affording separation. Hermione sat in her own booth against the opposing wall, her pecan old fashioned held at just the right height for her to peer over its rim straight at him.
Godric. He looked good.
Clenching her thighs together, she imagined what it would be like to slide along the leather cushion next to him, to press her body against his. Take a hand and turn his head forcefully towards hers for a meeting of minds and lips and everything else that follows. Ask him, “your place or mine?” as if she did this every night and wasn’t used to rejection.
But she was. Used to rejection, that is.
Before allowing her mind to spiral down that black hole, she took another sip from her glass and let her eyes wander. She recognized a lot of faces from her past and present, but thankfully there were far more strangers than anyone else. She could pick out a couple of wizards who looked like they might be up for some mutual satisfaction.
“Hermione, they aren’t why we’re here tonight.” Luna’s uncharacteristically firm voice interrupted her train of thought.
Turning a raised brow at her friend, decked out in fluttery layers that simultaneously covered up and accentuated the bare minimum, Hermione scoffed.
“I changed my mind.”
“We’re here to remove your excess wrackspurts, not add to them.”
How Luna could say something so ridiculous with such sincerity never failed to amuse her.
“Draco is alone and you will walk over to him and say hello.”
“That would be inappropriate.”
“We’re in a club. I dare say such conduct is the height of manners here.”
She had no comeback to that. As usual, Luna had a way of striking to the heart of the matter. That was one of the many reasons why Hermione loved her. Draining her glass and setting it down on the table with a thunk, she stood and held her hand out to the blonde witch.
“Dance first.”
Tittering in acceptance, Luna joined her and the two squeezed into the crowd to wiggle and gyrate to the music. While Hermione had learned to relax over the years, she still felt most at ease in the Ravenclaw girl’s company. Of all their friends, she just had a way about her that drained away fear like some kind of anti-Dementor.
“Luna. You’re a bloody patronus!” Fuck, she was brilliant.
And apparently distracted. Hermione was so enthralled with her realization that she didn’t pay any attention to the direction of their twirling, or the way Luna herded her like a damn border collie towards a specific table with a specific wizard who had watched them from the moment they first entered the establishment.
“Whoopsie! Hi, Draco, how are you?”
Hermione whipped around at the sound of Luna’s giggle and breathy question. They stood right at the corner of Draco’s booth, and he sat there staring at them with a slightly upward curl to his lips.
“Luna…Hermione.”
How was the drawl of her name so sexy?
“I’m doing better now that you ladies are here. I quite enjoyed your dancing out there.”
If only she could disapparate herself straight into a cold shower right this bloody instant.
“And how are you?”
Before Hermione could answer him, Luna put on a show of getting bumped from behind and knocked Hermione straight into the seat next to Draco.
“Oh, how clumsy of me! It’s getting awfully crowded in here, isn’t it? Draco, keep Hermione company and I’ll go order some drinks.” And then she was off, disappearing as quickly as Alice’s white rabbit into the wall of bodies.
“Who knew Lovegood was such a good actress?”
Their eyes met for a few seconds, before they both dissolved into laughter.
Struggling to catch a breath as a few tears seeped out, she replied, “I’m so sorry about that. Luna is kind of an inescapable force once she decides on something.”
His responding smile was warm, and he angled his body more in her direction. “She reminds me a lot of my best mate, Theo.”
“Theodore Nott?”
“Theo,” he corrected, “he hates being called Theodore. That’s him right over there.”
To her horror, Hermione realized his finger pointed towards one of her two previous possibilities. She had almost propositioned Draco’s best friend, Merlin save her.
“I, uh, didn’t recognize him.”
“You two swots would get along.” His wink assured her all was said in jest. Coupled with the ruffled haircut he favored these days, shorter on the sides but longer on the top and curling over his forehead, he all but screamed seduction. Swallowing hard and shifting a smidgen closer, she summoned all her courage.
“Do you think we could maybe get along?”
Light grey eyes darkened as he leaned forward to look more closely at her. Was he going to kiss her? Parting her lips in anticipation and swaying closer, she smelled his intoxicating scent, a blend of spices and citrus.
“I think I’d like to get out of here.”
His words drenched her just like her imagined cold shower and she jerked backwards. What was wrong with her? She had been ready to crawl into his lap had he initiated it.
“Yes, yes, of course.” She scooted quickly out of the booth to let him out. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, look at him. He made that easy enough by standing and towering over her, and she fixated instead on his chest.
“Is there any particular place you’d like to go?”
“Excuse me?” Her eyes snapped back up to stare into his. Surely she misheard him.
“It is too crowded in here and I’d like us to take our time getting to know one another uninterrupted.” With anyone else, she would have inferred something sexual in that sentence, but with Draco, it sounded completely earnest and sexual. Tilting her head even higher, she peered at the tinted glass walls above them.
“I’ve always been curious what else Zabini is hiding up there.”
Grinning, he offered his arm. She surprised herself by taking it immediately before he demonstrated one of the smoothest apparitions she had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. One moment they were surrounded by the thumping bass of the music, and one smoky black compression and release later, they stood in a warmly lit lounge without even the barest hint of the previous beat.
“Do you like piano?”
At her nod, he fiddled with a dial on the wall panel near them and the soft sounds of Chopin began to play. Turning to survey the room, she whistled. She should’ve known from downstairs, but Blaise Zabini had impeccable taste. The room was outfitted with rich purples and blues, with golden accents tying everything together in an opulent but not overstated way. Running her hand along the back of the velvet Chesterfield in admiration, she walked to the glass wall and looked down to the dance floor just as she had imagined Draco doing earlier. She knew that even though she could see them, they couldn’t see her. They could fuck right up against the glass and no one would be the wiser.
“I see our friends are getting along.” Coming to stand beside her, Draco pointed out Luna, who was grinding against Nott with Zabini at her front.
She snorted in amusement. “Good for them. At least someone’s getting action tonight.” His chuckle sent a blush up her neck and she spun around to take a seat to cover up her embarrassment.
Just as she was settling into the velvet couch, which was just as comfortable as she had hoped, two identical glasses materialized on the table in front of her.
“I hope you don’t mind a similar drink to what you had earlier,” he said, settling into place next to her rather than up against the far side.
“You knew what I was drinking?”
“I noticed.”
His concession revealed he’d been watching her, and that did something funny to her stomach. Hermione took an exploratory whiff before sipping. Her brows raised in surprise.
“Scotch with lemon, honey, and…”
“Ginger.”
Hermione tasted again, rolling the bright pops of flavor across her tongue and appreciating the way the sweetness tempered the burn. “This is quite good.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“What else are you thinking about?”
He tapped at his glass with his middle finger in contemplation, the metal of his family crest glinting off the signet ring. She didn’t usually like jewelry on men, but somehow he made rings totally acceptable, even preferable.
“I’m thinking…of continuing what we started downstairs.”
She decided to play it safe. “Isn’t that what we’re doing right now? Getting along?”
With a tsk and shake of his head, he reached over and gently took her drink, setting it down along with his on the table. Hermione felt frozen, breathless yet terrified to inhale too loudly. She remained still even when he turned back to her and leaned in much like he had earlier. The cologne was back in full force, enveloping her in its embrace.
This time, however, was different. This time, she felt the barest hint of a touch as he bent close, lips brushing along cheek, down to her jaw, then up to her ear. A fire spread in its wake, thawing her so she, too, leaned into him.
“May I kiss you, Hermione?”
Her mind flashed back to the excuse she gave Luna; it seemed so silly now.
She exhaled out her consent, a near imperceptible “yes” as she turned her head and met him in the middle. Who the fuck cared about propriety? They wanted, and they would take.