I do what I want
“MALFOY!”
They all turned as a unit towards the source of the yell, both demanding and utterly sloshed with the power of too much alcohol. Hermione stormed up to them, hands planted on hips, curls riotous in a nimbus cloud around her head, brow furrowed, and amber-colored eyes fixated firmly on Draco Malfoy.
“Can I help you, Granger?” The others chuckled at his lazy question, which stood in stark contrast to the fury of her voice.
“You can stop avoiding me and ask me to dance,” she announced. The assurance of her gaze lost none of its potency as she swayed unsteadily on her feet. She knew what she wanted.
“What makes you think I’m avoiding you?”
“Five months! Five. Months. And in that time since you’ve transferred to our department, you’ve managed to completely avoid speaking to me without the presence of some intermediary.”
“I fail to see how that’s any kind of evidence—”
“Every time we end up alone, you suddenly have some important place to be or someone to talk to!”
“Mere coincidence, I assure you—”
“And I have it on good authority that the few times we’ve been paired together for cases, you requested a swap each time!”
“Ah.” He didn’t really have a good excuse for that one. Draco shot a glare towards the sniggers beside him. Fat lot of help his friends were.
“Today is my birthday.”
“Happy birthday.”
Faster than anybody at her levels of intoxication should be able, her hand darted forward to latch onto his own, tugging him forward a couple of steps before he could dig his heels in.
“Dance with me, Malfoy.”
Her hand was warm where it clasped onto his, small but strong, just like her. Blaise clapped him on the shoulder, but his words were lost in a garble of fading background noise. All of Draco’s focus sharpened on one source: Hermione Granger. Her eyes, once fierce, now seemed uncertain. She chewed her lip in a manner he’d come to love and hate over the past handful of months. Her nibbling indicated indecision, worry, doubt in herself.
Before he knew it, he was in her space and his free hand cupped her face, thumb tugging her bottom lip free. “Only if you stop doing that.” His eyes stayed fixed on her mouth, a tool of equal destruction and delight.
She exhaled slowly before responding, “I do what I want.” And then she bit down on her lip again, firmly, decisively.
His growl elicited a gasp from her, and his thumb was back, pressing down on the swollen flesh.
“What is it that you really want?” Silver met with amber, demanding truth.
“I want you to look at me.” They continued to stare at one another, a bubble within a crowded room of throbbing music, clinking glasses, and a constant stream of voices.
The hand cupping her face slid down the gentle curve of neck, fingers lightly trailing her arm before sliding around her waist. He tugged her closer, swaying slowly to the music.
“I want you to talk to me,” she continued.
“Okay. Anything else?”
“That’s a good start. We’re already dancing.”
His eyes closed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to breathe deeply.
Five months they’d worked together, and he’d quickly found his childhood crush transforming into more. Admiration. Adoration. Desire. Thirst. She was everything he wanted, and nothing he deserved. She should be with someone worthy.
Everyday, he watched others throw themselves at her, and everyday he deemed them all lacking. He watched the encounters like it was his job. He held the stamp high, ready to reject applicants at the first sign of failure. His own name was the first marked with red.
“Ow!” The sharp tug at the hairs on the nape of his neck jerked him out of his thoughts.
“Stop that.” The lioness was back, claws sharpened and at the ready.
“I didn’t do anything!”
“You make that expression every time you’re overthinking something. Cut it out and talk to me instead.”
“…how are you enjoying your birthday?”
“Perfect, except my brilliant hunk of a coworker is being a bit of a tosser.”
“Want me to hex him?”
“I’ve got him well in hand.” Nails clenched threateningly on the back of his neck, and she grinned, teeth straight and miraculously devoid of fangs.
“Is there anything he can do to make things up to you?”
As she started to respond, the song came to an end and Draco felt a tap on his arm.
“Hey, mate, mind if I step in for the next one?” McLaggen and his ridiculously glossy hair smiled expectantly at him, his free hand already reaching out to wind around Hermione.
“I mind, Cormac.” Her sharp rebuke caught the blonde by surprise, and he immediately turned away from Draco to look at her with confusion. “We’re in the middle of a conversation I’d rather not finish anytime soon.”
Draco took her pointed look up at him as instructions to move on, and so he did, pulling her close once more and turning them away from another would-be applicant.
“You can make it up to me by catching up with five month’s worth of conversation. Non-work related, of course.” She picked up right where they left off without acknowledging the interruption. “Starting now.”
With her high heels, her forehead came just up to kissing height, and if he leaned in, he could breathe in the honeysuckle scent lingering in her hair. Shampoo? Perfume? The Japanese honeysuckle on the Manor grounds had always been one of his favorites, the sweet aroma beckoning him down the walkway to the bench beneath. A nostalgic reminder of his childhood before…everything. A forgotten moment of peace and safety.
“Whatever you want, Granger.”