Hug me
Cheers erupted from the crowd as Draco Malfoy angled his broom up from the ground, golden snitch clasped tightly in his fist. His fellow aurors whooped as they swarmed him, yells fueling their victory. Even across the field, Hermione felt his eyes zero in on where she sat among her disappointed coworkers.
This was the D.M.L.E. versus D.R.C.M.C. for the finals match of the Ministry Quidditch Cup, held annually with proceeds going towards the charity of the winner’s choosing. Five straight years the Law Enforcement division had won, and five straight years Harry and Draco gloated their superiority over the other departments. This sixth win over Hermione’s own team meant they’d be insufferable. Damn Summerby and his inability to perform under pressure. Damn McLaggen and his pride, thinking further training unnecessary.
If she were truly as smart as everyone thought, she’d leave right now and save herself the grief of hours of self-preening and calls for more drinks.
Sometimes love makes you stupid.
Hermione found herself descending the stands and making her way towards the field and imminent doom. To her great annoyance, she was not alone—others crowded around her to congratulate the winners, nearly trampling her in their excitement.
“Steady there, Granger.” A firm hand grabbed her own, pulling her out of the crush and into a warm embrace that smelled of sweat and mint and her favorite wizard. “Aren’t you going to hug me back?”
She met his lopsided grin with a scowl, squeezing him back reluctantly before swatting him on his stupidly toned chest. “That’s because I love you, even if I won’t like you for the rest of the night.”
“Hermione!”
This time, it was her dearest friend calling for her attention. She and Draco watched with amusement as he struggled against the tide of fans, hands flailing outward.
“Should we help him?” Draco’s breath was warm against her neck, and she shivered as he followed it with a lingering kiss. Her legs turned to jelly and she pressed tighter into his frame. How could she think of a response when he turned her brain to mush the way he did?
“Harry, who?”
And with that, they were off, shoving through the crowd, running towards the nearest apparition point. There would be plenty of time for Harry Potter and his victory party later in the evening, but for now, there was a shower at home to share.