Don't laugh
It took Hermione a few moments to realise exactly what had happened to her. One minute, she was walking through the portrait hole into the Head’s dorm, and then the next, she couldn’t see anything, her sight and hearing obscured.
Her hands flew up to fist the thick fabric covering her face. Just as she was about to remove it, she heard the plea of her roommate.
“Don’t!” Malfoy’s voice was…odd. Commanding, that was normal, but also frantic?
Ignoring the request, Hermione proceeded to pull off what turned out to be his jumper, which still smelled faintly of bergamot, patchouli, and something vaguely reminiscent of the sea. If not for his urgency, she might have let it stay, breathing in the intoxicating aroma just a while longer.
As it was, she let the garment drop to the floor, he could cry about it later, and trained her eyes on the figure standing in the common room.
Draco Malfoy, topless, mouthwatering except for the fact that his skin glowed a startling shade of emerald green. His pale grey eyes stared at her, wide and anticipatory.
“Don’t laugh.”
She couldn’t help it. She wouldn’t have stopped it even if she could.
First a snort. He blanched at the sound he usually found so cute when he intentionally prompted it at any other time than now. Then, a giggle. His broad shoulders slumped in defeat, the hardened plane of his abs curling inward as he started to sink onto his haunches. Finally, the guffaw that broke him completely. Hands came up to cover his face.
“Why do I have such a sweet tooth?” he wailed.
Through the tears in her eyes, Hermione spotted the box of chocolates on the coffee table. She didn’t remember seeing them there before, but she’d recognise the bright orange packaging anywhere.
“Oh, you beautiful git. Don’t you know a Weasley product when you see one?” She walked over to read the accompanying card.
To Draco. May these sweeten your day nearly as much as you do mine. Yours, H.
“Well,” she said lightly, “look on the bright side. Now we can concoct a plan for revenge.” She flipped the card over and cast a quick revelio. Good boys. They knew well enough to include a counter-charm; had they not, her retaliation would have been merciless.
Her lips pursed as she studied their instructions. The original charm was brilliant. Neither removed by a finite incantatem, nor affected by a potion antidote, all she needed was their specific incantation and a glass of milk.
“I should have known something was off. You almost never call me ‘Draco’,” he muttered.
She had to grin at that. She only called him by his given name when under intense pressure, the kind that resulted in blinding, toe-curling pleasure.
“Wait right here.” She returned with glass in hand, pushing it into his own. “Drink up.”
As he did so, she cast the spell and watched with satisfaction as the alien shade slowly faded into his more familiar alabaster tone. It was a shame. She was curious if the colour lightened or darkened in more…private…areas. He continued to drain the glass, throat bobbing with each swallow. Hermione licked her lips. Malfoy really was delicious, green or otherwise.
“All better now?” she asked lightly, fingers trailing along the thick muscle of his thigh.
“Mmmm.” Glass set aside, he inspected his torso, the fine white blond strands of his hair flopping forward as he did so. He must have tugged at them earlier in frustration. “I don’t get why they’d try to trick me like that.” He glared at the chocolates, his wand hand twitching like it wanted to bombarda them on the spot.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Slate grey eyes turned back onto her, eyebrows crinkled in puzzlement. She sighed.
“You haven’t exactly been friendly to them, you know? Even before. And now that we’re together…” Her voice trailed off. Were they together? They hadn’t exactly put a label to it. They hadn’t been particularly discreet about their hands-on interest either. The entire school had to know by now that they were more than just co-Heads.
“Are we together?” He echoed her insecurities, adding mass to the weight expanding in the pit of her stomach.
“Is that what you want?” Hermione hadn’t intended to push him into deciding one way or another, but she wasn’t going to ignore the opportunity now that it had presented itself. “Because, you should know, ever since I saved Fred from the wall that would’ve killed him, the twins have been…grateful.”
It was wickedly fun to poke him where she knew he’d feel it.
Her words had the intended effect, the usually light irises darkening as his lip started to curl downward. Hermione wasn’t lying, either. George and Fred had indeed been thankful, demonstrating just how much the summer before her return for 8th year. They held no claim on each other. The door just remained open for either party wanted to walk back through it if so desired.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
A shiver ran through her at the drop in his pitch. Malfoy was furious. Fred and George couldn’t have picked a better colour for their little prank.
“It just means that if they see an opening, they’re bound to take it.”
In a flash, she was flat on her back, the plush rug cushioning her fall but her breath knocked out at the sudden change in position. He loomed over her, caging her in with the arms and legs that straddled her on all sides.
“There is no opening for them to take.” One hand wrapped gently around her throat, belying the harshness of the action. He passed a thumb across her lips. She parted them willingly, eagerly, flicking a tongue to the surface. His hips dropped almost immediately in reaction, grinding an unmistakable presence hard against her. He nearly growled out his next words. “You’re mine.”
“Only if you’re also mine.”
They stared into one another’s eyes, darkened silver against glinting bronze, daring, threatening, pleading. Hermione could let the moment pass with an arch of her hips and by bringing her lips to his own. That’s how most of their encounters went, any thinking silenced by doing. She relished those stretches of time where there was only them, skin to skin, the usual roaring in her mind muted behind closed doors. There were still many months of schooling ahead of them; why endanger the good thing they’d started with serious discussions about labels and commitment?
She was tensing her muscles to lean up for a kiss when he stopped her by speaking.
“I’ve been yours since our first kiss.”
What?
He took her gaping mouth as permission to continue.
“If my public displays haven’t been clear enough about my intentions, then let me be so now.” He maintained eye contact, the fingers around her neck sliding down to press against her heart. “I only want you. Now. In the future. As long as you’ll have me. I’m yours.”
And to think, Hermione had started this entire situation by walking straight into a jumper attack and a Head Boy cursed Slytherin green to match his jealousy. She’d still pay the twins back in kind, but maybe she’d also include a thank you note along with her detailed feedback on their chocolate charm. A postscript stating her relationship status should also prevent any future surprises.
“Then have me, already.”
They spent the remainder of the afternoon locked up in their quarters, the space spelled silent against any curious passerby. Maybe one day she’d convince Draco to give the twins a spin, even if only to allow them a frontrow seat to the action.