Chocolate Torte
She was wearing those muggle jeans he loved. First Hogsmeade weekend and he was being forced to watch her head down the hill with the chuckleheads. As part of his probation, he wasn’t allowed to leave the castle except to go home. His mother had asked him to visit. Instead, he plans on sitting at the top of the new tower, reading Number the Stars. Granger had given him the book last week at the end of another clandestine meeting.
Draco knows he is an idiot. He knows that they can’t work in their world. In any world. His mother had already started vetting pureblood women for him to marry.
Granger is a loudmouth know-it-all with muggle parents and an itch to prove herself to the Wizarding community.
Not exactly the girl you take home.
A twinge of guilt makes Draco turn away from the window. He doesn’t have any claim on her.
Someone is knocking on his door.
When he opens it to a first-year in red he tries not to scowl.
“Yes?” he asks, suspicious of the young boy. His older classmates had made it their mission to torture Draco every day. He expected a break given they all had something to distract them for the day.
“Miss. Granger asked me to give this to you,” the kid holds out a small square note.
“Alright,” he takes it, resisting opening it right there. “Thanks.”
Shutting the door in the kid’s face, he opens the note quickly.
Do me a favor? Get dinner for two from the house elves? My room. 8 o’clock.
-H
An easy favor. Now his day is looking up.
Draco gets dressed, something he hadn’t planned on doing, and heads down to the kitchens. Tickling the pear on the portrait he ducks into the Hogwart’s kitchens trying to figure out what he should ask for.
She likes sweets. Sugar does not make a dinner though.
“Master Draco,” A house elf bows low.
“I need dinner for two tonight, served in the eighth-year tower.”
“Plumb can do that, Master Draco!”
Plumb grabs him by his wrist and drags him over to a very low table. He bends his knees to sit on an even lower bench.
Then, they figure out the perfect meal for him and Granger. Or so he hopes.
He is most pleased by the chocolate torte he has negotiated with Plumb for.
When he gets back to his room, he can’t focus on his book. He hasn’t been in Granger’s room yet. She lives on the upper floor of the tower, with the other female lions.
They’d met up nearly every night. Sometimes just talking, others with their bodies pressed tightly together, exploring each other’s responses. She fits so perfectly against him
Since school had started, Granger had been different in classes.
No longer the first to raise her hand or volunteer. He’d asked her about it.
It’s hard to see the point.
He hadn’t argued with her. He agreed. Shaklebolt had forced them to come back. Draco through his probation and Granger through guilt.
As an example to everyone else that Hogwarts was safe again. That things were back to normal.
She’ll have whatever job she wants, no matter how many NEWTs she takes. The next nine months are placing her in a holding pattern.
If Draco was grateful for one thing, it was that she was stuck here with him.
“Draco, come in.”
She’s standing there in her muggle jeans, her bare feet peeking out from beneath the cuffs. She has shed her jumper and hat for a loose-fitting shirt that says Oxford on it. She looks lovely.
He doesn’t say a word, just follows her into her room with a sly smile.
It’s just as he would imagine. Two bookshelves that no other room has are already filled with books and her bedside table is covered in tomes too.
“Cozy.”
“I like having my own space. It’s weird though. After a year on the run. Everything feels so permanent.”
He just nods, not exactly relating to her sentiment.
“I missed you today,” she says.
Instead of reciprocating, he just kisses her.
She tastes like sugar. She must have gone to Zonko’s.
When she pulls back her cheeks are rosy and her lips look swollen.
“Dinner?” She asks as the clocktower bell chimes.
He nods, kissing her again even as a small table with food on it appears from the kitchens.
Granger presses a hand against his chest and he sighs.
Transfiguring two chairs out of pillows, Granger peruses the plates he had picked.
“How did you convince the elves to make Italian?” She chuckles as she uncovers pasta carbonara and chicken ravioli.
“I have my ways.”
She just smiles at him, warmth spreading in his chest.
They eat quickly, laughing about nothing. It feels so easy with her.
“Your note made my day,” he confesses when they finish eating.
She takes his hand and leads him over to her bed.
“I wanted to spend the whole day with you,” she whispers pressing her lips along his jaw, light kisses trailing back to his ear.
He nods and grabs her by the base of her neck, pulling her lips against his own.
She feels like heaven. Her knee presses into his thigh and he moves his hands around her waist, pulling her onto his lap.
The soft moan it draws out of her makes his cock harden instantly.
She squirms on his lap so he takes a tighter hold of her waist, moving his lips to her neck.
Sucking at the tender skin below her ear, he relishes the response he gets out of her.
“Draco, more,” she says huskily.
He slips his right hand beneath her shirt, loving the warmth he finds there. She arches into him and he raises his hand to her breast, groaning at the obstruction.
“Can I-?”
She nods quickly, pulling at the hem of his shirt moving it swiftly up and over his head.
He unhooks her bra and pulls the tee over her head too.
“Stunning,” he says, lowering his mouth to her nipple and biting at it playfully.
She purrs. It’s amazing. He shifts his hips, so hard he can barely think straight.
“Draco, please,” she moves to straddle him, her center so close to his cock he worries he won’t be able to control himself.
“Tell me what you need, Granger,” he asks her, desperate to give it to her.
Running his hands up and down her back, he kisses her again.
“You,” she melts into him.
Fucking hell. She’s perfect.
He nods, and she shifts off his lap to shimmy out of her pants.
Knock! Knock!
Both of their heads whip towards the door.
“Fuck,” he says, reaching for his shirt.
She does the same, her face bright red.
“One minute!” She struggles to turn her shirt right side out.
She finally gets it on and stalks to the door, remembering at the last moment that she isn’t alone.
“Can you… hide?” she asks, looking apologetic.
He just nods, trying not to feel hurt. It’s not like he has a right to her.
Grabbing his wand, he casts a quick disillusionment charm.
Opening the door wide enough for him to see who it is too, Hermione chuckles awkwardly.
“Ginny. Hi.”
“Hermione. I was just coming to see if you were coming out tonight. But I can see you are busy.”
The She-Weasley is staring at the table just inside the door.
Whoops.
Granger just smiles and shrugs.
“You don’t have to explain to me. Good for you,” she looks inside the room, no doubt trying to figure out who Hermione was with.
“I um, think I am just going to stay in actually.”
“No way. Not now that I know you are up for some fun. I’ll give you a minute to get changed,” she says.
Hermione nods and shuts the door.
When she turns back around, her whole neck is red too.
“I’m so sorry, Draco.”
“Finite Incantatum. It’s fine. We probably shouldn’t be moving so fast,” he stands, crossing to the door.
“Draco, you don’t have to leave,” she runs a hand through her hair.
“Yes, I do. Don’t worry about it, Granger. Have a good night,” he presses a soft kiss to her cheek and opens the door, checking for any lone lions.
“You too,” she smiles, a hand on the door.
Only once he gets back to his room does he remember the torte he had asked Plumb to deliver at nine.
Guess he doesn’t get any dessert tonight.