Monday morning, Hermione skipped breakfast to reach Ancient Runes early and finish her essay. She was deep in it when a Chocolate Frog box landed squarely on her desk.
She looked up, raising an eyebrow. Draco was already making his way around to his seat behind her, the picture of casual innocence.
She turned around, holding up the box. "Chocolate?"
"Must've been the wind," he said, far too casually, pulling out his textbook.
She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling.
"And the wind happened to aim it perfectly onto my desk, did it?" she asked dryly, flicking the box back to him.
He caught it without looking up, feigning deep interest in his textbook. "Freak gust. Tragic, really. I heard one of the Creevey boys got swept away."
"Did he now?" Her tongue peeked out as she tried not to laugh.
He nodded solemnly. "Awful business. Barely survived. I'm told Zoe lost crucial photo evidence for her chart because of it."
She snorted and shook her head fondly as he tossed the box back onto her desk. "You're horrid."
"I'll buy him a new camera."
"Who are you buying a camera?" Theo asked as he walked in, slipping into his seat beside Hermione.
Draco didn't look up. "Creevey. His name really ought to be Creepy."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ignore him. He's being an arse," she said as she opened the box.
Inside, nestled beside the chocolate frog itself, was a tiny folded note. She pulled it out and slipped it onto her lap, taking advantage of Theo busying himself with his supplies as she unfolded it.
Lunch. Kitchens. Tomorrow.
A traitorous smile settled on her face as she slipped it into her pocket.
---
"Come on!" Draco hissed to Daphne. They were just outside the Potions classroom. "He likes you — he doesn't like me, or I'd do it myself."
"I don't want to work with partners," Daphne whispered. "Just because you want to flirt with Hermione —"
He hushed her, glancing around to make sure no one was close enough to hear. "Is it so terrible that I want to spend time with her? Just ask Slughorn."
Daphne crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "You're pathetic," she said flatly. "Completely gone. I hope you realise that."
Draco scowled. "I realise you're a terrible friend."
Daphne sighed, glancing through the cracked door at Slughorn, who was fussing over a new shipment of ingredients at the front. "You're not exactly making me want to help you."
"I will get you a date with one of my cousins."
"I don't want to be set up with another posh arsehole."
"It's not my fault Theo's an idiot! Come on, Daphne — Pansy already ruined our plans over the weekend."
She scowled. "You owe me."
"Anything at all," he agreed.
Glaring at him, she turned and stalked into the classroom. Draco watched through the doorway as she smiled and laughed, charming Slughorn into believing the idea of partner work had been entirely his own.
"This isn't suspicious at all," Weasley muttered, and Draco turned to find him and Potter walking towards the door.
"What are you up to, Malfoy?" Potter asked, eyeing him.
"Practising my social skills, Potter. You two should try it," he said simply, and walked in.
When class began, Slughorn clapped his hands together. "Good news, my dear students! I've decided we'll be working in pairs today — no need to thank me!"
A ripple of groans sounded around the room. Daphne rolled her eyes at the smirk spreading across Draco's face.
Blaise turned to him. "Work with me."
"And fail? No, thank you," Draco drawled, standing up. He flashed the group a brief smile and walked over to Hermione.
Hermione, completely unaware of him approaching, jumped when she felt hands land on her shoulders from behind.
He leaned down towards her ear. "Work with me, Granger?"
Hermione closed her eyes as Ron and Harry both looked over.
"What?" Ron said.
Draco was already sitting down. "You're the only one here who matches my intelligence. I'd rather not drag my grade down."
Hermione turned to face him, eyes narrowing as if she knew exactly what he was playing at.
"Flattery will get you nowhere," she whispered.
He grinned. "I disagree. I happen to know it'll get me quite far." He leaned fractionally closer and let the emphasis land on the last word.
Her stomach flipped traitorously.
"She hasn't said yes," Ron pointed out.
Hermione shook her head. "It's fine, Ron. Really. Besides, I doubt Professor Slughorn wants us all working in our usual groups."
"Right you are, Miss Granger!" Slughorn bellowed, glancing around. "Miss Parkinson, why don't you work with Mister Potter? And — Miss Greengrass! Mister Weasley."
Ron looked absolutely horrified, his face flushing as he turned toward Daphne, who was already staring at the ceiling as though praying for divine patience.
"Brilliant," Daphne muttered, slamming her book down onto the table and glaring at Draco. "Isn't this just brilliant, Draco?"
He shrugged with great innocence. "Inter-house unity."
Pansy snorted as she made her way over. "Inter-house unity?"
"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Pans?" Hermione said, feigning innocence as she glanced between Harry and Pansy, the implication perfectly clear to the two of them.
Pansy turned an impressive shade of scarlet and shot Hermione a look that was equal parts venom and grudging amusement.
Harry choked on absolutely nothing and coughed loudly into his sleeve. Ron looked between all of them like he was watching a chessboard catch fire.
Draco frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing," the three of them said, and Hermione turned back to him.
"If you think I'm doing all the work, you're very much mistaken," she said, steering the conversation firmly back to the assignment.
He shrugged, sliding his stool a fraction closer. "I'll do whatever you want, Granger. Just say the word."
She closed her eyes briefly, biting back her reply as he began gathering the ingredients for their Calming Draught.
Harry snorted from his table, and Daphne, not even attempting subtlety, mouthed pathetic at Draco before slamming her knife down again.
"I hope you both fail," she muttered under her breath.
When Hermione opened her eyes, Draco was still watching her with that infuriatingly smug expression.
Fine. If he wanted to flirt, she could flirt back.
She grabbed a jar and handed it to Draco, letting her fingers drag against his as she gave him a sweetly innocent smile. "Start chopping, then."
Draco's eyes widened ever so slightly at the contact. He took the jar from her, his fingers brushing hers, and said nothing — though the slight upward twitch of his lips said rather a lot.
He began cutting the Sopophorous root, not quite as aggressively as Daphne — who was treating her chopping board like it had personally wronged her — but firmly enough that Hermione kept glancing at him as she worked on heating the water to temperature.
"Careful," she said warily.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "I assure you, Granger, my technique has never had any complaints."
Hermione's mouth fell open.
"What? I get Os in all my Potions exams," he said, entirely innocent.
She narrowed her eyes. "Just make sure it's chopped finely."
"Bossy," he murmured approvingly, standing from his stool and leaning in just a fraction too close. "Hot," he added against her ear.
She could feel his smug satisfaction radiating off him.
She turned to face him, looking up with a pout and wide eyes — taking full advantage of how close he was. "So you want to be good for me?" she asked quietly, remembering the words he'd whispered just a few days ago.
I'd be good to you. So good. I could be so good for you.
"So good? So, so good? All for me?" she continued.
Draco's mouth parted slightly, as though she'd hit him with a Stunning Spell.
For one glorious moment, he looked entirely at her mercy.
He leaned down, hands bracing on the table on either side of her, caging her between his arms.
"For you?" he murmured, low enough that only she could hear. "I'd be perfect, Granger."
Hermione's breath caught, but she refused to let him see how much he was affecting her.
Instead, she tilted her head, all faux sweetness.
"Then be a good boy and finish chopping that root, would you?" She tapped the jar in his hand with one precisely pointed finger.
He gave one curt nod and moved back, letting his knuckles brush against her hip as he went.
Ron looked like he was two seconds from launching a Bezoar at Draco's head, and Daphne — not even pretending to be subtle — made a gagging motion at them before slamming her knife down again with great drama.
Hermione tried — genuinely tried — to focus on their potion, but it was difficult when Draco kept leaning in a little too close and lowering his voice to a private murmur.
"You're distracted," he whispered as she accidentally knocked a vial onto its side.
"I wonder why," she whispered back, nudging his knee, which was pressed far too close to hers.
Draco's eyes flickered to where her knee brushed his, his smirk widening as he leaned in again. "Careful now, Granger. You're getting reckless."
As if to make a point, Hermione purposefully rolled a jar towards him, then clicked her tongue, shaking her head and muttering about her own clumsiness before getting down to retrieve it — getting on her knees right in front of him and taking her sweet, sweet time.
Draco's breath caught. His gaze dropped involuntarily as Hermione moved slowly, her back arched just enough to be infuriating.
She glanced up at him, catching his eye with a knowing smile. "You're awfully quiet for someone who enjoys giving unsolicited commentary," she said, one eyebrow raised — while still on her knees, still taking her time.
Draco cleared his throat. "Just being good, like you asked."
She hummed as she stood, placing her hands on Draco's thighs to help herself up and letting them rest there a moment longer than strictly necessary.
He let out a controlled breath through his nose and watched her with an unimpressed look. "You make this too easy, Granger."
"No," she tilted her head, "I think I make it rather hard, actually." Her eyes flicked pointedly to his lap before she pulled her hands away.
Draco closed his eyes as she went back to the potion. "You should stir more gently."
"I'm stirring just fine," she said, though the potion sloshed slightly.
"By all means — if you want to get all wet during class again," he said, feigning great concern.
Hermione dropped the stirring rod with a clatter, flushing from the roots of her hair to her toes.
Several students turned to look. She didn't care — she was too busy glaring at Draco, who wore the most insufferably pleased smirk she had ever seen.
"You—" she hissed, bending to retrieve the rod and this time being very careful not to give him another accidental show. "You are the worst."
"I don't know, Granger," Draco murmured, leaning back casually as if he hadn't a care in the world. "I think I'm rather good at getting you flustered. If memory serves—"
"Draco!" She whipped her head around, cheeks blazing. "Will you shut up?"
He shrugged. "I'm just saying, you do seem rather desperate."
"Desperate?!"
"A man might get ideas, is all. You, on your knees, hands on my thighs…"
She was growing livid. "If you don't behave, I'll —"
"You'll what?" he cut her off with a grin. "Punish me?"
She scowled. "Maybe I'll just happen to be too busy next time you ask me out."
---
It was getting rather ridiculous.
In the past seventy-two hours:
Draco Malfoy had knocked her books off a table just to pick them up with a smirk.
Hermione had called him an "insufferable twat" in front of Harry and Ron — and he had winked at her.
They had brewed two perfect potions, traded seventeen insults, and — incidentally — snogged behind three separate suits of armour.
And somehow, no one had noticed a thing.
"Stop looking at me," Hermione said, not raising her eyes from the book in front of her.
They were at their usual table at the back of the library. Or at least, Hermione was reading.
"I'm not," Draco said, making no effort whatsoever to change his behaviour.
She sighed and looked up at him. "We're meant to be subtle. You'll get us caught."
Draco laughed, and she kicked him under the table.
"You like me," he teased.
"I tolerate you. It's wearing thinner every day."
"Do you kiss every bloke you merely tolerate?" He reached over and took her book.
Hermione snatched it back, her fingers brushing his for a fraction of a second. "You'd be surprised."
He didn't seem to like that answer very much. He leaned forward and stole a kiss.
Hermione blinked, taken off guard. She shook her head and pushed him gently away. "Very subtle. Well done," she said, voice dripping.
Draco shrugged. "You've kissed me three times this week. I thought I'd add one more to the tally."
"We were alone those times."
"We're alone now." He gestured at the mostly empty library. "I'm not an idiot."
She hummed. "If we get caught —"
"You can punish me," Draco offered at once.
She scoffed and turned back to her book.
"You're thinking about it."
"You're insufferable."
"You're tempted."
"What would I even do?" she hissed, setting the book down again. "It's not as though I can give you detention."
He spun his wand lazily between his fingers. "Well, if you really wanted to punish me…"
"Whatever it is, don't say it."
"You could stop kissing me."
Hermione froze.
Draco immediately looked far too smug, because he knew he'd landed it perfectly.
She hated how well he could read her — hated it nearly as much as she secretly liked it.
"That implies I want to kiss you."
"You want to kiss me so badly it makes you stupid," Draco said airily, under his breath.
"You both are absolutely terrible at this," Daphne said, rounding the corner. "I could hear you two rows away."
Hermione nearly jumped out of her seat, slamming her book shut as if that would somehow erase everything Daphne had overheard. "I told him to be quiet."
Draco huffed. "It's not my fault. Everyone keeps thwarting our dates."
"Thwarting?" Daphne and Hermione both echoed.
"Yes, thwarting," Draco said defensively, crossing his arms. "It's a perfectly good word. Look it up, Granger."
"Why can't you two just be normal?" Daphne pinched the bridge of her nose. "I rather wish you hadn't told me."
"We are normal," Hermione argued.
Daphne looked at her flatly. "You want to kiss me so badly it makes you stupid," she repeated Draco's earlier words.
"It does," he shrugged. "Have you seen the way she acts?"
Hermione hit him with her book, stood up, and gathered her things. "I'm going back to my common room. Where I can read in peace. Without being kissed."
---
Hermione shoved Draco against the wall of the tiny broom cupboard. Hard.
"You hexed me," she hissed, lips practically against his.
"Snape was watching," Draco said, as if that excused any of it, grabbing her waist.
She bit his bottom lip — purely to make a point — as she pulled back. "My sleeve was on fire."
"You dodged it. Mostly. Beautifully, if I may say." He pressed kisses along her jaw.
She pushed him away. "You owe me a new jumper."
"I'll place an order," he said simply, pulling her back and kissing down her neck.
Tilting her head, she groaned. "You're insufferable."
"You dragged me in here!" he laughed against her skin.
"I tripped," she said, gasping as his teeth grazed her pulse point.
"You stuck your tongue in my mouth." He ran his own against the pulsing skin to prove a point.
Hermione dug her fingers into his shoulders, nails biting through the thin fabric. "I can't stand you."
He hummed. "Tell me more."
"You drive me absolutely mad," she whispered fiercely, breath fanning against his ear.
Draco groaned low in his throat, his hands sliding to grip her hips. "Mad's good. I can work with mad."
"You're annoying," she kept going, though there was no real force behind it as she felt him suck at the skin of her neck.
He chuckled darkly against her throat, clearly not taking her seriously in the slightest. "You're very forgiving for someone so annoyed," he murmured.
She groaned. "You're arrogant."
He pulled away, thumbed over the mark he was leaving, then claimed her lips again.
Their teeth clashed slightly, hands sliding under each other's clothes, clumsy in the cramped space. Hermione's back hit the wall hard enough to knock a broom off its hook, but neither of them cared.
He kissed her like he was starving.
She kissed him like she wanted to set him on fire.
Draco pressed her harder against the wall, one arm braced beside her head, the other slipping under the hem of her jumper, fingers brushing the bare skin at her waist.
She grabbed his collar to keep herself upright, dragging him closer.
"You're reckless," she breathed between kisses.
"Learned from the best," Draco muttered, trailing back down the column of her throat. His hand spread possessively over her ribs, fingertips skimming the edge of her bra.
"Hands," she warned, though there was no real heat to it.
His hands didn't behave.
Neither did hers.
She pulled him back to her mouth, one hand curling in his hair. "I'm starting to think you have a thing for my neck," she muttered against his lips, her free hand sliding up his shirt.
He grinned, his grip on her ribs tightening. "Caught me out."
The doorknob rattled suddenly. Someone trying to get in.
Hermione froze, pushing Draco back.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Occupied!" he called, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.
There was a pause. Sure whoever it was had gone, Draco stepped back towards her, cupping her face and pressing his lips to hers once more.
Then the voice came. "Malfoy?"
Hermione's eyes flew open. "Harry?" The word left her before she could consider the implications of both their voices coming from behind a locked door.
Outside the cupboard, silence.
"Hermione?" Harry's voice came again, pained, and she knew he'd pieced it together.
She closed her eyes, leaning against the shelving unit behind her. "Hi, Harry."
Another beat of silence. Then: "Are you dressed?"
Hermione flushed scarlet, instinctively yanking her jumper down, even though she was, in fact, entirely clothed — dishevelled, yes, but clothed.
"Yes!" she snapped, mortified. "We're both dressed!" She went to the door and opened it. "It's not what it looks like."
Harry regarded her with one unimpressed eyebrow.
"We were fighting. He set me on fire!"
"Yes, I recall — we already established you were burning alive."
"I mean literally! He literally set me on fire! In class! You were there!"
"And you ended up in a broom cupboard because...?"
"Because I wanted to yell at him."
She wasn't sure if Harry was actually choosing his own sanity or was simply a better actor than she'd given him credit for, but he nodded. "Sounds reasonable."
Draco blinked. "It does?"
Harry fixed Draco with a look that sat somewhere between murder and resignation. "No," he said slowly. "It doesn't sound remotely reasonable. But if I think about it too hard, I'm going to be sick, so I'm choosing to accept it."
Draco watched him go. "He's smarter than I give him credit for, I'll grant him that."
---
Hermione was furious. It was hours later, and she was sitting in the Quidditch stands watching Harry, Ron, and Ginny at Gryffindor practice. That, of course, wasn't why she was furious. No — she was furious because when she'd returned to her dormitory during her morning break, Lavender had so helpfully pointed out the suspicious mark on her neck.
Hermione yanked her jumper higher, scowling so fiercely she was mildly surprised the fabric didn't scorch.
Lavender's voice still rang in her ears — loud, delighted, and deeply nosy: "Oh my gosh, Hermione, is that a love bite?!"
And when Hermione had tried — badly — to deny it, Lavender had gasped so dramatically that Parvati came running over, demanding details.
Mortified beyond reason, Hermione had muttered something about being hexed before grabbing her bag and fleeing the dormitory.
Now she sat stiffly in the Quidditch stands, the sharp February wind cutting through her jumper, arms crossed tightly as she glared down at the team running drills.
Gryffindor practice finally wound down, and Harry flew over. "Why are you here?"
"Lavender," she said simply.
He nodded. "We're nearly done. Cleaning up and then heading back. Coming?"
She reached for her bag — then paused, spotting the Slytherin team making their way towards the pitch.
She tilted her head. "Slytherin have practice?"
Harry sighed. "Yeah. They've got a match against Ravenclaw soon."
She set her bag back down and settled into her seat. "I think I'll stay a bit."
"Planning to snog Malfoy again?" he asked, perfectly innocent.
"Planning to have it off with Pansy again?" she shot back with a smile.
Harry scowled. "I don't like this game."
"Then stop mentioning Draco," she whispered as the Slytherins arrived at the pitch. "Bye, Harry."
---
They were mid-drills when Hermione began.
Just small things. Nothing that would seriously derail practice — nothing traceable if she was careful.
A low-powered Featherweight Jinx on his broom, just enough to make him overcorrect his dives.
A whispered Muffliato precisely when Flint called a play, leaving Draco looking around in confusion for words he should have heard.
A well-timed Lumos Solem to reflect off his polished broom handle and shine directly into his eyes.
By the fourth disruption, he was visibly scowling.
By the sixth, he was cursing under his breath and checking his broom for damage.
By the end of practice, he looked ready to strangle someone.
Hermione watched it all from the top row of the stands, chin propped on her gloved hand, wearing the most self-satisfied expression she could manage.
When the team finally cleared the pitch and headed for the changing rooms, she gave it a few minutes before climbing down and making her way along the side of the pitch to the Slytherin end.
She leaned against the stone wall just outside the changing room door, humming pleasantly to herself.
Sure enough, the door creaked open a few minutes later. Draco stepped out, a towel slung around his shoulders, hair damp from a rushed shower, and a scowl etched into his face like it had been cast in stone.
He blinked when he saw her. "What are you —"
"I liked that little spin you did during the dive," Hermione interrupted sweetly, pushing off the wall and taking a few leisurely steps toward him. "Very graceful. Intentional?"
Draco narrowed his eyes. "You don't even care about Quidditch."
She shrugged, unbothered. "I had time to kill. Thought I'd come watch my…" she paused.
Boyfriend? Could she say that? They hadn't exactly defined things yet.
"Come watch you practice," she finished.
He stared at her. "Something was wrong with my broom. It kept pulling left."
"Did you try pulling right?" she offered helpfully.
"A light kept flaring in my eyes."
"Could've been the Snitch."
"I couldn't hear a thing."
"You should have your ears checked. Perhaps you're going deaf."
He stepped closer, the towel now draped around his neck, eyes narrowing with slow, dawning suspicion. "You're being very strange."
She hummed, scrunching her nose. "I wonder why."
"You did something."
"Prove it," Hermione said airily, stepping closer still. "I just thought you could use a little… humbling."
His brow furrowed. "Why?"
Instead of answering, she reached up and pulled down the collar of her jumper, slowly and deliberately, until the skin of her neck was fully exposed to the cool air.
Draco's eyes flicked to her neck. Then back to her face.
"Oh," he said.
"Oh," Hermione echoed, pleasantly mock-surprised.
He stared at the mark a beat longer than necessary, then looked back up at her. "You jinxed me because of that?"
"I didn't jinx you," she corrected. "I inconvenienced you. With jinxes."
"For a love bite?!"
"Because you gave me a love bite. In a broom cupboard. During class hours."
"Technically," he said, stepping closer, voice dropping, "it was after class. And you dragged me in there."
"You set me on fire."
"You kissed me."
"You bit my neck!"
"You could have just said something!"
"I didn't see it," she snapped. "Until Lavender did. Loudly. In the middle of my dormitory. With Parvati in the room." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "You marked me."
"You left scratches —"
"Evidence of self-defence."
"You climbed me like a —"
"You grabbed my left —"
"It was your right," he corrected.
Her mouth dropped. "You're correcting me?!"
"And I didn't grab it," he said. "I barely grazed it."
Hermione's mouth worked silently for a moment, the sheer audacity of Draco Malfoy — and his perfectly smug expression — leaving her momentarily speechless.
She shoved him. Hard. "You —"
He barely stumbled, just rocked back with the most satisfied expression imaginable. "I?"
"Oh, don't act so pleased with yourself."
He sighed, tilting his head from side to side. "Look, Granger — Hermione." He emphasised her name, trying to signal he was being serious. "I'm sorry. Is it really so terrible?"
"You try walking around marked," she muttered, arms crossed.
"Fine." He glanced around, then leaned in and lowered his voice. "Mark me back, then."
Hermione blinked. "You're insane."
"You said I should try it."
"I don't bite!"
"Rubbish!" He laughed. "You practically bit my lip off today. Look — I genuinely didn't mean it. You were kissing me, and then you made that noise —"
She blushed from the roots of her hair. "I did not make a noise."
"You did. A little one. A sort of half-gasp, half-moan —"
She shoved him again. "Stop talking."
"Rather breathy, like —" he pressed a kiss just below her ear, grinning as Hermione's head tilted instinctively to give him better access. "See? Entirely your fault."
She rolled her eyes but didn't pull away.
"You know," he murmured, between soft kisses to her skin, "if it truly bothered you, you could have just used a Concealment Charm."
There was a long pause. He pulled away and raised an eyebrow.
"Unless, of course… you wanted people to see."
Her eyes went wide. "Excuse me?!"
"You heard me."
"You're insufferable. I come out here to jinx you and somehow I end up against a wall."
"You're very attractive when you're being petty," he said without shame. "Next time you want your revenge, just drag me into another cupboard. Much more productive."
She huffed as he stepped away. "You're a prick."
"I'm also very available," he said, with absolutely no shame, "in case you were wondering."
"I wasn't."
Draco turned as if to go. "Quite sure about that?"
"Positive."
He shrugged, thoroughly pleased with himself for someone who had just been jinxed nearly to the ruin of his Quidditch reputation. "Well, if you change your mind and decide to ambush me again — cupboard, corridor, classroom — we should really move on to another letter, don't you think?"
"Another letter?"
"D is next. Dungeons, Divination, detention, dormitory." He wasn't even looking at her as he walked away.
He felt something form around his neck, and his footsteps faltered. He reached up in confusion.
His fingers curled around something. Leather. A small piece of metal.
He spun round, eyes wide. "Tell me this isn't what I think it is."
Hermione walked towards him, a hand mirror already Summoned and angled towards him, her smirk answer enough. "I think the red rather suits you, don't you?"
There, around his neck, sat a bright red dog collar with a small hanging gold disc — which, from his expression, he'd already worked out said something deeply unflattering.
"You collared me?!" he yelled.
She nodded. "Like a… what did you call me again? A pet?"
"Take it off."
"It's just a few hours. Consider it a lesson."
"This isn't a lesson, it's public humiliation!"
She arched a brow. "You said we had to move on to other letters. A, B, C, D — dog."
"Hermione."
"Draco."
His hand flew to the collar. "I have to walk through the entire castle like this!"
"You could always use a Concealment Charm," she said, echoing his earlier suggestion with a flash of teeth. "Unless, of course… you want people to see."
He drew his wand, but the gold disc only glowed when he tried the charm.
"Hermione." He said her name with every ounce of Malfoy dignity he had left, which at this point was not very much. "I was going to offer you my scarf."
She shrugged. "I couldn't remove it even if I wanted to — which I don't. It's charmed to last six hours."
---
Draco got back to his dormitory, grateful for the late hour and the resulting emptiness of the corridors. He'd been pulling at the collar the entire walk up, working his fingers fruitlessly beneath the leather.
The dormitory door swung open just as he was mid-yank. Theo and Blaise walked in mid-conversation.
Draco froze. Hands still at his neck. The bright red collar stark against his pale skin.
Theo trailed off first, eyes landing on Draco's neck. He blinked once. Then again.
Blaise was not so restrained. He burst into laughter. "What in Merlin's name is that?!"
Draco did his best to sound casual. "It's nothing."
Theo was already crossing the room, grabbing the disc and squinting at it. "Property of Hermione — mate, what did you do to her?!" He was already laughing.
Draco yanked it away. "It's not what it looks like."
Blaise shook his head. "I'm getting Pansy and Daphne."
"Zabini, I swear to Salazar —!" But Blaise was already out the door.
He could hear the shriek from the corridor as Blaise delivered the news, and moments later two more witnesses arrived to his complete and utter humiliation.
"Please tell me there's a matching leash," Pansy said, grinning. Daphne stood beside her with her jaw dropped.
Draco shoved past Theo — who was still admiringly examining Hermione's handiwork — and threw himself face-down onto his bed.
Pansy sat next to him and flicked the collar with one finger. It made a small tink noise, as if specifically designed to mock him.
"Is this some sort of… thing?" Daphne asked, genuinely wishing she knew less.
"That would imply something is happening between us. Which it isn't." Draco pressed his hands over his face and shot Daphne a look: this changes nothing. No one else can know.
Theo looked entirely too calm. "Why did she collar you, exactly?"
Draco opened his mouth. Closed it. Rubbed his face.
"Because this," Theo gestured lazily at Draco's neck, "screams guilty as sin."
"I called her Potter's pet," he decided. Not a lie, technically. Not the whole truth, but it would do.
Blaise snorted. "You called Hermione Granger a pet and expected to walk away unscathed? Honestly, I'm more surprised she didn't hex your bollocks off."
"She said it was a lesson."
Theo crossed his arms. "And are you learning it?"
Draco said something unintelligible.
"Sorry?"
"Yes!" he snapped.
Pansy hummed, fingers toying with the edge of the collar. "Very obedient. Do you think she'll call you a good boy?"
"I'm impressed, honestly," Daphne admitted. "Shall we charm your bed into a dog basket?"
"Maybe a litter tray in the corner?" Blaise offered.
"I will piss in your bed," Draco said, very quietly, through his teeth.
Pansy beamed. "She hasn't house-trained you yet!"
Draco's flush deepened as the teasing intensified. His hands itched for his wand.
"So are you too much of a coward to remove it, or are you actually enjoying it?" Theo wondered.
"I can't get it off. It's charmed."
"She enchanted it?" Daphne's eyes were glistening with far too much glee.
"I keep trying and it only gets tighter."
"Like a Cursed ring," Pansy mused.
"Or a noose," Blaise snorted.
"D'you reckon Lucius would be more upset about the collar itself, or the fact that it says Hermione?" Theo wondered.
Draco threw a pillow at him. "Can't you all leave me to my humiliation in peace?!"
"We were having a perfectly lovely evening," Daphne said cheerfully, sprawling across Theo's bed as if she lived there, "and then we heard the mighty Draco Malfoy had been… domesticated. We couldn't very well not investigate."
Pansy produced her wand from her robes. "Sit still. I want a photograph."
"Don't you bloody dare —"
Too late. With a snap and a flash of light, Pansy's enchanted camera clicked. The resulting image hovered in the air: Draco, collar gleaming, scowling ferociously, looking remarkably like a very irritated Kneazle.
---
The next morning, Hermione was enjoying a peaceful breakfast when Draco sat down across from her, his expression murderous.
Hermione did not flinch. She finished chewing her toast, dabbed her mouth with a napkin, and met his glare with serene indifference.
"Sleep well?" she asked, reaching for her tea.
"Beautifully," he drawled. "Take it off."
Her eyes flicked to the scarf wound around his neck. She set her teacup down. "What?"
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "The collar, Granger. You said six hours."
"I charmed it to last six hours. It should have come off on its own."
"Well, it hasn't!"
Hermione raised an eyebrow, a small amused smile tugging at her lips. "Did you try to remove it before the six hours were up?"
"It tightened when I tried."
"Of course it did," she said, stirring honey into her tea. "It's a Binding Charm. Designed to discourage… escape attempts."
He stared at her. "Escape? From what?!"
Hermione took another bite of toast, chewed thoughtfully, and said, "Your punishment."
"Take it off."
"No."
"Granger."
"I am not the one currently wearing a scarlet collar announcing my ownership."
He scowled. "Thank you so much for that, by the way. Theo and Blaise think I'm your bloody pet."
"Oh dear. Are your friends being unkind?" she asked, propping her chin on her hand. "Perhaps they should give you a treat for not biting."
"You're enjoying this."
"I am," she agreed. "Very much."
"I didn't tell them about the love bite," he hissed.
Her expression flickered — barely. "Good."
"I said you were punishing me for calling you Potter's pet."
She snorted. "Creative."
"Convincing. Which means you owe me."
"I owe you?" she repeated, amusement dancing in her eyes.
Draco leaned forward. "They took photographs."
Hermione bit her lip, visibly fighting not to laugh. "And you didn't Vanish them?"
"It happened fast! And then Theo said I'd been domesticated, and Blaise suggested a leash, and Daphne was measuring my bed for a dog cushion, and someone said I wasn't house-trained —"
Hermione let out a sound that was definitely not a snort. "Well. Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"House-trained."
Draco stared at her with the expression of a man pushed past all reasonable limits. "Of course I'm house-trained, Granger."
She beamed. "Then you're halfway to being a very good boy."
His jaw clenched so tightly it was a wonder it didn't crack. "This is psychological warfare."
"You started it," she said primly, biting into a slice of apple.
"It's ironic, honestly," he said. "You're the one who humped my hand and I'm the one being treated like the dog."
She coughed, grabbed a napkin, and spat out her apple. "I did not —"
"You. Me. Hospital Wing. My hand —"
Hermione slapped her napkin onto the table. "Do you want to keep the collar on forever? Because I can arrange that."
"Take it off, Granger."
"Beg."
Draco stared at her. "You cannot be serious."
"You bit like a dog. You get treated like one. You're lucky I'm giving you the option to beg it off at all." She jabbed a finger in his direction. "You've called me names and implied this is some kink-themed accessory."
"If the collar fits."
"It does rather, doesn't it?" She sipped her tea. "You'd better get on with it."
He glared at her. Then:
"Granger."
She tilted her head.
"Hermione."
She took a sip.
"'Mione." It was nearly a whimper.
He saw the flicker in her eyes and pressed forward. "'Mione, come on. Please? Please take it off."
Hermione's eyes gleamed above the rim of her cup. She set it down, slowly, and leaned forward just enough to drop her voice. "I don't know, Malfoy. That was barely a whimper. You didn't sound as though you meant it."
His nostrils flared. "I did."
She smiled sweetly. "Show me."
He narrowed his eyes. "What, you want me on my knees in the middle of the Great Hall?"
A small shrug. "If that's what it takes."
He stared at her, weighing the options. Get on his knees and beg, or spend another extended stretch wearing a scarlet dog collar in a school full of people.
He stood up. Hermione grinned, assuming he was about to storm off.
He walked around the table and dropped to his knees.
Her eyebrows shot up. "What are you doing?" she hissed, looking around. She hadn't actually expected this. She'd assumed he'd call her bluff and leave.
Hermione's mouth opened. Closed. Her spoon paused halfway to her porridge as curious glances began to turn their way.
She leaned in sharply. "Malfoy, get up."
He settled his weight properly, hands on his thighs, head tilted back just enough to hold her gaze. He managed to look, somehow, simultaneously obedient, furious, and mortifyingly composed. The morning light caught the gleam of the scarlet collar, slightly askew under his scarf.
A hush rippled down the Gryffindor table. Several Ravenclaws were openly watching. Someone in Hufflepuff gasped.
Draco didn't care. He wanted it off. And he might have been mildly enjoying the look of pure horror on Hermione's face.
"Get up — Draco, I mean it —"
"Please, Hermione," he murmured. Her name fell like something forbidden from his lips. "Please take it off. I'll be good."
She clenched her jaw. "You are not turning this into a performance —"
Draco leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to something meant only for her.
"I'm begging, Granger," he said, eyes gleaming with barely-contained defiance beneath the show of submission. "On my knees, in front of the whole school. Isn't this what you wanted?"
"No, I wanted you humiliated, not indecent." Her voice was sharp with panic as she leaned forward.
"I'll be such a good boy, Hermione, I promise." He was far too loud.
"If you don't get up —"
"Please, Hermione. Please take it off."
Hermione's fingers twitched. She desperately wanted to hex him. Or possibly herself. Possibly both.
"I'll apologise for the love bite. Publicly."
"Malfoy —"
"I am at your mercy, Hermione." He could see Professor Snape bearing down on them through the crowd, robes billowing ominously. "Please. Just take it off?"
"If you don't get off the floor in the next ten seconds," she said through her teeth, "I will charm a leash to that thing and walk you out of here myself."
His mouth opened. Closed. He clearly ran the mental calculation.
She absolutely meant it.
Draco inhaled slowly, then let his expression shift — his eyes going soft, earnest, no longer performative. "Please, Hermione," he said, quieter. Real. "Please. It's driving me mad."
Her lips parted.
The entire Gryffindor table had gone silent.
Across the aisle, Pansy was cackling. Theo looked like he was calculating odds.
"I'll be good," Draco added, one final time. "Just for you. No biting. No names. No more references to the hospital wing."
"I can't," she finally admitted, throwing her hands up. "It was charmed for six hours. I thought you'd just get frustrated and stop trying after the first hour. You extended it yourself. I literally cannot take it off!"
Draco froze.
"What?!" He stumbled to his feet.
"I told you to get up," she muttered.
The Great Hall had gone very still. Every eye was on Draco as he straightened up, face a deep, mortified crimson.
His hands flew to his neck, desperate and frantic, as though urgency alone might undo the charm.
She grabbed his arms and yanked them down. "You're only adding to the time!"
His head snapped up, fury flashing — then smoothed over rapidly as Professor Snape finally reached their table, robes billowing like a descending storm.
"Mr Malfoy," Snape said coldly, "is there a reason you are grovelling before Miss Granger at breakfast?"
As if to completely ruin Hermione's morning, Draco yelled: "She hexed me! The girl hexed me and refused to undo it! It's demented! Not even my own father —"
"You are not about to blame all of this on me!" Hermione gaped.
Snape's cold gaze moved between them, lips curling with distaste.
"Oh, go snog McLaggen!" Draco snapped.
Hermione's eyes flashed. "You did not just —"
"I give up. Truly, I do. You're not a good enough snog to put up with all of this."
The last part came out sharp and aimed — meant to wound.
And it did. He saw it the moment the words left him: in the way her retorts died. In the way her eyes slid away from him.
The silence that followed was brutal.
Hermione didn't flare with anger. That would have been easier. She didn't scoff or reach for her wand or fire back something clever.
She just went still. Looked away.
And that was worse than any hex she could have thrown.
Snape escorted Draco from the Great Hall before he could so much as think about apologising.
The office door slammed shut behind them with a finality that made Draco flinch.
Snape turned slowly, robes whispering against the stone floor.
"I don't know what particular brand of idiocy has possessed you lately, Mr Malfoy," he said coldly, "but kneeling in the Great Hall begging Miss Granger to 'take it off' in front of half the student body is a new personal low — even for you."
"I hear what it sounds like, sir, but it wasn't —"
"You didn't mean it like that?" Snape repeated.
"She put a collar on me!"
"Yes. I saw. As did everyone else." He snapped. "What exactly were you thinking?"
"She wouldn't take it off! What was I supposed to do?"
Snape's expression didn't change. "You were supposed to behave with the dignity expected of a prefect, a sixth-year, and a Malfoy. Instead, you chose a public spectacle over a private resolution. Again."
Draco clenched his jaw. "She told me it would come off after six hours."
"And did it?"
"No," he admitted. "I tried to remove it early. It extended the charm."
Snape closed his eyes for a brief, pained moment. "Then clearly she was not the only fool in this equation. You learned Binding Charms in your second year."
Draco said nothing.
"I had assumed — I had hoped — that your erratic behaviour of late had something to do with your father's legal situation, or your… other matter. But this —" Snape's voice dropped. "What would your mother think?"
"My mother would find this absolutely hilarious, actually," Draco cut in.
Snape narrowed his eyes. "I highly doubt that."
"I don't. This is exactly her kind of humour. She'd probably want it framed."
"Mr Malfoy —"
"You brought her up, so let's discuss it. My mother would love this. She'd think it was brilliant that Hermione managed to get me on my knees begging — she'd be thrilled, quite frankly. My father, on the other hand, would probably have a heart attack in his cell."
"That's not something to joke about."
"I'm not joking."
"You're unravelling."
"Brilliant observation, Professor," Draco muttered.
Silence fell, broken only by the low crackle of the fire.
Then, quieter, Snape said: "You will put an end to this."
"I can't get the collar off — how exactly do you want me to go about that?"
"An end to whatever this is with Miss Granger," Snape snapped.
"I suspect I just have," he said quietly.
He left before Snape could say another word.
---
To no one's great surprise, Daphne was waiting for him.
"I don't want to talk," Draco said, moving past her.
"Sit and stay," Daphne said flatly.
Draco stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly, nostrils flaring. "You did not just —"
"I did. Now sit." Her voice was low and sharp.
Draco crossed his arms and stayed where he was. "What?"
Daphne raised an eyebrow, arms folded in perfect mimicry, posture every bit as composed as his own. "What is it?" she echoed back at him. "Not much. Just that you've made a public spectacle of yourself, traumatised half of Hufflepuff, and managed to wound the girl you've been not-so-subtly fixated on since September."
"I'm not fixated."
"You got on your knees in the Great Hall and begged her to un-collar you," Daphne said flatly.
"She hexed me! And she lied about being able to reverse it —"
"She didn't lie," Daphne said. "She underestimated your idiocy. She overestimated your self-control. Frankly, so did I, because in no version of events I imagined did I think I'd see you behaving this pathetically."
Draco said nothing.
Daphne stepped closer and dropped her voice. "I don't know what you said to her, but you need to fix it. You hurt her. I could see it on her face." She paused. "And she still asked me to spread a rumour."
Draco frowned. "What?"
"The dynamic duo, working together. Drawing the attention away from your disaster."
"What?" he repeated.
She nodded. "It's rather clever, actually. Vague enough that people will talk, just titillating enough to bury what happened at breakfast. A whisper about Hermione Granger and a love triangle with her two best friends? That'll keep the gossip mill busy for days. Potter will deny it soon enough. Weasley will be embarrassed into proving his loyalty to Lavender. And people will stop talking about you."
Draco stared at her. "She asked you to spread a rumour. About herself. And Potter. And Weasley?"
"Yes."
"And you agreed?!"
"She's saving your reputation!" Daphne snapped, her voice bouncing off the corridor walls. "Because even after whatever self-sabotaging thing you said to her, she still doesn't want you ruined."
Draco took a step back as though she'd physically struck him. The fury, the pride — all of it guttered like a flame caught in a draught.
"Go fix what you've done," Daphne said.
---
Draco found Hermione at their usual table in the back of the library. He stopped a few feet away. "The dynamic duo?" he asked quietly.
Hermione looked up from her essay, quill pausing mid-sentence. Her expression was unreadable — too calm, too steady. It knocked the breath from him more surely than any shouting would have.
"They weren't exactly my words, but yes."
He hesitated, unsure if he was allowed to sit — unsure if this was a conversation or a reckoning. "I didn't think you'd still be willing to speak to me."
"I'm not entirely sure I am."
"You had me on my knees begging in front of the whole school."
"I didn't think you'd actually do it. I told you to get up."
"You put a collar on me."
"It would've been off by now if you hadn't interfered."
Draco stepped closer. "I'm sorry. For what I said."
She didn't look up. She wrote another line. "It doesn't matter."
"It does. You're upset." He slipped into the seat beside her.
The silence stretched. Someone's quill scratched at a nearby table.
"Hermione."
She closed her eyes at the sound of her name — his voice careful, almost cautious.
"I didn't mean it," he said, softer now. "You know I didn't."
"It doesn't matter," she said again, setting her quill down and looking at him. "I'm not a good enough snog to put up with it all. And we weren't even friends before…" She waved her hand vaguely between them.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," her hand trembled slightly as she picked up her quill again, "that if I'm such a mediocre snog, it simply won't happen again."
He stared at her. "You're not just a snog, Hermione, and you know that."
"Do I?" She looked up again. "Because I'm not entirely sure what this is."
He blinked. "What?"
"We snog, we argue, we flirt. It's not — it isn't normal."
"It's us," he said quietly.
"There is no us." Her voice cracked on the word. "Merlin, Draco, I nearly called you my boyfriend last night. But I couldn't, because we're not actually dating. I don't know what we're doing, but —"
"Call me Malfoy," he cut her off.
She stopped.
"No — call me Draco." He was closer now, his voice dropping low. "Call me a complete prat." He paused. "Call me your boyfriend."
She stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.
He had.
He had gotten on his knees in front of the entire school. He'd made her panic and made her laugh and then ruined it all with one stupid, spiteful line — because he'd panicked. Because he'd been trying to claw back some control, and like an idiot he'd aimed it at her.
"It's not just snogs. Granger — 'Mione —"
"Stop." She was shaking her head, reaching for her things.
He grabbed her wrists, gently but firmly. "I keep trying to take you out, and our friends keep getting in the way. I've essentially arranged to work with you for the rest of the year. I sit at this table just to be near you." His voice dropped. "Call me Draco. Call me your boyfriend. Call me yours."
Hermione went still.
Her bag was halfway over her shoulder, her wand gripped in her fist, and his hand was wrapped around her wrist. His eyes were wild — desperate, yes, but underneath it something more. Something truer.
And it was so very Draco.
Messy and reckless and far too much. But honest. He didn't do quiet or restrained. He never had.
"Mine?" she echoed, her voice flat, but her throat was tight.
"I know I'm a prat. I know I've messed this up. But I meant it — I want to be yours. I want you to be mine."
"You humiliated me."
"I humiliated myself," he said quickly. "Horribly. But that's what you do to me. You make me lose all sense."
"I told you to get up."
"I didn't want to."
She scoffed. "You're being ridiculous."
"It's the truth. I'd crawl, Granger, if you asked me to. Can't you see that?"
Her breath caught.
Draco Malfoy — arrogant, composed, always in control — practically vibrating with sincerity, saying things that sounded nothing like him. And meaning every word.
He still hadn't let go of her wrist.
"You're being ridiculous," she repeated, but it came out softer. Less certain.
"What do I need to do? What do you need to hear? That you're not mediocre? Because you are so far from mediocre, Hermione."
She didn't move. Didn't speak.
"You undo me. I'm unravelling. You make me nervous. You make me want to be better. I want you — badly — and not for a quick snog. If all I wanted was a snog, I would've chosen someone considerably less complicated."
She scoffed and pulled her hand away.
"That wasn't an insult!" He ran both hands through his hair. "It's what I like about you! You're brilliant and difficult and you get angry and you tell me so. You don't back away from it. You're cruel sometimes, and I'm still here."
Her bag hit the floor.
He'd take it.
"What do you want from me? You want me to announce it? That I want to be yours? We can tell our friends. Call me your boyfriend. Let me call you my girlfriend."
She shook her head. "You're not thinking clearly."
"I have never thought more clearly."
"You're panicking," she accused, her breath coming faster. "You do this thing where you say something extreme to take back control."
"I don't want control," he snapped. "I want you. I think I've been rather clear about that!"
She was staring at him like he'd gone mad.
He had.
They couldn't tell people. If he took even a moment to think, he'd know that — the Dark Mark on his arm, the danger she'd be in if the wrong people found out. He didn't care.
"We can't! It's — it's pathetic!" Hermione cried.
Draco didn't flinch, but his face twisted as if she'd taken his heart and dropped it on the floor. He leaned back, giving her space, and swallowed.
Hermione opened her mouth to take it back. It was already out there.
"I am pathetic," he said quietly. "Daphne's been telling me so for days."
"That's not what I —"
"Don't take it back now," he said softly, no anger behind it. "I am pathetic. I keep baring my heart to you, and you keep using it against me. I was waiting — I wanted to wait. And then you collared me like a stray and left me no room to breathe, and I still didn't want it to end. That's how far gone I am. If that's not pathetic, I don't know what is."
"I'm pathetic," Hermione whispered.
She wasn't composed anymore. She wasn't sharp or unreadable. She was trembling, barely holding herself together, and her eyes were bright with the truth of it.
"What?" He pressed his hands over his eyes.
She dropped back into her chair. "You have spent five years calling me names," she whispered. "Treating me horribly."
He felt his heart stop.
"And then Pansy became my friend, and you were still awful to me for the first few weeks of this year — but by November, I'd realised I fancied you. And the very thought of it made me feel ill."
Draco didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Her voice was quiet and flat — not emotionless, but exhausted. As though this confession had been sitting on her chest for so long it had become part of her posture.
"I hated myself for it," she said. "Every time I looked at you and felt something soft instead of angry."
"November?" he asked.
She looked at him. "We were decorating the castle. You dared me to strangle you with the garland, and I pulled you towards me and…" She shook her head slightly. "You smelled good. You felt good. It might've been early December — I don't quite remember."
Draco stared at her as though she'd cracked the ground open beneath them. "You told me you wanted to be friends," he said faintly.
"I did."
The space between them filled with everything that had gone unsaid — years of it.
"You've called me horrible names, Draco. And I still want you. Because you got on your knees and looked at me like I hung the stars." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "But the second people find out, I become the pathetic one. The girl who forgave the boy who spent years being cruel to her."
Draco swallowed and looked away. "I could apologise," he said. "I could try to explain — that it's how I was raised. That it's what I was taught to believe."
He looked at her then. "I don't think it would change anything, though."
"I'm not a good girlfriend," she whispered. "I'm angry. I overthink. I get obsessive. I don't forgive easily."
He felt hope stir in his chest despite everything. "I'm not asking you to forgive me. Or forget." He whispered. "But I am different now, aren't I?"
She huffed a short, humourless laugh. "You snog Muggle-borns now, if that's what you mean."
"I beg them too, apparently."
"I hate that word," she said quietly.
"I know."
"I know you know," she snapped, and her voice cracked halfway through. She looked furious with herself for letting it.
He sighed. "You're not pathetic."
"Everyone would disagree."
"Then to hell with all of them." He scoffed. "To hell with what Potter thinks. To hell with what Weasley thinks."
She laughed softly, eyes still closed. "It's not that simple."
"Isn't it?" he asked. "What do you think my father would say, Granger? You think I haven't thought about how this ends?"
She opened her eyes and looked at him as if truly considering it for the first time — the threat that existed on his side of things.
"If Potter cared, he'd have said something yesterday when he found us snogging in that cupboard. Weasley will say something idiotic, because that's what he does. But you'll be all right. I'm lucky if the worst that happens to me is getting disowned."
She stared at him.
"Don't joke about that."
"I'm not."
"Draco —"
"I'm not, Hermione." His voice was level. "And for what it's worth — I fancied you before you even started going out with Vaisey."
She just watched him.
He exhaled. "I'm going to go." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head — deliberate, warm, like a parting gift.
She closed her eyes. She didn't stop him.
When she opened them, he was walking away.
"I'm not good at dating," she called after him.
Draco stopped mid-step. He didn't turn around straight away.
"I'm stubborn," she said. "And bossy."
He turned slightly, his profile catching the dim library light, shadows falling beneath his cheekbones. He didn't smile. He just listened.
Hermione stood slowly. "I talk too much when I'm nervous," she said, her voice a bit rough. "I expect people to read my mind. And when they don't, I assume they don't care."
"I know all that," he said. "It's what I like about you."
"And what about what you don't know? I hex in my sleep."
Draco's mouth twitched.
"I'm serious," Hermione said, arms folded across her chest, hovering a few feet away.
"I snore," he offered.
"I'm moody."
"I'm worse."
"I overthink everything."
"I don't think at all. Not around you."
"I'll never stop arguing with you."
"Good. I need someone to knock sense into me."
She was standing just a few inches away now. "And I'm a good snog?"
"Best I've ever had," he said, almost under his breath.
"People can't know."
"I won't say a word."
"And you can't leave another love bite somewhere visible," she said firmly.
"You can't collar me again."
Her lips twitched. "Call me your girlfriend."
"You're my girlfriend," he said, with such certainty that she didn't hesitate — she grabbed his tie and pulled him toward her.
---
The tension passed over the next couple of days, and though they still weren't exactly making a show of things, they were far more at ease around each other — now that they'd given it a name.
Hermione was in the library, returning a stack of borrowed books, when she felt hands settle on her hips.
His lips brushed against her ear, and she smiled. "Draco."
"Good guess," he teased, turning her around. "Haven't seen you all day."
She bit back a laugh and glanced down the aisle. "You were with Theo and Blaise."
"So?"
"We agreed," she whispered.
And they had. Over the last few days they'd talked it through properly — what they wanted, what they expected. They'd settled on keeping their original arrangement: no grand announcements, nothing to change on the surface. Just them, quietly official to themselves.
"They're your friends too," he pointed out. "If anything, it's more suspicious if you avoid us."
"I'm sure it would be far more suspicious if I joined and ended up kissing you," she laughed softly as he pulled her towards him and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.
She smiled, draping her arms around his shoulders. "You're so much nicer now that you've decided I'm your girlfriend."
He hummed. "To be fair, I assumed we were already. You're the one who had the crisis." He kissed her jaw, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her blouse.
Hermione shivered slightly but pulled back just far enough to look at him, a teasing smile at her lips. "You're the one who practically begged me."
"I didn't realise I had to ask!" he said, genuinely put-upon. "I figured asking you to dinner and snogging a few times was enough of a signal." His hand settled at the small of her back.
She raised an eyebrow. "Unfortunately, my overthinking got in the way. You'll have to get used to it."
"Next time you start overthinking," he murmured, "let me know. I'll kiss some sense into you."
He kissed her again — properly — and she groaned softly, pulling him a fraction closer before breaking away.
"Library," she reminded him, breathless. "We'll get thrown out."
"Worth it."
"Draco."
He sighed dramatically and stepped back. "Fine. But I'm claiming you for a walk after dinner."
She raised an eyebrow. "A date?"
"Don't look so surprised. I've been trying to take you out for two weeks. It's nearly March." He huffed. "I'm starting to think the only way I'll actually get you alone is if I take you out to the Forbidden Forest."
"Hermione?"
Draco rolled his eyes at the sound of Weasley's voice.
Ron came around the corner and paused when he saw Draco. "Malfoy."
"I was just leaving," Draco said, smoothly. "Do try not to strain yourself, Granger. I know the library counts as your only real exercise." He drawled, not quite able to hide the way his mouth fought a smile as he moved past Weasley and went.
Ron watched him go, brows creased. "Still pretending to get information?"
Hermione settled her expression. "Yes. I've told Harry everything I know. He hasn't let anything slip. Neither have the others."
---
The night air was cool and clear, the sky a deep ink-blue scattered with stars. Their footsteps crunched softly on the gravel path, their shoulders brushing every so often in that easy, comfortable way that had become theirs.
"I really didn't expect to enjoy it as much as I did," Draco was saying, hands in his coat pockets as they walked. "I didn't want it to end. Don't go telling Pansy that."
Hermione laughed. "There is a second book, you know. A little more bleak."
"She reminds me of you," he said, feigning complete casualness.
Hermione glanced at him. "Sorry?"
"Jo," Draco said, looking up at the sky. "She reminds me of you."
Hermione blinked. "Jo March?"
He nodded, almost sheepish. "Clever. Stubborn. Always trying to do the right thing — sometimes to the point of making everything harder for herself. Always thinking. Always trying to fix everything."
She smiled softly and knocked her shoulder into his as an excuse to slip her hand into his. "Tell me more."
Draco's gaze dropped to their joined hands, and for a moment he looked almost lost in it. "No more to tell. I'll start the other one soon. Pride and Whatever."
"Pride and Prejudice," Hermione corrected gently, squeezing his hand. "You'll like it. Or you'll hate it. Either way, Elizabeth Bennet will give you plenty to argue with."
His lips twitched. "Granger, if you've just given me two books about yourself —"
"I chose it because Mr Darcy reminds me of you," she interrupted.
Draco slowed slightly. "Should I be offended?"
Hermione laughed. "No." She said it as if she'd thought about it quite carefully already.
He stopped walking and turned to her. "All right. I'll bite. What makes me like this Darcy?"
"He's proud," she said. "Like you."
"Brilliant deduction," Draco drawled.
"He's arrogant," she continued. "Looks down on people beneath his station."
He narrowed his eyes. "You're doing a spectacular job of selling this."
She grinned, entirely unbothered. "He doesn't like many people. But the ones he does, he'd do anything for. He feels things deeply but struggles to talk about them. He pushes people away before they can hurt him."
"He sounds like a tosser."
"He sounds like my boyfriend."
"I don't think so," he shook his head. "See, if he were, you'd be telling me how devilishly handsome he is."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Is that how it works?"
He nodded, smirking. "You'd be telling me how much you want to kiss him." His voice dropped as he leaned closer. "How desperately you want to drag him off to the library and —"
His words disappeared into her mouth as she kissed him.
Draco let out a low noise of surprise that quickly became something else entirely, his hands sliding to her waist as he was becoming so very used to them doing.
Her fingers made their way into his hair as he walked her backwards until her back met a tree.
The cold bark pressed against her as he closed the space between them, his hands at her waist, pulling her close, while hers threaded through his hair.
He pulled away just slightly. "You have a funny way of shutting me up."
"Just kiss me, you idiot," she huffed, yanking him back.
He didn't need to be told twice. He kissed her with the same urgency as that broom cupboard, as New Year's, as every charged moment that had been building between them for months.
They kissed like they were making up for every hour spent pretending to barely tolerate each other in front of their friends — for every moment they couldn't act on because someone was watching.
One hand slipped from her waist to the curve of her hip, and she groaned into his mouth.
Draco grinned against her lips at the sound, pressing her closer against the tree, his other hand finding its way beneath her jumper.
She didn't stop him. Not when his hand rested at her hip, not when the other climbed the bare skin beneath her jumper to rest just below her bra, not when she felt him pressed against her.
Her breath hitched as he shifted, pulling her thigh up.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands sliding down his shirt as if she couldn't get enough of the feeling of him.
"Hermione —" He gasped against her jaw, "Hermione, if we don't stop —"
She let out a small, desperate sound. "Don't stop."
"Merlin, Hermione," he muttered, voice rough with the effort of it. "I told you —"
"Then don't touch me, just —" She pressed her hips down against his to make her point.
He shifted, hips meeting hers, and they both gasped at once.
She dropped her head against his shoulder, her mouth pressed there.
Her nails scraped lightly over his chest beneath his shirt. He groaned — deep, undone — as he moved against her. Her hips urged him on.
His name left her lips in a breathless whisper.
Then his hands curled firm at her hips, and she let out a helpless sound as he stilled her.
His chest was heaving with the effort of pulling back.
She closed her eyes, leaning against the tree. "I know," she breathed. "Gods, Draco, I know."
A low, rueful laugh escaped him as he pressed his forehead to hers. "You have absolutely no idea how much I want to."
"I can feel exactly how much you want to," she said dryly, "so that isn't quite true."
He groaned and dropped his head onto her shoulder as she laughed. He set her down carefully, the rational part of him — barely clinging on — knowing she deserved to know what he was hiding before they went any further.
He took a small step back. "You're not cross with me?"
She shook her head. "Frustrated. But not cross."
---
Hermione walked into the Gryffindor common room to find Harry alone, bent over the Marauder's Map.
She slipped into the seat beside him. "Spying on me?"
Harry didn't answer straight away. "Can't exactly watch Malfoy without you turning up on it half the time now."
She pressed her lips together.
"He's in his dormitory," Harry continued, pointing to a pair of feet marked Draco Malfoy. "Has been for a bit. He does this — just stands there for a couple of hours some nights."
"He's probably asleep."
"Or having a —"
"Harry!" Hermione hit him with a pillow.
Harry grinned, unrepentant. "You only reacted like that because you were literally just with him."
Hermione rolled her eyes. Her ears burned. "You're the worst."
"And yet here you are."
She hesitated, watching Draco's name on the map. "Can I have five minutes?"
Harry groaned. "If this is about Pansy again — she hasn't spoken to me in days. I'm fairly sure that whole thing is done."
"No. Well — maybe. Just five minutes."
He glanced at the clock. "Same rules?"
She nodded. "You can ask me anything you want after. What we say stays in the five minutes. And we can't bring it up for five days after."
The clock hit nine fifty-seven. "Five minutes," Harry said.
Silence.
"You dated Cho."
"Briefly."
"You kissed."
"Once."
"This isn't helping."
Harry laughed. "You're wasting time."
"I want to sleep with him."
Harry blinked. "That's direct."
"You said I was wasting time."
"I didn't expect you to say you wanted to shag Malfoy," he hissed.
"I didn't say it was Draco."
Harry gave her a flat look. "Two weeks ago you were telling me you were burning alive because of him. I caught you both snogging in a broom cupboard."
Hermione flushed. "You said we weren't talking about that."
"We're not. I don't want to know. I'm just saying — you're not subtle." He shook his head. "So. What's the problem?"
"We keep snogging. And then he always stops."
"Stops?"
"He pulls away! Even when I'm —" She stopped herself. "I'm not finishing that sentence."
"I got the general picture." Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe he just doesn't want to."
"He does."
Harry tilted his head.
Hermione leaned in slightly. "He does," she said, very clearly.
"You sound awfully certain."
"Because I've felt —"
Harry made a strangled sound and pressed a hand over his face. "Okay! Right. Far enough."
Hermione crossed her arms, completely unapologetic. "You asked."
"I did not need proof!"
"He always stops just before — like he's terrified that if he doesn't, he won't be able to."
Harry stared at her. "This is all vastly more than I ever needed to know."
She wanted to scream.
Harry ran a hand over his face. "Maybe he's scared. Or he feels guilty about something."
"Why?"
"I don't know! I'm not Malfoy!"
"But you're a boy!" she exclaimed. "I just don't understand why it seems so uncomplicated for you and Pansy."
Harry laughed despite himself. "Because Pansy and I are blowing off steam. We don't have that… thing. That strange, complicated emotional weight you and Malfoy carry about."
She looked down at her hands, biting her lip.
"I'll give him credit, honestly," Harry said, after a moment. "I didn't think he had it in him to hold back around you."
She glanced over at him, a smile pulling at her. "You've been surprisingly decent about all of this."
"I don't like Malfoy. But I love you."
She smiled properly. "I know it's only been two weeks since we made it official, but I've been falling for him for months," she whispered.
Harry shrugged. "Yeah, we sort of figured. When you stopped arguing like you wanted to hex him and started arguing like you wanted to pin him to the wall."
"We?"
"Ginny. Your new Slytherin friends."
"Ron thinks I'm still gathering information for you."
"I know."
"He'll be furious when he finds out."
Harry nodded.
She sighed. "Draco said he wants to do things properly. Take me out before we — I mean, he has, in his way. Tonight we just walked and talked about the books I gave him for Christmas."
Harry was quiet for a moment. "Doesn't sound like Malfoy."
"Actually," Hermione said softly, "it's exactly him. And I already know that. It honestly feels like we've been doing this for months."
Harry glanced at the clock. It had been well past five minutes. "Your five minutes are long up. I'm saving mine for later." He stood, folded the map away, and tucked it under his arm. "I will say this much," he added, not quite meeting her eye — "there are options, you know. Things besides the main event."
He headed for the stairs. "I don't want to hear about any of them, though."