𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨

chapter thirty two

December 13th, one week until the Winter Ball

Hermione had slept in, but Draco was far too restless to stay by her side in bed. He opted for a morning walk, deciding not to wake her from her sleep.

Salazar knew she needed it.

When he entered the library there she was, melted in a brown plush chair with a book between her hands, shoes splayed on the floor and fuzzy wool socks covering her feet to fight the coldness of the wooden floorboards.

"Weasley."

He stood in front of her as she read, head held high as she glanced up from her spot on the page with sharp eyes, flipping to the next page with aggression.

"Ferret."

Draco sighed, gesturing to the stool besides her, "Can I sit?"

She shrugged, the sides of her lips downturned as she barely scanned the words and flicked another page.

"Whatever this is-" he gestured between the two of them with one hand, "-Needs to stop."

"Is it that unbelievable of me to say that I still don't trust you?" Ginny snapped, rolling her eyes as she sat up with vigor, "She has been my best friend for six years, she has been through hell, and I choose tolerate you because you make her happy."

"I understand that, but-"

He tried to get a few words in, but there was no stopping her once she began ranting.

"So you'll also understand that if you decide to colossally fuck up again after everything she's been through, I will drag a Diffindo charm between your ribs."

She said it so nonchalantly that he was taken aback, shuffling his stool just a few inches backwards.

"Understood."

He was desperate to explain that people make mistakes, that he meant no harm and was trying his best, but she was far too stubborn. Stupid, loyal gryffindors.

"Look, ferret — I'm sick of dealing with your bullshit. You don't fuck up, I don't fuck you up. Do we have a deal?"

She held out her palm for him to take.

"Deal."

They shook hands on it.

............

"You're going to topple me over," Hermione smiled as he dipped her again, a soft melody drifting from her record player as they danced around her dormitory.

"I wouldn't let you fall, Granger," he shook his head, and she laughed as they bumped into her dresser for the third time that afternoon.

"I know you can do better than this," she scolded him, admiring his eyes, "I saw you at the Yule Ball."

"You've been watching me, Granger?" his eyes narrowed at her, in a playful mood to flirt, "Is this up to your expectations?"

He lifted her into the air, curls just missing the ceiling as he spun her around, dropping her on the bed.

"That is not a dance move!" she squealed as he laid her back onto the pillows, climbing over her to plant a soft kiss to her lips.

"It is now," he murmured between kisses, gripping her waist as she held the side of his jaw, but something in her movements hesitated.