"You despised me once," she reminded him, turning her body and taking a moment to admire his storm-grey eyes. "And what would your friends do if they found out about us?"
"We both know my friends wouldn't be the problem," Draco said with a pointed look, moving his busy fingers to fiddle with the hem of her jumper. "My parents would disown me, and I wouldn't see a knut of my inheritance. You know all this, Granger. I'm sure you've heard all about what happened to Andromeda."
"I have," she said, raising a hand stroke her fingers up his jaw. "There are more important things than money and reputation."
His lips twitched with scepticism. "Maybe in your world, Granger."
.
.
Several nights later, and Hermione realised she had lost track of time. Draco had been notably calmer and less agitated since his Christmas stroll across the grounds, and she couldn't help but take advantage of it. He had stayed in her bed until morning-light a couple of times, although she couldn't decide if it was simply accidental, or if he chose to linger in their warmth and pass the early hours in her company.
That was where tonight found her; between his legs and leaning back into his chest, with only a few blankets tossed carelessly around them and body heat to rush the blood. She had Charmed her window-sill into a window-seat, and temporarily broken the wards so the wind could chase away some of the mustiness in her room. Plus, Draco seemed to like the breeze rousing goosebumps across their bare skin, and she was too relaxed here to disrupt it; with his limbs tangled around her, and his chin against her shoulder as they both read the book in her lap.
"Have you finished the page?" she asked.
"Granger," he muttered, his voice husky against her throat. "You can be quite a sly witch when you want to be."
She stifled a laugh. "And what would make you say that?"
"You're telling me your book choice wasn't intentional?"
She indulged in a private grin. "Perhaps on a subconscious level-
"Bollocks," he accused, but his tone was rich with amusement. "Two enemies shagging in secret? It's hardly subtle, Granger."
"This happens to be a Muggle classic," she told him, twisting her neck to peck the edge of his mouth. "Can I turn the page?"
"Go ahead," he nodded, returning a kiss to that tingly spot behind her ear. "Although I feel the need to point out that this Romeo bloke is a bit of a tosser."
"How so?"
"Well, he was supposedly obsessed with that Rosaline girl," he started critically. "And then he marries this Juliet after only knowing her a couple of days. The guy is a complete wet."
"I agree, it is all a bit rushed," Hermione mumbled reluctantly. "But romance was a lot different back then-
"You mean it was unrealistic," he said. "I'm actually quite looking forward to the part when he kills himself."
Hermione lowered her brow in confusion. "How do you know he kills himself?"
"That bit at the beginning," he explained as though it was obvious. "'A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life.' It kind of gives the plot away, Granger."
"Spoilsport."
"Don't blame me," he rasped, pressing his lips against her throat again. "Blame the author."
"But-
A loud bang followed by a burst of light echoed across the night, making Hermione start before she could retort. Her hand covered her hammering heart as she felt Draco's hold around tighten, almost protectively. Another crash of colours came seconds later, and she pushed her window open wider to catch the simmering remains of a sparkling unicorn galloping across the clouds.
"Fireworks," she sighed with understanding. "Merlin, that made me jump."
"I noticed," he mocked, releasing his firm grip on her. "Open the window a bit more, let's see what Flitwick settled on this year."
She complied and adjusted her body so they could both watch the display of animated creatures dance in the air. She adored magical fireworks; so different to the Muggle shows she had been accustomed to, and Flitwick never failed to impress with his creativity.
"It must be New Year's Eve," she whispered with realisation, hastily shooting a look over to her clock.
One minute to midnight…
"Kiss me," Hermione blurted clumsily.
Draco turned to face her, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously at her bold words. "What are you-
"Just kiss me," she said again, desperately grasping his face and pulling him close to seal their lips, and their fates, if superstition was to be believed.
He was initially hesitant, but he quickly surrendered and tugged her into his lap, greedily running his hands over her waist, which ignited wonderful shivers to shoot down her spine. Her fingertips combed imaginary paths through his hair, and she sighed into his mouth appreciatively when his teeth gently latched onto her lower lip. She would never admit it, but she could easily kiss him for long and lazy hours.
When he pulled away, she hummed with disappointment and the sense of loss, but her eyes darted back over to her clock to discover it was indeed midnight. She turned back to Draco and watched the brazen colours of the fireworks reflect in his grey eyes and waltz across his pale features, and she felt something deep in her chest burn and swell.
.
.
.
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