“Granger…” Draco stared down the hallway towards the door, trying not to let his voice sound as aggrieved as he felt. “We’re going to be late.”
“We are not,” Hermione’s voice floated from the bedroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Draco sighed and started down the hall. “What are you doing? It never takes you this long—“
“Don’t come in! I’ll be out in a minute.”
Draco stopped in his tracks and rolled his eyes. He glanced at the clock before studying his reflection in the hallway mirror, he ran his fingers through his hair trying to make it fall the way he intended it to and adjusted his tie again before looking back at the clock.
He pivoted and then froze and stared.
Hermione was standing at the door, shoulders thrown back and chin high, as she clasped a cape around her shoulders. There was a sly smile on her lips.
She was wearing a new dress.
Draco’s eyes ran down from her face to the pointed toe stilettos and then back up again, more slowly, carefully following the lines of the dress where it skimmed over the curve of her hips and accentuated the nip of her waist.
“Well…” He had prowled half-way down the hall before he even realised he was moving. ”Hello, Mrs. Malfoy.”
He circled her slowly and discovered that the dress fit her perfectly from all angles. His pulse rate jumped as he noticed subtle seams on her stockings, running in careful, tantalising lines up the backs of her legs. He followed the seams to the hemline of her dress, noted the dual slit on the skirt, and bit his lip.
He just wasn’t sure about the neckline—
Her black-gloved hand sharply smacked his fingers away from the clasp of her cape. ”Not now.”
Draco withdrew his hand sullenly and watched as she strutted away from him towards the front door.
At least there were upsides to watching her walk away. The cape was cropped at her waist, accentuating the flare of her hips, and his mouth watered as he noted the way the fabric tightened across her arse with each stiletto-lengthened stride.
She pulled open the door of the hall closet and reached for something on an upper shelf. She glanced over and rolled her eyes when she noticed him sulking by the bedroom door. ”You said we’d be late.”
He stalked her down the hall. ”We could be fashionably late.”
Hermione ignored him, pulling out a witch’s hat and carefully placing it on the back of her head. She eyed herself appraisingly as she positioned it.
“You don’t get your reward until you’re officially promoted.”
“Fine,” Draco said with a plaintive sigh as he removed a hand that had been sliding appreciatively along the small of her back.
He gave her a final long look as he swung his coat over his shoulders.
Hermione slipped an impractically tiny beaded bag onto her wrist. It clanked mysteriously. A low sound, almost as though it somehow contained a cauldron or two.
Before Draco could dwell on the thought, she turned and looked up at him, fastidiously straightened his tie and the chain of his pocket-watch, and then smoothing the fur collar of his overcoat. Her fingers rested against his chest as she met his eyes.
Up close he could see the excitement shining through her eyes.
“I’m so proud of you, you know,” she said, her voice quiet but vivid with emotion. “Truly. You’ve worked so hard and you never gave up.”
He cocked his head to the side as he stared down at her, tucking a curl carefully behind her ear as he smiled. “Well, it made a difference—having someone who believed I could.”
The corners of her eyes crinkled a split-second before her mouth curved into a smile of her own. ”Of course I did. I have a rule of only believing things that are true.”
She slid her gloved hand into the crook of his elbow and her smile split into a grin. “Let’s knock them dead.”
Draco snorted as he pulled her closer. ”Violent Muggle-born.”
She laughed as they apparated.
They reappeared on a cobblestone path. Hermione’s heel cut between two stones as she landed and she gripped Draco’s arm tightly to keep her balance. He steadied her by the elbow as she pulled her shoe out of the crevice it had slipped into.
”Are you sure those heels aren’t a bit high?” Draco eyed the path ahead of them with concern.
The shoes were not, categorically speaking, sensible. The most apt description of Hermione’s shoes on most days.
Her mouth pursed. “I’m fine. I stumbled. Slightly.”
She drew her wand and banished the dust on her heels before proceeding to pick her way along the path towards the entrance. Draco followed her closely, hand subtly shooting out with each step she took, in case her heel caught.
“Draco…” she said, her voice low, ”if you keep reaching your hand out like you expect me to trip again, I will poke you in the eye with my pointy hat.”
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