Disclaimer: I obviously don't own this universe. Or dwell in it. Although that would actually be both epic and scary.
A/N: Hello. My first fanfic, so if there is anything that needs to be improved, do feel free to tell me. This will be, at the very least, a two-shot, although it might become a multichaptered story eventually.
He was looking at her again. She stirred uncomfortably. This boy - man, really - did strange things to her insides. He was sitting in what used to be "her" chair, curled up under a delightfully fluffy green blanket - since his (reluctant) induction into the order, he has slowly usurped some of her meager comforts in this dour house.
She couldn't believe it. Her wand began tapping nervously on the back of what used to be Sirius's favorite armchair.
"Granger." he drawled slowly, stretching her name out, as though tasting the two syllables. Gran-ger.
She hated how she was simultaneously aroused and creeped out by his voice, low and silky.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" She snapped out. A confrontation was the last thing on her mind. After the past few years, all she wanted was to curl into her armchair with a book and some cocoa.
He lowered his voice to a pitch somewhere between a whisper and a sulk, "Stop that infernal tapping. I have a headache."
She smiled, a wide, predatory smile, and said, in a voice calculated to reach the echoing reaches of his aching head, "Hangover, Draco?"
He glared at her. She smirked, a spot on rendition of his own. "She must have worked hard on that." He mused briefly for a moment, before massaging his temples lightly and reaching for his book and drink. Her voice rang out again, "Mulled wine should help a little."
"I was trying to get rid of the hangover, not postpone it till tomorrow, Granger." he snapped back.
"Right."
He huffed and attempted to curl up even further under his fluffy blanket, but found himself almost stuck in the chair. Hermione grinned to herself privately, before gathering a light pink blanket, her cocoa, and a copy of Shakespeare's Sonnets.
She plumped herself down on the rug in front of the fireplace - which was really quite nice - before swathing herself in the blanket and opening up her book.
Just as she was taking a sip of her cocoa, there was a knocking at the library door. "Come on in, Harry." She murmured.
Instead of one unruly mop of black hair, there were three - a tawny grey head and a dark brown one joined the black one.
"Professor Lupin? And Neville?" Hermione exclaimed. The new arrivals smiled gently. Neville said, "I have a meeting with Harry in a few, and Professor Lupin is…? I don't know what he's doing."
Lupin smirked a little, and said, "Well, I was hoping to investigate the library for some research, but you seem so cozy, I hate to disturb."
"Oh, don't worry, Professor, you're more than welcome to share our space." Draco said coolly. Hermione glanced at him with surprise, but shrugged it off. Lupin and Harry entered the room completely, Harry rummaging about in a random cabinet while Lupin appropriated the desk and chair at the back of the room.
Harry began muttering random things under his breath, " -tineas audio, erm, coeur unitas, uh -"
Hermione began nestling back into her blanket as Lupin began rustling papers and collecting books. She was well on her way to blocking out the rest of the world when a sudden burst of music rose from the cabinet Harry had been fiddling with.
"Harry!"
"What? You need holiday music this time of year while you read. It's practically mandatory."
Draco raised his pale grey eyes to meet Hermione's and said dryly, "Lovely. The one room I come to for peace destroyed by maudlin commercial sentiment."
Professor Lupin had to hide his snickers behind a paper as Hermione almost choked on her laughter.
Harry mock-scowled in a imitation of Kreacher, his hands on his hips, "I'll thank you to see it as Christmas cheer, young Master Malfoy."
Hermione giggled softly, and smiled at Neville, who winked, waved, and vanished into the depths of the house before returning to her book.
She almost didn't notice Draco slip from the depths of his - her - chair and ensconce himself on the rug as well.