"...Given the significance of the sacred linden tree to the goddess of fate, Laima. Silver lime wands are highly sought after to enhance the Seer's connection to the goddess of fate and add clarity to their visions. The core of these wands have been..."
If Draco hadn't perfected the art of staying alert and listening to adults ramble on about dull topics during his childhood, he would be long asleep by now. The ethereal voice of the session speaker made him feel like he was back at Hogwarts, enduring Divination lessons with Trelawney. He never had seen anything inside the glass orbs, cards, or tea dregs, but was able to fabricate a few bogus predictions and score a high rank in the course.
In fact, he wouldn't mind a few melodramatic prophecies just to liven up the room.
"Hey!" Granger pinched his forearm, bringing him out of his daze. "You're the one who insisted we attend 'Embracing Your Inner Eye'. You're not allowed to daydream. You have to actively suffer with me."
After five consecutive sessions selected by Granger, Draco had insisted that it was his turn to choose their next hour.
"I'm starting to think you picked this one just to irk me," she accused, her voice quiet but tense.
He had.
Draco rubbed the area to lessen the sting and grumbled, "Don't be absurd. This is simply part of my cover. You can't expect me to skimp on the details because it's not in my nature. I'm a professional."
"Your cover?"
"They have a featurette on ichthyomancy," he said slowly, as if it were obvious. "You know, Divination using the entrails and heads of fish."
"Ew."
"Don't 'ew' my field of study!"
She stared blankly, visibly unamused by his commitment to his craft. "You do know that you're not actually an expert in magical creatures, right, Malfoy?"
"Agree to disagree. And the name is Benjamin."
Granger twisted a Muggle pen between her fingers, picking at a bit of elastic padding along the middle. "You're awfully cranky. Is someone tired from his run this morning?"
"Hardly," he drawled. Nearby, someone cleared their throat, and Draco lowered his voice, leaning in further. "You're welcome to join me on the next one tomorrow."
Without a second of hesitation, she shut him down with a flippant wave of her hand. "No, thank you. I only ever run if something is chasing me. You're practically on a holiday right now. It wouldn't kill you to take a few days off."
"I wouldn't be me without it."
"Oh, please," she scoffed. "The definition of you has never been so flexible. So far you've been my lab assistant, my cousin, a magical creatures expert, a potioneer, and that's not even including whatever you were when you told that bloke yesterday that you spent a decade working in the Antarctic training magical penguins."
Draco grinned, particularly proud of that one. As a child, he read about penguins and briefly entertained the idea of having one as a pet in the guest wing of the Manor. He leaned back in his seat and let out a low groan. "I don't know how we're expected to sit in these for five hours a day without an on-call masseuse."
"Aw, is this chair not expensive enough for your spoiled back?" she asked in a mock-coddling tone, pushing her lower lip out. "Serves you right for taking the fun out of my game."
"I can assure you that wasn't my intent." Following a roll of her eyes, he added, "I'm expanding my repertoire. Aliases are severely underutilised in my line of work, and this is the perfect excuse to test them out."
She crossed her legs and clasped her hands over her knees, bouncing her foot absentmindedly. "Speaking of this bodyguard thing."
"...By severing the head from the body of the fish and using meticulous care to extract the…"
Granger grimaced at the speaker's words before continuing, "What about if I wanted to do something and it was your greatest fear? Would you still demand to go with me?"
This line of questioning certainly sparked his interest. Perhaps he was in for more of an exciting week than he had expected. "Exactly what do you plan on doing here that you think I'd be afraid of?"
She hummed quietly under her breath as she considered the question. "I don't know, maybe I'd want to go to the zoo and look at the ferrets."
"I lived under the same roof as the Dark"—he hesitated and then corrected himself—"as Voldemort for nearly two years. You honestly believe my greatest fear is the cousin of a mangy rat?"
Granger shrugged noncommittally. "Need I remind you that you were briefly a ferret? For all I know, you could harbour ill will towards the species."
"First of all, Crouch can fuck off. Second, I'm not scared of ferrets." His voice raised with each point.
"But for the sake of the argument, say you were."
He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Then I'd overcome my greatest fear and heroically duel a battalion of ferrets for you, Granger."
"Don't be ridiculous," she snorted. "They wouldn't be militarised ferrets."
"That's where we draw the line in this scenario?"
"I'm nothing if not reasonable."
Draco couldn't help but smile. "If McGonagall appears and tries to give you a failing mark then I'll duel her in retaliation."
"It's been years since that was my Boggart. I'm not a child anymore."
That caught his attention. "Then what—"
The attendee just to Draco's left, a wizard with jet black hair in an oversized suit, shushed them with a scowl.
Granger mouthed an apology to the man before settling back in her seat with her arms tucked around herself.
The pair had grown so animated in their conversation that he hadn't noticed the disruption they had caused for the rest of the room. For a brief moment, he had even forgotten about his job, having been solely transfixed on the small witch next to him.
After their moment in the bookshop the night before, Granger's icy demeanor had started to thaw and he saw glimpses of the witch he knew back at school. As selfish as it was, part of him wanted to hold onto those for as long as he could; he couldn't imagine her wanting anything to do with him after the week was up.
"Do you think Thomas de Montmorency is a descendent of Laverne de Montmorency?" Granger wondered aloud, scanning the pamphlet of topics available for the noon session and pointing to a name in the middle of the page. "She attended Hogwarts, you know. She was in Ravenclaw."
"Is she the one Slughorn was always on about?" Draco asked, vaguely recalling the way Professor Slughorn used to obsess over his association with famous and talented alumnus.
Granger shook her head, her bun released a few curls loose with the motion. "No, she practiced in the nineteenth century, well before his time. She was exceptional. In fact, she was the first one to identify the uses of pearl dust in her—"
A boisterous laugh interrupted the rest of Granger's sentence, and a pair of middle-aged men stepped in to join their conversation. "Actually, Thomas has no blood relation to that little potion maker."
"Little potion maker?" Draco had heard that tone from Granger before and knew better than to intervene. "Laverne was a trailblazer. Her work inspired hundreds of potions, and even though she had no funding or proper laboratory, she was still able to develop innovative techniques that are still used and studied today."
One man had the audacity to snort, and the other elbowed the first with a guwaff. "You hear that, Alan? A trailblazer!"
"You give her too much credit," Alan replied, pushing his round glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No one in potioneering takes her seriously. She was nothing more than a silly girl who made love potions."
Draco could feel Granger's anger radiating off her in waves.
"I'm Jeffrey and this is Alan." The second man introduced himself to Draco with a patronising grin, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you, mate."
It was tempting to just walk away but Granger had spent the better part of two days reprimanding Draco for stifling her networking opportunities, so he begrudgingly shook the man's hand once. In Pureblood society, this was the equivalent of a nonverbal fuck you, though the subtlety was probably lost on a man like him.
The first man motioned for Draco to come in closer and loudly whispered, "She giving you a hard time? I feel for you. It's a pain to drag along your secretary everywhere." He glanced over at Granger and his lip curled as if he'd smelled something unpleasant.
Draco looked around the crowded conference centre with new eyes. For every two dozen men, he spotted a single woman. How had he not noticed before? He'd spent so much time surveying and analysing the academics, looking for signs of dark magic or the after-effects of lycanthropy, but had somehow overlooked that Granger was one of a handful of women in the entire building. And that bastard was implying she was only there because a man brought her.
He saw red and his hand twitched for his wand.
"And what day are you two presenting?" Draco asked, keeping his voice unnaturally level.
"Us?" Alan jabbed a thumb towards Jeffrey. "We're just attending."
"How long have you been in your industry?"
Jeffrey answered this time. "About thirty years combined between the two of us. We've been to dozens of these conferences in the past but have never presented."
Draco's stare turned deadly. "How ironic."
From his periphery, he saw Granger shift around in place with one arm wrapped around herself, looking around them nervously.
"Ironic?" Jeffrey scratched at his head with a baffled expression.
"That you have been working longer than she has been alive and she's still accomplished more than you. And you have the audacity to imply that she's not here in her own right." His filter had dropped and his tone was scathing. "Would you like to take a moment of self-reflection and think about why that was your first assumption?"
"Who is 'she'?" Alan asked, appearing genuinely lost as he looked to Jeffrey for guidance.
Draco gestured to Granger, and for the first time in the conversation, they actually looked at her. The realisation made his blood boil. "She is brilliant—the Brightest Witch of her Age; she helped destroy Voldemort as a teenager, and as a matter-of-fact, is a keynote speaker at this very event. She's made greater strides in potioneering than have been made in decades. What the fuck have you done, mate?"
Alan's face grew purple and he sputtered some nonsense under his breath, meanwhile Jeffrey was already shuffling back into the crowd.
"Oh, and I'll have you know that I'm her secretary!" Draco jabbed his thumb to his chest and called out to their backs as they walked away; his disruption caused a stir of curious looks from around them.
He sensed Granger's presence behind him and winced. She had been adamant that he not interfere with her work, but he couldn't stand back and let them treat her like she was nothing. "I know, you don't have to say it."
She slipped into place next to him and said, "Say what?" Her voice was startlingly quiet.
"That I ruined that networking opportunity, and yes, I know these events are important to you, but I refuse to believe that your career would benefit from knowing those arsewipes." He finally turned to face her, and much to his surprise, she was looking up at him with wide eyes.
"I'm not upset—not with you."
"How are you not furious?" he asked incredulously, his hands still balled into fists. "They weren't even talking about me and fuck if I'm not so angry."
"Allowances aren't made for my anger. If I had said that instead of you then I'd be called shrill, bitchy, and emotional. You think I haven't dealt with men like them for my entire life?"
He felt a wave of shame crash over him at the thought that he had once been that type of boy. For the first time in his life, Draco wondered what the world must look like through her eyes.
"Potioneering has been a male dominated field for centuries. I have to perform at twice the level of others to be taken half as seriously." She glanced over her shoulder self-consciously, lowering her voice even further. "Taking into account my age and Muggleborn status, it's nearly impossible to establish credibility. That's why I've been insisting on networking alone. The last thing I need is to give others more ammunition to use against me."
"But you shouldn't have to—"
A gentle voice amplified with a Sonorus charm announced a five minute warning until the final session of the day.
"Thank you, Malfoy," she whispered and pulled her cardigan around herself tighter. "Even if it was a bit rash, I appreciate what you said to them."
He stared down at her as people swarmed around them, funneling into their respective rooms for the final session. "I meant it, Granger. I want you to know that I admire you. I always have."
She gnawed on her lower lip for a moment, looking as if she were gauging his sincerity. "Thank you, Malfoy. That means a lot. And for what it's worth, you're the best secretary I've ever had," she quipped with a teasing grin.
"I'll wear that compliment with pride." He puffed his chest out. "Ready for the next session?"
She nodded and for once she followed him without argument.
Partway through a particularly dull session on Ghouls, a topic that even Professor Binns could've made more lively, Draco began doodling on a spare piece of two way parchment that he had brought with him. He caught Granger sneaking a peek at him out of the corner of her eyes and he passed the sister parchment over to her without a word.
Granger had already taken a few dozen pages worth of notes so far during the sessions, and it was starting to feel like they really were back at Hogwarts. Instead of continuing to listen to the topic at hand, she was watching his words form on her piece of parchment.
I have communed with my Inner Eye and it has told me that Weasley will come down with a dire case of vomiting slugs within a fortnight. They've been building up their forces for a decade and will return to avenge their fallen comrades.
She covered her laugh with a cough and quickly scrawled back.
I can see how seriously you take this job. Your dedication to my safety is admirable.
What can I say? I was inspired by the last session and have found myself at a scarcity of fish entrails. I may have found a new calling in life.
Gross. If you'd paid attention to Divination in school, you'd know that it takes decades of practice to channel prophecies without the aid of a tool like a crystal ball. Not to mention most, if not all Seers, are shams.
I always knew I was a prodigy. Are you not impressed by my Inner Eye?
I've seen bigger.
Draco's quill fell to the floor with a clatter. He scrambled to pick it back up and quickly replied.
I can attest under oath that my Inner Eye is substantial in both length and girth.
He made sure to underline for emphasis.
Granger snickered next to him and slipped the two way parchment under her stack of loose papers. He wasn't fully convinced that this was better than her just ignoring him.
"Another day complete where I narrowly escaped certain death," Granger sighed, tossing her head back with a theatrical air.
"You're welcome," Draco said in response, shoving his security credentials into his pocket as they walked down the pavement together.
She gave him a mock bow of gratitude. "I'm sure it was your mere presence that scared them off. Are you ready to go back to the hotel?"
"I know you're all business, but surely you don't expect to spend this entire week just going back and forth between rooms full of stuffy academics and the hotel? Sure, the suite has a nice view, but we're within walking distance to restaurants with Michelin stars and I can't eat another lukewarm mass produced meal."
"Yes."
"Don't argue with me for once in your life. You always"—Draco faltered and turned to her—"did you say yes?"
Granger hopped over a crack in the pavement and continued walking. "I did. Two days of bland conference food is more than enough to convince me to go out somewhere new."
"You mean you didn't enjoy the unseasoned chicken breast and mushy green beans that we had at lunch?"
She stuck out her tongue at the memory. "No. And don't think I missed the way you poked at it and pushed it around without actually eating any. You can't say you didn't think the same."
"I would do immoral things for a steak right about now," he said, only half-joking. "What did you have in mind?"
"What about that place down the street from the hotel? The one that always has a long queue outside? I feel like that has to speak to its quality if people are willing to wait for a meal from there."
Despite the vague description, he knew precisely which restaurant she was referring to. He pulled out his mobile from his suit coat pocket and sent a quick message, pulling some strings with a contact of his, before tucking it back away. Blaise had convinced him to obtain a mobile shortly after the conception of their company. It had come in handy on more than one occasion.
"You have a Muggle mobile phone?" Granger gaped at him.
"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?" He felt a swell of pride at how well he had adapted to Muggle technology.
"I just… I wouldn't have guessed. You always seem to surprise me, Malfoy."
"After you, Granger."
She frowned and her brows pulled together in confusion. "I don't understand. Don't we have to join the queue?"
Draco glanced at the string of people gathered outside the restaurant who were waiting to enter. "I have a reservation for us."
"But we only just talked about eating here. How could you—"
"It was my Inner Eye," he quipped, unable to resist teasing her. "I foresaw this supper."
"Somehow I find that difficult to believe," she mumbled sheepishly. She looked down at what she was wearing and fidgeted with her blouse. "I feel like I'm not dressed well enough for this occasion."
"You're more prepared than half the line. Any concerns you have are only in your head," he assured her. As she walked in front of him into the restaurant, he tried not to let his eyes trail up her thighs and along the curve of her pert arse. He felt his cock twitch alive in his trousers; she wore a tight skirt today just to spite him, he was sure of it.
After giving his name to the maître d', they were quickly escorted through the crowded restaurant to a private room off to the side. It was secluded enough that the restaurant noise was muffled. Freshly lit candles and a small vase of roses sat in the centre of the round table set for two.
His relief was palpable that his contact had come through.
Granger's mouth dropped open when they entered the private space and she only managed to close it to give a polite smile to the maître d' as he pulled out her seat for her.
"I can't believe you managed to pull this together with fifteen minutes' notice." She shook her head in wonderment. "Have you ever been denied anything in your life, Malfoy?"
He felt the lump in his throat grow thicker. "Yes."
Their waiter entered the room at that moment, greeting them. Draco took one look at the wine list and ordered a bottle for them to share.
"What happened to not drinking on the job?" she asked as the waiter exited their private room.
"I've since reconsidered my stance. A single glass couldn't hurt." The wine would hopefully serve as an olive branch between the two, reducing some of the residual animosity she had for him.
Their server returned with their wine; he portioned out two servings and left the rest of the bottle in a bucket of ice.
"That really wasn't necessary," Granger's lips pulled tight. "I'm perfectly capable of ordering my own drink."
"Take a sip and let me know if your opinion holds true."
After a sigh that was really more of a huff, she lifted the glass to her lips and tentatively drank from the polished wine glass. "Oh!"
He swirled his wine around, leisurely inhaling the scent before taking a sip.
"This is delicious!" she exclaimed quietly, and immediately downed the rest in a single gulp. "I certainly needed this after this week."
Draco stared at her, feeling a niggling of amusement. "That's five hundred pound wine."
Granger nearly spit it back out, her eyes bulging in panic.
"Drink as much as you'd like." He shrugged, unphased as he continued to swish his wine around in circles. "I'm just happy that you like it."
"Who orders five hundred pound wine?!"
His brows lifted with his glass and he took another drink. "Says the witch who dips her chips in vanilla ice cream."
She gasped and leaned forward, lowering her voice. "I told you that in confidence!"
He served her another glass of wine and topped his own glass off.
"Thank you… and thank you again for what you did today at the conference." She wrung her hands nervously in her lap. "You didn't have to and I really do appreciate it."
"Say no more. They were just a pair of fopdoodles anyway."
Granger sputtered out a laugh, and the sound made warmth bloom in his chest. "Fopdoodles?"
"Yes." He waved his hand around. "You know, insignificant and foolish men."
The candles flickered in the reflection of her eyes, shining in her amusement. "You have old man insults."
The corner of his lips twitched. "I spend a lot of time reading old books."
"So have I but you don't hear me calling people 'fopdoodles'."
Draco grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "If you think that's bad just wait until I tell you about scobberlotchers and skelpie-limmers."
"Now you're just making words up!" she said, her voice accusatory.
"I'm really not. I just happen to have an advanced vocabulary."
"If advanced really means elderly then I'd be inclined to agree," she muttered under her breath with a wicked grin. "Do you still like to collect words? I remember how you liked that during school."
His stomach dropped and he peered into his glass of wine. "Haven't in years."
Then the question came, the one he loathed. "Why did you stop?"
"There was no reason to continue. It was a hobby I shared with my mother while she was alive."
Realisation hit her and her shoulders fell. "I'm so sorry for your loss. Is that why you had that book back at Hogwarts?"
He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted a hint of blood. "Yes; My mother used to read to me when I was a child, and we made it a game to find new words with interesting meanings. We still continued it while I was at school, at first just to make me feel more at home right after I started at Hogwarts but then it just became a weekly tradition."
"I can't believe I didn't know that." Her expression softened. "I should've asked back then."
"Enough about me. You never told me what inspired you to dedicate years researching a cure for lycanthropy. Why werewolves?" Draco asked, trying to divert the conversation.
It was obvious that Granger was grappling between conflicting desires to ask follow-up questions about his mother and to respect his wishes. Finally she answered, "In short, I made a promise to Professor Lupin. He never asked it of me but I saw the effects that lycanthropy had on him physically but also on his personal life. I began toying with the original Wolfsbane potion while I was still in school but threw myself into the work full time after receiving my research grant."
Draco had been saddened to see his cousin and old professor on the list of deaths from the Battle of Hogwarts, but had no idea they had been that close to Granger.
She paused to take a drink of wine and then continued, "The threats don't phase me; they've been around since the subject of my work went public. Once I had positive results from my initial tests and we passed it along to our sister lab to replicate the results, then they grew more serious. That's why John wanted to be cautious and contacted your company."
"He told me that you'd received graphic threats from local packs," he said quietly, remembering the stacks of letters written in blood that her boss had given to him for evidence. "They see your work as a threat to their kind—as a means of making their way of life extinct."
"Exactly. It wouldn't be forced on anyone, but they seem to think that if it's mass produced and available that the Ministry will require"—she was cut off by the arrival of their waiter who balanced a tray of food in his arms.
The waiter placed two identical plates of food on the table and quietly exited the room.
"Oh." Granger stared at the steak and chips in front of her. "But we didn't order anything."
"They only make one dish here," Draco explained. "It's been that way for over a century."
"Wow. Then it must be delicious."
He shrugged. "You saw the line."
One bite into the steak, he knew how a restaurant could stay open for a hundred years with only one dish. Granger seemed to agree, from the sway of her shoulders and the smile on her lips.
Everything was finally going well, which is why he had no idea what possessed him to try and make a half-hearted quip. "I suppose I better watch out for a jealous redhead tonight."
She froze with her fork halfway to her mouth and set it back on her plate. "What are you talking about?"
"I just… nothing. It was a bad joke." She didn't react and instead watched him intently until he felt so uncomfortable he had to add, "I just thought with the candles and the flowers and the lighting that if someone didn't know any better, this might look like a date." He spoke far too quickly and stumbled through his words, regretting it as they came out of his mouth.
"A date?"
He took a deep breath, wondering if he'd had too much wine on an empty stomach to loosen his tongue. "Aren't you seeing Weasley?"
"Oh." Her lips twisted to the side and she toyed with her food once more. "I'm not with Ronald. It didn't… I mean, it wasn't…"
"Wasn't what?" he probed, too far in to turn back now.
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
Their food was all but forgotten in front of them now.
Her sigh was heavy. "It wasn't Ron in particular. I was looking for a feeling and he didn't give me it."
He thought back to the witches he'd dated casually since Hogwarts. He had never gone past a second date and certainly never opened up to them like he had with her. No matter how he tried, he never felt like he had all of himself to give to another person. "What feeling?"
"The one I knew that I'd recognise when I had it… it's a cliché, but I want the kind of feeling that people write books about. It has to be someone who sweeps me off my feet and makes me lose sleep staying up all night thinking about them. It wasn't—" She faltered, twisting and pulling at her pendant with her fingers. "God, I sound ridiculous."
"No, you don't," he insisted, leaning forward in his seat. He knew exactly the feeling she was describing.
It was what he had with her.
"I do. What I'm trying to say is that I'd know when it was right and it just hasn't been right yet. I tried dating around a bit after Hogwarts but nothing stuck."
He didn't like the way his stomach hurt at the thought of her dating. "It's not ridiculous to expect that feeling. Who wants to spend their life with someone who makes them feel just fine?"
"Exactly!" She dropped her fork and tossed her hands up in the air. "Ronald said my expectations were too high."
"It's when you have that person, and no matter where they are, the whole world seems to focus in on them; they make everyone else and everything else become a sort of white noise and they're all that matters. They're the one who makes the awful days tolerable and the good days even better." It was only when she grew silent that he realised his words had run away from him.
"Oh." She looked taken aback and her voice softened. "She's a lucky woman, then."
Under different circumstances, he might have laughed. From her reaction, he could only assume that she thought he was talking about someone else. It would be easier on both of them if he were. "There's no one else, Granger."
Her eyes widened.
"Excusez-moi." With the worst timing in the world, the waiter decided to check in on the table and offer a dessert menu.
Granger lit up at the offer.
"We'll take one of everything, please," Draco ordered, unable to resist chasing that look of excitement from her, if only for a moment longer.
"Hmm…" Granger smacked her lips thoughtfully and wiggled her spoon at Draco. "Nice crust and rise to the soufflé. I like the subtle peach flavour, but it's ruined by the hint of egg in the aftertaste. I prefer sweet to savoury so this is going to get a solid three out of ten."
"Wow. You're a harsh critic," Draco teased.
"They just really played it safe with this round when I was looking for innovation." She pushed the ramekin of crème brûlée across the table to him. "Your turn. Give me your best reality television judge impression."
He waved his hand towards his face, inhaling deeply. "I'm picking up aromatic notes of vanilla bean in the custard." Using the back of his spoon, he cracked the sugar top and tried a bite. "That pairs nicely with the nuttiness of the caramelized sugar. Good texture to the custard as well; it's nice and light on the palette."
"And fun to smack with a spoon," Granger added with a cheeky grin.
"And fun to smack with a spoon," he echoed in agreement. "Seven out of ten."
They had made their way through half of the dessert menu, splitting the treats and pretending to be pretentious food snobs. It felt less like they were contentious exes, thrust together for a week, and more like they were old friends catching up after a long absence.
"I'm not exaggerating when I say that I would sell my soul for more of these," she said, throwing her head back and groaning. "This is the best chocolate eclair I've ever had."
"I don't think food critics moan while judging."
She swallowed her most recent bite and made a face at him. "They would if they tried this!"
"Ten out of ten?"
She nodded enthusiastically and he let out a full laugh. "Why am I not surprised that you favoured the chocolate dish?"
"Can't blame me for acknowledging perfection when I see it. I hope you don't expect me to share."
"Oh, Granger, I wouldn't dare come between you and chocolate. I value my life."
"That's wise of you. You are certainly not a fopdoodle then," she teased before biting back into the eclair.
After an hour, they'd finished their wine and made their way back to the hotel; during their walk, Granger complained of a stomach ache while simultaneously eating another eclair that Draco had ordered as takeaway for her.
They settled down for the night in the sitting room together, reading in comfortable silence. Before Draco knew it, he looked over at Granger and she had fallen asleep on the sofa with an open book in her lap. He thought about waking her up, but she looked so relaxed and peaceful that he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he saved her spot with a bookmark, gathered her in his arms, and carried her bridal style through the suite and into her room. He walked carefully so as to not jostle her in his arms.
She mumbled something unintelligible under her breath, and for a terrifying moment he thought that she might've gained consciousness. When he tightened his grip on her, she curled up to his chest and rested her head against him.
He gently laid her on her bed, careful to tuck her underneath the plush comforter.
It might've been the wine or the adrenaline he felt from their night, but he stood over her for just a moment longer than necessary, taking in her soft features as she slept. His fingertips brushed along her neck, pushing away a loose curl.
He thought back to the first day back to Hogwarts just before sixth year. His father had caught his lingering gaze on her on the platform before boarding the Hogwarts Express.
"You are a fool if you think you will ever have her. Your little fantasy with that Mudblood will get us all killed."
The words felt just as harsh in his memory as they had that day, like the sting of a slap across his cheek.
He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't resist leaning down and pressing a single kiss onto her forehead. "Goodnight, Granger," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.