Ten
"Thank you for the Hangover Potion."
Her voice, though soft, startled him and he looked up from his book. He'd thought that the Library would be the one place Hermione Granger would not look for a fellow Professor so he had commandeered a nook in the Divinity section. But apparently he had been mistaken. Not that he was avoiding her. Not at all.
"You're welcome." He wondered what else to say. He'd known this would be awkward, which is why he... wasn't avoiding her. She didn't actually spend that much time in the Library because students would accost her at every turn. But, of course, most students were home for the holidays.
Hermione shifted nervously on her feet and bit her lower lip. "You were gone when I woke up this morning." There was a question, a vulnerability in her eyes that he could not quite ignore. He felt suddenly, inexplicably, guilty.
"I just woke up early. I wanted to let you sleep." It was the best excuse he could think of. And it was, at least, partially true.
She raised an eyebrow at him and he realised she might have been awake enough to hear the door close when he left. A slight blush rose on his cheeks and he pointedly looked back at the book. Until her hand pushed it down and he could no longer pretend to be reading. He looked up again. She was so close he could smell the freesias and roses from the night before. It stirred a most uncomfortable feeling low in his abdomen and he placed his book strategically in his lap.
"I know I got drunk last night and my memory is a little fuzzy but… I can't remember doing or saying anything embarrassing? Did I? Is that why you are so uncomfortable now?"
Curse those Gryffindors and their grab-the-Giant-Squid-by-its-tentacles mentality.
"You were very cute," Draco said, flushing bright red as soon as he realised what, exactly, had come out of his mouth. Admittedly, it wasn't the 'You cuddled up to me and you smell nice and so I had a most natural reaction to the close presence of a beautiful woman' he had decided not to say, but it was hardly any better.
Except… She smiled at him, the insecurity in her eyes melting like snow in the sun. She ducked her head, just for a moment, and then looked back at him.
"I take it you have no plans for tonight?" she asked.
He was thrown by the sudden change in subject and didn't have the presence of mind to consider the consequences of honesty.
"Christmas Eve dinner in the Great Hall, I imagine. Then meeting with Ogden's Finest in my rooms. Why?"
Her hand rested on his arm and he could feel the heat scorching his skin, his blood, his muscles, his bone. He licked his lips unconsciously, his eyes dipping to her smiling mouth and snapping up to his eyes again. The sparkle there suggested she might well have noticed that little lapse.
"Why don't you come to my rooms, we can celebrate Christmas Eve together? It'll be better than the forced fun in the Great Hall." She bit her lip again and tightened her hand on his arm. "Please?"
Draco's throat was suddenly dry and he swallowed with difficulty. This was a bad, bad idea.
"Of course, I'd be delighted," he said, before his common sense could intervene.
"Be there at seven?" She leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek, just missing the corner of his mouth.
"Seven sounds good," he said, his voice gruff. He coughed, embarrassed, but she only smiled and winked, and then she was gone.
Draco stared at the book in his lap without seeing any of the words on the page. It was nearly dark when he suddenly realised he couldn't really turn up at Hermione's door for Christmas dinner with empty hands. He dropped the book unceremoniously on the floor in his haste to fetch his winter cloak and run to Hogsmeade for a last minute gift.