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Draco turned into the north corridor, heading towards the astronomy tower, when he realized he was going the wrong way. Which was impossible. He’d been walking these halls for over seven years now. Spent time as a Prefect, a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, and now, as a repeat seventh year who liked to avoid crowded areas. The younger students called them Eighth Years as an insult. He’d been called worse.
The castle played tricks, particularly with the stairs, but in the last few months it had started to move entire hallways. To lock doors that he intended to open and open doors he’d never seen before. It was late. He’d hoped to sneak up to the telescopes to confirm a few star movements for his essay To take advantage of the empty tower and breathe in the crisp spring air to get over his aversion to that particular location. Instead he was in an unfamiliar, narrow corridor lined with paintings of potions ingredients. Colorful blooms of aconite and lily of the valley in golden frames beside darker still life paintings of jars of boomslang skin and dragon’s blood and gillyweed. The floor was stone covered with a rich, green rug running down the hall to a single dark, oak door.
With a sigh, he tore his eyes from the art and approached it. He barely had to turn around to know that the castle had once again shifted, leaving a dead end on the other side. And he’d barely opened said door before he was greeted by curly hair on the other side.
“Wait, Malfoy, don’t shut the—” it slammed behind him “—door.”
Draco turned back and grasped the knob, turning it with force. There was no give. He tried an alohamora to no avail.
“Don’t you think I already tried that?” Granger said, flopping down on a sofa in a huff. The room was circular. About the size of the divination classroom but likely a few floors below it, based on the view of the Black Lake out of the one window not covered in stained glass vines.
There were more paintings of plants on the walls. A large tapestry of the Whomping Willow, shakings its leaves. The oversized sage green sofa that Granger occupied. A pair of desks with green glass lamps and swiveling chairs flush against the windows. The round, ornate rug in the center of the room was faded in places — like there used to be more furniture.
“What is this room?” Draco asked. The thump of his satchel on the desk caught her attention before she looked at him.
“I think it might be some sort of study room that students used to use. There’s a ledger on that table there,” she pointed near the door. “Has signatures and dates from students but they’re all well over twenty years old and quite spaced out.”
He nodded and went to inspect the book. Sure enough, there were at least two dozen names, with dates ranging over the last 200 years or so. Oddly, they all seemed to be in pairs.
“What are you doing out so late, then?” He looked back to Granger. The red and gold Gryffindor tie twisted beneath her hands, wrapping around her knuckles. He’d rarely seen her out of uniform and yet she’d removed the silk cloth and even unbuttoned a few buttons of her shirt. Jumper tossed atop her bag.
“I had to return a book to the library.”
“That’s at the opposite side of the castle.”
“No it’s not. I turned left, noticed this door and opened it out of curiosity. Been stuck here for about half an hour.”
“Granger, I was heading for the astronomy tower. This room is clearly in the same tower as Trelawney’s. How either of us ended up here defies logic.”
“And you should know that the castle itself is a living, breathing thing. It’s not just the stairs.” She let out another irritated breath of air and started muttering to herself. “No one reads Hogwarts, A History. Should be required reading.”
He’d heard this particular rant before. Several times.
Last week, when they’d both somehow gotten stranded at the top of the stairs in a tiny alcove on the way to transfiguration. Waiting for the blasted things to rearrange themselves so that they could leave. It was well over an hour and he’d missed his study group for arithmancy. Theo had a right laugh when he told him what happened. “Over an hour alone with Granger? How interesting.”
Two weeks before that, the restricted section of the library locked them in. He’d been resigned to spending the night on the floor when Madam Pince stumbled upon them. The old bat was in her nightclothes and delivered a lecture about students meeting in secret for romantic trysts while he rolled his eyes and Granger refuted it with a red face.
The third floor corridor, shifting to deposit them in an empty classroom for three hours. The potion’s supply room, locking them in after class had ended and they were both just trying to return their various jars and vials. Until Professor Slughorn opened the door and laughed like a walrus, mumbling something about how he could always tell.
The castle, Draco thought, was having the biggest laugh of all. For most of the year it seemed to be forcing him and Granger into close quarters. Not that he minded. They got on well enough, after a somewhat rocky start to the year. By Christmas he started to like her minty shampoo and the way she jiggled one foot beneath the table at the library when she reread her essays, looking for errors. They’d even spent time together socially, usually in the library and sometimes on the grounds.
“Waiting on my copy to arrive. Must be lost in the post,” he said, and sat beside her. Knees wide, one pressed against the arm of the sofa and the other just barely grazing hers. The bare skin between her pleated skirt and tall socks peeking out. Since she’d made herself comfortable he ripped his tie off and tossed it on the desk with his satchel. Then his jumper.
“Can’t imagine an owl as large as yours getting lost. It’s not like he doesn’t deliver large parcels of sweets and other gifts to you every week.”
“She.”
“Pardon?”
“Rhiannon is large even for an eagle owl so I understand the assumption but if she heard you misgender her you’d lose a finger, at the very least. Temperamental gal.” Draco smirked at her and she tried to hide her laugh. Her foot began to shake. The nervous habit catching his attention, causing his eyes to rake down her legs. The skin smooth. A little scar creeping out of the top of her sock.
“Suppose I can relate. I’ve been known to get violent myself.”
“Granger, did you make a joke?”
“It’s been known to happen, Malfoy.”
They slipped into easy conversation after that. Something he’d enjoyed in the months of their unlikely friendship. They could talk about anything, though they tended to avoid the more difficult subjects. Most of the time they would just enjoy the other’s company. Something that seemed to baffle her friends and give his endless ammunition. This time they’d broached the subject of them —his friends. At least, the ones who’d returned to school. Goyle didn’t want to come back. Moved to Wales to live with an uncle and work at a dragon reserve. He said being around the beasts was soothing to him. The common Welsh green was a docile enough breed. The few times they spoke on floo calls made Draco feel hopeful for the rest of them to find their own healing outside the castle’s walls.
“Blaise seems more quiet,” she said, stretching from her toes to the tips of her fingers, arms above her head. “Didn’t think that was possible.”
“Yes he’s always been the strong silent type but he’s even more introspective now. Theo thinks he has a touch of seer in him, and that’s why he’s always far away.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think he misses Pansy, and Pansy won’t admit she misses him. They had a fight over the summer and neither of them will tell me about it.” Draco paced their circular room, scuffing his feet over the rug.
“They’ll work it out,” Granger said. She started her own laps around the space. They kept their pace slow enough that they were always across from one another. “If Blaise is more quiet then Theo’s found his voice.”
Draco flicked his eyes to her and she was smiling. “Yes he’s always been one quip away from befriending everyone. Finally gave it go.”
“He’s always trying to borrow my notes from ancient runes. Asking me about my love life,” she laughed. “Not sure why. Talks about you a lot, too.”
“Merlin, what does he say?”
“Nothing bad, I promise! He’s always just going on about how smart you are and,” she blushed, racing through her next words, “handsome and attentive. Might have a crush on you.”
He stopped moving and huffed a breath. “I’ll fucking kill him.” Then he spoke loud enough for her to hear, “He doesn’t have a crush on me he’s just putting his nose where it doesn’t belong. It’s Longbottom he fancies, now that he’s all…” He gestured vaguely. Theo had many words for what Longbottom was now.
“Well, that’s good news for Neville then,” she replied. “Why would Theo tell me all about you when he could be asking me about Neville?”
“Fuck if I know. Ask Theo.”
“You said he’s putting his nose where it doesn’t belong. What do you mean? He doesn’t ask me anything rude or invasive. I like talking to him.”
“Granger, don’t worry about it. Time to try the door again,” he said, putting his back to her to test the doorknob. Still wouldn’t budge.
“It feels like you’re not telling me something,” she said, and he turned back to face her, taking in the way she held her hands in front of her, clicking her thumbnails together. “And that’s fine, but if it’s something to do with me I think I deserve to know—”
“He’s trying to gauge your interest.”
“But he’s not interested in women? You just said he fancies Neville.”
“That’s not what I meant. Forget it, we should consider transfiguring sleeping mats or something.” Draco looked around the room for anything that would work for a few hours of sleep. He wasn’t tired, but he needed to put her mind elsewhere. An assignment usually did it. Unfortunately for him, she was stubborn as the golden lion on crimson of her House.
“Gauge my interest in what? I’ve made it quite clear how much I love ancient runes—”
“For fuck’s sake it’s because he’s my friend.”
Granger gave an awkward laugh. “And that means what in this context?”
“He’s my friend so of course he’s going to talk me up and see how you react.” Draco wondered if he could confund her. Just a little bit. So that she forgot her line of questioning and he could go back to stealing glances at her neck when she pulled her hair up to brew potions.
“Why would he need to do that? Surely he’s seen us in the library and knows we’re friendly—”
“Because I like you,” he said, then immediately regretted it when he saw the look of horror on her face. They were both silent for a long moment.
“No you don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “You tolerate me, at best.”
There was nothing left to hide so he shoved his sleeves up, suddenly overheated. “Might have started that way but you can’t be that oblivious.”
“Oblivious to what?”
“The way I look at you.”
“You don’t look at me. Not ever.” She was blunt. Her words clipped.
“Why would I say it if it wasn’t true? Bloody heart in my hand for you—”
“Because I look at you all the time and you’re never looking at me!”
They both stared with wide eyes and Granger held a hand up to her mouth. Dragging it down her lips. Hovering just over her chest before clenching it into a fist and lowering it.
“Did you mean that,” he asked, surprised at how quiet his voice was after nearly shouting at her just moments before.
Granger squeezed her eyes shut and took a measured breath through her nose, opening her eyes as she breathed it out. “Yes.”
He took a step closer, waiting to see what she would do. Run or hide or tell him it was all in his head. He was dreaming. The castle released toxic fumes into the air and planted this in his mind like some twisted fantasy.
But she didn’t run. She lowered her shoulders and watched him. With a curious expression both soft and focused enough that the blood went straight to his trousers as he stepped ever closer.
“Did you mean it?” She asked, when they were close enough to share breath. Close enough for one of her fingers to graze his knuckles.
Draco threaded his fingers with hers, pressing the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand and down to her wrist. His other hand tugged at her waist. And just as their bodies were flush he rolled his eyes and said, “Obviously,” before leaning down to kiss her.
When Granger kissed him back it was with a delicious whimper. Her lips tasted better than his dreams let him believe. She was taller than most witches in their year, and it meant he didn’t have to strain to deepen the kiss. Their bodies slotted together, one of his legs pressed between hers, with her arms looped around his neck. The heat of her thighs and the way her gentle nips grew bolder had him slipping a hand down her spine, rounding over her backside before moving upward to free her shirt from her waistband. Until he could touch skin. Brushing his thumb over it.
She wanted skin, too. Nimble fingers parted his buttons until she could push his shirt from his shoulders. So he removed hers — fair was fair. With the swell of her lower lip between his teeth she made that little sound again. Desperate hands tugged at his belt, pressing their bodies as close as they could go. He knew she could feel that he was hard. The way she rubbed against him was more deliberate than the hand that she snaked between them. Touching him in earnest.
“What do you want?” He nuzzled at her neck, letting the soft curls of her hair rest against his face. When he sucked on the spot beneath her ear she gasped, tugging at his scalp.
“I want…you to look at me,” she breathed, and he pulled back enough to meet her eyes. “Since I always missed it before.”
There was something he’d fantasized about often, when it came to her. So he tugged the leg of his trousers to kneel in front of her. Gazing up at her flushed face. He kept his eyes on hers as he removed her shoes, untying the laces and slipping them off her feet. Then he used both hands to slowly roll her socks down. Letting his knuckles graze the ticklish skin behind her knees. She rested her hands on his shoulders and he traced his over her legs, until they were beneath her skirt.
“May I?” He asked, and she nodded. Once her knickers were gone he thought about keeping her skirt on. Just the flirty little pleated skirt and her black lace bra, far more tantalizing than he’d expected of her. But if he kept the skirt, he’d block her view. And he promised to look at her. So he reached for the fastenings at the side and let the garment drop to the floor, leaving her bare from the waist down.
Hermione sucked in a breath and he smiled at her. “You’re beautiful you know,” he said, pressing a kiss to the soft swell of her stomach. She’d been thin from a year on the run. But a few months of hearty, Hogwarts kitchen cooking had filled her out. Her hips, especially, were full in his hands. And her thighs — he bit one of them, then traced over the mark with his tongue. He had to push her legs open to reveal her cunt. Already glistening and warm.
“So beautiful,” he said again, and leaned forward to taste her. His eyes on hers as his lips began their exploration. His eyes on hers as his tongue swept through, parting her. His eyes on hers when he hummed around her clit, flicking his tongue against it with patience and reverence. And she kept hers on him. Lashes lowering and fluttering whenever she moaned. Her fingers laced in his hair, tugging gently. Moving him with her so that she could perch on the edge of the sofa. All the better, he thought, and wrapped his arms around her thighs to keep her open. He used his tongue, his lips, his nose, his fingers, his unwavering eye contact to bring her to her peak. Telling her how she tasted and how often he’d dreamt of it whenever he pulled away to take a breath. Increasing the pressure from his tongue on her clit and curling two fingers inside of her. Dragging it out as much as he could. Until she whined and her thighs quivered around his head.
Then she was pushing him off of her, sliding down to rest her back against the sofa. Planting her feet on the floor with knees bent. Leaving space for him between them. He followed her. Watching while she caught her breath. Pressing kisses to her cheeks and her hair. Looking at the way her chest rose with each inhale. How her eyes didn’t leave his, even when she let her knees squeeze around his hips and pull him closer.
“Trousers off,” she said, sitting up just enough to flip the button and give him a firm kiss. Grazing him when she tugged the zipper down.
There was no need for her to repeat herself. He kicked his trousers and trunks off and she pulled him on top of her. Tracing her tongue along his throat. Biting down on his pulse point and soothing the rapid heartbeat with plush kisses and soothing hums. “Fuck,” he groaned, and captured her mouth once more. Twisting a hand behind her back to unclasp her bra and fling it aside.They kissed lazily and she wrapped a hand around his cock, brushing her thumb over the tip.
He broke their kiss to watch her. How she squeezed him in her fist, moving her hand at a delectable pace. The glazed look in her eyes, no doubt reflected in his own. The tip of her tongue running slowly over her lower lip before her teeth tugged a corner in concentration. Draco adjusted their position until she leaned backward, with him kneeling before her once more. Only this time he kept his toes pressed to the floor.
There was only one thing he needed to know. A series of confirmations. “What do you want?”
“You—I want you,” she said, letting her knees at his hips move him closer. Her wand flew into her hand and she cast a contraceptive charm nonverbally before tossing the wood aside. When she looked back at his face it was with heat. “Wanted you for months. I want you now. Inside me, please.”
The cognitive reflexes that had him second in their class failed him as he looked at her flushed face. The panting breaths. The pink painted on her cheeks. Her cunt was wet from his tongue and his hands and his mouth. Ready in a way that made him ache.
He closed the gap between them until he felt it on the tip of his cock, dragging it over her wet folds and notching at her entrance. His hands gripping her hips. She took a deep, clear breath and released it on a sigh. Settling her hands on his wrists.
“You’re sure?” He asked, because he needed to. Needed to know she really meant it.
Her answer was to press her legs against him, tilt her pelvis, and pull at his forearms, letting him in another inch. “Yes,” she gasped, and he slid in deeper. “Fuck, yes.”
The curse made him grin and bend to kiss her normally proper mouth, wondering if it would taste different with his favorite four-letter word on it. He moved one of his hands to her lower back, pressing in until he was fully sheathed. Lashes fluttering at the perfection of it all. The tight fit and her tongue suggesting filthy things as it curled around his own. Once he had a hold on her he leaned back until he was seated with her in his lap.
“Are you okay?” He asked, arranging her legs so that one of her feet was flat on the floor and the other rested on her knee.
Hermione nodded and swirled her hips against his. With one hand across her back and one wrapped around her nape he pulled her closer, hiding his moan against her mouth. He moved slowly, lifting her up and down his length. Pressing her forward. Savoring every drag of her cunt against him. Every sound of skin against skin, loud in the circular room. The feel of her breath, hot against his face between kisses. The chorus of pleas and praise of his mouth, his hands, his cock. He didn’t expect she’d be vocal, but somehow he wasn’t surprised. So he whispered back to her about how beautiful she was. How perfect she felt in his arms. How he wanted to stay inside of her forever.
She begged him for faster and he obliged her. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to her, not now. Their kisses grew sloppier as their hips bucked harder. Mouths sharing air and tongues touching before lips. He moved his hand lower to squeeze her arse and cant her hips closer, so that her clit was stimulated. They both gleamed with sweat, and he tasted it on her shoulder, tracing over her collarbones to the dip of her throat. She clutched his shoulders and rode him in earnest. Walls fluttering around him, reaching her peak. He pulled her close and thrust harder, until her nails tightened and she sank onto him with one last cry.
Within minutes he joined her ecstasy, filling her while they panted together. She squeezed him, drawing it out. When he tipped his eyes to hers she smiled and kissed him. As gently as if it was the first time. And as needy as if begging for it to not be the last. So he held her to his body and showed her that it wouldn’t be. If he could have her lips between his, every hour of every day, he would.
He laid her down gently and she gave a contented sigh, rounded out with a throaty chuckle. Once he found his wand he cleaned them up and conjured a blanket, tossing it over them. They lay on their backs side by side on the faded rug, facing each other with shoulders touching. Until she turned onto her side, resting her head over her hands.
“What now?” She asked. Blinking a little too long. He’d tired her out, feeling overwhelming pride at that.
“Could use a nap,” he said, and she laughed again. “C’mere.” He slipped an arm beneath her to tuck her against his side.
Hermione traced his scars with the tip of her finger, but it didn’t burn. It wasn’t cold, either. It was comforting. When he opened one eye to look at her she was looking at him. “If I had to get trapped in a room…” she blushed, and he squeezed his fingers against her arm. “I’m glad it was you.”
He pressed a kiss against her hairline and slipped a foot between hers, tangling them further. “If it means I finally get to have you on multiple surfaces then I’m glad too.”
She hummed and her eyes closed. Breathing slowing. “Would rather continue on surfaces outside of this room. Someplace more comfortable than the floor.”
“Close your eyes and maybe the door will unlock once you open them.”
The words were murmured against her curls. She seemed to make a noise of agreement, but before he could be sure he fell into comfortable sleep. They dozed together for a few hours, trading positions but never straying far from the other’s touch. When she whimpered, waking him, he watched her face crumple and her grip on him tighten.
“Granger,” he whispered, and she flinched, blinking awake. Brown eyes wide with fear, looking around the room until settling back on him. On her hand clutching his. And her face softened.
“Nightmare.” She readjusted, and took a deep breath. “Someday they’ll stop, right?”
There were nights when he dreamed of fire. Endless burning and screams. The smell of it in his nostrils when he jerked awake. There were times when he wondered if he would always feel the heat of flames licking his heels while he ran through the Room of Hidden Things. But she felt like cool water, lapping at the shores. Calm and soothing in its sound and touch. He didn’t want to lie to her, so he said, “I hope so.”
“Sometimes I wonder how anyone thought sending us back to school was a good idea.”
“Mandatory for me. Thought it was a choice for you?”
“In a way, yes. But the other option was auror training. Not sure that’s for me, if I’m honest.”
Draco held her closer, breathing in the smell of her hair. “Aren’t you always?”
He’d intended it as a teasing comment. Something light and perhaps even charming. But she was quiet for a long moment and he grew nervous.
“I may have lied…earlier,” Granger said, her head tipped against his shoulder. Leg draped over his thigh.
“About what?” He drew a line from her shoulder to her elbow with his fingers. Dreading the answer.
“Well, not exactly a lie, more of a withholding of information.”
“Granger…”
“I think I do know what this room is,” she looked up at him as she spoke, and he looked down at her.
“Really? And would you like to share with your present company?”
She pressed her chin against his shoulder. “Sometimes the castle can sense when two people have…chemistry, so it finds ways to bring them together.”
“You mean it’s sentient? Trying to matchmake its inhabitants?”
“Not entirely. It’s rare. You saw the names in that book,” she gestured with her chin towards the door and the small table beside it. Holding the large, leather-bound tome. “It intervenes on occasion.”
Draco rolled his thoughts over in his mouth before responding. “So every time we’ve gotten lost in the last few months, stuck in old classrooms and alcoves, it wasn’t an accident?”
She shook her head and smiled at him. Round brown eyes open and warm.
“And you knew?”
“Not at first,” she admitted, and pressed closer to him. “After the third time I started to wonder…reread a chapter on protected rooms in Hogwarts, A History and it may have mentioned ones that appear in certain circumstances. There was a brief mention of…couples. And a place for them to sort things out together. I thought it sounded right.”
He pressed her closer, loving the way her leg gripped his. Breathing in the smell of her hair.
“Well, Granger, fair is fair.”
“What do you mean?” Her brow wrinkled, and he found it adorable. So he kissed it before he replied.
“I may have withheld information as well.”
“And what information would that be?” Her nose scrunched, so he kissed that too.
“I read that chapter as well. Enlightening section.”
“Thought you were waiting on the book?”
“Awaiting my own copy, yes. Did you know the library has three different editions? Shame they’re missing the first edition, it had some rather interesting passages that were removed for indecency. But don’t worry — mine’s a first edition. Might even let you borrow it if you perform certain favors.”
She rolled her eyes, and he loved it. Taking a moment to explore her mouth again. Until she pushed on his chest to separate them earlier than he wished. “So you knew? About what was happening? All the times you were huffing and puffing about being stuck with me—”
“I had a guess about it. Was waiting for you to confirm it.”
“Why wouldn’t you just tell me what you knew?”
“Because the book never said anything about whether certain…feelings were reciprocated. Just that on occasion the castle was known to push two students together who had potential.”
“But I was waiting for you to show interest,” she said, sitting up to better look at his face. Putting him eye level with her tits. There was no shame in her own nakedness, and that only made him like her more.
“And I thought my interest was clear. You’re the only person I seek out on a regular basis. Alone. Gave you those horrid sweets you like on Valentine’s Day for fuck’s sake. And that’s not including Theo’s prying—”
“But you just handed them to me and—So you’re saying we both were waiting for the other?”
“Seems that way. How unfortunate, we could have been doing this much sooner,” he said with a little grin, pulling her towards him for a longer kiss. “In many interesting places.”
“Hmmm that may be true but I like to think the unresolved sexual tension made it all the better.”
“Perhaps we can test that theory, now that it’s been resolved,” he said, leaving a kiss beneath her jaw. Lingering until he felt her shift, turning towards him. One of her hands slipping between them and his breath caught. With a few lazy pumps of her hand he was half hard again and he hated to be on uneven ground.
When he touched her she hissed out a breath. Still sensitive from earlier, so he teased her softly. Wider circles than before, and pulling away to trail up between her breasts and back. She turned around, presenting him with the curve of her arse. Twisting over her shoulder to kiss him thoroughly. With her hand pulling his hair while she did.
This time when he reached between her legs she was wet and leaned into his touch. He pulled her leg up over his hip and gently rocked into her. Keeping his movements slow. If he had to choose, this was his favorite fantasy — and he’d had many about her over the last few months. But leisurely, with his arms around her, soft and sweet in the morning, was something he’d never thought possible. Maybe a semi-drunken shag before the end of the year if he was lucky. They got on well enough that he’d thought that the most plausible. But languid kisses and whispered, “You feel so good,” and “God, yes, like that,” were better.
His first name, said with reverence when she came apart, was best.
They stayed tangled together until the sun drifted across the room, dappling their skin in green and gold from the stained glass windows. They talked and touched and kissed until his stomach growled, ruining the moment. But they had classes and breakfast would start soon, so they helped each other dress. It was nice, he thought, watching her slip buttons into buttonholes. Though he much preferred the sight of her taking his clothes off, this carried an intimacy he’d never had before.
He cast a few charms on both of their hair. Little things he picked up from watching his mother curl her hair for galas to help with the mess he’d made of Hermione’s hair. She was so surprised she snogged him senseless and he had to fix his own hair again and adjust his suddenly too tight in the front trousers. While she blushed and gathered the rest of her things he grinned at her.
“Do we get to skip over any of the other things, now that we’ve both admitted to feeling a certain way about the other?”
“That depends on what you want,” she replied, holding quill in her hand as she rummaged in her bag for ink.
“I want you to be mine,” he said, voice low. “Even if no one else knows. If I know…it’s enough.”
She stepped up to him and kissed the corner of his mouth. “And I’d want everyone to know you’re mine.” She kissed the other side. Cupping his cheek in her hand, brushing the words against his lips. “If we’re dating there won’t be any room for misinterpretation again.”
He leaned against her palm and tugged her lip between his teeth, soothing over it with a softer kiss. She smoothed her hand down his face, tracing his throat before laying it over his chest. With a light pat she stepped away and went to the door. It opened immediately.
She placed her inkwell on the little table and dipped her quill.
As Granger signed her name in the guest book, he asked, “When’s our first real date, then?”
“It’s seven in the morning, we’re in yesterday’s clothes and have class in an hour. I’d prefer to wear something a little nicer than my school clothes. Maybe my smallest knickers, if I’m going on a date with someone I’ve wanted for ages.” She said, leaning against the door with her body. He drank her in, memorizing the gleam in her eyes. “How about tonight?”
“That can be arranged.” He took the quill from her hand and signed just beneath her. Looping the letters in his name over hers.