treat for little_dollface
Title: Sticky Wicket
Author: Inspire inspired_ideas
Written For: little_dollface in luvlikerocketz
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,660
Request: #3: Drabble: Peeves is causing trouble
Summary: An encounter with Peeves forces Draco and Hermione to
find their way out of a sticky situation.
Sticky Wicket
“For Merlin’s sake, you insane banshee!” Draco winced as the curse rippled through him. “Stop your screeching. Out of the two of us, if anyone has reason to be screeching, it is not you.” He’d not asked for that trice-damned poltergeist to trap them together on the way from Arithmancy to Great Hall for lunch. No, this was certainly not his plan.
“I am not screeching, Malfoy!” Hermione screeched.
The infuriating Gryffindor wouldn’t stop squirming either. “Can you not hold still for two seconds together? I am attempting to contrive a way out of this mess.” Which was a near impossible task when the blood was leaving his brain and heading somewhere farther south as the damn witch undulated against him.
“Right. Because we all know what a clever strategist you are,” Hermione countered. However, she did stop struggling much to Draco’s relief. The very last thing he needed right now was to give himself away. He was going to blast Peeve’s for this as soon as he was free.
“Very well. What do you suggest, Miss Granger?” he condescended to ask.
“Must you do that?” she demanded, stamping her foot. Unfortunately it landed square on top of his toes.
“Ouch!” Malfoy raised his abused foot and the pair lost their balance. Fortunately, there was a wall to fall against instead of them ending tangled on the floor. “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from causing me further injury, Miss Granger.”
“Don’t be a baby. I barely touched you,” she said although Draco thought she sounded as though she wasn’t entirely certain that was true.
Never one to miss playing on people’s sympathy -when he wasn’t actually in need of it, that was- Draco gave her a pained look. “You stomped on my foot, you …” He cut himself off. His toe might be throbbing slightly but setting off the curse would truly hurt. “I apologize for placing my foot in your way, Miss Granger,” Draco said, deciding it would be best to simply act humble in the hope’s that she could find a way to get them out of this mess because he didn’t have a clue in this situation. “I ask again, what do you suggest?”
“Honestly! It should be obvious. We need to see Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione explained in bossy tone that turned his gray eyes dark and stormy despite his best effort not to let it dig at him.
“Yes, because we obviously wish to be heckled by everyone between here and the hospital wing for embracing in this manner as we attempt to stroll her direction. Not to mention the difficulty in traversing the two flights of moving staircases down to the infirmary without breaking our heads while that spectral parasite cackles an accompaniment,” he sneered at her idea. Hermione was looking at him as if she’d never seen him before and Draco found it unnerving. “What?”
Hermione blinked her pink tongue took a swipe at her lower lip before she suckled it in. Draco cursed himself yet again for not taking a different route from the Arithmancy classroom. He’d thought he’d given Hermione Granger more than enough time to make her way to the staircase before he followed. Just enough time that he’d not be forced to watch her walking ahead of him but not so much time that he’d …
“What?” he repeated when he realized she’d asked a question but he’d not heard.
Snorting slightly, Hermione once again asked, “Do you have to talk that way?”
“Are you unfamiliar with the English language, Miss Granger? My discourse varies to situation and temper as much as the next person, I assure you.” Unfortunately at the moment his temper was rising.
“I meant using words like traversing or discourse. And stop calling me that,” she demanded.
“It is your name, Miss Granger,” Draco replied before he saw a way out of one of his dilemmas. Smirking, he asked, “What would you suggest I call you?” He couldn’t quite remove the hopeful look from his face, although he doubted she’d interpret it for what it was.
“You used to call me…”
“I used to be a Death Eater too. It was not a line of work I’d care to pursue again,” he said in a hard tone, interrupting her. This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped.
“You wouldn’t?” she asked. Draco wished she wasn’t so damn unguarded in her expression as she searched his. Those big, brown eyes of hers were the sort a wizard could get lost in for days, especially when she was seeking answers in that annoyingly relentless way of hers.
“No. Do I look dim?” he asked.
Peeves the Poltergeist spun himself in aerial somersaults outside the nook they currently occupied. “Malfiend is huggling. Grangerous is snuggling. Oh, yes! Peevsie knows best. Ickle Weazie isn’t clever likes Weazie Twins, no sir. Peeves is winning, he is,” Peeves cackled and floated back in the direction of the classroom.
“Ickle Weazie? Ronald? Must be, of course. I know Peeves likes Ginny almost as much as he …” Hermione broke off and looked up at Draco speculatively.
Draco really wished she wouldn’t look at him as if he was a great puzzle for her to figure out. It could give a man ideas. Ideas he certainly didn’t need to be having with a witch he didn’t need to be thinking about. At all. Not that he let a little thing like logic stand in his way. Only it was damn difficult when he was limited in what he could say.
“Malfoy? Why does Peeves want us stuck together? What does this have to do with Ronald Weasley? Why do you insist on calling me ‘Miss Granger’? Why do you wince every time you call me something else? Where did …”
“For Merlin’s sake you aggravating witch,” Draco sucked in a harsh breath as the curse hit him. “Would you please, for the love of all things magical, give me the chance to answer your myriad of questions before you ask another lot?” He tipped his head back to rest against the wall.
“All right,” she said looking contrite. “I’m sorry, Malfoy. That was rude of me.” He looked at her perplexed. He’d not expected an apology. He just hoped she’d slow down and hopefully go back to the question in that set that would help get him out of the mess he’d been in since the first week they returned to Hogwarts following the war. “First, why does Peeves want us stuck together?”
Damnation, that was not the question he’d hoped she’d ask. Thankfully, he didn’t have to when Peeves took it upon himself to reply. “Peeves is sticky sticking Needle-Nose and Bush-Head together, Peeves is,” the annoying poltergeist was floating up near the ceiling now, watching them. “Getting back at Ickle Weazie thinking he could trick Peeves the trickster.”
“Sod off, Peeves,” Draco grumbled. Miraculously, Peeves did, at least as far as the end of the corridor.
“That doesn’t make any sense. Ron and I aren’t together. He’s with Romilda now. Sticking me to you wouldn’t matter at all to Ronald Weasley.” Hermione frowned. “Do you know why Peeves would think it would matter?” she asked.
Draco nodded carefully, testing the bonds of the enchantment he’d been placed under. He supposedly could answer a direct question from her, but his lack of faith in the Weasel’s spell casting left him cautious. “Your friend -and believe me I use that term in the most loose manner possible-used Peeves to get to me. Knocked me out with a hunk of armor so Weasel could manage to truss me up. He must have convinced Peeves it was for a trick when what Weasel really wanted was an opportunity to curse me.”
“Ron cursed you?” Hermione looked at him skeptically.
“Thank Merlin, you asked,” he felt a weight lifted. “Yes. He cursed me. Twice. Although one is technically a jinx, at least I think so.”
Hermione looked at him waiting for him to continue. “Well?”
“Well, what?” He tried to use his expression to prompt her to ask a more specific question.
“Oh! I have to ask specific questions? Is that it?” At least she caught on quickly.
“Yes, you clev … Miss Granger.” How he hoped she asked the obvious question.
“Why do you insist on calling me Miss Granger?” Hermione asked, peering up at him.
“Because the Weasel cursed me.” Now ask me about the curse, come on, you bushy-haired, big brained, beauty. You can do it.
“Ronald cursed you into calling me Miss Granger?” She looked skeptical. That wasn’t the question he’d hoped for either. “Why would he do that?”
Draco released a breath. He could certainly work with that question. “Because he didn’t like that we were ‘getting cozy’. His words, not mine. Because he’s a jealous sod who thinks he should be allowed to play the field while you remain untouched and waiting for him to decide he’s ready to marry you and have a half-dozen mini-Weasels he can’t afford. Because he knew I …” Draco cut himself off. He never was very good at censoring himself.
“Because he knew you and I were becoming friends after working together to put Hogwarts back together,” Hermione sighed. “I thought you were only having a go, you know. Making me think you liked me, then dropping the friendship once the term started. That wasn’t it at all, was it?”
“No. I’d hoped … Well, there’s nothing for it. It was a bad idea anyway,” he knew he didn’t look convinced. When he thought more about what she’d asked, he leapt upon it before she spoke again and his opportunity to fully answer the question was lost. “No, that wasn’t it at all. It’s not as if you’d ever want more than friendship with a former Death Eater, but I’d hoped your appreciation for the downtrodden might provide me a slight chance at convincing you I’d be worth a try.” Draco Malfoy learned his lesson well in the past two years about not taking chances that were offered. His life certainly would have been different had he taken Dumbledore up on his offer.
Hermione’s face flushed with pleasure. It was hard for Draco to stay focused on their conversation when he was faced with such a sight. So many times he’d imagined her looking that way while in his arms, although none of his fantasies including Peeves.
“Why do you only call me Miss Granger?” she asked softly.
“Because I’m not allowed to call you anything else until you invite me to do so, unless I’m willing suffer for it, Hermione.” He winced as the curse seared his nerve endings. It wasn’t the Cruciatus but it wasn’t pleasant either.
“Stop that!” She looked at him sadly. “I don’t want you to be hurt. Please call me Hermione,” she hastened to add. “Does it only work for one name at a time or can I rattle off a list of things you’re allowed to call me?”
“I can only call you what you tell me I can call you until the root problem is resolved.” Thank Merlin that last part was vague enough not to hurt.
“How is the root problem resolved?” Hermione asked.
“Kissy, kissy, feel the blissy. Lips go smoochie, do the cootchie,” Peeves cackled and clapped. “Peevsie stucky you together break the curse and be unstucky! Ickle Weazie is learning lesson, he is! Kissy, kissy. Huggy, snuggy.” The poltergeist somersaulted down the hall.
“A kiss will break the curse?” she asked cautiously.
“I don’t think Weasel intended it that way but Peeves intervened once he figured out he’d been tricked.” Seeing she was about to open her mouth, he quickly interjected, “If you say one word about Peeves being my Fairy Godfather, I swear to Merlin and Morgana that I will ‘Miss Granger’ you forever,” he glared at her.
“I wasn’t going to say that.” He looked at her. “I wasn’t! I was going to ask if you’d like to kiss me. I don’t want you to be forced into it, you know. I could simply start listing names. Please call me Hermione. Call me Granger. Call me witch,” she flushed a little when she said that one. He’d noticed she seemed to shiver a little each time he’d called her that over the summer. “Call me …”
“Hermione? Ask me.” Now it was his turn to flush, “Unless you don’t want to kiss me?”
“What? Don’t be daft. I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages. Ever since that day last summer you told me you liked my ridiculous hair,” she confessed, blushing. Draco had never seen her look more adorable.
“Then ask me. I’m sorry, love,” Draco winced but felt a wave of relief as her lips met his. The pair of them didn’t notice when her arms slid up to wrap around his neck and his arms moved from her hips to splay across her back and bum pressing her close.
A pile of confetti rained down on them courtesy of the poltergeist and the pair broke apart. “Malfuddy has Hermygirl now, he does. Ickle Weazie is not so clever as Peevsie, oh no. Peeves, he wins!” Peeves blinked out, leaving them alone finally.
“Ron cursed you so you couldn’t talk to me unless I talked to you first. He cursed you so you couldn’t call me anything but Miss Granger unless I asked you to call me something different. Did he do anything else?” Hermione asked slamming her hands into her hips. Draco thought she was gorgeous angry like that.
“Aside from telling me to stay away from you because you’re too good for me? As if I don’t know that. Or telling me he’d planned to curse me so I couldn’t get within arms length of you, no. Peeves intervened before he got much further than the name-calling. Unfortunately, what he did curse me with made it impossible for me to discuss the situation.” Draco reached out and brushed back a stray lock of her hair. “I don’t like your ridiculous hair,” he corrected. “I love your ridiculous hair. It’s wild, untamed, perfect, just like you.”
“I thought I did something wrong, you know. Offended you or …”
“Shush. You did nothing, Granger.” Draco breathed a sigh of relief when the pain failed to come. He’d missed simply calling her Granger and Draco didn’t fail to notice her satisfied sigh when he purred her surname either. “I’m sorry it took me so long to find a way around the damn thing. I’m not as clever as you,” he drew her close for another kiss. It had taken a half-dozen trick wands, a bag of water balloons, and two-dozen Whiz-bang sparklers to get Peeves to agree to stick them together so that only a kiss would release them. And that had only been after he’d convinced the poltergeist that he needed to do it to get back at the Weasel for tricking Peeves. It had been a crowning achievement manipulating Peeves into doing what Draco needed done. Of course the blasted poltergeist had to go mess up the plan. He wasn’t supposed to stick them together until just before dinner outside the Great Hall where it would have been easier to force the Weasel’s hand. Of course, he really shouldn’t argue with success.
Success. How sweet it is, he thought. Originally, he’d planned to make the witch stew a bit after he’d got the curse broken, but she was looking at him with those big, brown eyes again, and he couldn’t find it in himself to deny her, or deny himself for that matter. In fact, he was fairly sure the little tug he felt in his chest was him wanting to give her everything. He settled for giving her a choice. “May I kiss you again, Granger?”
“Yes. Yes, please. Kiss me, Malfoy.”
“With pleasure,” and he did.
Author: Inspire inspired_ideas
Written For: little_dollface in luvlikerocketz
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,660
Request: #3: Drabble: Peeves is causing trouble
Summary: An encounter with Peeves forces Draco and Hermione to
find their way out of a sticky situation.
Sticky Wicket
“For Merlin’s sake, you insane banshee!” Draco winced as the curse rippled through him. “Stop your screeching. Out of the two of us, if anyone has reason to be screeching, it is not you.” He’d not asked for that trice-damned poltergeist to trap them together on the way from Arithmancy to Great Hall for lunch. No, this was certainly not his plan.
“I am not screeching, Malfoy!” Hermione screeched.
The infuriating Gryffindor wouldn’t stop squirming either. “Can you not hold still for two seconds together? I am attempting to contrive a way out of this mess.” Which was a near impossible task when the blood was leaving his brain and heading somewhere farther south as the damn witch undulated against him.
“Right. Because we all know what a clever strategist you are,” Hermione countered. However, she did stop struggling much to Draco’s relief. The very last thing he needed right now was to give himself away. He was going to blast Peeve’s for this as soon as he was free.
“Very well. What do you suggest, Miss Granger?” he condescended to ask.
“Must you do that?” she demanded, stamping her foot. Unfortunately it landed square on top of his toes.
“Ouch!” Malfoy raised his abused foot and the pair lost their balance. Fortunately, there was a wall to fall against instead of them ending tangled on the floor. “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from causing me further injury, Miss Granger.”
“Don’t be a baby. I barely touched you,” she said although Draco thought she sounded as though she wasn’t entirely certain that was true.
Never one to miss playing on people’s sympathy -when he wasn’t actually in need of it, that was- Draco gave her a pained look. “You stomped on my foot, you …” He cut himself off. His toe might be throbbing slightly but setting off the curse would truly hurt. “I apologize for placing my foot in your way, Miss Granger,” Draco said, deciding it would be best to simply act humble in the hope’s that she could find a way to get them out of this mess because he didn’t have a clue in this situation. “I ask again, what do you suggest?”
“Honestly! It should be obvious. We need to see Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione explained in bossy tone that turned his gray eyes dark and stormy despite his best effort not to let it dig at him.
“Yes, because we obviously wish to be heckled by everyone between here and the hospital wing for embracing in this manner as we attempt to stroll her direction. Not to mention the difficulty in traversing the two flights of moving staircases down to the infirmary without breaking our heads while that spectral parasite cackles an accompaniment,” he sneered at her idea. Hermione was looking at him as if she’d never seen him before and Draco found it unnerving. “What?”
Hermione blinked her pink tongue took a swipe at her lower lip before she suckled it in. Draco cursed himself yet again for not taking a different route from the Arithmancy classroom. He’d thought he’d given Hermione Granger more than enough time to make her way to the staircase before he followed. Just enough time that he’d not be forced to watch her walking ahead of him but not so much time that he’d …
“What?” he repeated when he realized she’d asked a question but he’d not heard.
Snorting slightly, Hermione once again asked, “Do you have to talk that way?”
“Are you unfamiliar with the English language, Miss Granger? My discourse varies to situation and temper as much as the next person, I assure you.” Unfortunately at the moment his temper was rising.
“I meant using words like traversing or discourse. And stop calling me that,” she demanded.
“It is your name, Miss Granger,” Draco replied before he saw a way out of one of his dilemmas. Smirking, he asked, “What would you suggest I call you?” He couldn’t quite remove the hopeful look from his face, although he doubted she’d interpret it for what it was.
“You used to call me…”
“I used to be a Death Eater too. It was not a line of work I’d care to pursue again,” he said in a hard tone, interrupting her. This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped.
“You wouldn’t?” she asked. Draco wished she wasn’t so damn unguarded in her expression as she searched his. Those big, brown eyes of hers were the sort a wizard could get lost in for days, especially when she was seeking answers in that annoyingly relentless way of hers.
“No. Do I look dim?” he asked.
Peeves the Poltergeist spun himself in aerial somersaults outside the nook they currently occupied. “Malfiend is huggling. Grangerous is snuggling. Oh, yes! Peevsie knows best. Ickle Weazie isn’t clever likes Weazie Twins, no sir. Peeves is winning, he is,” Peeves cackled and floated back in the direction of the classroom.
“Ickle Weazie? Ronald? Must be, of course. I know Peeves likes Ginny almost as much as he …” Hermione broke off and looked up at Draco speculatively.
Draco really wished she wouldn’t look at him as if he was a great puzzle for her to figure out. It could give a man ideas. Ideas he certainly didn’t need to be having with a witch he didn’t need to be thinking about. At all. Not that he let a little thing like logic stand in his way. Only it was damn difficult when he was limited in what he could say.
“Malfoy? Why does Peeves want us stuck together? What does this have to do with Ronald Weasley? Why do you insist on calling me ‘Miss Granger’? Why do you wince every time you call me something else? Where did …”
“For Merlin’s sake you aggravating witch,” Draco sucked in a harsh breath as the curse hit him. “Would you please, for the love of all things magical, give me the chance to answer your myriad of questions before you ask another lot?” He tipped his head back to rest against the wall.
“All right,” she said looking contrite. “I’m sorry, Malfoy. That was rude of me.” He looked at her perplexed. He’d not expected an apology. He just hoped she’d slow down and hopefully go back to the question in that set that would help get him out of the mess he’d been in since the first week they returned to Hogwarts following the war. “First, why does Peeves want us stuck together?”
Damnation, that was not the question he’d hoped she’d ask. Thankfully, he didn’t have to when Peeves took it upon himself to reply. “Peeves is sticky sticking Needle-Nose and Bush-Head together, Peeves is,” the annoying poltergeist was floating up near the ceiling now, watching them. “Getting back at Ickle Weazie thinking he could trick Peeves the trickster.”
“Sod off, Peeves,” Draco grumbled. Miraculously, Peeves did, at least as far as the end of the corridor.
“That doesn’t make any sense. Ron and I aren’t together. He’s with Romilda now. Sticking me to you wouldn’t matter at all to Ronald Weasley.” Hermione frowned. “Do you know why Peeves would think it would matter?” she asked.
Draco nodded carefully, testing the bonds of the enchantment he’d been placed under. He supposedly could answer a direct question from her, but his lack of faith in the Weasel’s spell casting left him cautious. “Your friend -and believe me I use that term in the most loose manner possible-used Peeves to get to me. Knocked me out with a hunk of armor so Weasel could manage to truss me up. He must have convinced Peeves it was for a trick when what Weasel really wanted was an opportunity to curse me.”
“Ron cursed you?” Hermione looked at him skeptically.
“Thank Merlin, you asked,” he felt a weight lifted. “Yes. He cursed me. Twice. Although one is technically a jinx, at least I think so.”
Hermione looked at him waiting for him to continue. “Well?”
“Well, what?” He tried to use his expression to prompt her to ask a more specific question.
“Oh! I have to ask specific questions? Is that it?” At least she caught on quickly.
“Yes, you clev … Miss Granger.” How he hoped she asked the obvious question.
“Why do you insist on calling me Miss Granger?” Hermione asked, peering up at him.
“Because the Weasel cursed me.” Now ask me about the curse, come on, you bushy-haired, big brained, beauty. You can do it.
“Ronald cursed you into calling me Miss Granger?” She looked skeptical. That wasn’t the question he’d hoped for either. “Why would he do that?”
Draco released a breath. He could certainly work with that question. “Because he didn’t like that we were ‘getting cozy’. His words, not mine. Because he’s a jealous sod who thinks he should be allowed to play the field while you remain untouched and waiting for him to decide he’s ready to marry you and have a half-dozen mini-Weasels he can’t afford. Because he knew I …” Draco cut himself off. He never was very good at censoring himself.
“Because he knew you and I were becoming friends after working together to put Hogwarts back together,” Hermione sighed. “I thought you were only having a go, you know. Making me think you liked me, then dropping the friendship once the term started. That wasn’t it at all, was it?”
“No. I’d hoped … Well, there’s nothing for it. It was a bad idea anyway,” he knew he didn’t look convinced. When he thought more about what she’d asked, he leapt upon it before she spoke again and his opportunity to fully answer the question was lost. “No, that wasn’t it at all. It’s not as if you’d ever want more than friendship with a former Death Eater, but I’d hoped your appreciation for the downtrodden might provide me a slight chance at convincing you I’d be worth a try.” Draco Malfoy learned his lesson well in the past two years about not taking chances that were offered. His life certainly would have been different had he taken Dumbledore up on his offer.
Hermione’s face flushed with pleasure. It was hard for Draco to stay focused on their conversation when he was faced with such a sight. So many times he’d imagined her looking that way while in his arms, although none of his fantasies including Peeves.
“Why do you only call me Miss Granger?” she asked softly.
“Because I’m not allowed to call you anything else until you invite me to do so, unless I’m willing suffer for it, Hermione.” He winced as the curse seared his nerve endings. It wasn’t the Cruciatus but it wasn’t pleasant either.
“Stop that!” She looked at him sadly. “I don’t want you to be hurt. Please call me Hermione,” she hastened to add. “Does it only work for one name at a time or can I rattle off a list of things you’re allowed to call me?”
“I can only call you what you tell me I can call you until the root problem is resolved.” Thank Merlin that last part was vague enough not to hurt.
“How is the root problem resolved?” Hermione asked.
“Kissy, kissy, feel the blissy. Lips go smoochie, do the cootchie,” Peeves cackled and clapped. “Peevsie stucky you together break the curse and be unstucky! Ickle Weazie is learning lesson, he is! Kissy, kissy. Huggy, snuggy.” The poltergeist somersaulted down the hall.
“A kiss will break the curse?” she asked cautiously.
“I don’t think Weasel intended it that way but Peeves intervened once he figured out he’d been tricked.” Seeing she was about to open her mouth, he quickly interjected, “If you say one word about Peeves being my Fairy Godfather, I swear to Merlin and Morgana that I will ‘Miss Granger’ you forever,” he glared at her.
“I wasn’t going to say that.” He looked at her. “I wasn’t! I was going to ask if you’d like to kiss me. I don’t want you to be forced into it, you know. I could simply start listing names. Please call me Hermione. Call me Granger. Call me witch,” she flushed a little when she said that one. He’d noticed she seemed to shiver a little each time he’d called her that over the summer. “Call me …”
“Hermione? Ask me.” Now it was his turn to flush, “Unless you don’t want to kiss me?”
“What? Don’t be daft. I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages. Ever since that day last summer you told me you liked my ridiculous hair,” she confessed, blushing. Draco had never seen her look more adorable.
“Then ask me. I’m sorry, love,” Draco winced but felt a wave of relief as her lips met his. The pair of them didn’t notice when her arms slid up to wrap around his neck and his arms moved from her hips to splay across her back and bum pressing her close.
A pile of confetti rained down on them courtesy of the poltergeist and the pair broke apart. “Malfuddy has Hermygirl now, he does. Ickle Weazie is not so clever as Peevsie, oh no. Peeves, he wins!” Peeves blinked out, leaving them alone finally.
“Ron cursed you so you couldn’t talk to me unless I talked to you first. He cursed you so you couldn’t call me anything but Miss Granger unless I asked you to call me something different. Did he do anything else?” Hermione asked slamming her hands into her hips. Draco thought she was gorgeous angry like that.
“Aside from telling me to stay away from you because you’re too good for me? As if I don’t know that. Or telling me he’d planned to curse me so I couldn’t get within arms length of you, no. Peeves intervened before he got much further than the name-calling. Unfortunately, what he did curse me with made it impossible for me to discuss the situation.” Draco reached out and brushed back a stray lock of her hair. “I don’t like your ridiculous hair,” he corrected. “I love your ridiculous hair. It’s wild, untamed, perfect, just like you.”
“I thought I did something wrong, you know. Offended you or …”
“Shush. You did nothing, Granger.” Draco breathed a sigh of relief when the pain failed to come. He’d missed simply calling her Granger and Draco didn’t fail to notice her satisfied sigh when he purred her surname either. “I’m sorry it took me so long to find a way around the damn thing. I’m not as clever as you,” he drew her close for another kiss. It had taken a half-dozen trick wands, a bag of water balloons, and two-dozen Whiz-bang sparklers to get Peeves to agree to stick them together so that only a kiss would release them. And that had only been after he’d convinced the poltergeist that he needed to do it to get back at the Weasel for tricking Peeves. It had been a crowning achievement manipulating Peeves into doing what Draco needed done. Of course the blasted poltergeist had to go mess up the plan. He wasn’t supposed to stick them together until just before dinner outside the Great Hall where it would have been easier to force the Weasel’s hand. Of course, he really shouldn’t argue with success.
Success. How sweet it is, he thought. Originally, he’d planned to make the witch stew a bit after he’d got the curse broken, but she was looking at him with those big, brown eyes again, and he couldn’t find it in himself to deny her, or deny himself for that matter. In fact, he was fairly sure the little tug he felt in his chest was him wanting to give her everything. He settled for giving her a choice. “May I kiss you again, Granger?”
“Yes. Yes, please. Kiss me, Malfoy.”
“With pleasure,” and he did.