Carpathian

Wednesday, 9:16 pm

"Hey!" Hermione jabbed him with her elbow and a smile broke across Draco's features. "That 'worthless weasel' is your best friend's brother!"

"Your point?"

Hermione glowered, and Draco cackled.

"C'mon, Granger." His smile took up half his face. "Did you really think I was going to sacrifice an opportunity to poke fun of Weasley?"

"His name is Ron."

"Not happening."

"It's his name!"

"So is Weasley."

"Ron."

"Weasel."

"Are you really that stubborn?"

"Are you really that surprised?"

"Merlin, you're difficult." She scoffed, but it held no fire.

His grin turned boastful. "Old habits die hard."

"Says the wizard who changed countless other ways."

A quirk pulled at his lips. "I have to draw the line somewhere," he toyed, leaning in closer. "But, hey, give me some credit. I've changed where it really counts." Draco angled her chin till her stare met his, slate grey meeting deep chestnut. He smirked. "Granger."

Her heart hitched, their bodies so close, she could practically feel her name spoken from his lips. Two syllables. Not four.

Intermingled breaths filled the space between them. "I'd think you incapable of saying my given name if you hadn't said it last night."

Calloused, gentle fingers threaded through her hair. "I save that for special occasions."

The grip grew firm, and their lips were brought back together. After last night, kissing Draco was as easy as a Thestral gliding through an early spring breeze. Heart-stirring and yet so comfortable. She rested her hand on his cheek and leaned into the kiss, soft lips pulling at hers as the fire glowed beyond her closed eyelids. Everything else melted away.

How easy it would be to stay in this moment: two people finding peace in one another while they basked in the simple pleasures of friends and firelight. No hurt dragons, no stolen blood, no missing eggs. For these few brief seconds, they could be just that. But as nine o'clock neared, it would soon be back to business.

When they pulled away from the kiss, Draco straightened out the blanket around their shoulders, right before Markus approached them with hot butterbeers.

"Get a room, you two."

Markus winked, and Draco tugged the drinks out of his hands.

"Oh, piss off."

Hermione snickered as Draco handed her a mug and she rested her head on his shoulder. The investigation could wait a few more minutes. Until then, Hermione would relish the downtime that she and Draco had with one another—much to the attention of everyone else at the bonfire. Even Julia was smiling at them.

This time, her smile was sincere.

Nine struck sooner than desired, and after the kiss, no one was surprised when Draco said he'd escort Hermione back to the Dennfyre. Everyone could assume what they wanted. This was innocent. With the dragon eggs hours from hatching, anything else had to wait. Come daybreak, it would be too late to save Norberta's missing egg.

Her room at the Dennfyre was near unrecognizable as a sleeping quarter. Since learning about the impending dragon hatching, Hermione made an excuse to leave the sanctuary and gathered more research content. Hardly an inch of comforter was visible beneath the sea of backdated Reporterul Roman newspapers, and the walls had become a collage of interconnected notes and theories. She expected at least one quipped remark at the parchment-covered chaos but Draco sunk right in.