Finding Draco - A Dramione Novel

Chapter 26 - Draco

A towering outdoor pavilion had been erected over the surface of the lake, enveloping the Potions dormitory and docks in billowing fabric. The tent's three white peaks stood like snowy drifts nestled into the mountain valley. The gentle glow of torchlight and the sound of an orchestra striking up a lively tune bled from the seams of heavy canvas and fluttering silk.

It was a breathtaking sight. Durmstrang, for all its austerity, could be beautiful when it wanted to be.

Draco guided Hermione through the magical barrier separating frigid mountain air from the relative comfort inside. He couldn't help but stare at the exposed furrow of her spine—the gown's tailored lines resting just between the dimples on her lower back.

Only thin green silk separated him from the delicate curves of her body. Like Christmas wrapping covering a much-desired gift.

The pavilion was full to bursting by the time Draco escorted Hermione through the entrance. A great semi-circle partitioned off the humble Potions dormitory from the revelry within. Round tables laid with fresh white linens speckled the dance floor, while a rectangular head table occupied the length of the stage. Durmstrang Institute embossed in gold leaf across a crimson overlay.

Draco found Professor Squelch, the filthy snitch, looming near the head table.

Draco tucked his arm around Hermione's waist, drawing in her delicious scent. "How does it feel being the most beautiful woman in the room?"

Hermione leaned into him, the edge of her barely covered breast brushing his chest. "How does it feel to be the most handsome man in attendance?"

"Pretty damn good," Draco replied. Running his fingers down her arm. "You fancy a drink?"

"I'd love one," Hermione said around a shy smile. "Nothing too strong, though."

Draco peaked a mischievous brow. "I thought you liked them strong?"

"No," Hermione teased. One finger trailing down the line of his black dress shirt. "I like them smart. And tall. And wickedly blonde."

"Are we still talking about drinks? Because you could mean a pint or flute of champagne with that description."

With lips pressed to his ear, Hermione breathed, "I think you know exactly what I mean."

Merlin. They'd only been inside the tent for fifteen minutes and Draco was ready to leave. His tailored pants becoming uncomfortably tight. It was a good thing this tent was so dimly lit.

"Champagne it is then," Draco replied. Placing a kiss atop scars on her hand. Wishing he could suck the pain of the memory off her skin."I'll be right back."

As expected, there was a long line of students waiting for drinks. Halvard and Amira shouted Draco down from the place near the front of the line, and Draco slid in beside them.

Amira had on a dress as bright as her laugh--holly red taffeta lined with gold ribbon and rabbit fur. It was a bit couture for Draco's liking, cut at striking angles that exposed shards of her bronze skin, but the overall effect was pleasant. Her black hair had been slicked back into a high coil at the top of her head to better show off massive ruby and diamond teardrop earrings.

"You look good enough to eat," Amira said, kissing Draco on both cheeks. "I gotta say, the boy's got style."

Draco gave her a lopsided grin. "I have to give all credit to the designer. He's really quite a genius. Who did your gown?"

"Alonza de Frites, of course."

Draco recognized the name. An Italian witch who was a trendsetter amongst the nair-do-well of the wizarding upper crust. Not Draco's taste at all. He loved clean lines and minimalism.