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From the moment they met, Draco knew that Hermione revelled in being correct. Though, Draco would be hard-pressed to admit that he enjoyed it too.
The way Hermione’s eyes gleamed, and face brightened, when she proved him wrong disarmed him. Her excitement was contagious, and he often found himself beaming along with her.
Not to sound like a bloody sap, making Hermione smile radiantly was something he endeavoured. Draco took pride in inducing a smile to blossom across her pert lips.
That was not to say he didn’t enjoy challenging her. He found her quite seductive when she was riled up.
“Come on Granger. You didn’t mind when it was the green velvet chaise lounge, why are you getting miffed about this?” he pressed his lips to keep himself from smiling, “No one will see. It will be in the bedroom”
“Put a sock in it, Malfoy.”
“No. You’re just annoyed that I’m right. And, that I have great taste,” he saw how incensed she was turning in the way she furrowed her brows and bit the insides of her cheek.
“Are you mad? If I let you decorate, you’d turn the entire flat into the Slytherin dungeon!”
“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing,” the corners of her brows quirked in disbelief. Incredulity was written over her entire face. He tried not to laugh and break the ruse.
“If you don’t, then you clearly have poor taste,” she turned around, attempting to end the discussion.
“Wrong again,” he embraced her from behind and planted kisses on her neck. “I have great taste, why else would I be with you?”
“Oh tosh,” she shrugged him off and continued reading.
“Granger, one night stand won’t ruin the room.”
- FIN -