Work Text:
“This is bloody ridiculous, Granger.” Draco said as he attempted to adjust his authentically reproduced leather trousers. “I’m chaffing, and I believe my ball sack is weeping. Who knew testicles could sweat so much?”
Hermione shot him a repressive look, his sotto voce whisper was as loud and whinging as his normal tone. She said serenly, her hand never wavering from it’s perch on his forearm even as he fidgeted with the front of his trousers,. “I told you that it wasn’t a good time to ‘go commando’.”
He snorted expressively and rolled his eyes as the receiving line moved slightly forward. “This is the last romantic getaway you get to choose.” He sneezed as an the woman playing an ageing dowager in front of them shook her befeathered head to punctuate a point to her companion. “What wizard wants to go for a getaway to recreate an ancient Muggle novel?”
“And what’s wrong with a Muggle novel?” She hissed, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
Draco leaned in, his mouth on her ear. As he spoke the hairs on the nape of Hermione’s exposed neck rose and she suppressed a shiver. “Too many words. Not enough sex.”
The line inched forward again as she rolled her own eyes towards the heavens. Draco whinged, “How long are we going to stand here? I’m hungry and I smell food. I thought I’d given all this elitist shite up ages ago. ” He affected a pout, “I’m hungry, Granger, and I’m sweating, and I never thought I’d say this—” Out loud anyway, Hermione supplied in her mind as he attempted to whisper again, “You're right, I should have worn pants.”
With a saccharine sweet smile Hermione said. “I’m glad you can admit that I do know a few things, darling.”
The line moved forward several paces. They were within earshot of the footman announcing the guests. Draco shifted his weight on his legs, surreptitiously rearranging his package once again. He finally said, “Why didn’t you have to wear sausage casing trousers and a hot wool coat? It’s sodding July for fuck’s sake. At least if you’d let me bring my wa—” The woman with the feather shot him a filthy look indicating that Draco hadn’t been quite as discrete as he’d thought. He snarled, ”that thing we use I’d be able to…you know a cooling you know what.”
Hermione coughed and covered her mouth with a gloved hand to cover a laugh. The stepped forward again. Draco handed to footman their card, and he announced them. Hermione curtsied to their host and Draco gave his best Malfoy bow. He looked around as they stepped away from the line scowling at the dance floor where couples danced the minuet. “I suppose you’ll expect to dance, chaffing balls and all.”
Hermione stepped away from him, the tissue thin, red silk gown she wore proving to be quite titillatingly translucent. He swallowed, noticing for the first time just how little she wore under her gown and how low her decolletage actually was. A stiff breeze on the bodice would expose her nipples quite prettily. Hermione took his hand and pulled him to her. She brought her modestly gloved hand to the nape of his neck and tiptoed to reach his ear. Her breath raised goosebumps on the skin just above his ornately tied cravat as she said, “You do realise that you’re not the only one of us who went commando, don’t you?”
The minx danced away from him as he attempted to draw her closer. “I’ll be in one of the salons if you want to do more than dance tonight.”
She wove her way through the crowd with Draco in hot pursuit. Perhaps letting her choose their little holiday wasn’t such a bad idea after all.