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“There you are,” Malfoy says, gently parting Granger’s curls away from her face. “I was afraid I lost you for a second, love. That party at the Ministry was…certainly something, wasn’t it?”
From their seemingly matching red sweaters to their stolen glances throughout the night, it was truly an evening of will they/won’t they. Are they official or are they not? No one had a clue.
There was one thing Granger knew for certain. She felt a tension, an unmistakable heat emanating in waves as she felt those grey eyes following her everywhere she went.
So she sipped, and sipped, and sipped some more. A Pinot noir could explain the tinge of red to her cheeks- the low tannins a thank you from her future self.
It most certainly could not be explained by the fact that every time she looked at that tall blonde, he looked at her too. She’d catch him trying to walk towards her, mouth slightly parted in an expected greeting, but never making it to her. He was stopped in his tracks by friends or acquaintances at every chance he thought he could slip away.
As the hours passed, the wine became too much, the world became too hazy, the eyes on hers felt too intense. Too hot.
She decided she would say her goodbyes and excuse herself to apparate home. It would do her some good to take a long bath, watch her favorite holiday movies, and snuggle up to Crooks by the fire until this overwhelming heat went away.
Only that didn’t happen at all. A blur and she fell into the arms of Malfoy, his large yet gentle hands holding her up to steady her frame. A blur and there they were: in his home, by his fireplace. His blanket in her lap and a mug of hot cocoa in her hands.
Shoes and winter coats slightly dampened by the snow were removed and were drying by the toasty yule logs. A Victrola sat in one corner of the room, playing classic holiday music. The other corner sat a luxurious Christmas tree with twinkling lights and extravagant gifts laid upon its skirt. Since when did he celebrate such a “muggle” holiday?
It all felt like a dream.
“How are you feeling, Granger? Are you still cold?”
His concerned voice halted her recollection of the night and gave way to newer thoughts. Cold? Did she ever feel cold tonight? She could only recall how insanely hot she felt-
still feels- as he waits for her answer, his gaze soft, eyes colored by the fire.
“No, Malfoy. I’m all warm now.”