Dramione Drabbles

2. I'm Not Your Girlfriend

It's raining when Draco enters her cottage, his Auror uniform soaked black and clinging to his limbs. She's about to scold him for leaving muddy footprints in her foyer when he pulls her into his arms.

Her fingernails rake his back, her skin becoming wet beneath her clothes as he kisses her deeply.

"Hello to you too," she whispers, too dazed to scold him for whatever she was going to scold him for.

Draco follows her inside, peeling off a layer of clothing one step at a time, then scoops her up into his arms. She hardly catches her breath before he's kissing her again.

"Did something happen at work?" she rasps. He's only like this—desperate, rough, selfish—under pressure.

"What are these rumours about you escorting Krum to the World Cup After Party?" He squeezes her thigh hard enough to hurt.

"Because I am?"

"What?" he growls.

"I'm not your girlfriend, Draco. I'm allowed to go on dates with other men."

"What?" he repeats, hurt.

"What?" she echoes, baffled.

"I'm here every night."

"Yeah," she says, her tone supplying the 'so what?' that she doesn't speak aloud.

"I set up your patio furniture."

"Okay?"

"Your cat sits on my lap when we watch your Muggle films."

"A recent development."

"I know how you take your tea, coffee, and learned how to make an Aperol Spritz."

"Rather useful," she offers.

He puts her down. "Your parents send me a personalized toothbrush every month."

"Dental hygiene is important."

"I threw you a surprise party for your birthday and invited all your friends to my house."

"Very thoughtful of you," she allows.

"I get you off every time we have sex. Multiple times."

"Mhm..." She curves her hand behind his nape, wishing to get to the good part.

"You're the only person I let touch my hair."

She drags her fingers across his scalp, slick with frigid raindrops. "It's very soft."

"Hermione—" He pulls back, aggravated. "I'm your boyfriend."

She freezes, her stomach dipping at the proclamation. "But I thought... We never discussed... And you didn't say..."

He groans, tapping his forehead to hers in exasperation.

"Should I cancel on Viktor then?"

"I already sent him an owl."

"Saying what?" she gasps.

He curls his finger around the belt loop of her trousers. "That while you're flattered by the invite, you're very much unavailable and very much mine."

She shakes her head; her gaze dropping to their feet. She stiffens. "How many times do I have to tell you to take off your muddy boots when you enter the house?" She looks up at him then, startled. "Oh."

Bonus—Draco's letter to Krum:

Krum, Hermione is unable to escort you to the after party on the account that she's too busy being my girlfriend.

Cordially,

Draco L. Malfoy

(468 words, prompt from dramioneprompts on twitter, first written July 2022)

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