Chapter Text
Friday
Children were screaming. And running. The flat was in complete chaos.
“God help me,” Hermione breathed, eyes wide as she surveyed the carnage around her. Streamers. Balloons. Confetti. Candy wrappers. Plastic cups. Spilled juice, and broken goldfish crackers, and mismatched shoes causing tripping hazards.
Everywhere.
Ten little girls ran around with wild abandon. Their adorable frilly dresses in an array of colors spun, while their plastic jeweled tiaras were half falling off of their heads. They shrieked and jumped along with the cheerful bubblegum pop music that blasted from the speaker on the dining room table.
One little blonde girl was crying in the corner because she felt as though she was being left out (she wasn’t). Another little girl in a blue dress was digging both hands into two of the little paper cups full of fingerpaints, and then slamming those hands onto a piece of paper —whilst laughing maniacally.
A pair of twin brunettes were yelling at each other, fighting over a stuffed animal that didn’t even belong to either of them. Bubbles were floating around because another little girl had already broken into her party favor bag. The rest of the little heathens screamed and sang the wrong words to the pop song coming from the speaker.
Honestly, they were having a blast.
Usually Hermione liked kids, loved them, but this… this was a lot.
“Harry, where did you put the cake?” Ginny called from the kitchen.
Harry was across the room from Hermione, trapped between his daughter, the birthday girl, and the gift table she was trying to claw her way to. She was usually so well behaved, but it seemed she had surrendered to the chaos.
It was Harry’s look of horrific realization that pulled Hermione to focus. She shook her head, making her way towards him while she quietly hissed, “Tell me you didn’t forget the cake.”
“Lily, please!” Harry had his palm firmly rooted against his daughter's forehead, holding her at arm's length while she windmilled her arms. He nodded to Hermione, “I forgot the bloody cake… oh god… Ginny’s going to fucking kill me.”
“Ooo bad word!” A little blonde girl with a purple princess dress pointed at him. “Lily’s daddy said a bad woooord!”
Both Hermione and Harry ignored her. “How did you forget the cake, it’s like the most important part!” She whisper-yelled at her best friend. Harry Potter was a brilliant man, truly, but sometimes… Hermione shook her head at him, eyes wide. “Harry!”
“Harry?” Ginny called over the music. “I’m trying to finish these nuggets, can you please answer me?”
“What do I do?!” He was panicking –glasses askew, hair rumpled, a lollipop stuck to his sleeve, full on panicking.
Hermione sighed heavily, grabbing at an opportunity while it dangled in front of her face. “I’ll run out and pick it up —where did you order it from?”
He paused, catching his ravenous daughter around the waist, “Lily, if you don’t stop this, I promise I’ll send all the girls home right now.”
Lily froze, slinking out of her fathers grip, tears in her eyes and her bottom lip sticking out and quivering. Oh god.
“The bakery around the corner,” Harry said quickly, his eyes on his daughter who was working herself into a meltdown. “It’s already paid for –it’s under my name.”
Hermione grabbed her purse from the kitchen, giving Ginny (who hadn’t even broken a sweat yet, the woman thrived in the wildness of children) a small innocent wave, and then left the flat immediately. She took a full thirty seconds to bask in the silence of the hallway before she rushed for the stairwell.
She ran, knowing exactly where the bakery was –literally around the corner, it took less than two minutes to get there. Hermione often took Harry and Ginny’s kids there for cupcakes or cookies. They also made really good coffee, which Hermione had every intention of snagging a to-go cup. She’d need it to survive the next hour of the party.
When she turned the corner, she froze in place, suddenly acutely aware of what she was wearing. Like she had forgotten up until that very moment. It was a dress-up princess birthday party after all, and Ginny had convinced her to play along too, not wanting to be the only adult donning a ridiculous gown and tiara.
And Lily gave her the saddest puppy eyes, so she really couldn’t say no.
Her dress was layered and fluffy and pink and shimmery. Rose adornments, gold accents, off the shoulder, tulle and all. It was actually a really nice princess gown she had rented when she went to the costume shop with Ginny. A plastic gold tiara sat nestled into her curls, and she had even done her makeup for the occasion.
Full on princess. Full commitment for her favorite little Lily. Except for the shoes –those were just her white trainers, because the thought of accidentally impaling a small child's foot with her heel made her a little anxious.
She was only slapped in the face with the awareness because once she turned the corner, there was a small group of four people on street bikes. They were pulled over to the side, parked and somehow chatting amongst themselves (‘somehow’ because they all still wore their helmets). They were joking around, being playful and gesturing with their hands while they spoke to one another.
And they saw her within seconds. Like full on stopping what they were doing, tapping on shoulders and pointing her out, turning their helmet-clad heads to stare.
“Why,” Hermione groaned, feeling her face go white-hot. Of all days?
She trudged on, giving a tight smile and praying for the earth to open up and swallow her whole. Because this was just perfect, wasn’t it? They looked objectively cool, while she (a grown twenty-seven year old) was dressed like a princess in the middle of the fucking day. She supposed it could be worse –how? She didn’t know.
Hermione scanned her eyes over them, trying to move quickly. She assumed they were all men, simply judging by the build and height, and lack of ponytails poking out from the helmets.
The one in black caught her eyes first. An impressive matte black bike, all black gear and gloves, sleek and shiny black hemet. He sat on his bike, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the fuel tank as he looked at her, his head cocking to the side. His helmet moved with his head as he followed her. He seemed… interesting, for some reason. His whole vibe made her stomach flutter a bit. There was an intensity that was hard to ignore. And, well, she kind of liked that.
The rider on the blue and black bike made a bit of a show of scrambling off his seat to do a proper and dramatic bow, his black and gold graphic helmet dipping low when he bent at the waist. Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle as she passed him, trying to get a quick peek of the design on his helmet —an owl, possibly?
Next to him, the rider with matte gray helmet and matching gray bike dropped to his knees on the curb and blew kisses at her. The last rider, black and gold helmet leaning against a dark green bike gave her a flirty little wave, gloved fingers wriggling in a teasing way.
With a little huff, she gave in and raised her hand, fingers pressed together as she gave them a princess wave, then took half a second to give the fastest full curtsey alive. Because why not? It was easier that she couldn’t see their faces.
Owl, and gray helmets clapped and pumped their fists into the air. Black helmet’s shoulders bounced up and down as if he were laughing. Black and gold helmet made a little heart with his gloved hands, head tilting. It was all very silly, but it made her laugh.
Yes, that could have been so much worse.
It took about five minutes to grab the cake and a to-go coffee from the bakery. Luckily the pink and yellow frosted princess cake was already boxed up and ready to go, and there was only one other person at the counter being helped. Hermione grabbed what she needed, laughed with them about her appearance, made a little remark about her best friend forgetting the most important part of a birthday party, and then headed back out.
The bikers were still there, of course. Of course. They were still sitting there, and Hermione couldn’t race by like she had before, because if she dropped this bloody cake, Ginny would have her actual head on a pike.
Black and gold helmet was still leaning against his bike, giving her another little teasing wave. Owl helmet hurried over and shrugged out of his black and blue leather jacket, laying it at her feet on the sidewalk, presenting it in another dramatic bow.
“M’lady,” his muffled voice said.
Hermione blushed, shaking her head, “My god.” She laughed when the gray helmet rushed over and gently took her by the elbow, escorting her over the jacket, giving her a thumbs-up. “You two are trouble.”
“Never!” Gray helmet’s muffled gasp responded.
And then the one in head-to-toe black, the sleek and shiny black helmet, he was there. Not on his bike anymore. He was there, and he was so tall and he was right in front of her. Nice shoulders and build, from what she could tell. He looked strong under all that gear, the only available skin she could see was a pale strip of his throat.
For a moment, she completely forgot what her entire objective was. He had to tip his head down to look at her, and she had to tip her chin up to look at him. And they just… stood there. She couldn’t see him, but he stared down at her for what seemed like both three seconds and an hour, she wasn’t sure.
How in the hell does one get this distracted by a person wearing a full helmet?
But then he flipped his visor up, and Hermione bit her bottom lip, looking up into silver eyes. Absolutely stunning silver eyes. Blonde lashes, blonde eyebrows. He was a blonde. For some reason knowing he was a blonde dressed head to toe in all black made her grin.
“Hey, Princess,” he said. He had a nice voice. A really nice voice. Still a little muffled, but the open visor made it less so than the others. She wanted him to say more things. Anything.
If she were a cartoon, she’d be twirling one of her curls around her finger, little hearts popping out of her eyes while she cooed, who, me?
Instead, Hermione felt her face go hot, her stomach fluttering as she looked up at him. “Hi,” she said, breathing a nervous laugh. She wasn’t normally so… easily flustered.
She blamed the dress and tiara. And the silver eyes. And the height.
Black helmet put a flower behind her ear (from one of the sidewalk planters), one of his silver eyes winking at her before he stepped to the side, arm extended as if he were guiding her on. Hermione’s brows lifted, another nervous laugh escaping her lips as she –by some miracle– found her wits enough to continue walking. She held his gaze as she passed him, completely and utterly rapt by his entire… self.
“Let’s go, Romeo,” one of his friends shouted, followed by muffled laughter.
Sunday
Did she go to the bakery again on Sunday in hopes of running into her biker in black? Possibly. Would she ever admit to it? When hell froze over.
But Hermione was there, sitting at one of the outside tables, her second coffee sitting next to half a croissant on the table as she leaned back in her chair, reading. She had her feet propped up in the second chair, her ankles crossed.
And she felt like an idiot.
She wasn’t normally like this. At all. She didn’t lose sleep over a stranger, she didn’t walk away from a stupid, playful interaction and obsess about it for the next two days. She didn’t go back to the proverbial scene of the crime and set up what essentially was a fucking stake-out, hoping to create some kind of oh, fancy seeing you here again situation.
This was mad. This was absolutely mad. Pathetic, even. She was too grown for this.
It wasn’t like she had never brought a book to have coffee and a croissant at the bakery before. She’d done it loads of times. But never with an ulterior motive. Not once.
She genuinely liked this little bakery. It was cute, it had the best coffee, the workers were pleasant and didn’t mind if she hung around and read. It was technically her spot, if she were being honest. She could sit there every goddamn day if she pleased. So there.
Even worse than her hanging around waiting for the off-chance of seeing the biker? Motorcycles scared her. The thought of riding something that A) could not balance itself without a kickstand and B) had no safety belts, was absolutely ridiculous to her. Why someone would jump on one of those things was beyond her.
But something happened on Friday that she couldn’t ignore. Maybe it was all in her head, but the way the biker in black looked at her, but not just looked but… looked at her… it had burrowed under her skin. She played his smooth timbre of a voice over and over in her head. Hey, Princess.
Did she bring herself off to that Friday night when she got home to her own flat? That was her business, and her business alone.
Listen, it had been a while since someone had looked at her like that, it had been a while someone had made an impression like that. Hermione wasn’t easily impressed. The biker in black impressed her. During those brief moments, he had completely held her attention. That was impressive.
Harry and Ginny had laughed, in a good-natured way, when she told them about the little group of bikers. Ginny wiggled her eyebrows when she told her about her biker in black, and showed off the pink flower he’d tucked behind her ear.
Because in all honesty at the end of the day, it was just a silly little encounter. It was nothing. The bikers probably all had partners, they were just out and about trying to enjoy a day of riding around, and Hermione was just a funny little story they now had –we saw a girl dressed up like a princess today, it was hilarious! If they even remembered.
Hermione sighed, turning the page, focusing on the words in front of her. She’s read this book too many times to count, so she knows how it goes. It's just the first thing she grabbed from her bookshelf, needing something to occupy her time.
Cars pass by on the street. Birds chirp. A couple groups of people pass on by. It smells like warm bread, and the unmistakable and general London scent. She pushes her wild curls out of her face and closes her eyes, just soaking in the sounds of her surroundings, and the sun.
She should go, right? She should just go home. This was so foolish. Hermione reached for her phone, which sat next to her now cold cup of coffee and checked the time. God, she’d been there for well over an hour. Almost two. Pathetic, indeed.
“Hey, Princess.”
Hermione jumped a little, dropping her phone back on the table. The sun was being blocked by two tall figures. Her biker in black, and the one with the Owl helmet. She hadn’t even heard them pull up. They almost looked like a couple of aliens standing over her like that, ninety-nine percent of their bodies covered up by protective jackets and gloves, pants and heavy motorcycle boots. Just thin strips of skin around their necks exposed. Her biker in black paler than his Owl friend.
Holy shit, her pathetic little stake-out actually worked.
Owl Helmet’s shoulders bounced with a laugh, “A bit jumpy, yeah?”
Biker in Black’s head cocked to the side, she felt his silver eyes watching her heavily, but he didn’t say anything. Hermione cleared her throat, slipping her feet from the other chair so she could sit up better and gather her wits. She was determined not to fumble again. She was fully capable of having a conversation, even if it was a little unnerving that she couldn’t see the faces of the people she was conversing with.
“You’re still trouble,” she smirked at Owl Helmet.
He jabbed a gloved finger to his own chest like he was asking a question.
“Yes, you,” Hermione laughed.
In response, his helmeted head shook in a no, before poking his thumb over to Biker in Black.
Her face warmed, somehow understanding what he was saying. “I believe you.”
Biker in Black knocked his hand against Owl Helmet’s chest, his head gesturing to the side. Owl Helmet raised his hands up in surrender, shoulders bouncing again in laughter before he blew Hermione a kiss and sauntered away towards the bakery entrance. Did they just go about their day to day business with helmets on?
With wide eyes, Hermione watched as Biker in Black crouched down next to her chair, flipping his visor open, revealing those gorgeous silver eyes. “What’re you reading, Princess?”
Why did she like that so much? She bit her bottom lip, heat and butterflies flooding her stomach, as she flipped the book to her chest, showing him the cover of The Great Gatsby.
His eyes narrowed slightly, “I’d thought you’d be more into non-fiction.”
Hermione froze –because honestly? He was right. But… “You don’t even know my name, how could you possibly guess I’d be more into non-fiction?”
His eyes crinkled, showing that he was smiling behind his helmet. She desperately wanted to see that smile, wanted him to take the damn helmet off entirely. “Am I right?”
She huffed, a little annoyed by the slightly muffled smug tone. Slightly annoyed that it charmed her, “That’s hardly the point.”
“That’s entirely the point, isn’t it?”
He’d thought about what kind of books she read. He’d thought about her. Hermione couldn’t help but grin, shaking her head. “Your friend was right.”
“What was Theo right about?” One of his blonde eyebrows rose.
Theo was Owl Helmet. Noted. “You’re the one who’s trouble,” she said.
His eyes crinkled at the edges again, showing his hidden smile. He shrugged, his eyes flitting over her, lingering on her hair, “I see you’re in peasant clothes today, where’s your pretty little crown?”
Another blush. If he kept making her blush like this, her face was likely to catch fire. “Well I can’t just run around in my crown every day, can I? It’s at the castle.”
His hidden smile hadn’t faded. “What’s your name?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but Theo had returned from inside the bakery, to-go cup in one now bare hand, his Helmet secured under his arm. She grinned at him, at his mischievous smirk and messy dark curls. He was handsome, his cup raising to his lips to take a sip of his coffee, dark brows wiggling at her. Little flirt.
“Hermione,” she told her Biker in Black, her eyes meeting his silver ones again.
He repeated her name, nodding his head. She liked how it sounded. “Do you drink other things besides coffee?”
More butterflies in her stomach. Theo was still there, but her attention was solely on silver eyes as she rested her elbow on the table, propping her chin on her fist, “Sometimes.”
He cocked his head to the side, “I think you’re the one who’s trouble.”
She bit her lip, a comfort curling around her shoulders, feeling like she’d known this man for longer than ten minutes. “Sometimes,” she said again.
“I like her,” Theo piped up, his voice clear now –warm and playful, his boot knocking against her Biker in Black’s hip –she still didn't know his name. She should ask, it was only fair.
“Too bad, she’s going to meet me for a drink Thursday.”
Hermione’s brows rose as she laughed, distracting her from asking his name. “Am I?”
Biker in Black nodded as he rose to his full height again, one of his hands working to remove the other hand’s glove, “Can you open your phone for me, Princess?”
Quite confident in himself, wasn’t he? Hermione shrugged, barely processing that she was actually going through with this —well, she had quite literally set herself up. She unlocked her phone and passed it to the Biker in Black.
His hands –or hand, because he had only ungloved the one– was rather nice. Long fingers to go with his height. Strong. The pads of his fingers slightly calloused as they brushed against her skin when he took her phone. Warm.
While he typed away on her phone, Theo asked her, “Have you ever ridden before?”
Hermione shook her head, “Motorcycles make me nervous.”
“That’s a shame,” Theo grinned, “You’d be a pretty backpack.”
“Excuse me?” Hermione’s eyes went wide. What the hell did that mean?
“Knock it off,” Biker in Black handed her phone back to her while he elbowed his friend hard enough to make Theo grunt and laugh before he took another sip of his coffee. “I’ll see you Thursday.”
Would he? Hermione bit her lip, setting her phone back on the table, then gasped when the Biker in Black reached for her hand with his still bare one, his fingers curling gently around her as he bent at the waist, bringing her hand to his hemet as if to kiss the backs of her knuckles. And for some reason that got her blood rushing straight to her cheeks.
How was that so intimate? Her skin pressed against the smooth texture of his shiny helmet, and yet it felt like he’d actually pressed his lips to her skin, his silver eyes locked on hers.
“I’ll text you,” he said, gently releasing her hand. She didn’t want him to let go of her.
She wanted to ask for his name, but her mouth wouldn’t move to form the words. So she just sat there and watched him flip his visor back down, covering his beautiful eyes before he walked away with Theo, back to their respective bikes that were parked at the edge of the sidewalk.
Tuesday
Hermione tapped her pen against the spine of the closed book in front of her, her eyes wandering around the bookshop. It was a slow day, and working in a small bookshop meant that slow days were especially slow.
The shop was old, and a little cramped, but she had been patroning it since she was younger. And though she didn’t want to work there forever, for now it was exactly what she needed. The shop felt like a warm and cozy hug.
She took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of old pages and bindings, a soft smile stretching over her lips when she saw one of her favorite regulars walk through the front door of the shop, a soft jingle of a bell signaling her arrival.
Mrs. Jones bought just one book every time she stopped in –and she stopped in at least three times a week. The woman was an avid reader and collector. She preferred true crime and romance, and the occasional biography. Hermione guessed that maybe she was in her fifties, but she wasn’t especially good at guessing ages off the bat like that.
With a small wave, Mrs. Jones did as she always had –making her way up and down the aisles, plucking novels out to read the summary, then putting it back. Mrs. Jones was quite selective, and rarely strayed from her preferred topics. But that didn’t mean she didn’t at least indulge her curiosities on the way.
Hermione’s phone dinged, making her jump a little from the sudden noise. She checked it and frowned for just a moment, not immediately recognizing the name… until she did, and everything came flooding back. Her Biker in Black –Draco– finally texted her, like he said he would.
Draco 🏍️ (10:21): You’ve read Into the Wild, right?
She had the option to wait a bit before answering, but she didn’t.
Normally she would. But she didn’t want to.
Hermione (10:22): I have, yes. Why?
Draco 🏍️ (10:25): Curious. I can never decide if he was an idiot or brave.
She smiled at that, wondering what he was doing while texting, where he was. And why, of all things, would he open up with talking about Into the Wild. Did he primarily read non-fiction too?
Hermione (10:26): I think he was a bit of both.
Someone else walked into the shop, the gentle bell distracting her. She greeted the old man, giving him a little wave. He asked where the travel section was, then made his way there after she pointed it out. Her phone dinged again.
Draco 🏍️ (10:30): Have you ever wanted to run away?
She paused, a little taken aback by the question.
Hermione (10:31): Once, yes. But I stayed… have you wanted to?
Draco 🏍️ (10:32): It’s all I think about sometimes.
Hermione (10:34): How come?
Draco 🏍️ (10:36): Family. Why did you want to run away?
She exhaled long, her cheeks puffing out. What a loaded question.
Hermione (10:37): Family.
That was the easiest answer. She knew immediately that Draco had held back paragraphs worth of a tragic answer, much like she did. One simple word was better than the whole ordeal; she understood that.
Draco 🏍️ (10:42): So you’re scared of bikes?
Hermione (10:43): They’re a little intimidating lol… no seatbelt, very fast, no stability.
Draco 🏍️ (10:43): They can be dangerous, of course.
Draco 🏍️ (10:44): I’d keep you safe though.
And somehow she absolutely believed that. Maybe she shouldn’t –she didn’t know Draco at all, she’d only properly met him the one time. She still hadn’t seen his face other than his eyes. But she believed him.
It was probably stupid of her. Not even probably, it was stupid of her.
Draco 🏍️ (10:44): I wouldn't be reckless with a backpack.
Hermione (10:46): What does that mean? Your friend said it too –backpack.
Draco 🏍️ (10:47): lol it’s just a term for a passenger, Princess.
She almost groaned in frustration at the butterflies flitting around her stomach. That damned name again. It got her every time, and now even though text? To be fair, no one had ever called her a fucking Princess before, she hardly embodied the term.
Sure, the first time Draco saw her she was dressed as one, but even after learning her name and seeing her in her regular clothes (simple jeans and t-shirt; her usual trainers), he still called her that. Princess. She wanted to hate how it made her blush and smile.
She wanted to hate how good it felt, when her brain wanted to tell her it was silly and possibly demeaning –it didn’t sound demeaning when he said it though. Not in the least. He said it like how partners say baby or love.
And she had always quite liked being called baby or love by her partners. With a sigh, she just… went with it.
Hermione (10:49): So… I’d be your backpack?
Draco 🏍️ (10:52): If you want, one day. No pressure if you’re nervous about it, I have a car.
One day? So he was already planning on beyond having a drink with her? She rolled her eyes, damning her mouth for smiling.
Hermione (10:54): I’ll think about it. No promises.
Hermione (10:54): Do you wear your helmet while you drive your car too?
Draco 🏍️ (10:55): Obviously. Those things are a death trap.
She covered her mouth, stifling her laugh.
Hermione (10:56): Funny. Do you ever take it off?
Draco 🏍️ (10:59): Sometimes :)
Hermione (11:01): I’m just saying, it seems difficult to have a drink with a full helmet on lol
Draco 🏍️ (11:02): So you ARE meeting me Thursday?
Mrs. Jones came to the counter, and Hermione made quick work of cashing her out, not even bothering to look at the title before scanning, running her card, and then throwing the book into a bag. “Have a good day Mrs. Jones!”
Hermione (11:05): I thought you already established that?
Draco 🏍️ (11:06): I did.
Draco 🏍️ (11:06): But I like to have confirmation.
Hermione (11:08): Where am I meeting you on Thursday?
Draco 🏍 (11:09): It’s a yes then? Use your words, Princess. Remember, I like confirmation.
“Yeah, you’re trouble alright,” Hermione whispered, her stomach flipping. She was suddenly very glad he wasn’t standing right in front of her watching her squirm.
Hermione (11:10): Yes, I'm meeting you Thursday.
Wednesday
“You’re really going out with him?”
Ginny stopped by the bookshop on her lunch break sometimes, like right now. It was the perfect time for a little chat away from the kids and Harry. Just the girls.
She leaned her elbows on the counter, her head shaking in wonder, “Hermione, you don’t even know the guy –you met him literally on the street.”
And she hadn’t even seen his face yet, Hermione reminded herself. She didn’t say it out loud, Ginny would have a fit. Instead she shrugged and nodded, “I’m really going out with him. And we’ve been texting, it’s not like I haven’t gotten to know anything about him.”
“You’re braver than me,” Ginny exhaled, looking doubtful. “I’ve just never seen you impulsive like this. But… make sure you let me and Harry know where you’re going, yeah? And I’ll do you a favor and I won’t tell Ron you’re going out with a strange man who rides a motorcycle.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron. She considered him one of her closest friends, of course. But he’d always been a bit not-so-secretly in love with her. He got protective, and sometimes overstepped. “I’m sure Harry will.”
“Probably,” Ginny nodded, wincing.
Hermione’s phone dinged. Ginny smirked at her while Hermione curled her fists tightly in her lap behind the counter, not wanting to seem too eager. Her phone was on the counter right between them, Draco’s name popping up. So the stand-off ensued. Her phone dinged again; Ginny’s smirk just wider.
“Aren’t you going to check that?” She teased. “You’re blushing already.”
“You stop it,” Hermione tutted. Another minute ticked by.
Ginny laughed, “Oh for fuck’s sake Hermione, I’m curious too –come on!”
Hermione grinned, snatching up her phone and opening the text. Her grin only got wider, seeing a picture of Draco’s three friends suited up, helmets on. Theo was doing a dramatic “strong man” pose next to Blaise, (black and gold helmet) who had his arms crossed with head cocked to the side, next to Adrian (gray helmet) who looked like he was squaring up for a boxing match. They were in a parking garage, bikes in the background.
Draco 🏍️ (2:12): The boys say hi.
She turned her phone to show Ginny, “His friends say hi.”
“I see that,” she laughed, her eyes rolling. “Very cute.”
Hermione (2:15): My friend Ginny said “very cute”.
Hermione (2:15): Also tell them I said hi back.
Draco 🏍️ (2:16): Theo’s asking if Ginny is as hot as you are. I told him it was impossible.
“Oh you’ve got it bad. Your face is so red!” Ginny cackled. She came around the counter to give Hermione a tight hug, “I’ve got to head back to work, I’ll leave you to your biker boy. Please remember to let me know where you’re going with him, alright? And no bookbagging on the first date!”
“Yes mum,” Hermione snorted, eyes rolling. “And it’s backpacking.”
Ginny waved it off as she headed out the door, “Same difference.”
Hermione (2:17): Ginny’s way hotter. But she’s married & has kids.
Draco 🏍️ (2:18): Theo likes hot mums.
Draco 🏍️ (2:18): And there’s no one hotter than you.
He was really laying it on thick today. Hermione bit back an embarrassed groan, giving a quick wave to a couple walking into the shop. She didn’t even know what to say to that!
Hermione (2:19): You’re trouble.
Draco 🏍️ (2:21): How so?
Hermione (2:22): You know exactly how so.
Draco 🏍️ (2:23): Maybe. But you know I like it when you use your words… Princess.
Hermione set her phone face-down on the counter and took a deep breath. He knew exactly what he was doing, the cheeky bastard. She’d only been texting with the man for a couple days and he had already been making her blush and squirm like a damn virgin, like she had never flirted a day in her life.
She liked Draco. They’d been texting about books, and places he liked to ride his motorcycle with his friends. They talked about movies and shows on the telly. His favorite movie was Blade Runner (the original), but he had a bit of a soft spot for The Sound of Music (she was sworn to secrecy about that –the boys didn’t know).
Draco flirted, but he wasn’t vulgar. He slid his fingers close to the edge of decency without tearing on right through to raunch. He made certain things clear without being crass –it was in a I’m very attracted to you and I’m trying to tell you who I am, what I’m like, should things progress, sort of way. As an adult, she appreciated that, if she were honest.
There was a possible connection between them. She… wanted to connect.
He didn’t try to ‘sext’ her, he wasn’t looking for topless photos, or made her uncomfortable (blushing and squirming with nerves was different than discomfort). Hermione understood who he was when it came to intimacy, in a sense. She had a good idea, anyway. She definitely wasn’t complaining. It… complimented her.
After clearing her throat and straightening up in her seat, she picked her phone back up to use her words.
Hermione (2:26): You make me blush when you say things like that.
Hermione (2:26): And when you call me Princess.
There. She said it. She brought it up. “Oh god,” she groaned, biting back a cringe at herself.
Draco 🏍️ (2:27): You look good when you blush for me. I remember. It’s very sexy.
Draco 🏍️ (2:27): Do you want me to stop calling you Princess?
She’d never been more thankful for a customer in her whole life, needing another breather. A middle aged man brought up copies of The Stranger, Frankenstein, and Slaughterhouse Five.
Hermione scanned the books and ran his card, and then carefully bagging everything up, unlike when she had all but tossed Mrs. Jones’ book into a paper bag and nearly shoved it at her, like an absolute idiot.
Hermione (2:31): No one has ever called me that before.
Wait! Her words.
Hermione (2:31): But… I seem to like it. So no, don’t stop :)
Hermione (2:31): I just get a little flustered tbh.
Draco 🏍️ (2:32): Flustered, huh?
Draco 🏍️ (2:32): I like that. I can work with flustered.