Ceremonials

See it on Me, Love

A/N: Just a short little scene some time after their engagement in chapter 47. It is entirely Flyora.art's fault as she threw artwork  at me today and I lost my damn mind. Go look at it and cry, I did: flyora . tumblr . com

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Most days, it didn't bother Hermione when people openly admired Draco at the cafe. She'd grown accustomed to the overt, lusting glances he received, and could hardly blame anyone for looking at the man.

Those bloody suits.

But since their engagement, an uncomfortable, burning possessiveness made her want to jinx the word "fiancé" across his face.

Which was silly and immature, but the knowledge that she removed those suits most evenings helped her squash that petty thought.

Hermione could roll her eyes at giggly baristas, or chuckle under her breath at wide-eyed schoolgirls, but the brazen young woman waiting right behind Draco in the queue this morning had given him more than just an appreciative once-over.

She leaned forward, touched his arm, and said something with a coquettish smile.

Draco nodded once and delivered a curt reply before turning away.

The woman tapped his elbow again.

Draco bestowed another curt reply coupled with a shake of his head.

Hermione hated her own reaction: seething silently at their table about how she couldn't get a wedding ring on that man's finger fast enough. Gods, what was wrong with her?

When he slid Hermione's tea over and sat down, she waited for an explanation. Instead, Draco sipped his coffee and opened one of his recent scouting reports.

It took barely thirty seconds for Hermione's curiosity to get the better of her.

"What did that woman say to you?"

"Hmm?"

"The woman behind you in the queue. You were chatting with her."

"I wasn't chatting with her."

"You were."

"It was hardly a conversation. She complimented my hair."

"And what did you say?"

"I said 'thank you.'"

"What else did she ask you?"

"If she could buy me a cup of coffee."

"And what did you say?"

"I said 'no, thank you.'"

"You didn't tell her you were engaged?"

"Why would I?"

"Because she was chatting you up, obviously."

He scowled. "I don't see why a stranger is entitled to personal information."

Hermione frowned when she noticed the woman sitting across the cafe, still staring at Draco.

Draco, who had his head buried in a scouting report, attention captured by Keeping statistics, without a care for Hermione's impending loss of sanity.

"She's still ogling you," hissed Hermione.

"Are you that jealous?"

"I'm not," she denied sharply.

Draco set down his report and leaned forward on his elbows.

"Come here."

He reached over and brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. Smugness reigned in his glinting eyes and upturned lips. The fingers sliding through to her curls felt reassuring, even if his amused expression was at her expense.

"You are a horrible liar," he murmured. "You're so jealous you're seconds away from hexing her."

Hermione bristled and shot back, "And if the roles were reversed and you had to watch a random man try and pick me up?"

His eyes flashed.

Hypocrite.

"Thought so," she said triumphantly. "So, she likes your hair does she?"

Hermione carded her fingers through it before tightening her grip on a fistful. Just the way she had last night with his head between her thighs and his name reverberating around her bedroom. "I happen to like it too," she whispered.

She couldn't resist flicking her gaze to the other woman, who suddenly seemed very interested in her own drink.

"Darling," Draco called her attention back, "not only are we being disgusting in public, but if you ever smirk like that again, I'm apparating us back to bed."

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