Bathwater

Losing to the Muggle-Born

Hermione was hiding behind an armchair in the Malfoys' drawing room, her lungs desperately pulling in air. She brought her knees up, keeping her feet out of sight. Holding in her breath now so she would not be heard, she peeked around the furniture. 

Draco was standing still, narrowed silver eyes scouting for her. 

She pushed herself back against the chair when he blinked in her direction. For a moment, she thought he had seen her, but she heard him turn, looking somewhere else. In the second it took Draco to look away, Hermione pushed herself back up to her feet, climbed on the chair, and then lunged.

"Give up," she said in his ear as they tumbled down. Her hands were on his back, pushing him onto the carpeted floor, keeping him in place. "It's over. You've lost."

Draco managed to free his right hand from under him; he reached behind, gripping her hip and startled her. It allowed him the opportunity to flip them over, her back now against the floor and his legs on each side of her. 

"Malfoys never lose," he said against the crook of her neck, stealing the last bit of oxygen Hermione had left to power her lungs. 

His eyes fluttered to her mouth when her lips parted. Hermione felt Draco lose his breath, too. It gave her enough time to bring her left knee in, loosening his straddle on the tops of her thighs. He tried to grab the right, but Hermione had been quick. 

They fumbled a third time, bringing Hermione back to the top, her body pinning Draco down. "Wrong," she breathed. "Wrong, Draco Malfoy. The Light Side always wins."

He pulled himself up on his elbows, a smirk slowly coming to life. "Is that so?"

"You know so," Hermione told him confidently, but the edges of it started fraying when his nose was now touching hers. Again, her lips parted and his eyes were drawn to the action. This time, however, both of them were holding in their breath. 

This time both started leaning in—

"Mine!" Something hit the side of Draco's head, forcing himself to look away from the gold glittering in Hermione's eyes. 

Teddy Lupin was standing before them, grinning wide, just before he bent and retrieved the snitch from the floor. 

"I was going to say the same thing—about the snitch, I mean," Draco cleared his throat, nudging to the winged ball in the boy's hands. Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Well, it is mine."

"Like you need this snitch," Hermione told him with a scoff, pulling herself (if reluctantly) off from Draco's lap. "You didn't even know you had it until we went into your treehouse."

Draco could still feel the press of her body against his, her breath against his skin, but somehow he still managed to stand, too. There was an expression on his face that had no traces of the hunger and disappointment he had felt over their moment ending abruptly as it did.  "Not the point, Granger."

"All right then, take the snitch from him."

"Of course not. It's Teddy's now. He caught it." Draco saw Hermione kicking him before it actually happened. Still, he laughed when the tip of her shoe collided with his calf. "He's going to make a good Seeker one day. Aren't you, kid?"

Teddy only grinned, releasing the snitch. His gray eyes tracked every slow movement the snitch made; Hermione had enchanted it, decreasing its speed and altitude so the little boy had a fair enough chance to physically catch it without getting on the death trap that was a toy broomstick (no matter how much Draco assured his was top of the line and very safe for toddlers). With Teddy as Seeker, Hermione and Draco filled in the other positions as they ran and hid throughout the bottom level of Malfoy Manor in their lousy rendition of a quidditch game.