Tied up by a little minx

8:30pm sharp.

H was pacing back and forth. It was 8:25 and he'd be here any minute. She didn't know what to do with herself. Should she sit, and keep herself occupied until he came? Should she give her small apartment a once-over again? Should she let her cats out, they shouldn't be here to witness.... well witness what they'd be doing.

She checked off all the things in her mind. Clean sheets? Check. Scrubbed the toilet? Check. Is her outfit "casual" enough but also alluring? Check.

As soon as she walked through the door from work, her gut clenched. What the fuck has she gotten herself into? She's fucking her boss?? What would her friends say about this?

What if her colleagues found out. That would be torture. She'd have to quit, remove herself from the wizarding world, start over again with a new name.

No. Shut the f up, H.

As she once again started pacing back and forth, twisting her hands in anxiety. Debating if she should cancel this evening's plans.

A sound knock on her door pops her bubble. Too late to cancel now.

In fake confidence, she strides over and opens the door. Drowning in the image of D Malfoy, turning around and locking eyes with hers. He gives her a warm smile, knocking the butterfly's from her stomach.

"Granger," he says in a smooth voice, holding up a bag of takeaway and a bottle of some very expensive wine. "Are you going to let me in?"

H jolts back into action and stands to the side to give room for him to squeeze past. Taking a deep breath, she realised that he'd stripped from his very formal suit, into a casual outfit much like hers. Skinny jeans and a well fitting shirt.

H follows him into her living room, which connects to her kitchen. D places the takeaway on her counter and turns around to look at her. H never imagined that she'd see D looking as awkward as he is now.

"So... nice place you have here," D swallowed, looking around, not knowing what to do.

"Thanks, I moved here a few months ago..." h looked down to her shoes, spiting herself for how boring she sounded.

As if noticing her uncomfortableness, and the awkward atmosphere surrounding them, he held up the bottle of wine.

"I guessed you'd like Red?"

H looked up at this, giving a cheeky smile.
"Actually, I prefer white" she casually explained, "but I guess this must do" she fake sighed.

D chuckled to himself.
"Well, how about you pour us some wine and I'll plate up the food," he suggested, "where the dishes?"

______________
Sitting in front of the TV, that D never really knew how to work but wondered at the muggle invention.
Their finished meals sitting on the coffee table in front of them, with their glasses of wine in their hands.

H decided that getting a tad tipsy couldn't hurt, just to lighten her mood. The TV was forgotten about, as they laughed their way through stories.

"So, when I worked in the muggle world part time, this guy named Greg came u-"

"Greg?! Who the fuck names their child Greg?" D intruded.

"What's wrong with the name Greg!" Slapping D on his chest.

Cheekily, he grasped H's wrist and kept it to his chest, plastering a big smile that reflected hers.
"What's wrong with the name Greg!? Bloody hell, Hermione, it's social suicide to be named Greg!" He bellowed.