ParchmentProse
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"I’m not stupid enough to waltz into the castle all . . .” Hermione waved her hand in the air.
Draco plucked the teacup out of the air and held it to his quirked lips without taking a sip “All . . .?”
“On display,” she said primly. “My neck. I’ll cover it.”
Draco’s eyes heated as they locked on hers, and she had visions of his hand on the small of her back as he bent her over the desk. They hadn’t gone that far—they wouldn’t go that far. She knew it was wrong, the way she kept finding herself tangled with him in dark alleys and empty elevators.
“Fortunately, it’s not up to you. I’ll pick you up at midnight.”
“Malfoy—” she started, but she couldn’t quite find the end of that sentence. She thought that she meant to tell him that nothing was going to happen this weekend, that they had to stop whatever it was they started a month ago, but her throat closed around the words as she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip.
He dropped the heavy book on her desk with a loud thud. “Study up and steady on, Granger. I don’t bite.” His head bent until his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. “Hard.”
OR
Draco is assigned to Hermione's protective detail at the Vampire Ball.