“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Greg shrugged. “You’ve been busy. Besides, it’s not like you’re the first person who has forgotten.”
Hermione sighed at his reply, running a hand through her hair before she moved to sit next to him. “It’s not all right, Greg. I’m supposed to remember these things. What sort of girlfriend am I if I can’t even remember your birthday?”
“The sort that works long hours and has been madly scrambling to complete a research project,” he said with an affectionate smile. Taking her hand, he stroked her palm with his finger, still a bit amazed that she was his girlfriend. After eighteen months, you’d think he would get used to it, but it never failed to surprise him to look over at her and realize she was his. He still had no idea what she saw in him or why someone so brilliant and beautiful was involved with him, but he was definitely happy to have her for as long as she wanted him.
“This is one of those times when you’re not supposed to be so understanding and thoughtful,” she teased softly, leaning her head against his broad shoulder. “You’re supposed to make me feel guilty and earn promises of very naughty acts to make up for my forgetfulness.”
“There’s no reason to feel guilty, Hermione. However, the promise of naughty acts has piqued my interest,” he said huskily. Looking down at her, hazel eyes narrowed. “What did you have in that creative mind of yours?”
“Why, Mister Goyle, what are you insinuating?” she asked primly. “I was merely going to suggest we have a bit of dinner. It is still your birthday, after all, so we can celebrate now even if it is nearly midnight. I brought home some Chinese from Wen’s, all your favorites.”
“Food?” Greg frowned for a moment before smiling. “Sure, a late dinner with you sounds great. It’s a perfect way to end my birthday. All I need is you, anyway.”
“I was going to get you a cake as well, but the bakery was closed,” she continued as she stood up.
“I don’t need a cake,” he said honestly. He’d never celebrated birthdays as a child, his father not bothering with such nonsense and his mum dead before he was five. Last year was the first time he’d ever really done anything, and that had been Hermione’s doing, arranging a party with his friends and even tolerating Draco so he could celebrate his twenty-fifth birthday with everyone he cared about.
“You have to have birthday dessert, Gregory. It’s a rule,” she informed him matter-of-factly.
Before he could stand up, she was straddling him, her hand on his chest pushing him to lean back. “Hermione, what do you think you’re doing?”
She smiled wickedly, her cheeks flushing just enough so he knew she was about to do something daring for her, and he couldn’t remember seeing anything so beautiful as her blushing and aroused. “Well, I said there wasn’t any cake but I didn’t say that I didn’t get you dessert.”
His eyes widened as she unfastened her robe and shrugged it off, leaving her bare save for the words “Happy Birthday, Greg” written in whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Groaning softly, he shifted beneath her before leaning forward and licking the tail of the first G which was perfectly centered around her nipple.
“I, um, have the bottles of toppings in case you’re really hungry for dessert,” she said in a stammering moan as he began to enjoy his present. Her hands gripped his arms as his large body moved to press her against the sofa, careful not to put his weight on her.
Grinning at her, Greg lazily licked her collarbone. He wouldn’t say anything but, if this was his reward every time she got busy with work and forgot something, he wasn’t about to complain. His hand moved down her ribs, sliding behind her and cupping her arse, bringing her closer as he rubbed against her. “I think we’ll need those bottles, love. I’m absolutely ravenous.”
The End