I wrote this for my 1980s song prompt series on tumblr. This was prompted by sleepygrimm and the song is 'Lovesong' by the Cure (1989). It is cross posted on tumblr and ao3. (I'm Dresupi everywhere)
Enjoy!
The sweat was cooling on their skin as he turned towards her, wrapping his arms around her bare waist and nosing through her hair to plant a soft kiss on her temple. Draco felt a flood of warmth flow through his body as her breathing grew slower. Deeper. Almost lulling him to sleep right along with her.
Hermione curved her spine a bit more, pressing her backside against him, slotting his softening member in place as she got more comfortable. "Love you, Draco," she murmured, her lips pouting slightly as she fell asleep.
Draco's heart nearly stopped beating as he turned those words over and over in his mind.
The fog of sleep that had been teasing in the corners of his brain lifted rather suddenly. She loved him?
He supposed it was something he should have seen coming. They'd been spending an awful lot of time together. Except it wasn't awful in the slightest. It was very nearly charming.
It was lovely.
It was passion.
It was casting an umbrella charm and ducking under it to kiss her in the rain. It was shagging her against the wall in his entryway with his trousers around his ankles because if he couldn't wait to get to the bedroom, he certainly couldn't wait to undress. It was ducking under the hem of her gown on the way to the opera because he liked the way she sounded when she was coming. It was raw and real and fun and…
And now she loved him? Why on earth for?
His hand stopped moving. It had been dragging slow trails up and down her thigh. His fingers gliding over her smooth skin without a hitch because if there was a softer place than Hermione's thighs, he didn't know where it was.
It had just been shagging at first. There had been no thoughts of how silky her thighs were at the beginning. It had just been sex. Because she drove him batty. And he drove her batty.
And somehow, against his better judgement and hers, they'd progressed past just shagging and to a real relationship of sorts.
Bloody hell, he'd gotten jealous when she'd gone with Potter and his Missus to the muggle cinema the weekend before. He'd sulked in his flat, chewing on his bottom lip because she hadn't even thought it something he'd be interested in.
And it wasn't! He didn't need to do any muggle activities, thank you very much, Granger. But it wasn't that. It was that she hadn't even thought to include him. He'd automatically been prepared to laugh to himself and beg out. But then she hadn't even asked him. The infuriating woman.
The infuriating, bewitching, utterly beguiling, hopelessly gorgeous woman with whom he might as well admit he was in love before he gave himself an aneurism or earned himself a spot in St. Mungo's for self-argument of the worst kind.
And he hadn't even said it first. She had. In an offhand sort of way. As she was falling asleep. As if it were a given and he wouldn't keep himself up thinking it to death. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. To love him.
The infuriating woman.
He briefly entertained not reciprocating the sentiment. It was true that he had waited a good long while to repeat the words back to her, but knowing Hermione as he did, he knew she'd likely rather him know precisely what he meant to say before just blurting the words back.
He did know her rather well, didn't he?
Draco turned back towards her, his nose itching when a tendril of her hair began to sneak its way up his left nostril. Her hair really was ridiculous, wasn't it?
He used one hand to push it to the side and pressed his face against the side of her neck. It was ridiculous and it was also one of the things he loved about her.
He also loved the two dimples right above her arse. And her lower back, the way it arched when he ran his fingers lightly up her spine. The way she smiled when he said something especially witty. It was this long-suffering sort of look. He'd usually say more and more witty things, trying to make her gaze at him in that way she had.
Was this love? It was so much simpler than he'd been made to believe. If love was just enjoying the presence of another human, why was love such a mystery?
It was honestly the easiest thing he'd ever done. If this was indeed love. If this warmth in his chest that spread out to his fingers was love.
He exhaled slowly, letting out the breath he wasn't even aware he was holding until that moment.
"I love you too, Granger…" he murmured softly.
He was surprised to feel her stir. For her to roll over, covering his face with her hair once more and requiring him to find his way out in order to see and breathe.
She gazed over at him, shaking her head with that long suffering look he so adored.
"You're a right mess, Malfoy," she said. "Took you long enough, didn't it? Thought I was going to die from old age…"
He scoffed and leaned over to kiss her lips. He nuzzled her nose with his, unable to see the freckles that decorated the bridge of it, but knowing they were there all the same. "Old age, is it? You hide it so well, darling."
She made an overly exaggerated retching sound. "Don't start with that nonsense or I'll take it back."
"What nonsense?" he asked, knowing full well what she was referring to.
"That 'darling' nonsense. It doesn't suit you."
"Pookie?" he teased. "My little pumpkin pasty?"
"Draco," she warned.
"Treacle tart."
"I will leave right now."
"My bookish beauty…" he murmured, capturing her lips. The rest of her half-hearted protests were muffled and eventually collapsed into giggles as he kissed his way down her jaw, moving ever lower.
"Again?" she asked, giggling when he dipped his tongue inside her navel.
"Yes… if it's agreeable with you, Granger…"
She hummed, her hands finding the back of his head and pushing him still lower. "Very agreeable."
If you liked it, please consider leaving something nice in the comments? *hearts*