A/N: I own nothing.

Someone asked if I would be doing any of these from Hermione's POV. The answer is yes. I will be doing five from Draco's POV first. Then five from Hermione's. However, they won't cover the same instances (at least I don't think they will), and they will probably take place under a different work scenario.

Draco: Touch

Draco wracked his brain, trying to remember the last time he'd touched Hermione. The only memory he could conjure was over five years ago. Come to think of it, he hadn't even touched her. She'd hit him. Hard.

Brave was a not a word he, or anyone, would ever use to describe himself. Cunning, yes, but never brave. He'd known her for almost a decade, liked her for the last year, worked closely with her these past three months, and all he had to show for it was slap on the face.

But that was about to change.

He'd walked into her office, needing to discuss one of the finer points of some magical law. But Hermione could give him no answer. She was fast asleep at her desk, her head resting in the crook of her elbow. He watched her back rise and fall and suppressed the urge to smile at her quiet snores.

The fantasy of running his fingers through her hair had not abated. Had grown even more elaborate, much to his chagrin. But maybe, maybe if he touched her, saw it was not all he'd built it up to be, he'd be able to let go of the mad ideas he'd had of them being together brought on by that damned Amortentia potion.

Of course, now that he had the opportunity to make it a reality he was afraid—afraid of her waking up, afraid that it wouldn't be enough and he'd go on wanting more.

The fingers of his right hand uncurled then started tingling as the blood rushed back into his palm.

Tentatively, he reached out his hand. One curl in particular caught his eye. He grabbed it between his thumb and forefinger, and gently, so as not to wake her, ran his fingers down its length, stopping only where it ended at the silken skin of her neck. Her hair was neither soft like a Puffskein nor hard as a fire crab; if he had to label it, he would say it was characteristic of a unicorn's mane.

Hermione let out a sigh, and Draco took a step back, pressing his trembling hand against his outer thigh.

At that moment, Hermione half opened one of her eyes.

'Nice of you to join the land of the living,' he said.

She scrunched her brows together, squinting at him as if he were the sun. 'Draco?' She rubbed at her eyes, trying to clear out the haze of sleep. 'What are you doing here?'

'Had a question about the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.'

'Sorry. I can't believe I fell asleep,' she said through a yawn.

'It's late.'

She slowly pushed herself up to a seated position. 'How long have you been waiting for me to wake up?'

'Not long.'

'That's good. What did you need help with again?

'The International-'

'Right! I have a book about it on my shelf.' She held out her hand to him. 'Help me from my seat, would you?'

Draco stepped forward, taking her fingers in his and ignoring the gooseflesh that erupted over his skin.

He'd been right to be afraid. It wasn't enough, and he was beginning to wonder if it would ever be.

A/N: I was trying to think of times D and Hr have actually had any physical contact in the movies or books, and the Buckbeak slap is the only thing that came to mind. I'm happy to be corrected.