Right, so first, let me say that having 100 people finding what I write interesting enough to choose to follow this story really makes me happy beyond words! I never would have expected that and to me this is a really big deal, so thank you!
Now, onwards with the story!
The unreasonably bright sunrays shined into Draco's bedroom the next morning and woke him from his drunken slumber. Even before he opened his eyes he deduced there must have been actual lead inside his head, because it ached mercilessly. As he slowly became more and more conscious he felt he was hugging a lump in his arms. Carefully, not to cause more trauma to his already sensitive head, he peered with one eye at the lump.
It was a pillow.
He was hugging a fucking pillow.
Why?
Annoyed, and somewhat confused, he sighed deeply. And it then became quite obvious why he was clinging to it. The pillow smelled like her.
A little disoriented he tried to recall the events of last night.
Dinner. There was a dinner. They went on a friend-date at that Spanish place.
And there was sangria. Lots and lots and lots of sangria.
Guess that solves the mystery of the inexplicable headache, then.
They'd danced. And laughed. He remembered laughing.
And back home they'd talked. It had been about something important. About… them? Yeah, probably. But what had they said? He couldn't remember exactly but he had a feeling lingering in the pit of his stomach from last night. Or two feelings, rather.
One was happy, that one was easy to identify.
But the other one… What was that? Some sort of melancholy?
Why? Had he said something stupid? Was she mad at him?
Evidently his memory failed him and he grunted and turned to lie on his back, instantly regretting this swift motion as his head pounded immensely.
As he was lying there, feeling sorry for himself the door to his room slowly opened and Hermione, wearing one of his white t-shirts and a pair of black lace knickers, looking just as dreadful as he felt, walked in. With a loud grunt she plopped face-down onto his bed. From this position he could clearly see she wore a thong, as the shirt wasn't long enough to cover her bum when she lie down with her arms over her head. He took a moment to admire her perfectly sculptured round arse.
"Morning, Granger." he greeted in a hoarse voice. "You look like they just dragged your body out of a river."
"No, you're wrong. I look like a renounced rockstar who just OD'ed in their claw foot bathtub." she grunted into his pillow.
Draco chuckled and turned to lie on his side, facing her.
"I think I'm dying, Malfoy. I seriously think I'm dying." Her muffled voice was barely audibly.
"Yeah, I don't remember being hangover as this awful. Is this what getting old is like?" he whined.
Hermione crawled under his blanket, shifted to a fetal position facing him and said in the measliest voice, "Please play with my hair while I feel sorry for myself."
He obliged, and gladly so.
Since she sought him out like this, in his bed, begging for physical contact he couldn't have said anything too stupid last night, right?
Gently he ran his fingers through her hair, "We must have successfully drank all the alcohol in London last night."
"Yeah, my whole body has dry mouth." she whined. "I'm never drinking again."
"Too bad, because we're having drinks tonight to celebrate Weaslett's birthday, remember?" His fingers travelled along her hair and down her back, making Hermione shiver with pleasure.
She scooted closer and nuzzled her head in his neck, "I think I'm sick and can't make it. Maybe I should just stay here the whole day."
"You're not sick, you dirty skiver." he smirked. "But I do agree staying in bed tops the list of things I want to do today."
He continued stroking her hair, arms and back and she continued making small noises of contentment, as she pressed closer to his body.
One by one, bits and pieces from the night before came back to him.
He'd told her he was in love with her. Even though it had been terrifying it had felt good finally saying it. And she hadn't seemed spooked by it.
In fact; she'd told him he was the reason her love life wasn't somehow all she wanted it to be. What had she really meant by that? Was his feelings returned? She didn't want to talk about it, not yet at least. Was it because she was still seeing Captain Quidditch?
Urgh.
But she'd said they kept things light and breezy, hadn't she?
No matter, Captain Quidditch wasn't his concern; he certainly wasn't the one dating the git.
No, the only thing on his mind at this moment should be the petite witch currently snuggled up against his chest, craving his affection, and somehow, even though suffering terrible symptoms of bottle-ache, still managed to smell incredibly good. He could do that.
Softly, he let his hand glide down her shoulder, arm, waist and finally her hip. Hermione wrapped her arm around his waist, pulling him even closer so they were now lying flush against each other. Gently, as if not to scare her off, he snaked his hand under her t-shirt and ran his fingertips up her spine, then down again.
"Mhmm." She tilted her head slightly upwards, her lips now pressed against his throat sending delightful vibrations through his body.
Too delightful.
He had to bite his lip in order to stifle a moan, but he really shouldn't have bothered since other physical responses weren't so easy to control. Of course the treacherous horn inside his boxer briefs would give him away. Obviously, Hermione had took notice of the certain part of his anatomy stiffening because he felt her smile against his neck.
"Are you turned on right now by any chance, Malfoy?" she teased.
Clearing his throat he simply said, "Either that, or it's a normal dragon dick since I just woke up. But can you honestly blame me?"
"You mean I have this effect on you?" Her smile grew wider.
"Of course you do." He rolled his eyes. "But I think you already suspected that, you just wanted me to say it out loud."
Trying to ignore the growing bulge he continued trailing his fingertips along the warm skin on her back. His predicament only grew bigger when she planted a soft kiss on his neck.
He cleared his throat again, "Ehrm. I'm going to get some water. And a hangover potion. Want some?"
"Please." she said, her voice so soft.
He scrambled out of bed, grabbing the first pair of joggers he found that were draped over the back of a chair.
"Right. I'll be back in a jiffy." he mumbled.
"I'll just wait here then." she said.
He nodded and left the room.
Still a bit wobbly, partly from the absence of blood in his brain and partly due to the hangover, Draco stumbled and bounced between the walls as he made his way out to the kitchen. As he was searching the cupboards for the hangover cure he heard the all too familiar sound of someone arriving via the floo.
For the love of Merlin let it be Blaise, my mother, Death or even Harry sodding Potter just don't let it be…
"Malfoy, good morning."
… Oliver bloody Wood. Naturally, Sod's Law and all that…
Draco sighed and turned around, but not before trying to conceal the rather noticeable tent pole in his pants.
"Morning, Wood." he muttered.
"Oh my, you look awfully tired." Oliver at least had the common sense to look empathic, even if he didn't sound it one bit. "You literally look like a corpse."
"Literally? Hm. Nothing gets past you, does it?" Draco mumbled under his breath. "So, how was practice last night?"
"Oh, it went superb. Now we're completely ready for this season." Oliver grinned. "How was your night?"
Draco groaned inwardly. Why did he have to be stupid enough to ask? Oh well, no point in avoiding the inevitable. Captain Quidditch would find out eventually.
"Um, me and Granger went out for dinner, actually. At that Spanish place." he said as he pulled the hangover cure from the cupboard.
"Is that a hangover potion? Must have been a fun night, eh?" Even though Oliver tried his best to conceal it, his voice had a distinct undertone of annoyance.
During the past weeks Oliver hadn't really said so out lout, but Draco knew Oliver didn't like it that Draco and Hermione had made up. Draco could see how their routine greetings, the occasional hug for no reason, the peck on the cheek and the overall intimacy of their friendship bothered Oliver. Perhaps that was why Draco just couldn't resist.
"Oh yeah! It was brilliant! Good food, dancing, lots and lots of sangria…" he said airily.
"Where's Hermione now? Is she awake?" Oliver asked, his jaws clenching a bit.
After fighting an inner battle for about two seconds, the git inside him won,
"She's in my bed, actually."
Oliver's gaze flickered from Draco's ruffled bed hair, to his bare chest, to the joggers he wore barely hanging over his hips, to the two hangover potions he carried. No doubt Captain Quidditch was well on his way jumping to some, not true, but plausible and horrible conclusions.
"Shall I get her for you?" Draco asked, as cool as a cucumber.
When Oliver seemed to have lost his ability to speak Draco turned to leave.
"Hang on!" Oliver said, making Draco stop and turn to face the other man. "Before you do, just tell me."
"Tell you what, Wood?" Draco asked, deciding to play oblivious.
"Did… did you two…?" Oliver did not seem to even want to say it out loud.
"Did we what? Are you asking me if I shagged Granger last night, eh Wood?" Draco narrowed his eyes at Oliver.
Oliver nodded, "Yes. Please, just tell me."
"Oh, Wood." Draco tsked and shook his head and smirked. "Why is it that you consider it necessary to ask me? Don't you trust Hermione would be honest if you asked her?"
"Well. Literally, did you?" Oliver's voice grew steadier and from the corner of his eye Draco saw the other man motioning towards his wand.
Draco dropped his smirk, deciding he'd tormented the poor sod enough, "No. We didn't have sex. We came home, ate churros and went to bed, separately. This morning she came into my room to feel sorry for herself, declaring she was dying from the hangover."
"So you mean to tell me the two of you went on what sounds a lot like a fucking date, got completely legless and now, the next morning, she's in your bed. But literally nothing happened. That seems almost impossible." Oliver frowned.
"Yeah, almost being the key-word here. I'll just go and get her for you." Draco begun walking out of the kitchen, but before he disappeared he made sure to let Oliver hear him mumble, "But it wasn't like I didn't wanted it to."
Chuckling to himself as he head Oliver's sharp intake of air he continued strolling towards his bedroom. When he entered the sight of Hermione lying on his bed with one leg outside of the blanket met him. She really did just have the most brilliant arse, didn't she? He was almost tempted to bite it, but decided against it and sat down on the bed and handed her one of the potions.
"Cheers." he said and downed his own.
She did the same, grimacing at the fowl taste.
"Thank you." She sat aside the flask.
"You're welcome. You should feel better in no time." He then smirked. "In the meantime, Captain Quidditch is in the kitchen, waiting for you."
Hermione made huge eyes at him, "Why?"
"Well, he certainly wasn't here to see me." Draco scoffed. "And also I might have, accidently of course, upset him a tad bit by letting him know you were currently to be found residing in my bed."
"Malfoy, bloody hell! Why would you do that?" she groaned, covering her face with her hands.
"Because it's true? Why is that a problem? You're not here for unsuitable reasons, are you?" he mused.
She didn't need to say it out loud. The dark look she gave him said it for her.
He sat down on the bed next to her,
"Granger, I'm not telling you what to do. But I'm telling you this isn't fair. Not to any of us. I'm in love with you, Captain Quidditch thinks you're dating and that things are going well. What you make of all this, I really don't know. But I reckon you do feel something for me as well. Regardless if you intend to act on it or not, you should talk to him. He's waiting for you."
She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair,
"Can I borrow a pair of pants? I'm not walking out to him undressed like this."
He chuckled contently, pulled off his own joggers and tossed them to her. "I'll just wait here, undressed like this."
"You really are enjoying this, aren't you?" she frowned as she pulled on the pants.
"Immensely so. This is turning out to be the best hangover I've ever had." he smirked.
She gave him the two-fingered salute before she disappeared out of his room.
Very satisfied with how things seemed to work out, Draco lie down on his bed, arms behind his head, and waited. He heard raised voices, but they quickly faded and he strongly suspected Hermione had cast a silencing charm. After about half an hour Hermione reappeared in his doorway, looking tired.
"Did the hangover potion kick in yet?" Draco asked as she plopped down on his bed for the second time that morning.
"Yeah. I'm feeling loads better, thanks." she muttered.
"You still look tired." he said, turning to lie on his side with his head resting on his arm.
"You know, I seem to hear that a lot today. Apparently, I just look like shit today." she said, facing him as well.
"No you don't. You look beautiful." He put a stray lock behind her ear. "How did it go?"
She sighed, "He made it really easy for me. Told me it was either him or you."
"Oh. Sorry." Draco said.
"Don't be." she gave him a small smile. "You're my best friend in the whole world. I'd always pick you."
"I love hearing that." He scooted closer to her and pulled her into his arms.
She wrapped her arms around his waist.
"So, where does this leave us?" he asked into her hair.
"I don't know." She sighed drawing small circles on his back with her finger. "Where do you want this to leave us?"
She looked up at him and as his grey eyes met her amber one's he knew. He was dead sure.
"I know exactly where I want that to leave us. You know I do. But if you're not sure, I'll wait until you are." he said.
"I don't want to lose you. You're my best friend." she nuzzled her nose into his neck.
"And I'll always be. No matter what." He kissed the top of her head.
"Always?"
"Always."
So, things seem to be totally coming up Draco, aren't they?
Let me know your thoughts on the chapter and what might yet to come! You know how I love that! :)
Cheers!