"Hermione!" Little Lucy knocked gently on Hermione's bedroom door, "I have something for you!"
The eighth year Slytherin dungeons had proven very accommodating. After her conversation with Professor McGonagall last month, Hermione had walked straight back to her commons. Already, there were two more doors off the small sitting room, one for Hermione and one for Lucy. Hermione had arrived just in time to watch Professor Slughorn levitate her chest out of Draco's room and across the room to one of the new rooms, situated just beside the fireplace. Hermione had blushed a furious red; not only did McGonagall know, but now Slughorn as well? And Hermione would bet Slughorn did not assume Draco had slept on the couch. Theo and Blaise were distracting Lucy from earlier events with a game of Exploding Snap; all three were still in their Quidditch robes. Draco, having stripped himself of his heavier robes, watched the trunk float with a steely glint to his eyes.
Hermione's room was as soft as the Slytherins' rooms were hard. The dungeon seemed to disallow her favorite shade of Gryffindor crimson, just one of the many quirks of the castle she supposed. Instead, the walls were a soft gold, like the morning sun. There was a large bay window on the far wall, appearing to open to view the lake's surface and mountains beyond. The floor was a dark hardwood, but her bed and the walls' trimming were pure white. The bed was draped in sheer white curtains to match her new bedding. She would sooner expect to see this room in Hufflepuff than in the Slytherin dungeons. But she appreciated the warmth the coloring and, she suspected, brought back to her life. The Slytherins had kept her together, but she missed the kindness and openness of her Gryffindors. Getting a straight answer out of Draco Malfoy was about as difficult as riding the Ukrainian Ironbelly out of Gringotts.
"Yes, Lucy?" Hermione had her wet hair piled high onto her head in a messy bun. She stared at her new armoire, but for the life of her could not find a single thing to wear. Only Slughorn would invite students to his formal Christmas party the night before. The little girl set a large, flat box on Hermione's bed and jumped on beside it, "I helped pick it out! Open it! Open it!"
Hermione often forgot how young eleven really was. By Lucy's age, Hermione was already helping her friends defeat a Dark Lord. Lucy, who had grown up in the belly of the beast, finally had a chance to live her childhood and live it she did. The Head Girl smiled at Lucy and sat on the other side of the box, indulgently peeling off the cover.
Inside lay a simple green dress. Hermione lifted the dress by its shoulders. It was long-sleeved and velvet. The sleeves and the chest were a light green, but the column skirt was a much darker shade that cinched with a gold bar just below her breasts. There was a plunging back, stopping at the crest of her bottom. "Lucy where did you get this?" How much did you spend on it? The dress might be simple, but the fabric screamed old money.
"Doesn't matter! Put it on." She jumped up and ran from the room.
xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox
He hoped she liked it. Draco tightened his tie around his neck, wringing it into submission. He laughed to himself. If only Lucius could see him now: primping to pick up Hermione Granger for a party.
Lulu didn't even bother knocking. She skipped into his room smiling, "You're going to absolutely love it."
"Did she like it?" Draco met the girl's eyes in the mirror. She nodded, a mischievous glint to her expression. He decided not to acknowledge it. Watching the young girl, something on his desk caught his eye. The silver dragon, usually sprawled into a crawl, was curled into a ball, snoozing away. "Lucy, did you touch that dragon?" Lucy shook her head, her curls bouncing. She reached out a hand to touch the figurine. Its eyes snapped open, startling her. Bright red rubies. Never had a Malfoy dragon opened his eyes to reveal rubies. Emeralds, definitely. Sapphires, sure. Diamonds, occasionally. Never rubies. Only one Gryffindor had been close enough to the dragon to even possibly trigger it. And he had to meet her in five minutes. That was something to deal with later, but certainly before June 5.
"Alright, Lulu." Draco spoke softly to Lucy as she sat on his bed, staring down the dragon, "Hermione and I will be back late tonight. I want you to stay down here. I'm going to cast wards preventing anyone from entering. Just as a precaution. Try not to stay up too late."
"Draco," The preteen rolled her eyes, "You aren't my dad." Thank Merlin for that. "Go get your girlyfriend it's almost seven." Draco chucked at Lulu's new epithet for Hermione, she had been using it since they had agreed to go to Slughorn's party together.
"Ya ok, Lulu. Better cut back on those foolish romances."
Lucy followed Draco from his room, wished him a good night and locked herself away in her own room. As he lowered himself into the chaise lounge before the small Slytherin fireplace, Draco couldn't help but shake his head. Hermione Granger? His "girlyfriend?" Ha! Hermione Granger was the girl wonder of the Wizarding World. She, along with the other bumbling two-thirds of the golden trio, was as close to royalty as their community had. Her with him? Draco chuckled ruefully, but a small voice in the back of his head muttered, rubies. Before he could pursue that thought further, he froze.
Hermione had decided to emerge from her room at that moment. His breath caught as she fiddled with her hands in front of her, her eyes focused on said hands, clearly uncertain in the borrowed dress. The dark green accentuated the sharp contrast between her paleness of her skin and the darkness of her hair and eyes. The column cut stretched her small figure a few inches taller. She looked stately, regal, like the royalty the Daily Prophet had proclaimed her. If the Malfoys hadn't had blonde hair and grey eyes for centuries, Draco would have said she looked like one of them with such an aura, but alas, her coloring was more akin to the Blacks. Draco stood from his perch, catching her attention. She raised her chin just high enough to meet his gaze. She blinked once, twice, and then the fire that was Hermione Granger, war heroine, appeared. The set of her jaw became defiant, the glint in her eyes swelled, her head tilted further in an attempt to make her seem taller. She was not a Malfoy nor a Black nor any other mindless society woman. Draco would be foolish to think otherwise.
"Did you buy this dress?" She accused, "I'll have you know, Malfoy, I can afford my own clothing! I don't need your charity. I was just about to start transfiguring a sundress when Lucy brought this in and since Lucy brought it I couldn't decline it an-"
Draco cut her off by placing a single finger against her lips. She pursed them in a way that made heat coil in his stomach. "Granger, sweetheart," Draco murmured, "You're rambling." He chuckled as her pout grew more pronounced. Not only had he cut off her rant, but he had used one of his sarcastic nicknames for her. She hated that, "I didn't buy you a thing. It's an old dress of my mother's from before she became a Malfoy. She wears it in all sorts of pictures and portraits – which considering the society she grew up in, the repetition meant a lot." Hermione's brow creased, "I found it in her old school trunk while cleaning out the Manor's basements."
"You mean the dungeons?" She quipped from behind his still raised finger. The fire was still burning in her chocolate eye and she wanted her displeasure noted.
"No, I don't mean the dungeon," he toyed, lowering his finger and wrapping his arm around her waist to begin the trip to Slughorn's party, "I had the dungeons removed as soon as Lucius was locked away and I had the power to do so." Hermione nodded, letting the information sink through her hair, wild despite being pulled back into an elaborately braided chignon at the base of her neck.
"Either way, I'm certain your mother would be appalled by my kind disgracing her favorite dress."
"And I'm certain she would be honored." If Hermione didn't know better, she would have thought Draco pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. Regardless, Hermione settled easily into Draco's side. The boy, recognizing her comfort, pulled her closer. She breathed in the smell of tart chocolate she had come to know as simply Draco. The pair fit together well as they walked, arguing about the merits of dragon blood in potion making.
The night passed easily. Draco even dared to say he had fun. When they arrived, forks dropped as people took in the sight of the Gryffindor clad in green beside the Slytherin with the red tie. "Christmas Colors!" Draco had proclaimed when she commented just after they had left their dorms. Hermione worked almost as hard as Draco to avoid Professor Slughorn, they took turns playing lookout and finding hide outs. Draco found himself laughing easily with this woman and she seemed to laugh back. For just a few hours, she was not one of the World's saviors and he was not the descendent of those who had threatened it.
"Quick!" Hermione whispered forcefully, "Behind here!" Hermione, having seen Slughorn tire of his conversation with Alice Moore, a Hufflepuff, and turn to survey the crowd, pulled Draco behind a light curtain. She chuckled, remembering how Harry had found her in a similar position hiding from McLaggen. Draco cast her a sideways glace, clearly thinking she had finally lost it. She quietly explained, doing her best to phrase it in a manner to make her seem less pathetic.
"You went with McLaggen?" Draco chortled, "He was an utter dunderhead! A genuine dunderhead! Even for a Gryffindor!"
"I'll have you know, I could hardly stand him! That's why I was hiding after all! I brought him to get back at -" Hermione stopped herself. Draco understood.
He hesitated for just a moment, taking stock of the girl beside him. She had meekened with her unfinished sentence and wrapped her arms around her own waist, holding herself together as if she would fall apart otherwise. Draco wrapped his arms over hers and pulled her to his chest. They hadn't been this close since the night of the Halloween Ball. "You're a bit of a dunderhead, too, you know." Hermione's indignant squeak brought a smile to his lips, which broadened when she did not pull away, "I only mean, you need to let him go, 'Mione. He's worthless and certainly didn't deserve you. Leave him to his vapid cow and their spawn." Hermione unwrapped herself from her own embrace. He thought she was about to pull back from him, but instead he felt her wrap her petite arms under his outer robes and around his waist, drawing herself closer.
Hermione had hugged a fair few boys in her nineteen years. Billy Queen in fifth grade when she and her friends had cornered him during recess. Victor Krum back in forth year just before the Durmstrag ship sailed away. Harry and Ron frequently. The older Weasley brothers, too. None of them made her feel the way Draco did. Billy had been awkward. Krum had been overwhelming, being that he was significantly older physically. Harry and the Weasley's had always been brotherly. It was something that had troubled her when her and Ron dated. It was like hugging her brother, kissing her brother. Maybe that's why it was so uncomfortable after the adrenaline of war had died out. Presently, Hermione was not in the arms of these clumsy boys, she was wrapped in the strong embrace of Draco Malfoy.
His arms wrapped around her possessively, but she did not feel objectified, something that had also been a problem with Ron. He rested his chin atop her head comfortingly, allowing her to feel the pulse in his carotid against her forehead, the sound lulling her into a calmer state. He angled his body protectively between her and the curtain so that if it were ripped away no one would see her, but she did not feel cornered. After the incident, Draco had saved her from complete and utter embarrassment. Between their living arrangements and shared classes, the two spent more time together than she had ever with Ron or Harry in a given year. Draco was passionate about Quidditch, just like her other two boys, but he never let it interfere with his school work. He was intelligent. Really intelligent. He might put on a good show in the library or the Slytherin common room fretting over his charms and history of magic, but his marks were always pristine. Sometimes, those marks were better than hers, but that didn't bother her like it had in past years. She was proud of his marks, proud of him. He helped her with potions and defense against the dark arts, she helped him with transfiguration and muggle studies. He showed her each day that he was more than the school yard bully she had once known. It hit her like a train, not only did she trust Draco Malfoy, but she liked Draco Malfoy. But why, what had changed? Was it Stockholm Syndrome taking hold?
"Why are you being so nice to me this year?" Her thoughts slipped through her mouth before she could stop them. If Draco had taken a breath, made the slightest of sounds, he would have missed Hermione's question.
A thousand different reasons flickered through his head. Because you're more pleasant away from the Weasel. Because I'm forever indebted to you. Because I never wanted to be mean to you. Because I've wanted to be your friend since we met. Because I remember every exchange we've ever had. Because my father is finally locked away. Because my mother would like you. Because you make me want to be a better person. Because someone needs to save me. "Because I finally can." He whispered just as quietly as she had asked. A bit louder came the second reason he gave. "Plus, I think I was mean enough to you in our younger years to make up for a few months of kindness." He chuckled softly. She could feel the laughs reverberate through his body. They slowly died off, leaving the pair in silence.
He met her eyes and felt a tug in the pit of his stomach. It felt almost like apparition. The tug grew, traveling up his spine. His head grew hazy and his eyes seemed to only want to focus on Hermione's lips. Her eyes flickered down to her lips. Sarah might have been a nice girl, but Hermione was a nicer girl. She was the nicest girl. So nice that she'd sacrificed her teenaged years to battle evil and save the world. Sarah had remained neutral, but Hermione had fought and she had won. Sarah had pretty waves and dark brown eyes, but Hermione had tumultuous curls that she had finally learned how to tame and expressive chocolate eyes. Sarah was dimwitted, but Hermione, Merlin, Hermione was anything but. Sarah was almost as frail as the previous Malfoy wives, but Hermione had a full figure, despite her petite size. Hermione was kind and brave and loyal and – and perfect. The Malfoy line needed Hermione. He needed Hermione. What a sick twist of fate. His ancestors would roll.
Draco was looking at her oddly. Hermione was beginning to feel uneasy under his molten gaze. She hadn't felt uneasy around him since the second week of classes. His eyes were wholly focused on her face, but they were glassy, he was clearly not seeing her. She played with the hem of his shirt, trying to distract herself from that intense gaze. He blinked once, twice, and then he bent his neck to brush her lips with his. Really just a ghost of a kiss. Hermione stood her ground and Draco brought his lips back to hers, letting them linger this time. Both of their eyes were open, silently staring at each other while they were joined by the lips. It should have been awkward, those tentative, wide eyed, unreciprocated kisses, but they weren't. They had always been awkward with Ron.
When Hermione still did not pull away in disgust, Draco was emboldened. He let his eyes flicker shut and slid one hand up to the base of her neck, keeping the other firmly pressed at the small of her back. Hermione was acutely aware that beyond this thin curtain were a few dozen people, but she decided to not let them worry her and slid her eyes shut as well. She had always slammed her eyes shut with Ron, less uncomfortable when she couldn't see. Now, she was too busy worrying about how tall Draco was, how lean and yet how muscled Draco was, how hard Draco was for her to feel uncomfortable.
She pulled one arm and then the other from around his waist. Draco stiffened, afraid he had lost her. Ever since that fateful night two months ago, Hermione had become a fixture in his life. Had he pushed her too far? Thought of their relationship as more than it was? This was out of nowhere, they had only paired off out of desperation and now he was forcing himself on her. He had to stop this, even if it was the last thing he wanted, even if the dragon's eyes glowed red. He felt the guilt press against the back of his neck. He was about to pull away, but something was holding him there. It wasn't guilt, it was her arms.
Hermione smirked as she felt Draco try to pull away and held him in place as they kissed behind the curtain. Reassured, he took his second chance of the evening and pulled her closer to him. She melted into his chest and snickered when she felt the famous Malfoy smirk dance across his lips, pressed to hers. Her snicker swelled into a chuckle and then to giggles. She broke the kiss to throw her head back in laughter. Draco was panting. Never had a simple kiss knocked the wind from him so abruptly. He arched his eyebrow at her, causing another peel of laughter to rip though the girl. Draco, unhappy she was laughing at him, sucked forcefully on the pulse point on her neck. She gasped and hinged back at her waist, doing her best to give him a reproachful look, but failing miserably as more giggled bubbled through her lips.
"You're going to get us caught, Granger." Draco muttered against her throat, placing butterfly kisses here and there. She responded with a moaned Shuddup, Malfoy as he turned her body and pushed her against a wall, quickly following.
Malfoy ran his tongue lightly over Hermione's lower lip. She granted him access immediately, tugging sharply on the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a quiet moan from the boy. He pushed her harder into the wall, bumping her legs apart to make room for one of his knees. Hermione let his knee prop her up as her own knees began to slacken. His body molded to hers, curling warmly around her form. He tasted like spearmint toothpaste and smelt like raspberry chocolate. It reminded her of home, of safety, of comfort.
Something came over Hermione when Draco's knee grinded against her core. Hermione leaned hard against him, making the blonde step back, and bit down on Draco's bottom lip. Draco growled and slammed Hermione back into the wall. His hands groped her behind and he kneaded her with his knee. When Draco grinded his engorged penis against her thigh, Hermione didn't mind in the slightest. She moaned, which he caught with his lips. "Alright, Granger, we've got to go, you're going to get us caught."
xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox
"Did you see that Hufflepuff freeze when Slughorn cornered him?" Draco chortled.
"He was so committed! He didn't even move when the other two carried him to the Hospital wing!" Hermione laughed.
Draco had led her through passageway after passageway, reaching their dorm in record time. Conversation had flowed easily on their way to their dorms, but as soon as she reached the bottom of the Slytherin stairs, he was on her again. Draco pushed Hermione against the stone wall beside the exit and crashed his lips to hers. They warred for dominance, but Hermione, finally winning, pulled back.
"If Lucy walks out and sees us, she'll be traumatized." Hermione gasped between quiet whimpers as Draco turned his attention to her neck.
She could have sworn she heard his eyes roll in his skull. Nonetheless, he pulled her lips back to his and pulled her into his room, slamming the door shut before pushing her against the piece of wood. His lips never broke from hers, moving with the same fervor as behind the curtain. One hand cupped her bum, the other knotted in her hair as he fought to reclaim control. This was one battle she was ok with losing. She made sure to get the last laugh, though. Feeling emboldened by his kisses, Hermione flicked her fingers and vanished their dress robes. He halted at the skin to skin contact, pulling away from her for the first time.
Hermione instantly regretted her magic. She had never been much to look at. Her chest wasn't that large, and her curves weren't too pronounced. Her stomach was not flat, but the rest of her was still overly bony. Her bum, still clutched in his hands, was not perky and she was amazed Draco had found something to hold onto. She was the dictionary definition of average. Ron used to offhandedly comment about easy spells that could help correct her deficiencies. When she had mentioned how his words hurt her, he had responded with, "Hermione, I'm only trying to help us be happy! I'll perform them if you don't want to." She lowered her chin to the side, suddenly very interested in the baseboard of the wall. Hermione could feel the tears bristle at the back of her eyes.
Draco's hands left her bum. She'd done it now. One hand fell on the slight curve of her hip, the other gently pulled her chin, forcing her to look at him. His smirk grew. And his lips descended on hers. He pulled her with him as he stepped slowly backwards to his bed.
He sat with a thump. She looked down at him, uncertain what to do next. She hadn't been taller than him since second year. He rested his hand on the back of her thigh. Watching her face for any sign of doubt or fear, Draco pulled her leg up to kneel beside his thigh. He paused, still cautious. She looked nervous and uncertain, but not angry or upset or any other emotion that would stop him. He repeated the process with her other leg so that she straddled his lap. Another pause to ensure she was comfortable with this new position and then his lips were on hers once more.
Draco had assumed she was inexperienced. She was the Gryffindor Princess, virginial and pure seemed to go along with that title. Not even the dirtiest of tabloids had questioned the heroine's virtue. If she was, though, Draco couldn't tell. She met him kiss for kiss, moan for moan. Her hands cupped his face, his still held her bottom. He liked her bottom, each cheek just slightly too large to fit in his hand. He took a chance, bit her lower lip and pulled on it. She pulled away to look at him, and abruptly crashed her already-damp panties onto his tented boxers. Draco thought he was going to come right then and there. He was no inexperienced, prepubescent boy, but this woman was something else entirely. The minx.
"You want to play it that way, hm?" Draco's eyebrow arched and Hermione worried she had gone too far. His hands drifted from her behind to her hips and suddenly, she was turning through the air.
Expertly, Draco had flipped her to lay beneath him and somehow managed to rid her of her bra in the process. He latched his lips onto one nipple, kneading the other with his hand. Hermione mewled under him, rocking her hips back and forth against the growing bulge in his boxer shorts. Draco released her breast and returned to her eye level. He let the side of his nose brush against hers, his breathing hard on her cheek.
"Granger," He huffed, "If you're going to start something, you better be willing to finish it."
Hermione blinked. The cloud of lust lifting. Ron had always said the same thing whenever their trysts progressed beyond light snogging. She knew what to do, but she never liked it. Ron had taught her those few times they had been together during their relationship. She knew how to finish that something, but it always hurt. She pushed him away from her and he froze, worried his less-than-serious comment had crossed a line. Hermione flipped over onto her stomach and stuck her bottom into the air.
Never, did Draco think he would give a second thought to an attractive woman sticking her rear in the air for him to take, but he did with Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger didn't just enter such prone positions if she knew any better. She had assumed the position on her own and she looked damn good in it, but her eyes were clenched shut and her hands tensely fisted as if waiting for the pain.
"Hermione?" Draco could hear the uncertainty in his own voice. The girl opened her eyes to look over her shoulder at him and he saw it. He hadn't seen that look in her eyes since their third year: fear, "Have you ever, um -" She nodded, "And why did you pick this position?"
The doubt returned to her eyes tenfold as she scrambled to sit upright, covering her breasts with her arms, "Why? Do you not like it? It's how, it's how he showed me and I – he liked it so I thought you would and –"
"Hermione, you looked like you were preparing to be tortured." He would know. He had seen her stare down his Aunt Bella with less fear in her eyes. Draco found an old t-shirt of his and offered it to her as he sat beside her. She mumbled a thanks and shrugged into the shirt, relaxing noticeably.
"I mean, it hurts the first few times. Every source I've consulted said it will probably hurt." Hermione muttered, looking at her fingers which she knotted in her lap.
"The first few times, not every time, Hermione." Draco wrapped his larger hands around hers. He set to work relaxing her digits. "Clearly the Weasel didn't see that your needs were met."
"No." She shook her head once, "No he tried. And Lavender raved about him all through sixth year. It's me. It must be me. I – I'm a terrible lay!" She was growing more frantic with each word. Her body tensed and her eyes flashed, "That's why he left me for her! I have no idea what I'm doing and I don't even like it. He always said I acted like it was a chore and – and he must have grown tired with me pouting so he went to her! He never would have cheated if I could have been better."
Draco abruptly grabbed the girl, flipping her onto her back once more. He crushed his lips to hers. He rested his weight on his forearm by her head and his knee beside hers. With his free hand, he pulled her leg up and out, making room for his non-weight-bearing leg to rest between hers. Draco ran his hand up her calf, over her knee, down her thigh to toy with the hem of the shirt, just long enough to cover her rear. The kiss was forceful, but he did he best to keep it comforting and reassuring, rather than trying to plunder her mouth for all she was worth. This woman had no idea the impact she had on men.
Finally needing breath he pulled away, "You did," a kiss on her cheekbone, "Nothing wrong," the other cheekbone, "Hermione," her nose, "The fool," He moved his attentions down to her neck, starting at her earlobe and working his way down to the junction between her neck and her shoulders, "He treated you like one of those blow up dolls," his words tickled her neck as he ran his lips over her pulse point, "You're stunning, 'Mione, don't let anyone make you doubt that."
"Then why wouldn't you have sex with me?" He climbed back up to look the girl at eye-level.
"Hermione," he chuckled, "Do you think I stopped because I didn't want you?" One abrupt nod, "Granger, you're daft. How on earth can you think I didn't want to fuck you all," a kiss on her nose to mitigate the harshness of his words, "night" a kiss on her forehead, "long?" His lips met hers again. To emphasize his point, Draco ground his still uncomfortably hard cock between her legs. He let the pressure, both from his lips and below his waist lessen until he was only gently caressing her lips.
"Then why didn't you." She spoke. It took Draco a moment to remember the last words he had said. What does this witch do to me?
"'Mione," He chuckled darkly against her lips, "I told you, you looked miserable." He gave her another soft kiss, "I don't make a habit of forcing myself onto miserable women. You weren't ready for anything more than this, and that's fine. It's much more than I expected out of tonight."
She thought that over for a moment, "But I am ready. I can feel it. It's all sticky."
Draco had to choke back another laugh, now was not the time, even if she did sound years younger than she was, "There's a difference between being ready and being ready, Hermione. Until you can think about having sex without dreading it, you won't be ready."
"How do I do that?" She was looking at his chest and nothing else.
"With time." He rolled off of her, content that his job there was done.
The two lay in silence, side by side, each following their own thoughts. Hermione, trying to coax herself out of fearing sex. Pavarti and Lavender always raved about it. Cocks and fingers and tongues, oh my! They would return to their shared dormitory past curfew most nights and regale, loudly, their conquests of the night. They said it felt wonderful, that it was life changing. Hermione only thought it hurt and worried about accidental pregnancies despite her diligence in taking her potion. Draco, berating himself for turning down perhaps his only opportunity to fuck Hermione Granger. Now was not the time, Draco. You did the right thing, Draco. It's for the better, Draco.
"I – um, well, thanks for a great night," Hermione began to extract herself from his bed, "I couldn't have survived Slughorn without-"
"Where the hell do you think you're going, Granger." He wrapped an arm around her waist, preventing her from standing from the bed.
"To my room." She looked over her shoulder at him confused, "I'll return your shirt after it's washed."
"Get back here, you daft woman." Would she refuse him? Would she comply only out of guilt?
Hermione settled back in beside him, their arms bumping together due to the smallness of the bed. Draco reached out and pulled her over, nestling her into the crook of his arm. "Night, 'Mione." He pressed a small kiss to her hairline and allowed sleep to claim him. But not before he felt her hand rest on his chest and one of her lithe legs intertwine with his. The last thing he heard before he slept was "Goodnight, Draco" from the last witch he had ever dared to hope he'd share a bed with.