School is finally out for the summer, and it has felt so good having the time to finally update this story again. As promised, this chapter tries to move forward the plot a bit more, but as a result there are a few fairly clunky transitions.
Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed (especially those who've submitted some truly excellent theories about Harry), and I hope you all enjoy!
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By Monday morning, Harry was gone from school.
To be honest, his absence was subtle and Hermione may not have even noticed had she not been hyper-alert after her meeting with Professor McGonagall on Friday. He'd been missing from every meal and from their Monday morning double-Herbology class, but even so it wasn't until she got a note at lunch requesting her presence in the Headmaster's office that her suspicions were truly confirmed. She hurriedly folded the note and put it away, but a quick glance around the Gryffindor table showed that everyone was busy either eating or finishing up last minute assignments, nobody paying her any mind.
She looked over at the Slytherin table and saw that Draco was holding a similar looking piece of parchment. When he looked up and caught her gaze she gave him a tight smile and a small nod of acknowledgement. His face was its usual mask of stoicism, but she felt a pulse of warmth as she watched him gather up his bag and walk over to take the empty seat across from her.
"Longbottom," he nodded towards the boy sitting to Hermione's right.
"Malfoy," Neville responded, sparing a quick glance before returning to the book in front of him. Most of the professors were requiring work be turned in by the end of the day tomorrow, and Hermione knew that Neville was rushing to finish up his DADA proposal after spending most of the weekend concentrating on his work for the Brazilian Herbologists. Draco's piercing grey eyes held hers for a long moment, glancing along the table of Gryffindors before sliding his piece of paper over to her and casually picking up an apple from a nearby bowl of fruit.
"Do you think this has to do with your meeting on Friday?" he asked calmly. She scanned the parchment quickly, he was being asked to report to Professor Dumbledore's office later that afternoon, right after her own appointment it would seem.
She nodded. "I've been asked to show up as well, though it looks like they want to see us separately." She looked down briefly at her plate, contemplating whether or not she was in the mood to finish her half-eaten portion of winter salad.
"There's no need to worry, Granger," he assured her, dropping his voice and nudging her leg gently underneath the table. She sighed, knowing he was right and that it would be useless to get worked up.
"Have you considered using the wand core as the basis for your experiment?" Draco spoke up, tilting his head to look at the notes Neville was taking.
"Hmmmm?"
"For your experiment. You could pick a really basic spell, but vary the wand types." Neville looked intrigued, considering the advice. It was a simple approach, but Hermione knew that Neville wasn't looking to win any awards in DADA, mostly they were all just looking to get through their N.E.W.T.s.
She left the two of them to their discussion as she picked up a roll and pulled over the dish of butter. Bread was always better than salad in times of stress.
She mentally chided herself for being so nervous, she truly believed that she had done the right thing. Draco had been—well, she wasn't actually sure how to describe his reaction when she'd confessed to him on Friday night. He'd looked relieved, at first, and she realized belatedly that he must have thought she had an update on her health—whoops!
She'd told him about the strange behavior she'd observed over the past couple of weeks, the past couple of months really, and about how she'd started writing down all of her observations. She'd described her meeting with Professor McGonagall, where she had shared her suspicions and asked her head of house to look into the matter more thoroughly. A small part of her had wanted McGonagall to brush her off, scold her for letting her imagination get away from her. Of course, a larger part of her felt relief at being taken seriously.
She began absentmindedly collecting her things as she felt the rustle of students around her beginning to head off to afternoon classes. She still had Charms and History of Magic to get through before there'd be any opportunity to get some answers.
She stood up and adjusted her bag as Draco made his way around the table to her, his own bag and a brownie in hand. "Split this with me?" he asked, circling the treat enticingly under her nose. "If I eat the whole thing I'm sure to be too jittery to hear a lick of Flitwick's lecture."
She rolled her eyes, his sweet tooth was legendary around Hogwarts and she was sure that a single brownie wouldn't make a dent in his tolerance level. Even so, it was covered in caramel and had chunks of chocolate scattered throughout, and if bread was better than salad in times of anxiety…
"Thanks," she said, reaching over to tear off a chunk and take a bite, immediately pleased with her choice. "You coming, Neville?"
"Right, yeah," he muttered, still engrossed in the notes spread out before him. "Lemme just—" She cringed watching him haphazardly stuff his papers away in his bag and reached out to stop him, muttering a quick spell and tapping her wand against the mess to create a neat pile.
"Thanks," Neville mumbled, looking a bit sheepish but grateful nonetheless.
"You all coming?" Blaise called from the entrance way, books in hand. Hermione allowed Neville to walk in front of her as they made their way out of the hall, a warm feeling spreading through her chest when she felt Draco's hand rest briefly on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze in reassurance.
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It had been difficult to concentrate in her afternoon classes, and despite the flare of nerves Hermione was glad to finally be making her way to the Headmaster's office. The hidden spiral staircase appeared before her and within seconds she found herself knocking on the familiar wooden door.
"Come in."
"Professors," Hermione greeted as she made her way inside, not overly surprised to see that both McGonagall and Snape would also be present for this meeting.
"Please, take a seat, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore was already sitting behind his desk and she quickly made her way to go and sit before him, perching tensely on the edge of her chair. "I presume that you are aware as to why we've called you in today?"
She nodded, mentally assuring herself that she had done the right thing. "I expect this is in relation to the concerns I brought to Professor McGonagall a few days ago." Her voice came out strong and to the point.
"Indeed," Dumbledore inclined his head in a slight nod. "Minerva shared your concerns with me right away, and we determined that they merited further investigation. To cut to the chase, Ms. Granger, we established that, in line with your suspicions, Mr. Potter has indeed developed a fairly serious substance abuse dependence. He has been transferred to St. Mungo's where he will be receiving full time treatment and support."
She felt her chest constrict painfully as a rush of sadness pressed against her throat. I was right, Harry has a problem with drugs.
"Of course," Dumbledore continued, "you can understand that we are not in the habit of sharing students' confidential medical information, but given the circumstances we felt it imperative that you be made aware of the situation. This is a very serious issue, and we need to determine whether any other students are involved, or at risk."
"Other students?" she frowned, not having thought of that possibility. Had she been too focused on Harry to notice the warning signs in others?
"Hermione," Professor McGonagall cut in, her straight lips and even stare conveying a dual sense of seriousness and kindness. "We do not mean to make any accusations, but everything you all went through with the War, at such a young age, we understand that difficult emotions naturally seek an outlet."
"Accusations," she blinked, surprised at the turn in the conversation. "You mean me?"
There was a small pause as the three professors shared a look and Hermione struggled to catch the meaning clearly passing between them before McGonagall's eyes focused back.
"No, we do not mean you. Not unless there is something you'd like to tell us." There wasn't even an inflection of a question in her words, and Hermione relaxed a bit in the knowledge that they did not truly suspect her. She was under such close watch by Madam Pomfrey and her healers, it would have been exceedingly difficult, not to mention dangerous, to try and hide a drug habit.
"Rather, we are wondering whether there is anything else that you know of, or have observed, that might indicate that another student or students are involved or at risk," Dumbledore questioned, softly.
She shook her head, quickly scanning her memories. "No, sir. Nothing comes to mind."
"Surely Potter wasn't acting alone?" Snape drawled acerbically, staring her down with hard eyes.
"I really couldn't say," Hermione replied, her defensiveness coloring her words and causing her spine to straighten. "We haven't been on the best terms this year, but I was worried for him and I'm glad that he's receiving help." She held the Potion Master's eyes as he continued to scrutinize her from his place standing near the Headmaster's desk.
"We understand, and of course we are immensely grateful that you went to Professor McGonagall with your concerns," Dumbledore agreed, offering a smile to break the tension. "As you might expect, we will be taking a proactive, precautionary approach to ensure the health and safety of all our students. We will be questioning and testing anyone deemed to be 'at risk' and establishing better protocols for mental health assessment and support throughout the student body."
Hermione felt herself nodding along automatically. She had long felt that Hogwarts needed better resources in that department, but hadn't known whether there was an equivalent in the Wizarding world to the Muggles' growing psychiatric practice.
"We also expect that as head students, you and Mr. Malfoy will strive to pay particular attention to any concerning behaviors, and be prepared to point students to the new resources that will be available."
"Absolutely," she agreed, already making a mental note to write-up guidelines on warning signs and procedures that she could share with the Prefects after running it by Madam Pomfrey. She felt her hands relax slightly from where they had been tightly gripping the material of her skirt. The prospect of having something tangible to work on was comforting.
"Mr. Malfoy will be joining us shortly so that we might also apprise him of the changes to protocol, but before he arrives we must speak briefly of Mr. Potter's privacy," Dumbledore continued, remaining even-toned. Hermione tensed with guilt, knowing she had already violated it.
"I'm very sorry, Professors. I would not dream of sharing this information beyond this room, but I did turn to Draco a few days ago to seek his council on this matter." She lowered her head a bit in shame, but was glad that her words had come out clearly, if a bit apologetically.
"We understand, Ms. Granger," McGonagall assured, glancing briefly over to Professor Snape. "We assumed this might be the case. Have you spoken to anyone else?"
"No," she responded immediately. "I will let Draco answer for himself, but I am fairly certain he kept my confidence." Her mind went to the last time she had shared a big secret with Draco, and how he had ended up confiding in Blaise. That had been different of course, and she was nearly positive that he hadn't spoken to the other Slytherin this time.
"We'll appreciate your discretion moving forward, though I believe we all know what tends to happen with information in this school," Dumbledore gave a wry but troubled grin. "We may not be able to protect him for long, but for now only the Heads of House, Madame Pomfrey, and the head students will know. I do expect that Mr. and Ms. Weasley will be made aware as well if they are not already, as Arthur and Molly are acting as Harry's guardians in this matter."
Hermione felt a sudden stab of sympathy streak through her body, imagining Harry going through something so challenging without the support system of his family. Of course, the Weasleys were family to him in all the ways that mattered, but she knew that at a time like this he'd be feeling the loss of his parents very acutely. A knock on the door interrupted any further musings.
"Mr. Malfoy, please come in," Dumbledore called out softly, using a curl of his fingers to open the door.
She turned her head to watch Draco cross the room, feeling somewhat as though backup had arrived. His face remained blank, but he gave her a reassuring look as he came to take the seat next to her.
"Thank you for joining us. Ms. Granger has informed us that you are somewhat aware of the reasons for this meeting, but we would like to discuss in further detail the results of Ms. Granger's concerns regarding Mr. Potter."
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Hermione was surprised at the relief she felt upon leaving Dumbledore's office. She had assumed that confirmation of Harry's drug abuse would leave her feeling panicked, sad, and helpless, but instead she felt mostly calm and relieved. She acknowledged that there was a bit of anger lurking along the sides of her mind, but she couldn't be sure yet whether that was anger at herself for not noticing anything sooner, or anger at Harry for not coming to her, trusting her to help him if he knew he was struggling.
She made it through the motions of eating dinner, her mind still swirling with the new information. Really, though, she had barely learned anything that she didn't already know, or deeply suspect. She understood the need to limit information, but now she was left to wonder so many things. How long had Harry been using drugs? What kind? What sort of treatment was he receiving? When would he be back in school? How was he feeling?
Draco had been asked to stay on after she was excused, and when she found him later on in their common room he recounted the questions they'd asked him and the brief battery of testing they'd conducted to verify that he was drug free. Hermione would never admit to the slight tingle of worry she felt waiting for him to confirm his status, and promptly gave herself a mental scolding. She didn't actually believe there was a possibility of him testing positive, but she could appreciate how they considered him to be an 'at risk' student, given his turbulent role in the War.
She thought about continuing to hash out the events of the afternoon, but when he suggested inviting Blaise over to watch a movie and finish their last minute assignments she eagerly agreed, content to watch both boys get pleasantly tipsy against the backdrop of yet another James Bond movie.
Most of the seventh years were exempt from end of semester exams given the N.E.W.T.s hanging over their heads, and with most assignments due Tuesday morning Hermione found the next two days to be rather cathartic. She kept expecting that she'd have to contend with an onslaught of complicated emotions to work through, but somehow they never came. Her initial feelings of calm and relief evolved into a sense of peace and she found that it was easier to go about her days, as though some great weight had lifted. Though certainly morbid, there was something so freeing in the mere possibility that her friendship with Harry had been destroyed by something more than a simple lie. She knew the situation was vastly more complex than simply saying that drug use caused Harry to act out of character, and frankly she didn't even know if he had been using before the big summer blowup. Regardless, it was so much easier to think of Harry as someone who needed help, rather than a shitty friend.
The trains taking students back to Kings Cross wouldn't be leaving until Thursday morning, so she spent most of Wednesday wrapping up Prefect planning and helping Neville with ISE before the Winter Play that evening. She didn't dare ask him about Harry, but was relieved to find that the rumor mill hadn't yet caught on to anything juicy. It seemed as though most of the Gryffindors had noticed that he was gone, but hadn't questioned the story that it was for official Ministry business. Seeing that even Neville seemed to be so distracted by the building excitement for the holidays, Hermione allowed herself to relax even further.
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Blaise's play had been a big success, though Hermione still wasn't used to the style of Wizarding productions. There were so many 'special effects', courtesy of magic, that it was hard to make the connection back to the occasional Muggle plays her parents had taken her to as a child. By this point she'd seen quite a few school productions, but she still made a note to introduce Blaise to some of the simple Shakespearean monologues that she had grown up on in case the Drama Club had any interest in trying something new. They'd probably consider it rustic, she mused.
She'd hung around for a bit to congratulate Blaise and a few of the other actors she was friendly with, but when the Slytherins started moving off to the dungeons for the obligatory end of semester/after party, she politely declined. It was still early, but even though the Prefects were mostly getting the night off from patrolling she felt inclined to at least put in a quick, obligatory round before returning to her rooms and packing. Secretly, she hoped she might get some time alone to spend with Draco and was excited when he pulled her aside, promising he wouldn't be staying long at the party and leaving a subtle, searing kiss along the curve of her neck.
Her clothing was mostly organized but not packed, so she put on a little music and danced around while she gathered up clothing and cleaned. Crookshanks wandered in to supervise, apparently concerned that she would somehow forget his food and toys. The process should have been quick, but after wandering too close to her bookshelf she became engrossed in deciding which books to take home, and before she knew it an hour had passed and she had an unreasonable stack two feet high.
Noting the time, she decided to head back to the common room in the hope that Draco had returned. She had been trying not to think about how much she would miss having him around for the two week break, but with their departure fast approaching it was harder to ignore.
She softly padded down the stairs, coming up short when she spotted him lying across the couch, apparently fast asleep. She rolled her eyes, this had become a frustratingly common occurrence between the two of them, and she sarcastically wondered whether there wasn't some curse placed on the couch that caused him to pass out any time he got within three feet.
She paused, considering her options, and then quickly retreated back the way she'd come to fetch her parchment pad and pencils. There hadn't been much time to draw the past couple of weeks, and she figured that she would just keep herself entertained until he eventually woke up.
She walked softly around the couch, careful not to make too much noise, and settled in against the opposite cushions. He'd managed to lay out in a semi-comfortable looking position, one arm sprawled against his stomach and the other tucked down by his half-bent leg. His head was tilted back against a pillow, his face angled towards the warm fire and features highlighted by the dancing light. She carefully drew her own legs up, tucking her feet between his legs and the couch so that she could prop her paper against her thighs.
It wasn't what she'd necessarily had in mind for the evening, but she wouldn't deny that it was nice to have a chance to study him, unguarded. His lips were slightly parted, as if in invitation, and she briefly considered starting her sketch there, building the man out around one of her favorite features. Her artistic discipline ultimately held, and her hand began moving in long strokes against the page, marking the outline of his shape. He was still in his school clothes, his robe abandoned against the back of the couch. His Slytherin tie remained in place, and as she carefully traced it's shape she had a flashback to the last time she had sketched that tie, his hands provocatively tugging it out of place.
She sucked in a breath to steady her hands. It was still one of her favorite drawings, tucked carefully away in her rooms.
They'd made an agreement that night, that he would serve as her model in exchange for teaching him about Muggle culture. Though they'd had many conversations since then about her Muggle upbringing, she hadn't yet taken much advantage of his end of the bargain. Her mind began to race as her hand continued moving across the page, imagining several poses that made her blood race as a blush spread across her cheeks.
Hermione jumped, surprised when one of his arms came up to scratch at his hair, his body shifting in a small stretch.
"Wait, don't move," she urged, quickly sticking out a foot to rest against his stomach and pin him in place.
"Granger?" he blinked sleepily, his eyes coming to focus on her in a confused scrunch.
"Hi," she replied, grinning a bit sheepishly and holding her pad of parchment up in explanation. "I'm only halfway done with my sketch."
"Hhmmmphff," she saw the whoosh of air escape his chest in a sigh, his mouth curling into a bemused smirk as settled back begrudgingly. "Is this right?"
She studied his position, glancing back and forth at her parchment. "Rest your hand flat there, and move it down. Your head's not quite right, can you tilt it back a bit more?"
"This isn't the most comfortable," he grumbled, rolling his neck around a bit until he found the right spot on the pillow.
"You're the one who fell asleep like that. Now hush, and close your eyes," she reprimanded him, teasing.
Hermione returned to her drawing, working on capturing the hard angles of his torso and joining it to the curve of his neck. "How was the party?"
"I think you've corrupted me," he replied, eyes remaining shut. "There was too much rule breaking, I had to leave before I spoiled everyone's fun."
"Ha ha," she muttered, sarcastically. They both knew that he was much looser with the rules than she was, years of being a Prefect had left little dent. "I did a round before coming up here, things were so crazy I decided to leave it and finish my packing instead."
"Things have pretty much died down now. I think everyone's locked away in the common rooms, the Prefects can deal with them now."
"Lucky them," Hermione chuckled, continuing to fill in some lines.
"Bring me one of those Christmas cookies, won't you?" he asked, opening a single eye to peer imploringly at her. She shook her head, not bothering to look up. "Stop moving, you'll ruin my sketch."
"How about some firewhiskey?"
"No."
"What about tea? Surely you wouldn't deprive me of some good, English tea on a cold night like this?" he whined, lifting his head up to hit her with the full force of his pout.
She managed to lift a single eyebrow, clearly conveying that he didn't have a chance at persuading her.
"Fine," he sighed, letting his head fall back once again but lifting both hands up to the knot on his tie. "You asked for it, time to bring out the big guns."
"What are you doing?" she frowned, quickly erasing the line she'd been working on as he moved out of place.
"Just upping the stakes a bit," he smirked back at her, eyes open and fixated on her own. Her breath caught a bit as she watched his fingers slowly pull off his tie, leaving it to drop on the floor before they returned to begin working one by one on the buttons of his shirt. She quickly looked back at her drawing, trying to hide her reaction from him. "Interested, Granger?"
"I'm an artist, Draco," she replied, desperately attempting to keep her voice even. "You're just giving me more to work with."
He let out a defeated growl, the seductive look falling from his face and his hands slipped away from his now half-open shirt. "Fine," he groused. "You can have 30 more minutes, but you have to promise to wake me up if I fall asleep again." He turned his head back to its original position and closed his eyes, not bothering to fix his shirt.
Hermione let out a soft laugh, pleased that she had won that particular battle. Though as she looked up, it was hard to remember what exactly she'd been trying to win. She could see a large swath of his chest peeking out of his shirt, his pale skin turned golden by the flickering fire. Was she really about to turn down such an inviting opportunity?
She could feel the blood pounding in her heart, and with sweaty palms she carefully set aside her drawing materials, leaving them to rest on the floor. She shifted to her knees on the couch, her eyes sweeping over his form as she tried to decide what the best move would be. Don't over think it, Hermione, she urged herself, deciding to stand so that she could get closer to his face.
Draco opened his eyes, confused as he felt her walk over. He opened his mouth, a question forming on his lips, but it was lost as she gracefully swung a leg over his hips, straddling him and pressing her lips sweetly to his own.
"Mmmmmhhhhhhh," he groaned, his hands instantly finding her hips and settling her more firmly against his stomach, his response eager. Her hands immediately went to his exposed chest, pressing against his warm skin as she placed a few, teasing kisses against his mouth. "I thought you were an artist, Granger?" he grinned up at her, eyes dark.
"Shut up, Malfoy," she countered, biting at his lower lip before sitting up slightly. "And…take it off."
He raised his eyebrows, surprised at her daring request but happy to comply. He shifted her back against his legs, sitting up as he resumed his slow process of unbuttoning. She reached out when he reached the bottom, tentatively pushing the sides of his shirt off his arms to expose his full torso. He tossed the shirt over the side of the couch, leaning back to allow her an unobstructed view, his eyes dark. She bit her lip, unsure what to do with the free reign that he was so obviously giving her.
"I like these," she admitted, reaching a hand down to brush gently against his well-defined abs and sweeping up towards his pectorals.
"Show me," he commanded, grabbing her arms and tugging her back down against his chest.
She gradually grew bolder, not used to having so much control over their kisses. Her hands moved to his hair, gripping tightly as she tilted his head, exposing his neck to her curious tongue. She felt encouraged by the small, gasping sounds he was making, and she dug her teeth in lightly before moving up to kiss the spot right beneath his left ear.
"Ahhhhhh," he groaned, tipping his head back to give her further access. She nearly startled at the feeling of his hands under her skirt, his palms gripping the backs of her thighs as he ran them teasingly up to the curve of her behind. It wasn't the first time that he'd had his hands there, but something about the skin on skin contact was driving her wild and she wiggled her hips against him as she brought her mouth back to his for a searing kiss. She was starting to become unbearably hot, and as she felt his finger toying with the edge of her panties she sat up and gripped the bottom of her t-shirt.
As she began to lift up the thin cotton garment his hand shot out, forcing her to pause. "Wait, Hermione, are you sure?" She wanted to laugh, she must really have flustered him if he'd resorted to using her first name. Simply nodding, she continued to tug upwards, grateful when his hands came up to help free her unruly curls.
"Wow." She couldn't quite meet his eyes, her confidence disappearing in time with her shirt. She looked down instead, almost scared to find out which bra she had on and scolding herself for not thinking of that before she'd decided to take her top off. It was a dark blue one, simple but with a small trim of lace along the edges of the cup. It would do. "You're beautiful, Hermione," Draco breathed, reaching out hand to trace a reassuring circle against the skin of her stomach.
She looked up and became instantly caught in his heated gaze, delighted when he quickly crashed his mouth back to hers. Their kiss danced recklessly on the line between frantic and controlled, and with a squeal she felt her world spin as he smoothly switched their positions on the couch. He quickly pinned her arms, a favorite of his she was coming to realize, and she couldn't help but moan as he began attacking her neck with hungry kisses, moving down towards her collarbone and below. She was caged in by his weight on top of her but still she managed to arch her back and cry out at the feeling of his tongue circling around the tops of her breasts. She was relieved when he finally freed her arms, her breathing speeding up as she felt his hands move down to carefully cup first one breast, then the other. It felt strange but oh so good, and she couldn't help the tiny keening noise she made when his thumb brushed purposefully against her nipple through the thin material of her bra.
Hermione wasn't sure how long they continued on like that, their movements steadily becoming bolder as she rocked herself wantonly against his leg pressed between her own, instinctively seeking to relieve her growing need. It wasn't until she felt his answering grind against her stomach that she reluctantly pulled away, suddenly realizing how easy it would be to lose complete control over the situation.
"Draco," she murmured, trying to concentrate as he continued to suck at her neck. "we should probably stop."
"We should," he agreed, meeting her gaze briefly before switching to the other side of her neck. "This is me, stopping."
"Come on," she laughed breathlessly, tugging at his hair. "It's late."
He sighed, reluctantly releasing her and pushing back on his heels to give her some space. "So it is."
"And you have packing to do tomorrow," she reminded him, knowing he hadn't gotten around to that yet.
"I'll buy new clothes," he teased, helping her sit up as he ignored her glare.
She felt suddenly cold without the heat of his body pressed against hers, not to mention self-conscious, and she quickly brought her arms up to cross over her chest. Chuckling, he leaned forward, pressing a small, lingering kiss against her now swollen lips as he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
"Come on," he whispered, urging her to stand. He grabbed both their wands as he led them up the short staircase, but when she tried to turn away at the landing he held fast to her wrist. "You know, it is the last night of the semester."
Hermione looked at him questioningly, not entirely sure where he was going with this. "And your point is, exactly…?"
"Stay with me?" he asked, softly. She was torn. He looked so vulnerable in that moment, and she didn't really want to go back to her room alone. But then again, she was still in just her bra and skirt, her blood still coursing hotly through her veins as a reminder of their recent activities.
"I don't know," she hedged, looking uncertain. "Is that really the best idea right now?"
"I'll be on my best behavior, I promise," he responded, his face scrunched in a mock pout.
"That's not really much of a promise, I've seen your best behavior, it isn't much," she joked even as she relented to the small tug he gave to her hand.
She'd seen glimpses of his room before, but never outright been in. It was, no surprise, painted green with an expensive grey rug matching the dark floor and wooden furnishings. She did a quick scan as she walked in, noting a few Quidditch posters, many books, and only a few clothes strewn about the floor.
"Arms up!" he instructed, and she gratefully complied as he tugged a large t-shirt down over head. She didn't even notice that it was an old Slytherin Quidditch jersey, being too distracted by the feel of his fingers deftly unclasping her bra underneath the shirt and running the straps down her arms. She shivered as he ran his fingers soothingly against her spine, but still tensed as she felt the tug of the zipper on her skirt as the material pooled against her feet.
She moved on shaky limbs, trying to come off as sophisticated instead of awkward as she gathered up her discarded clothing. Draco had moved off to a chest of drawers, and she quickly looked away as he dropped his pants, surprised at the dark red color of his briefs. She didn't know what to do with her clothes, finally deciding to just set them on his desk, and by the time she'd turned back around he was wearing his standard green sweatpants.
"I hope you know," he whispered lowly, coming to stand behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist, "I don't normally wear clothes to bed."
"Funny, neither do I," she teased. It was a lie, but a worthwhile one judging by the hungry look on his face. She pulled away to move towards his bed, coming to a halt when she saw what was on the end of it.
"You traitor!" She hissed, spinning back around and jabbing a finger against his chest. "How long have you been plotting against me?" Crookshanks was happily curled up in what looked to be a top of the line cat bed, an item that had clearly already seen some use.
Draco simply smirked, using the opportunity to guide a protesting Hermione around towards the side of the bed. "Don't be jealous, Granger. I'm willing to share custody."
She tried to remain huffy, but it was difficult to do when he was pushing her back on the bed, his lips once again hovering over hers. "I'm sorry," he breathed out, placing a tender kiss against her mouth before pulling back barely an inch. "I'll buy you a new one."
"A new bed?" she asked, confused.
"A new cat." She growled, jabbing her hands against his ribs where she knew he was the most ticklish. They ended up in a mess of limbs and pillows, breathing hard and each one calling for a truce.
Successfully distracted from the realization that she was now lying in bed with a man, Hermione allowed herself to settle in against the still laughing Head Boy. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to rest more fully against his chest and tucking her head in against his shoulder. She turned her face subtly into his skin, enjoying his masculine scent and the surprising smell of clean laundry coming off his sheets. "I'm going to miss you," she admitted sadly, the words making her realize just how true it was.
"I'll come visit you," he offered, sounding sincere.
"Really?" She raised her head up so she could see his face. "You'll really come visit me in my Muggle home, with my Muggle parents?"
"Well, how else are they going to meet your Wizard boyfriend?" he threw out, casually.
Hermione's eyes went wide and she quickly pushed up onto her forearms so she could see him more clearly. "What?"
She hadn't wanted to bring it up again, secretly wondering whether he wanted anything more than a regular snog from her. The only other time they'd come close to talking about their relationship was after her surprise swimming lesson, where they'd both essentially agreed not to label anything. It was a decision she had understood, but left her emotionally vulnerable nonetheless.
"Is that okay?" he questioned, looking suddenly uncertain.
"For you to be my boyfriend?" she clarified, hoping to Merlin that she hadn't misunderstood him.
"And for you to be my girlfriend," he replied, softly and hopefully.
"Yes," she agreed simply, snuggling back against his shoulder to hide the enormous grin on her face. "But just so you know, it's customary in Muggle culture to perform a courting dance when being introduced to your girlfriend's parents for the first time."
"Seriously?" he sounded equal parts unsure and horrified.
"Seriously, Malfoy."