Rating increased to M just to be safe.
Hermione had just set her Arithmancy essay aside to dry when Draco climbed in through the portrait hole.
"Ok, rounds are done," he said cheerily. "You still not feeling well?"
Hermione shrugged a shoulder. In the past week since Draco's attack in Hogsmeade, he had recovered while her pain had increased. Pregnancy so far had never been comfortable, but now, she had felt enough pressure and tightness in her back that she had asked Draco to do their nightly rounds alone that evening. In his absence, she had seated herself in front of the common room fire to work on homework, hoping that the combined warmth of the fire and the focus of writing would distract her from her pain.
It hadn't.
"Do you need anything? A potion from Madame Pomfrey?" He moved to sit on the sofa closest to her.
Hermione turned back to the fire and shook her head. "No, Madame Pomfrey said I can't take over a certain amount of pain relief potions without posing a threat to me and the baby. I'm at my limit right now."
"Well, what hurts? Maybe you should just focus on resting, you know like lying down and not doing homework at every opportunity."
Hermione scowled, though only the fire could see it. She knew he was just trying to help, but neglecting her homework would just cause her more stress. "I'll be fine. It's just my back."
Draco sighed. "You're so stubborn."
Hermione was ready to retort as being in severe pain did nothing but destroy any good mood she had. But then she heard him shift, and a moment later, he was sitting on the floor behind her.
"What are you doing?" she asked, twisting around to try to see his face. This made her pain worse, and he must have noticed because he gripped her shoulders and turned her so she was facing the fire again.
"Just relax, ok?"
But relaxing was the last thing on Hermione's mind right then. Did he not remember the intimate moments they had shared over the past month and a half? When she put the Dittany on his wounds and felt a thread connect them for the briefest moment. When she sat close to read his Muggle Studies essays and could smell the tiniest hint of his cologne. When they had spoken just last week in his room after his attack and they had each revealed so much of their vulnerabilities.
She was not blind to the fact that there was something growing between them that was more than friendship. And from the way he behaved sometimes, she was sure he had noticed it too. But she was still uncertain about pursuing it further, and it had seemed this was an unspoken agreement between them. But now, if he put his hands on her...
Her heart seemed to stop when she felt his thumbs press gently into the small of her back. His hands rested on her hips, and he slowly began to work his thumbs into the tension at the base of her spine.
"Am I hurting you?" he asked after a few minutes.
She wasn't surprised he asked this as she felt stiff as a board with nerves as his hands were progressing up her back. "No, I'm fine."
"Is this helping at all?"
"A bit."
Draco knew she was lying. Being a werewolf came with many new skills, one of which allowed him to sense muscle tension much better than any human eye or hand. Remus had explained it as a hunting instinct where the muscle tension of prey could be watched to sense when and how one's prey would move.
Not like Draco was treating Hermione like prey. But he could sense her urge to flee increasing.
He withdrew his hands from her and sat back. When she turned a bit to pin him with a questioning look, he simply said, "You don't like it when I touch you. I'm making you uncomfortable."
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. "That's...half right."
Draco raised an eyebrow. He hated the thought of either of those things being true. "How can only one of those statements be true and not the other?"
Still, she didn't look at him. She seemed much more interested in the pattern of the sofa cushions to his right. Finally, she said, "I like the touch, but I'm not able to relax."
Draco felt his hands grow warm, as if the confession of her liking his touch made his hands light with a fiery desire to touch her more. He swallowed and sat forward a bit. "Are you stopping yourself from relaxing?" he whispered.
Her gaze snapped back to his. "I..."
"Let yourself relax," he continued softly. He could sense an irrational, needy arousal building in his body as he thought about touching her more, even if it was only to relieve her back pain. "Just for tonight, let yourself be touched. Let me touch you."
She held his gaze for a moment longer, and he was afraid she would laugh or yell at him for such a bold suggestion. But, to his great surprise, she began undoing the buttons on her jumper.
He watched her with much more eagerness than was reasonable, but he could feel it - his wolf instincts lying just beneath the surface and craving skin-to-skin contact. He had to dig his nails into the rug underneath them to keep himself from lunging forward when she slid the cardigan from her shoulders and deposited it on the nearby ottoman. Her torso was now only hidden beneath a thin, silky camisole.
When she turned so her back was to him once again, Draco maneuvered himself so that she was seated between his legs. She was much closer this way.
He placed his hands on her hips as he had done earlier and slowly slid his thumbs along her spine. She let out an almost inaudible sigh, and he felt her begin to relax.
Several minutes passed, and Draco's hands moved gradually up her back as he worked through her tight muscles. By the time he reached her upper back, she had relaxed so much that it seemed he was holding her up from collapsing back against his chest.
"Feel good?" he asked softly.
"Mhmm," she hummed. She pressed back against his fingers and sighed softly.
Draco smiled. He had never seen her like this - unguarded. He loved it. She had actually allowed herself to be completely vulnerable with him. It somehow aroused him even more.
He swallowed now. It was getting harder and harder to restrain himself. The softness of her body, the beating of her heart, and her hormones seemed to sing to him like a siren.
Hesitantly, he slid his hands up to her shoulders. Touching her bare skin felt like electricity, and he suspected she felt it too because her shoulders immediately pushed back into his hands before sagging, almost like a sign of submission.
Encouraged by this, he drew her back against his chest and swept her hair back from her neck. He lowered his mouth to her ear. "May I touch more of you?"
She gave a nod, and he could tell he had made her breathless with this question.
"Tell me if I do anything you don't like."
He lowered his mouth to her neck and paved a path of kisses from her jaw to her shoulder. As these kisses progressed, he felt the pace of her pulse surge.
Clearly, Draco was not the only one enjoying himself. Of course, they had discussed how they both missed the physical intimacy of being in a relationship, and no doubt it was this fact that was mainly driving their interaction now. But that thought did nothing to lessen his arousal.
Rather, the urge to strip her and lay her bare before the fire was intensifying. With such great restraint that his hands shook, he took the hem of her camisole and began to pull it up. His hands slid over the smooth round of her belly, and a millisecond of sorrow cut in. If only she was his mate and that baby was his cub. But the thought did not take hold or leave an impression on his consciousness.
Instead, his arousal reached new heights as his hands found her breasts. They filled his hands perfectly, and he immediately began to coax her nipples into small tight buds.
The whine that left Hermione sent electricity through Draco's groin. Her head dropped back against his shoulder, her eyes closing. Her hands covered his, pressing them hard against her breasts. "Don't stop," she breathed.
"Wasn't planning on it," he returned in kind. "I want more."
She hummed and nudged his leg with her knee. It took him a moment to realize this was incredibly intentional. Looking down at her then, it was evident she had opened her legs to him.
Now, he could smell her arousal, and he was somewhat shocked his erection hadn't popped a seam in his slacks yet. All hesitation gone, he slid his hands under her skirt.
When Hermione woke the next morning, she was briefly confused as to why her Gryffindor tapestries and bed hangings had changed to reflect a Slytherin allegiance. Then she remembered the events of the previous night and how Draco had ended up carrying her to his bed just before he took her with such strength and passion that she had been left trembling in delight by the time they collapsed to the warmth of the sheets.
She sat up and looked over at the blond. He was still sleeping soundly. She didn't want to wake him, and she knew she should go. Though she had enjoyed herself immensely, a pang in her chest violently reminded her that their moment to surrender to their passions was over. If he woke up alone, maybe they could avoid most of the awkwardness that was sure to follow. She hoped that this would not tarnish their friendship.
Being as quiet as possible, Hermione slipped out of the bed. She retrieved a towel from his bathroom's linen closet and wrapped it around herself. Though she could have walked naked to her room, she wasn't going to risk it. Dobby often came to deliver her morning potions to her in bed, and several people knew the password to their dormitory for emergency purposes.
Her foresight was rewarded. As soon as she shut Draco's bedroom door and turned to the common room, her blood seemed to freeze in her veins.
Harry stood by one of the sofas, taking in the sight of hastily discarded clothes scattered across the floor. The Marauder's Map was clutched tightly in his hand. When he looked up at her, she couldn't even begin to decipher the emotions in his expression.