a while ago, i started to think, okay, how these sexual encounters will affect the events of book 6 and 7, to which I was like - will it be positive or negative? well, this a start

4 am showers in the Prefect's Bathroom

He couldn't sleep, for various reasons, but the most important one being the mark that is burned into his skin. Sure, Goyle's snores could wake the dead, but he's gotten used to that after five years. And Blaise sleep-talks occasionally, but it's usually embarrassing things that they swore to never share to anyone else. And Nott is a priss who can only sleep in complete darkness, while Crabbe is a baby who needs some amount of light, so one side of his bed is bathed in moonlight while the other half is not.

His dorm mates are a bit ridiculous.

He thinks a hot shower might do him some good, relieve some of the tension in his shoulders and neck and put his mind at ease, but Blaise's bed is next to the wall that the shower is on the other side of, and that child will throw a fit is he is woken up by the sound of the running water.

He sighs and heaves himself out of bed, throwing on his old trainers that no one is allowed to see because "he's sixteen now and must always look presentable" (yeah, all right mum). Grabbing his wand and sticking it in the pocket of his pajama pants, he quietly leaves the dormitory and heads up to the Prefect's Bathroom.

The castle is quiet as all the ghosts and portraits are sleeping, as should everyone else, but when he enters the bathroom, he hears a shower running and light singing.

Who the hell would take a shower at four in the morning?

(Besides him, of course.)

He gathers it's a Muggle song, since he doesn't recognize the lyrics, and as he gets closer to the source, he realizes it's her voice. He knows he really should just turn around or cast a concealment charm on his arm now or something, but he's mesmerized.

"And all the roads we have to walk are winding … and all the lights that lead us there are blinding … there are many things I would like to say to you, but I don't know how how …"

She sings just loud enough for him to hear her over the roar of the water, and he peeks around the corner of the stall to find the shower curtain pulled back. She clearly didn't think she would have any company. She's facing his direction, completely naked, and the warm shower water rushes down her body. Her eyes are closed as she rinses out the suds from her hair.

"I said maybe … you're gonna be the one that saves me … and after all, you're my wonderwall …"

He's never actually had the ability to admire her naked form. He enjoys it when they have the time to actually get completely naked and roll around on the bed in the Room of Requirement, but he typically doesn't sit back and look at every inch of her. Sure, he worships every part of her body, from her brain to her toes and everything in between — especially the "in between" bits — but he hasn't mentally catalogued every freckle and scar. He should, though, next time they can spend more than an hour together.

"Are you going to stand there and watch me like a creep or are you going to join me?"

He's been caught, but his cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. He doesn't know how to answer. Quick, be witty. "I didn't know you could see me." So not witty.

"You're not as stealthy as you think you are," she says, rubbing the conditioner into her hair slowly. He feels like there's a second meaning to that sentence, or perhaps he's just paranoid.

"I didn't know you took four am showers."

"Only when I fall asleep at seven before I could take a shower."

"You fell asleep at seven?" He asks incredulously.

Now it is her turn to flush pink. "I've been tired lately because I've been so very active. It's your fault."

He laughs and crosses his arms as he leans against the wall. "I'd say it's equally our faults?"

She rolls her eyes as the last of the suds run down her back and arse. She reaches for the conditioner she brought and squeezes some into her palms. As she lifts her hands to rub it in, her breasts are arched forward, her nipples obviously pebbled. He's definitely becoming, if not half-way, aroused and it's probably obvious since her eyes flit down to his groin and back up again while licking her lips.

"So," she says, twirling her fingers through her hair to get it saturated with conditioner, "are you going to join me or what?"

He tugs at the left sleeve of his long-sleeved pajama shirt awkwardly, and as much as he does want to join her, he doesn't know how to keep her from seeing his mark. It's too late to cast a charm, because he should just strip and jump in, like a normal teenage boy. He can't keep his shirt on, since it's a goddamn shower. And no normal teenage boy would deny a beautiful woman when she's inviting him into her shower, so he's quickly run out of options.

She's noticed.

He stutters out incomprehensible words and she looks dismayed, one eyebrow raised, signaling her impatience.

She is confident as she approaches him, dripping water from every limb. He swallows roughly and she tilts her head, her hair falling over he shoulder. He wants to step back but she grabs his left wrist firmly. She holds it in front of her her and his eyes beg her stop.

She doesn't.

Her damp hands roll up the sleeves of his shirt, staring in his eyes the whole time. It would be more sexual if he wasn't so terrified of her reaction. He wishes he hadn't come down here to shower, he should have simply faced the wrath of an angry Blaise after he showered ridiculously early.

Her eyes flit down to his exposed forearm and she stares at his mark for a minute. He stops breathing, anxiously awaiting what she is going to do or say. She stares at it for a moment then takes a deep breath and turns away from him, returning under the shower spray.

"Hermione," he says softly. "Hermione, please listen to me." She doesn't turn, instead washing the conditioner out of her hair. "Please," he walks around her and blocks the shower spray with his body. He takes a hold of her shoulders, hoping she listens to him. His clothes are being drenched with the warm water, but he doesn't care. "I want to explain."

She doesn't want to look at him, but she does look down at the floor of the shower, and suddenly she mumbles, "You'll ruin your shoes."

"I don't care," he answers immediately. "I just want you to listen to me, please, okay?" She looks up at him and he sees that they are full of trepidation and tears. "I had to — I had to make a choice. My father was in Azkaban for fucking up at the Ministry, and someone … someone had to take his place. It was was me, or my mum, and I wasn't going to let her bear His stupid mark. The only option … was me."

She nods slowly, and she seems to understand, but he plows forward. "He will kill her." She looks sympathetic as she knows how much his mum means to him.

"He will kill you."

Her eyebrows raise slightly at the implications of his words, and he means it. "I can't let Him kill you," he whispers, placing his hand on her cheek. She blinks a few times, tears falling slowly, and leans into his touch. "You … you mean too much."

She nods, sniffling. "I think — I think I knew …" she whispers almost too quietly for him to hear her over the shower spray. "I knew, but I was hoping —"

"You were hoping you were wrong," he finishes her thought and she nods, shivering. He turns them and she is back under the water stream. "How did you know?"

She sighs and tilts her head back, water washing the remaining conditioner out. "You and your mother have an obvious presence in Diagon Alley, especially when you're looking over your shoulder and acting shifty."

He thinks back to the end of summer, right before school started and he got the mark and learned about his task. "You saw us?"

"We all saw you, Draco. Me … and Harry, and Ron."

Ah. "That's why Potter won't stop following me."

She smiles grimly and shrugs. "Unfortunately, I cannot stop him from doing that. He's pretty determined. I can, however, do this." She brushes her fingers over his mark with more gentleness than he is used to and laces their fingers together. She presses her naked body against his and kisses his lips lightly. He sighs and kisses her back, grateful she didn't slap him, or leave him, or break his heart.

He's content with just kissing her, since it is like five in the morning and they did just have a very emotional conversation. But, her hands slip under his soaked shirt and strip it off of him. He removes his shoes and socks and throws them out of the shower area, hearing them clatter on the stone floor and not caring. She removes his pajama bottoms and kicks them out of the way. She pulls him under the shower and turns it up slightly, the water warming more. The water wets his hair and runs down his body, and he sighs, his head falling back as he lets his body relax some.

She takes this opportunity to kiss the skin of his neck and chest, her hands rubbing soothing circles down his sides and on his hips. She rubs his arse and his thighs, and he feels himself hardening due to her ministrations. He catches a glimpse of her face before she drops down to her knees, and she's intent on her purpose. Her hand ghosts over his dick and he unconsciously jerks his hips into her hand. She applies more pressure and as she brings him fully to life, he moans, "What did I do to deserve you?"

She grins and doesn't give him an answer. He doesn't really need one — he's sure he doesn't actually deserve her. But then she takes him in her warm mouth and all his thoughts fly out the window. He groans and leans back against the shower wall. He threads his fingers through her wet hair and holds tightly. The water sprays on her back and arse as she moves her whole body while bobbing her head, sucking him off.

He grunts as he tries to hold back, tries to not buck his hips and choke her. She looks up at him and nods slightly. She takes ahold of his waist and squeezes as he moves his hips in time with her mouth. She ends up taking more and more of him in her mouth, the head of his dick brushing against the back of her throat. She doesn't stop, in fact she simply hollows her cheeks and sucks him harder. He shouts, "fuck!" and yanks on her hair. She moans around him, and he's so close to coming.

"Hermione, Hermione, Hermione," he chants, pushing his hips into her face quickly, and she twirls her tongue around his head, swiping the slit with the tip of her tongue a few times, tasting his pre-come. Too much, too much, too much.

He grips her hair hard and yanks her off him, breathing heavy. His eyes are wide and dark. "I want …" he pants, his dick throbbing. She licks her bottom lip, and her breasts heave as she pants. "I want you."

She grins and kisses him roughly. He pulls her to him and she grinds down on his thigh. He pushes her into the wall, lips still fused to hers, and she runs her hands through his wet hair, groaning. He bends a little and wraps his arms around her thighs, picking her up. She wraps her legs around his waist and he feels her heat radiating off of her center and onto his dick. She's so wet, and it's not just the water from the shower.

She moans as he pushes in to her pussy and he kisses her neck, licking the water off of her skin. He stays sheathed inside her, arms around her waist and holding on to her arse tightly, breathing deeply to steady himself. She got him so close to his orgasm — he needs to bring her to hers just as quickly, or it's not going to be worth it.

She wants him to move, wiggling her hips and scratching her nails down his scalp. A shiver runs through him and he pulls out enough to thrust back in quickly, his pelvis hitting her clit. "Fuck," she whispers and sinks her nails into the nape of his neck. He grazes his teeth over the sensitive skin of her neck and she moans, throwing her head back.

The water is still running, but neither of them seem to notice, and it's hot enough that steam starts to fill the room. He just hopes he doesn't slip and end up killing them.

He alternates between biting and sucking on the junction of her neck and collarbone, rocking into her steadily, and her moans become higher and breathier. Her legs tighten around his waist, pulling his body so close to hers, he doesn't know how there's enough room for him to pull out and snap back into her. Her hips try to keep up with him, but he is moving so fast and so hard, she can only hold on and enjoy the onslaught of pleasure he is giving her.

She whines high in her throat, scratching her nails down his back, and he moves even faster. Her lower body slaps against the shower wall with each of his frantic thrusts and he grunts with the amount of force he's producing.

Her breath hitches in her throat and she tightens her hold on his hair, pulling roughly. He growls and roughly bites her collarbone. She shouts wordlessly, suddenly pushing her hips into his to chase after her orgasm and quivering in his arms. Her mouth drops open, practically sobbing as she falls apart around him.

He thrusts into her one more time so forcefully, he bottoms out, coming and yelling, as she milks him of every last drop. She runs her fingers through his hair while he pants into the crook of her neck as he calms down from his release.

Eventually, she unravels her limbs from around him and he carefully lowers her to the floor. She stretches slowly as she walks back under the shower spray, letting it wash over her. She reaches out a hand and he takes it, lacing their fingers as she pulls him under the water as well.

She is still breathing heavy as she looks up at him, and then the corner of her mouth turns up in a small smile. "How do you feel?"

He's confused, because he doesn't quite know what she means exactly by that question. She could be asking about his physical state (exhausted, ready to go back to bed after that round of rough up-against-the-wall shower sex), his mental state (compromised, because of his inability to hide the truth from her), or his emotional state (fragile, because he's pretty sure he's falling in love with her and if anyone found out, they'd both be dead).

"How do you feel about … us?" She asks, clarifying her question. He can see she's watching his left arm and the muscles beneath the skin flexing as he absentmindedly rubs the back of her hand in his.

"I still want to be with you …" he nods, "if you'll have me."

"I did just have you." She smirks and trails her other hand up his chest to cup his face. He grins, because she's getting good at inputting sexual innuendos during regular conversation and he feels like he definitely has something to do with that. She continues, "I know … that you having the Dark Mark makes things difficult, but things were already sort of difficult since we're, y'know, doing this thing in secret. And, I can see that you did this to protect your mum from Him, which I understand and appreciate …"

"But it still makes things harder," he agrees, kissing her open palm. She squeezes his nose playfully and he chuckles.

"We just have to be … really open with each other. Which you seem to be okay with," she says, then adds, "surprisingly."

"I'm very open … with the people I like," he points out. "I've wanted to tell you since — since it happened but I didn't know what would happen … to us, to me …"

"Well, it's not my secret to tell," she shrugs. "So Harry will continue to just be suspicious and I'll play dumb."

"You're going to lie to your best friend … for me?"

"Harry's like my brother, and sometimes …" she sighs, "sometimes you have to keep things to yourself so you don't hurt the people you care about."

"So … I matter more to you than Harry Potter?" He asks with a cheeky grin.

"Don't let it go to your head," she murmurs, hugging him close.

"Too late."

glad to see the two of them practicing good hygiene at least. if you've somehow been living under a rock for the last twenty years, the song Hermione is singing is "Wonderwall" by Oasis, a personal fave 3 it is how I believe Draco sees her in this fic. anyway pls review and fave, I love each little notification I get!