Author's Note: Thank God for weekends. That is all I have to say. So yeah, here's chapter 8…nice and fluffy. Not everything will be in this story…but I do like writing fluff (as you all can doubtlessly tell). xxx*Anya*xxx
Chapter Eight
And Oh, the Tales They Tell
After term started up again, the weeks passed by quickly and neither Hermione nor Draco saw nearly as much of the other as they would have liked. Their names were no longer Draco and Hermione; but instead they were back to being just Malfoy and Granger. They saw each other only in the Great Hall and in Potions, except for very sporadic encounters in the hallways. In fact, the only thing that kept them sure that what had happened over the holidays hadn't been a dream were the quick stolen glances, the not-quite-hidden smiles, the "accidental-on-purpose" arm brushes, and the way their eyes softened when they saw the other person.
Hermione's recurring dreams had started up again, but now instead of being intense and intimidating, they were sweet and tender. Craving his touch, even if it was only in a dream, she started leaving the common room to go to bed right after she finished her work rather than staying to talk with Harry and Ron. It wasn't like her at all and they knew it, but after she explained (petulantly, for effect) that her course load was exhausting, they found it a little more plausible and left her alone.
Gradually, the awkwardness the Harry, Ron, and Hermione had felt at the end of the holidays faded and it came back to be almost as though nothing had changed. All three of them knew that they weren't quite as open as each other as they used to be, sharing most of their lives but keeping a little for themselves as well, but they assumed it was just a natural part of growing up.
In some ways, they'd be right.
*~*~*~*
"Hermione," Ron moaned, tugging on her arm. It was a Saturday afternoon almost four weeks after the winter holidays had ended and the weather was taking a nice, brisk leave from its usual bitter chill. "Come with me and watch the Quidditch practice, you always do! What am I going to do for company? I'll be all alone!"
"I know Ron," she sighed, "and honestly I'd love to, but I have so much work to do for Arithmancy—"
Harry cut her off. "Hermione, please. We have some new tactics and I really want to know what you think. It—it means a lot to me that you approve."
Hermione sighed again. "Fine," she grumbled. "But not for very long! I'm coming inside once the sun goes down, got that?"
"Yes," both boys muttered, and so the Golden Trio headed out to the Quidditch pitch.
*~*~*~*
"Ron," Hermione whispered after about an hour.
"Shhh, not now, I'm watching the game!" Ron said quickly, patting her shoulder. "Go, go, Gryffindor!" he shouted suddenly, punching the air, when Alicia scored a goal.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, it is not a game, it is a mere practice, and I just need to ask you a quick, simple question."
"Oi, fine," he groaned, as if she'd asked him to partake in a loathsome chore. "What is it, Hermione?"
"Er, I need to use the bathroom," she said gauchely. She didn't know why, but there had always been something awkward and uncomfortable about telling others when one needed to use the restroom. At least, that's how it was among most girls.
"Use the locker rooms," Ron suggested without looking away from the practice (which wasn't even very exciting).
"That's okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said absently. "Just go, so you can come back."
"Well…alright then," she agreed, and made her way back towards the castle and the locker rooms.
When Hermione stepped inside the locker rooms, which she had forgotten were perpetually warm, she immediately removed her cloak and pushed up the sleeves of her blouse. Following a sign that read: SHOWERS AND TOILETS in large, bold print with an arrow pointing to the right (Clear and concise, Hermione thought approvingly, although with dolts like Crabbe and Goyle playing on their Quidditch team I suppose it's necessary), the rooms and surrounding halls got increasingly steamier.
Much to her dismay, once she stepped into the Showers and Toilets room, beads of sweat started to form around her face and she could feel her hair go limp. She could see why Harry and his teammates always looked so flushed when they first came out to the Quidditch pitch; the room felt like a sauna.
"Hello?" a voice called suddenly—a male voice.
Hermione spun around, startled, only to see Draco Malfoy emerging from the shower wearing a towel…and only a towel. Heat flared in her body and it was all she could do to keep from drooling on the spot (however she did automatically imagine what might lay beneath that fluffy towel, but he would never know that). His wet, light blonde hair hung sexily in his eyes, which looked more intense than usual for some reason. His hard chest, stomach, and arm muscles were flecked with drops of water and enveloped in pale, smooth skin that looked supple and just as luxurious as all those beautiful things he owned. No, more so. You couldn't buy this.
"I heard footsteps," he said softly, admiring her unexpected beauty as his unfortunate arrogance allowed him to realize she was admiring him as well.
"Sorry," she stammered, knowing she didn't sound sorry at all. "I didn't mean to…" she paused, feeling her cheeks begin to flush. "I was just coming in here to…"
Draco folded his arms on his chest (Hermione longed to reach out and touch it) and a slow smirk spread across his devilishly handsome face. Hermione was so cute when she couldn't get a grip on herself! He congratulated himself, knowing that he was probably the first person she'd ever seen nearly naked—unless, Potter? Nah, Golden Boy didn't count—and that he was also probably the first person she'd ever really tripped over her own words for. He remembered how, several weeks ago, he'd wanted to see Granger some way other than cool, collected, and perfectly poised. Well, this was it.
"Yes?" he prompted beguilingly, leaning seductively against the shower stall.
Her eyes narrowed. "The things you get off on, you annoying little—" she started, then halted briefly, realizing two can play this game. Let's see how smug and secure Draco is when…
"It's very hot in here," she said suddenly in a breathy voice, untying the red and gold tie from around her neck. Noticing Draco's eyes widen slightly in surprise, she smiled provocatively and, dropping the tie on the wet tiled floor, undid the top four buttons of her blouse painfully slowly. As she did so, some of her hair fell over her shoulders (making her look even more irresistible to Draco, whose heart was pounding wildly in his chest at that point). Blushing faintly when she realized her pink lace bra was peeking out, she bit her lip and looked at Draco through a veil of damp curls, as though waiting for his approval.
"Dammit, Granger," he rasped, finally approaching her. The approval she was looking for was written out quite obviously in his eyes. "The things you get off on."
She smiled widely and cupped his face in her small hands, pressing his wet lips to her own. "I've missed you, Draco" she whispered as he kissed her forehead, nose, and chin.
In between kisses, he flashed her a million-Galleon smile and murmured, "I know."
He kissed her again, harder this time, and with skilled, deft fingers he managed to undo the rest of the buttons on her shirt and in one fluid motion it was off her body and on the floor with her tie. He broke away from her lips and gazed admiringly at her graceful curves and soft, flat stomach before heat and desire overtook him. He began to place tender kisses on her bare midriff, erratically stopping to lightly lick the skin around her navel. All of this happened while he held her breasts in his hands, massaging them gently. The sensation caused Hermione's already ragged breath to shudder and moan.
The next thing she knew, Draco had her pressed up against a wall in only her undergarments, frantically locked in a mad torrent of skin and lips. Tie, blouse, sweater-vest, skirt, tights, and shoes lay in a rumpled heap on the floor. They'd already tripped over it twice.
Suddenly she was drawn out of the world she came to love, where no thoughts, no fears, and certainly no complex spells existed; all that mattered in this world were physical and emotional ambiance and desires. She heard footsteps and a soft rumble of voices approaching.
"Draco," she said mellifluously as his lips, which had been on her mouth only seconds before, passionately caressed her neck.
"Mm?" he mumbled.
"Draco, I think the Quidditch team is done practicing!" she said more urgently as the voices slowly grew louder.
"Shit," he whispered, finally letting her go. "You'd better go."
But Hermione didn't need to hear that; she had already gotten her shoes on and her cloak was wrapped tightly around her body, leaving nothing to suspicion.
"Where are the rest of your—"
"Clothes? Right here," she said, motioning to her right arm.
He smiled. "Okay, well, there's an emergency exit just past that shower stall there." He kissed her once more, gently this time. "I have to see you again."
"We have Potions together tomorrow," she called, already halfway out the door. "But I'm sure we can think of something better! You know where to find me."
And with that, she was gone, leaving the Gryffindor Quidditch team to wonder why Draco Malfoy was standing in a dreamlike state in the middle of the common shower room, practically nude.
*~*~*~*
"And so we have found her," Ron said rather irritably when he and Harry made it back up to Gryffindor tower. "Hermione, I've never known you to be one who ditches her friends."
"Yeah," Harry added, "Where were you? I looked at the stands and there's Ron, but no you!"
"Do you know," said Ron with narrowed eyes, "how utterly useless and embarrassing it is to yell 'Go, Go, Gryffindor' all by yourself?"
Hermione eyed her red-haired friend. "Ron, you always yell 'Go, Go, Gryffindor' all by yourself," she pointed out. "And I told you, I had to use the bathroom."
"For an hour?" he asked dubiously. "Hermione, I don't know what you've been eating, but—"
She rolled her eyes. "No not for an hour, Ron, honestly. I, er, realized I had an essay to finish and went to the library. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving."
Harry shook his head. "Whatever, Hermione."
"Are you angry with me?" she asked nervously. It wasn't like either of them to get so worked up over something so little.
"No," they assured her, but as Harry said, "I was just disappointed not to see one of my best friends out there to cheer me on."
"I'm always there at your games, though," she protested. "This is so ridiculous."
Suddenly Ron burst out laughing. "Sorry," he said in between fits of joviality, "but…in the locker rooms…Malfoy…"
Hermione felt her face grow hot. "What?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Ron, come off it, it wasn't that big a deal."
"You have no idea…he looked like such an idiot!" Ron gasped.
The shorter boy shook his head. "All that happened," he explained to the perplexed expression on Hermione's face, "Was that the team went to the showers and Malfoy was standing in the middle of the floor looking like a deer in headlights in only a towel. Alicia told him to sod off because it was Gryffindor time and he shouldn't even be there in the first place, and he just turns around with this ridiculous grin on his face and walks out into the bitter cold, without a word. With just his towel on. He certainly didn't seem to be in his right state of mind, but it wasn't nearly as funny as Ron's making it out to be."
Hermione stifled a grin. "Oh…you know Malfoy," she said coolly, "He's never in his right state of mind."
She felt a pang of guilt at speaking ill of him and heard it distinctly in the hesitant tone of her voice, but the boys seemed to take no notice.
Their eminent cluelessness was, after all, something Hermione had always heavily relied on.