Hermione was up early the next morning and stumbled still half asleep into the bathroom.
"My gods, Hermione, don't you knock!" Draco chided as he stuck his ringing wet head out of the shower.
"Oh my! Malfoy! I am so sorry. I just…well, I am not used to sharing a bathroom, and … really I am sorry." She was beet red and intended to turn and not look at him for a second more but for some reason her feet just would not move. His hair was slicked black and water beaded and ran down his neck, and to his shoulders and chest. My what a chest! Draco had cut abs and a firm chest. Hermione had never seen a man like that before. She had no brothers, no nephews. Only Harry and Ron, and gods forbid see either one of them like that.
"If you are just going to stand there, you might as well join me. Besides you are letting all the warm air out," Malfoy teased.
"Never," Hermione screeched and ran out slamming the door behind her. Once the door was firmly in place, she stopped and leaned against the cold stone wall. It felt good in contrast to the suppressing heat and wet in the bathroom. She closed her eyes trying to get the naked Draco out of her mind, but instead the image flooded back into her mind. But she really didn't mind it. She stood there for a second, picturing him, there in the bathroom, naked. Join him? Had he actually said that? She broke from her reverie when the bathroom door opened and out stepped a freshly washed Draco. He had pants on at least, but no shirt and Hermione got another good look at his well defined chest and the little patch of platinum blonde hair that came right above the button on his jeans before Draco said, "Your turn," and made his way to his room.
Hermione went back in the bathroom, which thankfully was empty this time. The mirrors were still fogged and it still smelled like his soap. She started the hot water and stripped. Climbing into the shower, she leaned again against the heard cold walls. Draco had been here just a minute before. It seemed so strange, and yet so normal. She racked her brain, why was she having these thoughts. Only a day before, it had been her worst dread to be living with Draco for a year, and now, the second she was alone, she was thinking about him.
Get it together, Grainger she thought to herself. But her thoughts traveled back to Malfoy in the shower. Inspite of his attitude, she had always thought he was attractive. Not that she could have ever told her friends. But it was the unspoken truth. If only someone could have cursed him with a muting curse, he would have been cute. But since they had been here alone, there was no one to impress and he was actually nice. Could she say it Draco Malfoy was nice, and not only nice, damn sexy too.
Absent mindedly, Hermione rubbed soap all over her body; the smell of lavender overtook the manly smell that Draco had left. She rubbed down her arms and neck, and over her breasts. That felt good, the sponge grazed her nipples making them hard. The other hand traced down her body, down her flat stomach, to the patch of curly auburn hair. She hesitated only a moment, when she realized the ecstasy that she was envisioning was with Draco Malfoy, but only a moment before her thin finger worked between the folds of skin and found the target. She rubbed in small circles and leaned back further onto the cold wall. She dropped the sponge into the bottom of the shower as she massaged her nipples with one hand, pinching and twisting. And with the other hand, she rubbed and swirled until she was ready to come. She tried her best to stifle a cry.
In the next room, Draco was tying his shoes when he heard a thump in the bathroom. He immediately thought that Hermione had slipped and fallen. He rushed out the door to the bathroom; he was about to call out to Hermione to ask if she was ok. But a small sound from the bathroom stopped him in his tracks. What he heard was the single most arousing thing that he had ever heard. For years now, young witches purred in his ear about the things that they could do to him with or without their magic. But his heart was never in it. Now, inside the bathroom, he heard the mudblood coming, he was sure. He had heard many girls coming from the beds of the other Slytherin boys, but never had a girl in his own bed. His reputation made him out to be the Sex God without ever having sex, so why ruin a good thing. He strained to listen as muffled moans and cries came out of the bathroom. He thought about her, naked, with the water pouring down her perfect body and her hand between her legs, that was enough, he felt the familiar throbbing between his own legs.
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