Closing the door behind her in the bathroom, Hermione leaned against it and let out a sigh. That had been, frankly, mind-blowing sex.

Turning to her reflection in the mirror, she had to bite down on a giggle as she saw her appearance. There was no other way to describe her just then: Hermione looked thoroughly and utterly shagged. Her curls were simply everywhere, a rosy flush to her cheeks, her makeup mostly worn off, light red marks covering her neck and chest, and if she looked close enough, fingerprint impressions in the skin of her hips.

She used the bathroom and freshened up, finally extracting the rest of her hair from some of the pins that remained snarled in her curls. Wrangling her hair into an acceptable bun atop her head, Hermione smiled at her reflection. As of yet, no self-consciousness or regret had sunk in, no worry about repercussions from her actions with Malfoy. Her grin widened as she ran through the events of the evening in her mind. While Hermione had been hopeful that perhaps tonight they'd take a step past friendship, she hadn't dared hope that they'd go quite this far. But they had indeed. Hermione had just shagged Draco and it had been more fulfilling than she'd ever imagined, and she'd certainly done her fair share of imagining recently.

A giddy laugh almost passed her lips, but she managed to stifle it in time. Throwing on a clean cotton slip hanging on the back of the bathroom door, she wondered how Malfoy felt about everything. Would he still be in her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling and worrying over her reaction? Or perhaps fretting that he'd made a mistake, and that she regretted sleeping with him? Maybe he was getting dressed right now, preparing to make a polite excuse and leave? What if he'd already dressed and left? No, he wouldn't… unless he was afraid? Hermione had witnessed his flight or fight response on several occasions, and knew that if a situation became too emotional for him, he found the quickest exit.

Hermione slowly opened the door leading to the bedroom and was greeted with the sight of Draco sound asleep in her bed, covers tucked over his body as if he'd always slept there. Relief coursed through her and suppressing another laugh, she tiptoed over silently to scoot in beside him. He didn't stir, and Hermione took a moment to study his relaxed features as he slept. Draco's handsome, angular face appeared softer in slumber, his brow not furrowed, eyes not narrowed, no tightness around his mouth and jaw. His head of blond hair mesmerized her in the way it reflected the bright moonlight, and she resisted the urge to sweep some of the white locks from his forehead.

Instead of continuing gawking at him, she settled back into her pillows and was asleep within minutes. Any serious discussions about friendships, relationships, and the future of each, could wait until the morning.

The bright morning sunlight streaming through her bedroom window forced Hermione's eyes slowly open. Thanks to a clever charm on all her windows, Hermione could keep the curtains open constantly, while no outsiders could see into her home. While not necessarily a morning person, she liked being awakened naturally by the sun on weekend mornings.

She languorously stretched her limbs out, delighting in that specific dull soreness between her legs that only came after sex. Merlin, it had been so long since she'd felt that delicious aching. Casting her glance sideways, Hermione observed the sleeping male form beside her. Draco had stayed the night.

His back was to her, and by the sound of his deep, even breathing she could tell he was still asleep. Last night in the dark, and based on their positions, Hermione hadn't gotten the chance to appreciate the lean muscles of Draco's back.

Well, she certainly was not going to waste this opportunity. The covers had slid to his lower back, giving her plenty of skin to view; impossibly pale porcelain in hue, but not in an unhealthy way. Last night, Draco's hair had taken on the color of the moon, but in the shining sun, it shone no less bright, a white-gold halo atop his head. Longing to stroke the bare skin of his back and once again feel the taut muscles there, Hermione shook her head. She had no idea exactly how he felt about her yet, and it would be unwise to presume he would welcome her touch.

Worried he would turn around and catch her ogling him creepily, Hermione risked getting out of bed to make tea. He didn't stir as she left the room, throwing on a short robe over her cotton nightie.

Her kitchen clock read just past 7 AM, and the weekend edition of The Prophet already awaited her. An owl was perched at her window's ledge and she took the paper from its beak before it took off again on another delivery. She unfurled the paper and set it on her kitchen table, when she noticed a blinking light on her phone.

Hermione had no need for it last night, obviously, and had forgotten it was even left on. Picking it up, she noticed several text messages that had come in from Ginny roughly half an hour ago.

G: Good morning! I know you're an early riser so let's have it!

G: Usually you respond quickly.

G: Seriously Hermione put down whatever book you have and message me back.

G: I'm going to burst through your Floo if you don't respond soon.

Rolling her eyes at Ginny's theatrics, Hermione tapped out a reply. She hadn't expected Ginny to want to hear from her this early, she was notorious for sleeping in on the weekend if she didn't have early training.

H: And a good morning to you too.

G: FINALLY. Well?

H: Well what?

G: Very funny. Don't play dumb with me you'd never pull it off. You couldn't stop being clever if you tried. How was your evening of romance?

Hermione paused before answering. She had absolutely no idea how to explain this over text and she didn't think she wanted to tell Ginny this way.

H: Unexpected.

G: I'm coming over. Open the Floo.

H: No! Let's meet for lunch later and I'll tell you everything.

G: HOLY GODRIC IS HE STILL THERE?!

Shit. Hermione couldn't even manage to be subtle over text message. She dithered over how to reply, unsure of the best way to divulge that why yes, a naked Draco Malfoy was still in her bed and had in fact stayed the entire night after a delightful bout of shagging.

She had taken too long to reply, and Ginny was not known for her patience.

G: HERMIONE GRANGER PUT DOWN THE BLASTED PHONE AND GET YOUR CUTE BUM BACK INTO BED WITH HIM!

G: Also yes let's do lunch later.

Hermione sighed and turned off the device. She bustled about the kitchen as quietly as possible, preparing a pot of tea. Once she set the kettle on the stove to heat up without magic (Hermione swore up and down that preparing tea the Muggle way simply tasted better) she picked up the paper for some morning reading.

Now what? Hermione often took the paper to bed with her and would prop herself against the headboard to catch up on the news while she waited for the kettle to boil. Would Malfoy find it weird to wake up and find her reading next to him in bed? Or would he be more hurt to wake up alone, thinking she regretted what they'd done?

Unbidden, Hermione's words to Ginny the previous Sunday floated across her mind.

"Is it wrong, Ginny? Is it wrong to want him?"

Last night certainly had not felt wrong. Not in the slightest. Sod it all, Hermione was sick and tired of trying to cater to other people's definitions of right and wrong.

On her path back to the bedroom, Hermione noticed the comical trail of clothing left behind by her and Draco last night in their haste to undress each other. Her gown and cloak and most of his outerwear were strewn about her front hall, while his belt, trousers, and her bra had all fallen to the floor behind the sofa. With a quick swish of her wand, the clothes arranged themselves into neat piles on the armchairs in front of her fireplace, the cufflinks even coming to rest on his stack. His shirt, his boxers, and her knickers were scattered in different directions on her bedroom floor, Hermione stopping only to toss her underwear into the laundry hamper on her way back to bed.

Draco had turned in his sleep and now lay on his side facing her. As gingerly as possible, Hermione slid onto the bed, sitting with her knees propped up and back against a collection of pillows between her and the headboard.

Avoiding the urge to stare at him again, she buried her nose in the newspaper and was soon lost in a lengthy article on the acromantula venom trade.

Draco felt very comfortable and very warm. The bed beneath him was far too soft to be his own, and the light hitting his eyes far too bright to be his darkened bedchamber.

Hardly daring to believe that last night had actually been real, he slowly let his eyes open. He is not in fact, in his bed at Franklin House, but is stark naked, tangled in Granger's non-silk sheets. The woman herself is a mere foot from him, and the first part of her that comes into his waking view is her bare calf. Trailing his gaze upward, his eyes widen as he notes how little she is actually wearing. Her gray cotton slip just brushes mid-thigh, hiking up her leg since she's sitting with her knees bent. She's also got a short robe on, but it does little to obscure the fact that she is not wearing a bra either.

She'd let him stay the night. That had to be a good sign, right? Not only that, but she was clearly comfortable enough in his presence to return to her bed with him still occupying it.

Draco braved looking up at her face and saw her concentrating solely on her paper, unaware he was even awake. He simply watched her read for a few minutes, noticing how her eyes sped back and forth along the page and the way her brows and lips either quirked in agreement, confusion, or ire based on the information she read.

This was truly surreal. He had awoken in Hermione's bed, and without her wand at his throat, and the first sight to greet him was her reading next to him. As if this were normal, as if this were just any other morning. Before he could tamp it down, a dangerous thought crossed his mind: this was a wonderful way to wake up and wouldn't it be fantastic for this to be his everyday life? If this was what a life with Granger looked like, then Draco could certainly see himself a content man. She'd read the Prophet, scoffing occasionally at articles she disagreed with, Draco would make a wry comment to rile her up, she'd swat him with the paper, he'd sit up in bed to read the morning quidditch reports, one of them would summon their tea and they'd sip it happily side by side and then…

Too much, you're playing a dangerous game. Rein it in. I am in control of this.

Hermione's mouth caught his attention as she suddenly bit down on her bottom lip and it took significant effort on his part to not audibly groan. Memories of nibbling on that pouty lip last night washed over him, followed by memories of all the other parts of Hermione he'd nibbled on.

Shit, he was growing hard already. But it was impossible not to when he recalled the way she'd moaned, whispered, then eventually screamed his name in the throes of passion. He should probably let her know he was awake before she could accuse him of creepily staring at her read.

Hermione flinched when she heard Draco clear his throat.

"Good morning," he murmured and Hermione immediately felt herself flush at the hypnotic quality of his voice.

"Good morning," she replied, meeting his eyes bravely. Surprisingly, she felt no awkwardness at all, and a wide, giddy grin stole over her face, mirroring his own. Hermione realized she'd never seen him smile so openly before, and it warmed her heart to know he was comfortable enough in her presence to let his guard down in this way.

Hermione laid the paper on her side table and turned back to him once more. He appeared quite at ease in her bed, head propped up on his elbow, as he lay on his side with nothing but a thin, cotton sheet covering him from the waist down.

"Anything interesting in there this morning?" He gestured at her abandoned Prophet.

Hermione shook her head in answer to his question, and had to bite back the reply that threatened to escape. Certainly nothing as interesting as you, right now.

She realized she was staring openly at his bare chest, and at the sight of his raised eyebrow, she grew emboldened. The same tension that had descended upon them last night when he'd removed her cloak from her shoulders made a reappearance, coupled with the similar flutter of anticipation from when just before Draco's lips had met hers for the very first time.

Draco was no longer smiling, and she wondered if he could also feel the serious turn in the atmosphere. Unable to stand just staring at him in the prolonged silence, Hermione followed her body's instincts. She reached out a tentative hand towards him, noticing the way his entire body tensed and his gaze tracked the movement of her approaching fingers. Her touch came to rest in the silky, platinum hair at the side of his head, and she shivered when he closed his eyes, seeming to relish in her hand on him. She stroked his hair lightly, observing the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Hermione let her fingers ghost down the side of his face, then rest for a moment on the top of his shoulder. Draco's eyes snapped open as her exploring hand came to rest on the front of his chest. She moved further down, stopping her hand just above his heart, and she could feel the pulsing and beating of the organ just underneath her fingertips. His chest rose and fell rapidly now, his breaths quickening and under the spell of her touches. He watched her with a desperate sort of longing on his face, but he remained completely still, letting her continue at her own pace. And this openness, this willingness to be so vulnerable with her, spurred Hermione to further acts of boldness.

She traced one finger along some of the whitened scar tissue that covered his entire chest; remnants, she knew, of Harry's ill-advised Sectumsempra curse in their Sixth Year. The scars were faded now after all these years, and in the dark last night she hadn't even noticed them. Her hand's path led all the way down to his navel, then she traced a line up to his top hip, stopping where the sheet covered the rest of his nude body. Biting her lip and filled with a hazy mixture of lust, curiosity and recklessness, Hermione gripped the sheet and pulled it off of Draco, leaving him completely bare to her.

Draco didn't react at all, didn't move to cover himself, didn't protest verbally, simply watched as her hand moved down over the curve of his hip, past the top of his backside, lingered at his knee, and came to rest on his calf. Hermione dared a glance up at his face, and saw nothing but trust there. As her eyes landed on his erect cock, she involuntarily licked her lips and saw a flash of his trademark smirk when she met his eyes again.

Removing her hand from his leg, she sat back to fully take in the sight of the naked man lying in her bed. Scanning him from head to toe and back up again, she could find nothing displeasing to the eye, not one physical imperfection. Draco was a beautiful example of the male specimen: glowing alabaster skin and long, lean limbs. His musculature insinuated favorable genetics and his shape would be described as trim rather than brawny. Hermione knew his slim build wasn't due to exercising incessantly like his male Muggle counterparts. Almost all the wizarding men of Hermione's generation could be described as thin, Draco included. But living through a war would do that to a population.

During their school years, Hermione thought Draco's facial features too sharp and pointy to turn her head. But the adult version of that pompous boy had grown into his looks. Draco's angular, high cheekbones, jawline, and patrician nose seemed carved from marble, his countenance built for admiration. He had full, even lips, and teeth so straight and white they'd make her dentist parents swoon.

As she retracted her hand back to her side of the bed, Hermione let out a shaky breath. Catching his gaze again, Draco's lips quirked upwards and Hermione could almost hear his thoughts in that seductive drawl of his: Turnabout's fair play.

His hand began at the skin of her ankle. His expression turned serious again, and Hermione longed to know what he was thinking. His gray eyes were intense in their study of her, his long fingers drawing little circles around her ankle bone then beginning a slow journey up to her calf. Goosebumps appeared on the skin of her arms, a direct response to the arousing sensation of his light touch igniting a searing path upward. He had reached her knee, then his hand formed a firm grip around her leg just as he approached her thigh. Draco's brow furrowed in concentration and Hermione couldn't have spoken aloud even if she wanted to. Why was he looking at her as if she were some fascinating creature he'd only just discovered?

I'm real, she wanted to blurt out. I'm real and imperfect and nothing special, for Merlin's sake, stop looking at me like that! It's just me, just Granger!

When his hand reached the hem of her cotton slip, he ghosted up the fabric until he came to the tie of her robe. He met her eyes and gave a light tug. Hermione obeyed his unspoken request immediately, pulling the tie loose and shrugging the robe off to fling it Merlin-knows-where across the room.

Like an impatient child, his hand pulled at the nightie, and before Hermione could feel self-conscious or embarrassed, she whipped the offending garment over her head and also cast it aside.

She was now completely naked and sitting up sideways in bed, in front of her former childhood bully, and Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this exhilarated. Because Draco was no longer that ignorant little schoolboy, but a painfully gorgeous man giving her nude form deep appreciation with his lust-darkened eyes.

Draco had taken his hand away, the hand that happened to be connected to the forearm branded with the Dark Mark, but Hermione was pleased he seemed to have gotten past that insecurity. She had known it was there all along, and his sudden emotional outburst last night caught her off guard at first, and only made her heart ache for him more. She was of the opinion that he had about as much choice in receiving that Mark as Harry had in receiving a lightning bolt scar across his forehead as an infant. But now was not the time for such a heavy conversation because Draco's eyes were roving hungrily up and down her body and Hermione was already wet with desire for him.

His eyes traced the same path his fingers had not a minute ago. Beginning all the way from her legs up the curve of her hips, further up her midsection, lingering on her bare breasts, then up her arms, neck and shoulders, then finally stared her full in the face, trapping her in this moment with the intensity of his stare.

"You're beautiful," his voice was low and hoarse, full of a reverence that made Hermione's breath catch and her heart stutter.

Neither moved, the only sounds in the bedroom were their sharp intakes of air, as both seemed out of breath though no physical activity had occurred, yet. All Hermione could do was simply return the burning gaze coming from Draco. The tension emanating between their bodies in rolling waves made her slightly delirious.

The kettle whistled from the kitchen, signaling the boiling water was ready, but the sound seemed muffled and far away, the piercing cry unable to burst an invisible barrier in the air between them.

"I can fix us tea, if you like," Hermione whispered.

"I still don't need any tea," Draco's low, menacing murmur ignited a spark in every nerve in her body and before she could throw herself across the bed, he closed the space first.

Draco's strong, lithe frame suddenly rolled over, caging her in and Hermione found herself flat on her back and his mouth reunited with hers. She stuck her hands back in his hair like they belonged there, her lips eagerly parting to immediately allow his tongue entrance.

There was no hesitation, no need for tentative discovery, since they'd properly introduced their bodies to one another last night. Hermione was lost in the way his skin felt flush against her own, as they bucked and writhed against each other.

His kisses were hot and insistent, Hermione reveling in the pliable softness of his lips. Draco nipped lightly at her bottom lip, and she grinned against his mouth. He traced the area he'd just bitten with only the tip of his tongue before taking the lip between his teeth and sucking hard. Hermione gripped his hair harder and pushed her chest up into him. Draco took the hint, delving his tongue back into her mouth and moving one hand down to caress her breast. When he circled her raised nipple with the pad of his thumb, a gasp escaped her throat and Draco removed his mouth from hers to let the sound reverberate loudly.

He kissed along her jaw, and Hermione raked her nails down his scalp, then further down to clutch his back. While she'd very much appreciated being on top of Draco last night, every one of her sexual fantasies involving him seemed to always be in this very position: pinned beneath him. And Merlin, the way this man kissed her neck, she could melt into her mattress and never be found again.

"Say my name," he suddenly whispered a plea in her ear. "Like you did last night, say my name." His voice coupled with his warm breath sent a shock straight down to her core, and all she wanted to do in that moment was obey him: Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco.

She could drown here in the overwhelming feeling of his touch, his skin, his scent, and his taste. The weight of his body covering her own set her alight, the sensation of his throbbing erection grinding against her while she squirmed to increase the friction between them left hardly any space in her brain for anything but his given name. How easily it had fallen from her lips last night, a glorious cry torn from her throat several times, just two seductive syllables that surrounded her every sense and demanded to be released from her mouth.

But Hermione gathered what was left of her wits to challenge him. Pulling herself up to his ear, she whispered back tauntingly, "Sorry, Malfoy, but you'll have to earn it."

She could tell she'd surprised him by the way his entire body stilled, but it lasted for a fraction of a second before he changed his tactics. Draco moved his mouth slowly away from her ear and pulled back far enough to look her full in the face. The look he gave her was positively feral. Steel-gray eyes smoldered in a gaze that she felt all the way to the tips of her toes. And when his mouth pulled into dangerous smirk, a thrilling shiver of anticipation wracked through her.

Oh dear, I am in trouble now.

Leaning his smirking mouth back down to her neck, Draco changed the snogging tempo abruptly. No longer seemingly in a hurry to taste and lick her skin, his tongue languidly licked up and down her neck, tracing all the way up to the shell of her ear. He took a tortuously slow path with his mouth, lavishing each inch of the skin of her neck for a sinful amount of time before moving further along the column of her throat to the other ear.

He finally captured her mouth again in a long kiss, deepening it gradually. One of his hands snaked into her hair and pulled her face even closer to his, until Hermione felt delirious from both the skill of his kiss and the lack of oxygen. Draco pulled away slowly, and though Hermione needed to breathe, she almost whined at the missing contact. He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then began a trail southward. When his face reached her chest, he gently kissed her sternum, then moved his lips to hover just over one breast. Hermione willed her body not to arch into him, but it was fruitless. Draco untangled his hand from her hair to caress her other breast as he finally lowered his mouth around her pert nipple. Hermione let out a sigh of contentment as he lazily worked her tits, driving her brain into further states of haziness.

Her exquisite state of pleasure didn't last long, as he removed all contact from her chest and kissed his way down her abdomen, past her navel, and ghosted his lips over the side of her hip. She suddenly felt strong hands grip her thighs and part them, and through the heady fog of lust clouding her senses, only realized what Draco was about to do roughly one second before his tongue swiped at her most sensitive area.

"Oh! Oh my…" Hermione was rendered utterly incoherent at the sight and feel of Draco's head buried between her legs. All the late-night fantasies of him performing this exact act on her absolutely paled in comparison to the reality of his tongue licking up, down, all around her wet slit.

Abandoning all dignity, she wound her fingers into his fair hair and arched her hips into his face. Her wanton display was rewarded with Draco's tongue plunging inside her and she gasped loudly again. Shockwaves of pleasure shot through her body, causing her toes to curl underneath her.

Panting heavily now, she felt the beginning wave of an orgasm gathering steam within her, and tried to focus on not bucking her hips too hard lest she scare off the man currently kneeling between her legs.

He pulled back and Hermione glanced down, confused. Perhaps he needed a break to breathe? But no, he now simply ghosted her inner thighs with kisses, then hovered his mouth just above her sex, so his lips barely touched her skin. Then she remembered the challenge she'd issued to him several minutes ago. Sneaky little bastard.

He wasn't going to let her climax without hearing his name first. Almost as if Draco could hear her thoughts, he grinned wolfishly up at her before lowering his tongue to her again.

No man had ever been so… thorough in this task before. Voldemort himself could have burst through her bedroom door announcing his latest return from the grave and Hermione would have told him to bugger off and wait the hell outside because Draco's tongue was about to bring her to a quivering orgasm and she'd deal with him after, thank you very much.

His warm tongue delved into her relentlessly, tasting her over and over and Hermione had to release the hold on his hair or she might accidentally rip it out by the roots. Her hands grappled at the bed beside her instead, desperately trying to cling to anything as her limbs began to shake. She was so, so close, and bit down on her lip, but knew it was a losing battle. Draco had pulled his mouth away again, repeating the exquisite torture from earlier in bringing her to the edge only to retreat to feathery kisses.

The pressure building within her approached unbearable heights and she could tell Draco was more than aware of her state. When he clamped his whole mouth around her clit, Hermione gave in as her pleasure finally crested and she surrendered spectacularly to him. "Draco! Mmmm yes Draco!"

The subject of her cries kept circling her clit with his talented tongue, leaving Hermione breathless at the way he'd earned his given name from her throat. He'd well and truly earned it indeed.

Unaware she'd squeezed her eyes shut, Hermione blinked them slowly open when she felt him lean off her thighs to sit back on his heels. Draco made for an achingly beautiful sight in the morning sun: naked and kneeling over her with his flushed cheeks and mussed hair. He regarded her with a very serious expression, all smirking gone from his face.

Hermione took the lead this time, shifting her hips forward and off the bed toward his waiting erection. He met her stare and gently braced a large hand on the side of her hip. "Is this all right?" he asked softly and when Hermione nodded firmly he shifted his weight over her. He still seemed tentative and restrained in his movements, so Hermione added a verbal consent of, "yes, please."

She had filed this same observation from last night away, curious about his hesitation to enter her before receiving a vocal confirmation that she wanted him inside her. She found it unexpectedly tender for a man like Draco and wondered why he felt the need to explicitly ask when she was giving him all the signs that she'd very much like him to shag her immediately.

Questioning his odd, yet sweet, behavior would need to wait until later though, because Draco was kissing his way back up her body and as their mouths reconnected he pushed inside her, eliciting gasps from both of them.

She closed her eyes briefly at the sensation of him filling her so fully, and when she opened them again, saw Draco studying her face. Hermione reached up and grazed her fingertips along his cheek then rested her palm behind his neck. He leaned down to kiss her again and began thrusting slowly in and out. Hermione let him find a good rhythm before moving her lower body in turn, seeking to give him as much pleasure as he'd bestowed earlier.

Draco alternated between kissing her mouth and burying his face in the side of her neck as their movements picked up in pace. Hermione shifted her hips up slightly to give him a deeper angle inside her and he growled appreciatively in her ear and pumped harder.

And it all felt so easy yet so foreign to be with him in this way, that Hermione lamented the amount of time wasted in not being together. Every powerful stroke, every brush of his lips, every little whisper of his breath across her skin made her feel feverishly alive. Her pleasure mounted to dizzying heights again, and as his hips snapped into hers more jaggedly than before, she fell victim once more to that all-consuming wave.

Draco kissed her passionately as she regained some of her sense of self, and then with several harsh thrusts later, let out a deep moan into the side of her neck, and she felt another small thrill of satisfaction as he spilled himself into her completely.

They lay locked together for a few moments before Draco moved first. Pulling up slightly, he leant over her face, some of his blonde fringe tickling her forehead. His mouth split into a mischievous grin.

"Think I'll take that tea now, Granger."

Hermione giggled then swatted him so he rolled off of her.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reads/reviews/follows, it means a lot! You can find me on tumblr: heyjude19-writing.