Warnings for sexual content, in case you don't like that sort of thing.

In a twist that Hermione didn't expect—okay, she semi expected it—Draco couldn't keep his hands to himself. Not in the sense that he was constantly snogging her—which, alright, he could often be found after the children went to bed, pressing her to the nearest flat surface, and burying his fingers in her hair.

He held her hand often, brushing his fingers across her knuckles, a wry smirk curving his lips. He knew about her nightmares, knew them inside and out as if they were his own. Which, she knew, one of them was. Following the third day of their relationship, which was barely in its infancy really, Draco had somehow known she was tangled in the sheets of her bed, crying out for Bellatrix to stop carving into her.

When he woke her, she was drenched with sweat, only Hermione thought it was blood, running down her arm. Rolling off the ends of her fingertips and splattering against the floor where it would coagulate. Hermione jerked awake that night, throwing her head back and busting Draco's lower lip, but his arms were locked around her.

He said she needed to level out, whispered in her ear that he was there—

It's okay. I'm here. Scream. Let it out, Granger. She's dead.

And then she'd shuddered against him, raising her hands, digging her nails into his forearm as he helped her come down. I should have killed her, she'd whispered. Hermione hadn't been able to find any amount of horror at her admission, at the surge of blood lust that had surfaced.

They shared nightmares. Draco dreamed of her writhing on the floor more often than he had before, and his eyes glinted in the darkness as he detailed why. Now that they were twisted around one another, now that she was his, the memory of her blood coating the floor of his drawing room was prevalent. He admitted that he was more angry with himself than ever, for being a coward, for not protecting her even if there hadn't been a reason to do so then.

He didn't care much for Lucius' death, a man that Draco didn't refer to as his father anymore. Still, his mother's death went hand in hand with the man's, and Hermione curled herself around Draco as he hyperventilated. Brushing hair from his face, and whispering that it wasn't okay, she knew that, but she was there, and she apologised for not having more to offer, and he smashed his lips to hers.

It was an endless cycle. She hoped it wouldn't end at least. She liked how his fingers slid through hers, how his palm slid up her thigh beneath the table at meals; liked the way he smiled at her, made her heart stop dead in her chest when he laughed at one of her utterly terrible jokes.

The kids loved them too, constantly watched them for a little too long, and Draco would mutter, "I'll give them something to stare at,"

"Draco, no," Hermione laughed.

Padma and Lisa exchanged knowing looks, leaning back in their seats when the newly established couple argued.

And another day:

"What do you mean you told them to ride the thestrals?" Hermione shrieked a week later, her cheeks flushed, but it was due to the snogging session. The one that had been cut short as Olivia Warbeck ripped through the treeline on the back of thestral while she rolled, narrowly avoiding a water spell shot by Henry.

Draco shrugged, leaning against the cabin. "I didn't give them express permission to ride them. I didn't say 'Children, go ride dangerous animals.'"

Her eyes narrowed. "What did you tell them then?"

Lisa snorted from her seat at the tables as she painted her nails, comparing them to Padma's. "Nothing good, that's for sure!" She hollered.

"Shut your mouth, Turpin!" Draco yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. Turning back to Hermione as she tapped her foot impatiently, he gave a forced smile. "I told them I needed them to preoccupy themselves for an hour so I could—"

She remembered, vividly, why she'd ever thought him as irritating. "You must be the most irresponsible camp counsellor I've ever met in my—"

"Have you met many?"

"I attended summer camp for three years—"

"There was that time Michael let you fall off a broom, not once but twice. Isn't he more irresponsible than I? At least I saved you one of those times, you know—Granger, are you about to hit me?" His eyes widened as he shuffled backwards, colour draining from his face. "I think that's called physical abuse."

She made a show of pushing up her sleeves, not bothering with her wand. "Is it though?" She muttered. "You're such a complete twat!"

"Draco's a twat!" Oliver yelled, and there was a chorus of voices repeating just that. "Motion carries, Hermione!"

Hermione gazed overhead, shaking her head. "You heard them, Malfoy."

"You taught them a dirty word." Draco retorted. "Some counsellor you are, Granger."

"Back to surnames, are we?" Hermione shot him an obscene gesture. "In that care—"

He smirked, capturing her wrists and pulling her behind the cabin, out of view except for all of those overhead. "Let's not pretend you won't be—"

"Finish that sentence," Hermione warned.

"Is this our first fight?"

She blinked, twigs snapping under her trainers. "What?" A smile spread across her face as he laughed. "You're serious. Draco,"

He pressed her to the wall, still holding her wrists as he pinned them over her head. As it always did, his knee slid between her legs, and Hermione collapsed against the wall as he slowly kissed her. "You can call me Malfoy all you like, so long as you keep saying my name like that." His eyes were dark as he looked at her, dropping to her red lips and her heaving chest.

An outburst of laughter overhead reminded her just where they were, and also just how easy it was to be distracted by him. "There are children," Hermione hissed through gritted teeth.

He cast a Notice-Me-Not. "All fixed." He muttered, dropping her hands, and lifting her up.

She gasped, "Do you have a thing for pinning me to things?" when she ought to have been putting a stop to everything. They couldn't, shouldn't at least, just make out in the middle of broad daylight.

"Why?" he rasped, dipping his head and then his lips were skimming her collarbone. "Do you like it?"

At two in the morning, Draco slipped into her room. "You should be asleep," he murmured, coming to sit beside her. He leaned against the headboard, closing his eyes, not stealing a peek at the parchment in her lap.

Hermione swallowed. "Why couldn't you sleep?" Her muggle pen scratched against the parchment, but she sighed and balled it up before it joined the other drafts in the floor.

"I was just waiting for the children to give up and go to bed. You know they wait for me to sneak over? Nosy little beasts."

She grinned. "They think they're entitled to the comings and goings of our relationship since we'd probably still be avoiding each other if they hadn't intervened."

His tongue darted out, sliding along his bottom lip. "Well, they're definitely not entitled the coming's of our relationship."

Hermione paused, looking at him as her brows drew together. "Did you just make an innuendo?" She burst into laughter, her sides shaking, and he was grinning at her in a way that made her shiver. "You're a menace."

As he so often did, he snaked an arm around her waist, coaxing her closer and ultimately pulling her into his side. "What's all that for?" Draco motioned to the six drafts, the six balled up feet of parchment littering her floor.

Hermione laid her head on his shoulder, picking at her nails. "I've decided that it would be better if I tell Ron and Harry about us sooner rather than later. If I wait, they'll only be angrier with me for keeping it from them."

Draco's fingers smoothed along her sides. "Can't find the words?"

"Can't find the courage actually."

He snorted. "That's shite. You're a Gryffindor."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, not only are Gryffindor's typically brave, they're notorious for being hot tempered. And Ron doesn't need to be hot tempered to be angry about his." Hermione sighed, fidgeting with her fingers. "I don't care that he'll be angry. He'll get over it, or he won't I've accepted that."

"Not a large chance he'll get over it. The two of us don't get along, not to say I wouldn't try to at the very least." As her head rose, he grumbled, "Don't look so surprised. Surely you've realised by now that I would do anything for you."

The memory of Lestrange pointing his wand at her was vivid—violent—in her mind. "I know. It's just, it's nice to hear even still." Hermione laid her hand on his thigh, giving a reassuring squeeze. "Ron wouldn't be pleasant. You don't have to speak to him; I don't expect you to."

"He's your friend, and your ex-boyfriend, which isn't thrilling in the least, but you're my girlfriend now. I'm not going to be a dick to him," Draco paused, "much."

"You're a liar, but the sentiment is appreciated all the same."

"Grab one of those letters. We'll figure out what to say." He nudged her side, threatening to send her tumbling to the floor if she didn't comply.

Hermione stirred, instantly reminded as she always was, that she was draped across Draco's hard chest. "Merlin, what time is it?" She muttered, crawling across his frame and casting a tempus charm.

Half past ten o'clock. They never slept this late, which meant everyone, everyone, in the camp probably thought they were shagging. Dragging a hand down her face, Hermione considered faking some sort of illness. It'd have to the contagious sort, something not passed by kissing or she'd never hear the fucking end of it.

"'Ome back to bed," Draco murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he reached for her. His hands skimmed the backs of her legs, making her squirm.

Hermione took a deep breath, climbing out of the bed before he could capture her. "Draco," She poked his arm as she crouched beside the bed. "Draco."

"'M sleeping." She was pretty sure the snore that followed was only for comedic effect. It wasn't possible for someone to snore in a cute way. "Lay down."

"I'm going to take a shower." Hermione told him. "It's late. Everyone is probably awake, and they probably think that we're shagging."

When Draco didn't make the joke that he'd give them something to talk about, Hermione realised that he was exhausted. "I'll be back," she whispered, crawling back onto the bed and dropping a kiss to his forehead.

He still tried to grab her as she made a quick escape.

There was a crash in her bedroom.

Hermione paused, turning off the water as she stepped out of the shower. "Draco?" She called.

Another crash. "You son of a bitch!"

Hermione flailed, barely stopping herself before she faceplanted on the slick tile. Wrapping a robe around herself and tying it quickly in front of her, she threw the door open. It was a mess. The wardrobe that sat against the wall was splintered, her clothes spilling out from it. Not to mention the bed itself was broken in two.

Probably from the spell that had most likely nearly hit Draco. Her boyfriend stood in front of her, not risking a second to glance over his shoulder. "So," Draco spoke nonchalantly, despite the sight of Ron glaring from in front of the door. "We won't need to send that letter after all. Weasley found out."

"Ron, put your wand down." Hermione padded past Draco, swiping her wand up from the nightstand. "You won't be needing it."

Ron's eyes narrowed on her. "Did he Imperius you?"

"No, but you're welcome to check if you like. No, Draco is just my boyfriend now. I had a letter to send you today to tell you, since I thought it would be best if you heard it from me." Hermione gripped her wand, just in case she needed to stop Ron in his tracks. "Please don't do this."

He was still dressed in his training uniform, which was a replica of a real Auror uniform, save for the insignia on the right arm. Ron lowered his wand. "You're not being forced against your will?"

She shook her head. "Absolutely not."

"I don't like it," Ron grumbled.

Hermione squared her shoulders, her chest tightening in the midst of the conflict, but she rolled her eyes. "You don't have to like it. I have to like it."

"Malfoy is a good for nothing Death Eater. No matter how many improvements he makes, he'll still be that." Ron said. "You're too good for him, 'Mione."

She glanced over her shoulder, motioning for Draco to come to her side. As he did, she clasped her much smaller hand in his. "You're so far off the mark." Hermione replied without looking at Ron, but instead smiling at Draco. "He was a Death Eater, and he's already tried to convince me to have nothing to do with him because of it. If he can't convince me, what possibly makes you think that you can?"

Ron tilted his head to the side, appearing to be moments from tearing his hair out. "Can I talk to you in private?"

To say she didn't like it would have been an understatement, but Draco answered for her. "I'll be somewhere else." Draco agreed, dropping a kiss to her temple before exiting the cabin and shutting the door behind him.

"He's affectionate. It's weird and gross."

It wasn't funny. She was more than mildly offended, but Hermione found herself chuckling anyway. "He's only nice to me some days, but he's a different person than I thought I knew of in Hogwarts."

"He was a Death Eater while we were in Hogwarts." Ron moved to sit at the edge of her bed, well, the half of it that was still upright, but she shook her head. "I know you've become friends." He began.

She folded her arms over her chest. "You're not going to change my mind."

"Did it have to be so soon after we broke up? Were you already...like this before we broke up?"

Hermione would have liked to hex him for the accusation. "No," She said, her voice hard. "We were just becoming friends when you sent me that letter."

He flinched at the mention of the letter, of how he hadn't at least done it in person. But he could show up a moment's notice after learning about Draco. "He's a mistake. You don't see it because you're...whatever with him, but he's going to hurt you. It's inevitable."

"Fuck off."

Ron's eyes shot open, and she barely had time to wonder if she had been spending too much time around Draco before he whispered her name. "You can't be serious. This is—"

"I am serious." She stalked toward him, glaring. "All things considered, this went better than I expected, but I'm not going to change my mind. If you never accept it, then fine."

He blinked. "You're shitting me. We've been friends for how long, and you're going to choose a fucking Death Eater over our friendship."

"Time to go, Weasley." Draco called from the door, that neither she nor Ron had noticed opening again. Leaned against the frame with his wand in hand so he wouldn't be caught off guard again, Draco looked threatening. She recognised all in the same sweeping moment.

He wasn't defending himself at all. He meant to step in for her, so she wouldn't have to listen to Ron's broken record of reasons to change her mind.

"Who do you think you are?" Ron snapped. "I wouldn't listen to the likes of you, and you should watch your step."

Draco didn't give a visceral reaction. "Get out, or I'll drag you out myself."

Whether Ron took the threat seriously, or not, Hermione didn't know. Ron glanced to her, still angry, before turning on his heel and storming out of the cabin. He muttered about Death Eaters even then, and all she wanted to do was force him to realise that it didn't define who Draco was now.

Footsteps pounded up the steps, and Olivia burst into the room. Her hair was frizzy, her toothbrush still clasped in her hand as she shot panicked looks toward both of them. "I'm so sorry. My dad is an Auror, and we exchange letters every week. I told him about how we had to push you two together—he's thrilled by way, was rooting for Draco, which was really surprising—but he must have said it where,"

Draco placed his hand over her mouth. "Take a deep breath before you choke."

Even though she listened, she was rambling as soon as she opened her mouth.

"It's okay," Hermione said. "We aren't upset. You have no reason to apologise, or blame yourself."

Olivia stared at her shoes. "He was really mean to you both. I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Stop right there. You're no responsible for someone else's actions. Everything is fine." Hermione promised, still wishing she wasn't only in a bathrobe as Olivia rushed for her. Hermione patted the girl's back. "Go on, we'll be out soon."

Later that night, close to curfew, Draco tried to get away for himself. Not that they discussed it, but with each passing day it grew harder to be alone. The children, all of them now, liked to eavesdrop. They made a game of it with a running tally of how many times they could interrupt Draco or Hermione.

So after a snog by the Great Lake, which was teetering on the edge of skinny dipping during a heated game of truth or dare, Henry's laugh had given the hiding place away.

Hermione laughed as Draco roared, "Back to bed, the lot of you! Go!" He herded them back into their cabins while scolding Hannah and Michael.

Their fellow counsellors sat with Lisa and Padma, happy to turn a blind eye for the entertainment it provided.

It was midnight by the time they were away from prying eyes. He murmured for her to sleep with him, and sneak back into her room before sunrise. Afterall, she still hadn't repaired her bed anyway.

She laid under him, slipping her hand under his shirt while running her palms up his chest. She felt the scar that had been left by the Sectumsempra curse, tracing it with her index finger while her breathing ran ragged.

His hand slid over her hip, drawing her leg up and hitching it around his waist. It was as bold as he'd ever been, with his pelvis pressed against hers, and she hoped he wouldn't stop to ask her if she'd like to keep going.

Knowing it would shatter the moment, her resolve, and open the gates for her embarrassment to seep in, Hermione hooked both legs around his waist and pulled him closer and didn't give him the chance to ask.

She whispered his name in his ear, a throaty moan leaving her, when he kissed down her neck. He traced her collarbone, the cluster of white lined scars there, with the tip of his tongue, and all she could do was shudder. "Draco, Draco,"

"Merlin," he groaned right below her ear. Draco rolled off of her, pulling her into the curve of his arm, her head resting on his bicep. "Come here." He propped himself up slightly, kissing her again until she was breathless.

It was Hermione that made the first move. She grabbed his hand, pulling it down her stomach and to just above the apex of her thighs. She glanced at him, nibbling her bottom lip as her nerves threatened to cause her to pretend it had never happen. Hermione didn't mean for her voice to sound quite so breathy as she whispered, nearly begging, "Please?"

Intimacy had never scared her, but as his fingers pressed against her clit through her sleep shorts, Hermione found the way he gazed at her both exhilarating and terrifying. She broke, a moan escaping her as she attempted to muffle it against his shoulder.

Draco reached behind him, grabbing his wand and casting the silencing spell over the room. "Want to hear you," he groaned, his fingers dipping below her waistband.

The first time his fingers brushed against her clit, something that had never been touched by anyone but her, Hermione cried out. Surprise colored her voice, and her head tipped back. "Oh, God,"

She was slick, and he rubbed her clit with slow movements, soft touches as she were a fragile doll. Hermione looped her arms around his neck, whimpering into his neck as she bit down. "More."

He met her demands eagerly, one finger sliding into her, curling inside of her and the motion dragged a long moan from her. "You're stunning," Draco whispered. "Gorgeous," He murmured, adding another finger.

"I'm a virgin," she blurted, her face heated up immediately. "That was stupid. I just didn't know if it mattered to you, and you're experienced, so—"

He silenced the worries, and reassured them all at once by lowering his lips to hers. "Shh,"

"Shouldn't I…?" Hermione reached down, cupping his erection through his trousers.

A hiss passed through his teeth. "Not that I'm bloody like to turn you down,"

She grinned. "Yet you are,"

His fingers curled inside of her again as he growled, "Let me make this about you."

Hermione rocked against his hand, gasping as his thumb swiped across her clit. Letting loose a string of profanity, Hermione didn't argue again.

It was a steady rhythm, his fingers pumping into her and his thumb rubbing slow, almost torturous circles. And then the pace quickened, and he was telling her just how intoxicating she was.

"Draco!" She cried out. Her legs clamped shut as she shook against him. "Sweet fucking Merlin," she panted.

Draco nuzzled her neck, brushing her hair from her sweaty forehead. "You're a vision, Granger."

"It's Hermione," she replied, exhausted.

Next chapter is the final chapter of Hogwarts: Summer Camp. There will also be some news that is hopefully exciting at the end of the chapter when it posts. I'll do my best to have the chapter up in a few days, or by the end of next week. (I say hopefully.) I'd love to hear what you thought if you have anything to say.