May 4th

The passionate session on Draco's sofa in front of his fireplace was only the first round of a marathon night that didn't end until the sun was threatening to peek over the horizon and they were both completely and utterly spent. Hermione had been impressed with the wizard's stamina just as he was amazed by her insatiability. Nothing was ever enough. No matter what he did, she cried out for more. It was enough to discourage a less confident man. He found rising to the challenge to be worth the exhaustion. With his usual smirk plastered on his handsome lips, he did what was necessary to fulfill her every desire.

Neither of them stirred from his enormous, decadent bed until the next night was almost upon them. Forced to leave their temporary sanctuary to fill their empty bellies, they had almost been able to make it through the hastily prepared meal before needing to satisfy their hunger of a different sort right there on top of the kitchen table. Another night passed much like the first. Little conversation was had even as they shared the same bed and tried to catch their breath. While there was much that could be said, neither of them wanted to break the tenuous spell that had fallen over the flat. To bring attention to the dangers and impracticalities was to risk ruining it altogether.

As the large bedroom began to fill with the rays of the morning sun, Hermione woke in Draco's bed for the second morning in a row. His possessiveness, even in the deepest of exhausted sleeps, insisted that his arms remain wrapped tightly around her body. Perhaps subconsciously he was afraid that she would find a reason to run off as he slept. She couldn't blame him. There were more reasons to run than there were to stay.

Giving in to their primal instincts had been enjoyable, to say the least, but she still worried in the light of day that she had only managed to make their unusual, tense situation so much worse. Sex complicated everything. Even in the strongest of relationships where nothing except for a happy, fulfilling future loomed ahead, adding in the additional element of physical pleasure presented new challenges. In their, for lack of a better term, relationship she was concerned that what had already been confusing would only become more so. There wasn't love between them. She wasn't even certain that she had the capacity to love anyone ever again. Not after the end of her relationship with Augustus. Though Sarah might have insisted that there was a warped sense of love for her husband, Hermione wasn't sure that counted. Respect, admiration, and a healthy dose of fear wasn't exactly what the sappy poems were written about.

She worried that they would be unable to navigate the treacherous waters that always accompanied illicit affairs. While she'd had plenty of experience during her unhealthy, unconventional marriage, she didn't know much about Draco's past. Would he be able to let her go when she needed to run again? Fenrir had. Augustus didn't have a choice, but would Lord Voldemort's most talented tracker be able to put his feelings aside when it was necessary? And even though she was afraid to imagine the possibility, how would she feel if Draco didn't care enough to pursue her when she inevitably had to run?

Frustrated with her line of thinking, she carefully rolled over on her side to stare at the empty wall. Having Draco's peaceful sleeping form in her line of sight wasn't helping. Something had changed between them. Only a fool wouldn't acknowledge that fact. But, if she was honest, she didn't understand what all was different. He wasn't the type to beg her to run off to another country to a start a new life with him. Nor was he naïve enough to believe that she could simply remain hidden in his flat indefinitely. Hiding only worked for a little while. Each moment that she remained she was putting her host in even more danger. Antonin might not have attacked the Jordan family, but that didn't mean he would be so generous in the future. Perhaps it was better for the both of them that she sneak out of his flat and never return.

Unable to remain in bed a moment longer, Hermione gently removed the heavy covers to slip out. She stared at Draco for a few moments to be certain he was still asleep. As much fun as the two of them had since the night they drank too much, she needed some time to herself to think. Draco was talented at making her forget everything unpleasant in her life. In order to make some informed decisions, she needed to stop hiding from the facts.

Once she was dressed in her discarded clothes from the night before, she was careful not to make any noise as she exited the room. A long, hot shower alone in her own bathroom helped her clear her mind. The haze clouding her judgment began to lift. She knew she had been foolish to cross over that invisible line. What was even more frustrating was how little she actually cared. Thinking only of stolen moments within the safety of his flat wasn't the answer to her problem. If anything, all she was doing was putting the wizard in danger. Everything she touched turned to shit. Why would he be any different?

"You realize my shower is better than this one, don't you?"

Draco's voice startled Hermione out of her thoughts. It was further proof that she'd grown complacent and lazy in her actions. There was a time when no one was able to sneak up behind her. She should've been able to hear him enter the room before he even spoke.

Without bothering to wait for an invitation, the overly confident wizard stepped into the shower behind Hermione. Just as it had been since they first kissed, he was unable to keep his hands to himself. She groaned at the feel of his lips on her bare shoulders, his large hands skimming the flesh on her sides and down to her hips. The haze that prevented her from making good decisions returned at full force. How could one man, one human man, affect her so strongly? She couldn't remember anyone else putting her under such an effective, pleasurable spell.

"I didn't want to wake you up."

It was the truth even if it wasn't the complete truth. His sinful mouth continued its assault on her shoulders and neck. The length of his body pressed up against her back, leaving no doubt what his intentions were for their shared shower. She felt that familiar swoop of anticipation in her belly that always promised more of a good thing to come. All of her earlier concerns about remaining in the flat any longer disappeared the moment his hand slipped between her thighs. He slid a single finger along her seam, dragging out a moan. How was it possible that a simple touch could make her feel as if her skin was on fire? Perhaps it was a mark of how lonely she had been on the run. She was hungry for human companionship. That was all. She refused to consider the possibility that there might be something more sinister at work.

"If you'd let me continue to sleep, I might have missed this chance to do exactly what I want to your delicious body."

His words were practically a purr that she felt straight to her core. Coherent thoughts began to become difficult with the added pressure of his touch, the teasing of her most sensitive bundle of nerves, and the welcome intrusion of first one and then a second finger. Unlike some women would have the world believe, Hermione had always had more experiences with men who desired that she find her pleasure first before they got carried away seeking their own. Perhaps the antiquated ideals of proper women not really caring for sexual pleasure had colored the awakenings of her fellow females, but in her wide and varied experience, there had only been a couple of cretins who cared more about themselves than her body. They certainly weren't given the opportunity to redeem themselves in a second round either. Where was the sense in wasting her time when she knew others out there who knew what they were doing?

Draco deftly pulled her first thigh-trembling, world-shaking release of the morning from her compliant body. She could practically hear his smirk as she held on to his arms to keep from collapsing to the slick shower floor. He was a confident man who was well aware of the fact that he knew how to make a woman pant and scream out his name. Over the course of their days hidden in his flat naked and exploring, Hermione uncovered the arrogant person he used to be before his world changed so drastically as a teenager. Perhaps he'd never really been gone, only hidden under the weight of shame and fear for so long. Being responsible for bringing that out in him was a heady realization. She found that she liked seeing him as he once was again. Maybe there was still hope that she could be who she used to be too. Or at least a poor copy of the idealistic girl who died the same moment Harry did in the Great Hall.

Deciding that her depressing thoughts were in danger of ruining a perfectly good morning, Hermione chose to push them away and fully embrace the possibilities of pleasure offered. Carefully, but deliberately turning around to face the wizard, she put everything she had into kissing him a proper good morning. As their actions heated up and escalated to delightful heights, she no longer dwelled on the person she could never be again. The wizard didn't bother to waste another moment before pressing her back against the tiles, lifting her up by her slim thighs, and reminding her in both words and actions why she should never slip out of his bed without waking him up first. It was a lesson she was glad to be reminded of.

They clung to each other, willing their heart rates and breathing to return to normal. For a reason she still couldn't understand, in the moments after their mutual completions when she was usually apt to want to push her partner away, she couldn't get enough of the simple touches from the wizard. What was wrong with her that she didn't want to run out of his arms after she'd selfishly gotten what she wanted? It was a question that wasn't meant to have an answer that morning.

Each of them hissed at the insistent burn of their Dark Marks. Whomever was calling, the Dark Lord or Antonin, wanted them both present. Likely, it was a general call to everyone. Certainly one Hermione was going to grit her teeth and ignore. Draco, however, didn't have the option. An awkward peck to her lips and a promise to return soon that she knew he couldn't actually keep, Draco rushed from the steam-fulled bathroom, leaving her, yet again, completely alone.