Author's Note; If the next update is slow, it's because I am actually going back and editing the first chapters I wrote for this fic and rewriting them to be in first person to match the rest of the story, which is extremely tedious. I have 5 chapters to go, so forgive me xo
To make a mountain of your life is just a choice.
But I never learned enough to listen to the voice that told me;
Always love,
Hate will get you every time.
Always love, don't wait til the finish line.
- Always Love, Nada Surf
There are no words to explain the unparalleled joy I have this moment.
And holding her hand, dually blushing with our secret smiles, I guess I don't even need to.
Everything that's just happened was unexpected and totally fantastic, I'm still left with the hazy feeling that this isn't real life. This experience is almost like an alternate universe, in what scenario would I have ever fucked Hermione Granger? Would I have loved her, and have her love me too?
Because I do. And I said 'pretty sure', pretty sure that I know it. But it's not 'pretty', it's a certainty, I'm simply too scared when she only thinks she does.
"So how are you feeling?" I ask, distracting myself from vain thoughts.
"I feel good, a little strange, you?"
She's still flushed, her hair a complete mess from me playing with it so much, grinning like an idiot to my delight.
"Oh, obviously I'm resplendent. I meant, are you in pain at all?" She scrunches her face a bit and shakes her head. "Sorry, just thought it'd be the right thing to ask."
"I know… Who uses resplendent in actual conversation?" she teases.
"Clearly I do."
"A Malfoy must always be sophisticated? I am a little sore, but that's to be expected. Actually, the fact that you made me very aroused, very wet beforehand, helped a lot."
"Yes, I must. And that's good to hear. I, er, made that mistake before."
"Oh?" she says, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Yes, please do not make me go into detail."
"I won't, don't want to hear it either," she bumps into me, causing me to smirk.
"I noticed you didn't ask me to use any charms beforehand," I note quietly.
As we were getting our clothes back on, she requested me to perform the birth control spell on her, but not the infection one which must be used before we get intimate.
"The thought crossed my mind. But I told you I trust you," she stammers. "I knew you would tell me to use it if I needed it…was I good at foreplay?"
She's very bad at steering conversations isn't she?
"You are right, I would've, but even if you trust me, we should talk about stuff like that. Even if it's embarrassing. It doesn`t kill the mood for me. Got to be responsible sex partners," I smirk.
"I know, I'm experiencing great guilt. Birth control is more immediately important to me, so I suppose the other felt more of a precaution. You must teach me the incantations at a later date. Now answer my question," she commands, stopping me in the hall to kiss me. "And be honest."
Sighing, I can't help but be amused at her question as much as I feel awkward responding to it.
"Hermione, I told you, you sucked my dick and then rode me, err sorry," I apologize at her expression. "I try to keep my vulgarity at a minimum when you're around, sometimes I forget myself. Anyways, I was erotically surprised that you would've blew me before you'd really even seen what I'm packing. It was great, honestly."
"Erotically…surprised?"
"Yes, erotically surprised," I taunt, liking how much she's piqued at my turns of phrase.
"And the technique?"
"This is so weird, my penis doesn't have its own passable course with a grade given at the end. In good conscious, why should I critique you on the first blowjob you've given me?" I whisper, unable to stop the pink rising to my cheeks.
She bites her lip in an effort to stifle laughter.
"Draco, I only want to know some tips so I can improve. Because I'd like to have a repeat experience, and soon," she implores me, raising an eyebrow seductively.
"S-soon? Merlin, Granger, don't tease me like that. Seriously, I don't care about your movements as long as you touch it. But since you will only pester me further, just try to be less, how shall I put it; methodical. I do enjoy a very indelicate switch from fast to slow in speed. Also, anytime you make noise is just, ah, I can't even describe how that gets me off," I reply with glee. "Lastly, maybe you will grow to hate blowjobs with a burning passion, but please pretend you're into it, not just doing it because I like it." I grab her waist gently and rest her against the stone wall, running my hand along her jaw and then pecking her on the lips.
"Duly noted," she responds, wrapping her arms around me. "I take pleasure in turning you on, so once I get the hang of it, I'm sure I'll like it more. And that means lots of practice."
"You're killing me here," I groan, pressing my raging semi against her leg.
"I know, I just wanted to let you know I did like the whole thing, it was much more passionate than I thought. But it was sort of an out of body experience, I couldn't believe it was happening, you know? Given that I chickened out first. And I knew you'd wait for me, obviously, but you didn't let me having to stop you faze you at all. It made me comfortable, and it made me able to relax and you know, enjoy the arousal." She stares at me, conveying her appreciation in those beautiful brown eyes. "So thank you."
"You're welcome. I'm glad you're alright lovely, it only goes up from there," I grin, nibbling her ear to make her shiver. "Now, seeing as I gave you multiple hickeys and we only have twenty minutes til showtime…"
I take out my wand, pressing it softly against her neck and whisper "Tollere cicatricem." The bruised purple skin fades back to her regular pale peach and she slaps her fingers to her neck.
"Wow, there really are spells for everything. This is an interesting topic for me to research. Spells to affect the physical body. And another enchantment you must show me," she giggles.
"Only you would be fascinated in the history of sex magic. And yes, it's a handy trick Pansy showed me, probably one of the only useful things redeemed from that relationship. And one I so required after going to that stupid club," I wiggle my eyebrows at her and she hits my arm playfully. "Oh come on, you gave me around 17, I counted."
"Well you loved it so shush. Maybe we should get a move on?"
"I suppose we must," she takes my hand to lead me down the spiral staircases to the second floor. I feel drunk and giddy by how sappy and embarrassing we're being, I'm barely nervous anymore.
"So I know we've had enough disconcerting conversation but, I've been thinking about that question Verity bombarded you with at George's house and I find myself really wanting an answer."
"The one about if Pansy and I shagged a lot?" I ask a little morosely. Please no.
"Yes," she confirms delicately, looking straight ahead. "I'm not going to be mad at you, I've always found your bond with Pansy sort of an enigma."
"No, I know. You don't strike me as the jealous type." At this she snorts. "Okay, perhaps you are loyal, and you will stick up for me. But you won't smack a bitch if they simply talk to me."
"I'd be kidding myself if I told you I didn't get envious, luckily I haven't had to deal with it much."
"I know, lucky for you I'm not a ladies man."
"Hm, Lavender said you were good looking. To gasps of disapproval, but still," she admits sheepishly.
"Oh how comforting. The most annoying girl at Hogwarts finds me attractive."
"Regardless," she cuts her hand across the air. "I think you're hot, that should be enough. You're not satisfying my curiosity."
"Excuse me for not wanting to indulge you on my sexual history and relationship with the girl from school you most despise."
She blinks wide-eyed at my tone and tries very hard not to smirk.
"I mean, I will indulge you. But I'm not happy about it. You won't like it."
"Try me," she dares as we get off the last step. She walks to the music room, sliding the door open and ushering me inside. "And make it quick, we're only minutes from our deadline and the Great Hall is corridors away."
"I can't make it quick, Granger. I need to offer you my side of the story."
"An abridged version then?"
"Oh, hell, I can try." I clear my throat. "The thing you have to understand about us Slytherin kids is we get bored as all hell during summer. I rarely went on vacations with my parents, a lot of the adults just took turns throwing stupid parties, brunches and cocktail affairs. So essentially I saw Pansy almost every day. And combined with living in a dorm with her, and she coming over unannounced at least four times a week, I was very close to her in my own way. It was nice to feel as if someone liked me. Anyways, in case you didn't realize, or if I haven't elaborated it further to you, Pansy's mother was telling her to go for me basically since we were kids. And she already liked me so she played the game. All that attention, and I falsely mistook it for juvenile love. We 'dated' as only awkward thirteen year olds do. Wen to the Yule Ball, blah blah. I knew about my father and his nighttime activities by fifth year but somehow I was able to place it in the recesses of my mind. I got a little full of myself one-upping you lot all the time thanks to Umbridge. And Pansy is as nasty as I was, she loved it." I shake my head disbelievingly. God, I'm such a fucking arsehole. "There was this negative happiness we fiended for, there wasn't enough cruelty to feast on for us. Somehow being so mean made us so crazy for each other. I'd like to say she made the first moves, she was all over me, but the truth is that I wanted it as much as she let me have it."
Hermione emits this woeful, barely noticeable noise. She didn't want me to hear it; I don't comment on it, trying to have tact. But it hits me in the gut, that my past actions pain her.
"Truthfully, we did 'shag quite often'. To answer your question. We'd find ways here, before we always did it in my room."
"When did you start?" She ambles over to my piano, resting on the stool. I join her, intertwining our fingers again, I don't want to lose the connection.
"July, during the break before fifth year," I murmur. Looking back, that seems far too young, I was far too immature to fathom how important that kind of intimacy can be. "We were affected hard by hormones, at least I was. Summer became suddenly grim that year; my father was a criminal. A strange part of me felt he deserved it, but I was much too angry at Potter to see straight. This constant anchor in my life that was supposed to teach me self-respect was actually caught, shamed. I didn't know how to feel or cope. But I refused to let anyone else in and I continued this charade of having a teenage relationship with Pansy, never letting her in when I became more and more distant, when I received my fate. Eventually she just slowly drifted apart from me, I was never happy, never in a good mood."
The hand grasping mine squeezes for comfort, and it only makes this harder. My speech falters. I've told her what she wants, I don't know if I should continue.
"From what you told me, it seems like she still wanted you, given your reputation….surely she cared about you Draco?" Hermione says softly. "She didn't mean to abandon you."
"Of course not, I meant to abandon her. I'm at fault. I told you we, 'did it', in the Slytherin girls dormitory. It was spontaneous, but it didn't sit right with me afterwards. She saw it then, my mark. Didn't question me, which actually scared me more than made me feel relieved. I know she had no idea what I was up to, she didn't actually care that much about my affairs so much as she wanted my cock at that point. I realized after that incident that I actually meant something to her even if it was shallow, even if we couldn't comprehend the level or depth of it because we were too guarded. Because she didn't tell anyone about it, she didn't pester me. "
"You didn't love her, then?" She asks it without bite, but with genuine interest.
"I didn't."
"I just, I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that you saw her every day, alone or not, and didn't have some sort of deep-routed affection for her. You appreciated her, at least?"
I feel a grin fall to my face. "Funny, when I went on my quest to the Parkinson's with my mother, that's what I told her. I did, as I've said, she was truly the only friend I've ever had. Blaise thought he was too good for me to want to level with me, she tried to open up. She tried to be my girlfriend. But you have to realize, that she followed a plan set out for her by her parents, like me, and hasn't yet given it up. She's still petty and far too conniving. If she really loved me, she wouldn't have told her mother what I said, wouldn't have let her follow us for revenge's sake."
"That's true Draco, but I've been known to do crazier things out of anger," she maintains. "I was obviously distant from Ron when he was with Lavender. So livid. I flaunted Viktor in front of him, went out with Cormac because Ron couldn't stand him. I used someone who I'd earlier in that year confunded so Ron would make it on the Quidditch team."
"What!?" I'm completely shocked. "You did that? Why?"
Weasel not good enough? I think with great relish.
"I made sure Cormac missed a goal so Ron could save all of them. I knew he could do it, and he needed some kind of hope in the matter…"
"But you, cheating? Tsk, tsk."
"I've done far worse things," she replies, forcing her voice to be indifferent.
"Like?" I prompt, wherein she sighs.
"You know Marietta Edgecombe? Her acne?"
I grimace and nod, recalling the gross red pustules on her face.
"That was my doing. She snitched on us about the DA, Dumbledore's Army, and that was the punishment. As far as I know she hasn't fully remedied it yet."
Though I should be frightened at her immense skill I can't help but feel vitally impressed.
"Hmm, you know I'm starting to see why we're able to get along. You have one twisted mind, Granger."
She rolls her eyes at me and pushes me lightly, standing up to have at her violin, gesturing to my wand and then instrument to shrink it.
"Perhaps. I wasn't trying to convey you my darker side, I guess in my heart I just want to believe that that relationship mattered to you. And to her."
"It did…." I assure her, confused. "But why do you want that?"
"Well," she begins, looking down at the floor, slowly walking out of the room. I grab my piano and follow along. "It's just that…I don't like imagining you and Pansy, but if I do, I don't want it to have been a waste. Ron and I were short-lived and really, really stupid looking back on it."
She looks unsettled, walking at a quicker pace down to the hall.
"Hey, he still cares for you."
"On a friendship level," and her attitude suggests that I say nothing further. "And that`s exactly what I meant. Even though he's cross with me, I love him. Even if we were idiots, we loved each other. It's not that I want you to necessarily love her or like her anymore, you can have your misgivings, but to know you lived a part of your life with somebody and didn't act the same way around her that you do me makes me feel weird. That you were so intimate, so close and are so….flippant about it now. It's almost as if you don't even care, miss her at all. Your friend. Don't you savour the memories, even the ones where you were being less than amicable? Because you just said you loved being a little nuisance, got off on it."
"Hermione – "I start and then falter, unable to muster up the strength to try and commence the long explanation I need to give her. "Look, I will tell you all about this soon, but right now we need to go inside," I point to our destination, we've just arrived.
"Alright. I'm sorry if I seem intrusive, I just find you fascinating. The way you think, the way you are."
"Fascinating? Not fucked up, surely?" I laugh, seizing her into my arms to kiss her head. "I find you endlessly enthralling too. One of these days can we actually stop focusing on my idiocy and can talk about your life?"
"Promise," she winks. "And PS, I think I'm going to keep a list of all your colloquialisms."
"Colloquialisms?"
"'Endlessly enthralling' , 'erotically surprised'….you really are some kind of cliché hero from a romance novel."
"Great, that was my big goal in life," I reply dryly and she giggles.
Stepping inside the hall, it is once again transformed to an auditorium of chairs facing the raised platform. The lights are dim, and excited chatter fills the room. It actually seems like most of the students are present. Only fifth years and up are performing, McGonagall surely wanted the 'more mature' pupils to set the example for the school board.
And I can see those pretentious fuckers.
Wilhelm Adler would come over to my house every few months, a fellow trustee, and I had the pleasure of hearing the most boring man on the planet. I can see his handlebar moustache from here, monocle firmly placed on his eye. He's sitting next to Amelia Bond, a 50-something woman who's eaten too many pumpkin pasties in her lifetime, who is then next to some elderly trustee who I recognize but cannot name.
McGonagall nods at us as we walk past them to sit in the front row, one of the only spots left that isn't the very back. She's now very calm on the exterior, chitchatting politely to them along with Flitwick.
You can see everyone behind their view wondering who they are, pointing and whispering. It's now that I remember if we don't perform well as a collective, this class may be cancelled. And while I don't particularly care because I'm graduating, it'll certainly reflect on our marks, and McGonagall does not want to have this kind of failure on her.
"Nervous?" I ask quietly once we're seated, and I can tell just by a glance that they've returned with a bite.
"Yes," she gulps, her hands and legs swinging and trembling again.
"We'll be fine, remember that everyone else is feeling the same way…except maybe Ernie," I add, glancing at him with Susan Bones, talking animatedly no doubt about his immense skill. "'I for one, think that we'll be the best in the bunch Susan, definitely the best,'" I drawl in my best imitation.
She starts snickering, very strained, covering her mouth.
"'Our practice was flawless, simply flawless. I hit all those notes amazingly. Oh, you were pretty good too,'" I continue, and she buries her face in her hands, shaking with laughter.
Suddenly I hear the clearing of a throat; McGonagall is raising an eyebrow at us sternly before walking up the steps to the podium.
She starts yammering about how the procedure is going, that the fifth years will go first, and that she will call us up one by one, already has the order. Presents the governors, tells them they're merely here to observe, but Hermione and I know otherwise. We glance at each other for a second, and I know we're hoping that she takes this into account.
We clap along at their introduction and then it begins; the first kids to perform.
But I don't pay attention still, I can't focus on anything but the lovely person beside me, watching her reactions to the performances, both great and terrible, and the way the emotion in her face flows is so genuine and persistent. She makes small comments, 'So good', but never anything negative.
How she claps with vigour and sincerity, even to the worst of the worst, when it's obvious she's feeling the pressure mount; I can't wrap my head round this.
I simply can't comprehend how she can be so good natured all of the time, the glass is always half full, and even when she's upset she lets out her sadness and then fixes her shit.
I guess you can say I'm amazed by her.
And luckily for me, an hour passes quickly. Time is very odd that way.
Barely caring about the students' lives on the line, I thought I'd be struggling to get by this exercise, but now it's time for the seventh years. I'm trying to get myself back to where I was this afternoon, where I was thinking I'm hot shit. But it's not working, because I feel seriously intimidated by Hermione beside me, who doesn't have to fake it to make it. Why can't I just shake that off and accept I'm worried I'll fail not only myself but my girlfriend? Why can't I be like her?
"Our opening performance by our eldest group of students will be by Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy."
Disenchanting clap are made, murmurs are replaced where applause should be and I should have prepared myself. Paid more attention, because thinking back, the best pair went first, and maybe that's a little selfish to say, but I'm great and she's greater, nobody with taste can falsely accuse us this in any way.
But she's grabbing my hand, and she is determined, doesn't care, that her best friends aren't happy, that she's standing here alone. Except she has me, some fucking prize, and I refuse to let her down. So I bite my tongue, suck my lips into my lungs and let her tell the condemning audience we're playing Muse. And the glares I get, the unadulterated hatred burning in people's eyes starts to have an influence on me. I regret wearing these stupid trousers, I regret ever thinking that things will ever change.
I can see old Dean's face, mangled and bitter, probably a fan of the band we picked. And I look to the right of him with Potter and Weasley. It's here, at the worst possible moment, I clue in that Hermione has this ridiculous effect on people of attracting them into her very appealing personality. And I've been trying to shake this feeling that I don't deserve her, but if we were going to sit down and decide who is settling here, it's a hundred percent her. She's losing lifelong friends over me, and somehow that's not a deal breaker. She is just starting to adore me, and I can only admit to myself that I'm so hopelessly enamoured with her that if she left I would be broken into pieces. And I wouldn't know how to pick them up.
She's seen me naked, both literally and figuratively, and she's gone to Azkaban for me, she's fought for me, listened to me and loved me. I've never felt this way, have no idea how to gauge if this is normal or crazy, because holy shit has it ever been crazy, and it's distressing.
Fuck, just stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it.
I dig my nails into my palms, grit my teeth, and set up my piano in front of a microphone, trying with all my might to forget about these stream of thoughts.
But the chant of 'You are Draco Malfoy, you are attractive, smart; you can do anything', rings horribly pathetic in my ears.
"Are you okay?" and her voice, barely audible, causes me to shiver and jump from my skin, her hand on my arm, rubbing it soothingly.
I nod, swallowing my undesirable words, giving a feeble smile.
"I love you, Draco. If you're worried about me, I'll be fine. You're not going to disappoint me, okay? Let's do this."
She clears her throat, winking at me and going over to sit adjacent to me, so she's facing the audience, and I am sideways, my fingers on the keys in view.
But I feel jaded, less aware of my surroundings, the lines of faces and objects blurring.
"Whenever you're ready," McGonagall recites, dimming the lights over the crowd a bit with her wand, highlighting us. She retakes her seat and we take our positions. I count to 10 in my head.
Hitting the first note, I've escaped. My fingers cascading as delicately as possible, the melody so slow and gentle. And since we've memorized it, I don't need to watch the notes pass by on my charmed pages, I can view Hermione join in so smoothly, perfectly.
Her cheeks flush, but her eyes determined, her chest heaving in and out with steady breaths, and I can't tear my eyes away from the curves of her lips as we start to sing. And I can barely discern whether or not we're halfway along or we're at the end as the tempo builds, and I'm so unaware of our audience, because I don't care if they're laughing at my voice anymore, I don't care if they like this. It's the first time we've performed this and she isn't so rigid, so precise. Like her solo audition, when she sparked my interest first. She's fluid and beautiful, her hair swaying across her bare back as her head moves with the changing octaves in the lyrics.
I'm back in her bedroom, on her mattress lying next to her, listening to this for the first time and remembering that the words felt so real.
Then we're not singing, we're hitting the coda, our final resounding note, and she peeks at me; she's pleased. I observe for the first time the people out there and they look a bit surprised. I guess I would be too, our pairing is rather bizarre. McGonagall is giving her version of a smile, tight-lipped and a line.
The trustees on the other hand, give no semblance of a reaction away, but begin to clap politely and a stream follows.
We clear the area of our stuff, and I'm in a daze as our headmaster calls the next pair; Finnegan and Finch-Fletchley. I spend the rest of the performances with my head spinning, brushing my finger along her knuckles, wanting badly to hold her right now, snog her, feeling spent and overwhelmed. All that effort and it's over, we're done.
If we never were teamed up, this whole thing never would've happened. I almost want to run and hug McGonagall right now.
The only couple I pay attention to is Nott and Millicent when they perform some random piece, and it's sloppy, but I can tell there's no tension between them, they're fine. And I was wrong, they're not giving off a romantic vibe at all.
"They look content," Hermione notes.
"Yeah, they do."
"You look happy that they are," she grins.
"I am."
She leans in and kisses me, and I can't resist, I wrap my arm round her.
"Do you think we did well, then? You're satisfied?" I ask.
"Yes, couldn't you tell? You were incredible. I actually have nothing to say." My heart fills with joy. "Are you satisfied?"
"Oh, fuck yeah. I couldn't stop watching you."
"Really?" she blushes.
"Mmhmm."
"It's all over now, isn't it? Isn't that strange? We're not partners anymore," she says.
"Feeling relief?"
"Kind of, I want a repeat experience though. Listening to music on my bed, we must do that again." It's so very odd how we end up on the same wavelength sometimes.
"Summer time is going to be fantastic."
I gaze at her and she looks delighted.
"Definitely."
I turn slightly, gathering my wits to try and wrap up what I was trying to communicate earlier.
"You know, I really do love you. And that feeling I get, in my chest, when I see you, is so different from when I was with Pansy. Which is why I could never act the same around her then when I do with you. And it's not that I don't appreciate her, didn't care, but we were immature, we weren't healthy. And I know in my heart that none of this is fake, it's not forced or being pressured. It's just there. And it makes me feel so good, I can't even put it into words."
She doesn't respond, but her face says it all.
She loves me.
And I fucking love her.
I'm lying down, unable to sleep, rehashing the day's events.
I can't wrap my head around Draco's speech, our actions. I'm no longer a virgin, I've fallen so deep for somebody who deserves it.
More importantly, I think we nailed our performance.
I rarely can say I did a good job without results, but we didn't make any mistakes. And Draco sounded great, he actually took my advice. I have no idea if I was flat on the verses, but I just threw myself into it, I was so elated. This relationship keeps getting better by the day, I guess that's why the past few weeks have been tolerable.
"Hermione?"
Ginny creaks open the dormitory door and walks over to me, sitting on the bed.
"Hey Ginny. I'm sorry I didn't see you at all before or after the show, I thought you did really well."
"Thanks, you and Draco were…well, your performance was passionate," she raises her eyebrows up high. "Did you find your paper?"
"How did you know I lost one?" I sit up against the headboard.
"Draco told me, I saw him sprinting down the hall to the library and figured it had something to do with you."
I smirk at that image, truly appreciating how well he can deal with me.
"No, I didn't find it." I sort of let it go to the back of my mind given the day's events.
"Why are you not freaking out then?" she narrows her eyes at me. "Something happened, didn't it?"
"Why do you say that?"
"Hermione, I don't really know how to say this eloquently, but you and Malfoy were like, making love on that stage. He was staring at you the entire time with obvious desire, like, mingled with adoration. It was kind of sweet, but strange to watch. And you….you were in seventh heaven I think."
I heat up, no doubt I'm scarlet by this point.
"Ginny, I'm going to tell you something, please don't judge me."
"Oh my god!" her jaw drops. "You banged him!"
She points a finger at me, and then claps. I guess I'm too pathetically happy to hide this kind of thing.
"I did…"
I explain to her what happened yesterday, what led up to the sex, and how I'm feeling now. I try to withdraw great detail about our actual encounter, but tell her about my hesitation and his patience. By the end, she is watching me with contemplation in her pretty green eyes.
"You really do love him, don't you?"
"I do…it's something strange. It's something I'm certain is true without much effort. You know?"
"Yeah, I do." She squeezes my hand. "You know, I can't tell you how to live, I want you to be careful obviously, and I still have my reservations. But I believe him. After seeing the way he is around you, it's not the same as I remember."
"I wish Harry and Ron noticed," I sigh.
"They do, they just can't get over it. I saw the uncomfortable squirm in Ron's seat, he can tell how much Malfoy cares and it's hard for him. And Harry hates his guts, but he can't deny that you guys have a chemistry that is hard to find."
"Is there any hope yet?"
"Oh yes, they love you too. They'll come round eventually."
"Funny, that's what I told Draco about them."
"Well, they will. Now, give me all the dirt, come on, I want to know, don't be shy. I tell you all about my love life. So you hesitated, who cares? I can't fathom the idea that you did it in the library! That is wild! Did he make you come? Did it hurt?"
I shake my head at her lack of discretion but decide to spill, I've been spending all my time with Draco and haven't had quality time with any friends.
"Alright, but I'm going to stop if you make any gross faces."
"Don't worry, I won't, I can help you out, I'm sure he loved it no matter what you did" she chuckles. "Now go, before Lavender comes up and noses in."
She jumps up to bounce the bed and lies back against my pillow, pulling me with her.
This day cannot get any more unreal, but it's been so damn perfect.