40.

Malfoy had a shower after a Healer's 6am visit, after spending all night sitting in the chair slumped over Hermione's bed, left arm draped over her hips protectively and possessively. The weight of his arm had been reassuring, his forehead resting on his other arm, folded up against her side. They'd both been woken during the Healers' checks every hour or so, but Hermione had slipped straight back into sleep each time. She wasn't so sure Malfoy had managed to. He'd looked terrible after this last Healer's visit, and she'd finally convinced him to have a shower.

When he emerged from the bathroom he still looked just as tired, but his hair was clean, his pale grey shirt magically freshened – all traces of blood gone – and dark trousers pressed. Aside from being barefoot in St Mungo's and still unshaven, Malfoy looked halfway back to normal. Hermione told him so, smiling at him as he ran his fingers over the scruff at his jaw and made a face. "I don't feel it. My beard is itching," he said wryly, "and I wish I'd thought to wear shoes. Or socks at least."

"You could floo home and sort yourself out quickly," Hermione said reluctantly, and he shot her a very faint, lopsided smile as he dropped his hand from his stubble, reading her expression.

"No, Granger. Maybe if Potter or your children come to visit I'll slip home briefly, because I probably shouldn't be here when your children turn up, but I'm not leaving you here alone," he said firmly, brooking no disagreement as he stood close by her, elegant fingers fidgeting with her hair as she lay there propped up half-sitting against what felt like a whole flock of feather-down pillows. The children, Hermione thought, and realised with a shock that it was already Saturday and if she and Ron gave them an abridged, child-friendly version of what had happened, they could come and visit without even having to miss class. "I'll be fine like this a little longer."

"I won't say I'm not glad," she admitted. "I don't want you to go." Her left hand found his, and they clung tightly to each other as he smoothed her hair with his right hand.

"I won't," he assured, pushing the curling, unruly waves off her forehead one lock at a time, before stooping to place a kiss at her temple. His eyes flashed molten as he drew back, biting at his lip for a brief, contemplative second. "Do the rules still apply?" He looked sweetly hopeful, and Hermione gnawed at her own lip before she answered.

"N-no. They're on hiatus for the moment. Just – just 'til I'm back home." Hermione knew it seemed silly, but their rules of engagement were important to her. She'd decided on a plan, and she hated the idea of not sticking to it – of tossing it aside, yet another failure. Hermione needed certainty and clear lines right now, not tossing caution to the wind. If she let her heart rule her head entirely then Hermione would've spent the past month and more blatantly plastered to Malfoy. She would be firmly cemented as Draco Malfoy's Muggleborn mistress instead of there just being rumours and implications, and Hermione couldn't take that. No.

Besides, while Rose might not be fooled, Hugo was just young and innocent enough to be able to enjoy one more normal Christmas at the Burrow all together, before they had to start a new tradition. That hadn't been looking very doable, before, but now... If Ron was serious about wanting to be amicable, and perhaps even friends again one day, then a Christmas Day at the Burrow that wasn't nightmarishly stressful was looking entirely possible.

"You're away with the fairies," Malfoy said gently and Hermione blinked back into focus, to his tired grey eyes soft on her, awash with emotions she never thought she'd see directed toward her from Draco Malfoy.

"Sorry. I'm just thinking about how things are going to go until Christmas. I wish – I wish we could just run off," she said, smiling weakly, feeling stupidly emotional. A part of her did wish that. To leave Ron to be the main parent for the children for a few weeks, while she went on a hedonistic, selfish holiday with Malfoy. It made her feel terribly guilty to think that way. But it wasn't even halfway through November; there were still nearly seven weeks until Christmas. She rubbed a hand over her eyes. The Healer had given Hermione more potions at the 6am check, but whatever the pain potion was it had just left her feeling muzzy and scattered, without the warm, contented feeling the last one had given her. She frowned. "What was I saying, before?"

"The rules," Malfoy said patiently. "You said they were paused until you got home. Not that we'd do much now anyway, with you unwell, and the Healers lurking about, popping up unexpectedly." His mouth curled, eyes gleaming. "But I do like the idea of being able to kiss you entirely unchastely."

Then he bit his lip, and somehow Hermione just knew he was thinking of Ciaran as he added, "When you feel ready to, that is."

"Now, please," she said, without hesitating, her pulse skipping and quickening. "I'm ready now." What had happened in the cave didn't make Hermione want Malfoy any less at all. She couldn't think of anything better than the soft press of his lips to hers, the slick of his tongue, and the quicksilver thrills of want that curled through her body and lit up her nerve endings. He was looking at her, hesitant. Cautious. "Malfoy. Kiss me," she half-ordered, half-pleaded, and he smiled slightly smugly at the breathless urgency in her tone, and dipped his mouth to hers.

Malfoy's lips were velvet soft as they parted against hers, and his fingers were gentle beneath her chin, tipping her face up toward him, his tongue sweeping over the edge of her top teeth, and teasing her with fleeting touches. Tingles fizzed down her spine. At first he was careful, as if Hermione was made of glass, and a molten, luxurious arousal swirled in her belly, building and building. It bled through her, heat and want lighting up her veins, chasing out the aches and tiredness that still plagued her. Hermione's hand fisted in his shirt at his shoulder, holding him close. Oh God. She pressed her thighs together, already hypersensitive and craving the circling of Malfoy's fingers over her clit. Or his tongue.

"Mmph," she huffed into his mouth, grabbing at his shirt, irritated by how careful he was being, and he smiled against her mouth.

"Impatient," Malfoy chastised against her lips and then bit the lower one lightly before sucking it into his mouth. His kiss deepened though, licking into her mouth, and arousal clenched through her hard and visceral, and she felt herself get wet. His hand slid from her chin and down, deftly undoing a button as he kept kissing her, distracting her thoroughly until she felt his hand slipping into the opening he'd made. His hand was shocking against her skin – warm and faintly rough, moving fast, cupping her right breast completely before she could do much more than moan into his kiss. Oh Merlin, everything was so sensitive.

Hermione whimpered as Malfoy's thumb brushed over her nipple deliberately hard and her cunt twitched and clenched. Jesus. He pinched the hard bud and she made a wavering, animal sound and her hips bumped up involuntarily. Her skin was flushed hot all over, sweat breaking out all over her as she panted, feeling like a cat in heat. Reduced to some kind of overwhelming, primal lust as he kissed, and played, and oh, Hermione wanted it so badly. Maybe she was ovulating, a rational part of her brain wondered amusedly. Or just sex-starved and so turned on by Malfoy that she felt like she would literally die if he didn't –

"Please," she mumbled as the kiss broke for a second, their mouths sliding apart, and she flailed until she found Malfoy's other hand, trying to push it down to the crux of her legs. To touch her where she needed it. But it wasn't working and she whined with frustration.

"My hand doesn't – doesn't bend that way, Granger," he got out breathlessly, half a laugh against her cheek as they struggled at cross purposes for a moment, and then his right hand was pinning her left hand above her head, and his left was gone from her breast and sliding down...

"Oh fuck," he groaned against the corner of her mouth, as if she'd shot him, as if he was dying. "Granger, you're so wet."

Malfoy's fingers slid over her clit and down between her slippery folds leaving fire-bright trails of pleasure that juddered through her core – and yes, Hermione was sopping wet, a monsoon, an ocean of slick arousal – and then two of his fingers slid into her. Stretching her. Pressing, and filling, and curling inside her cunt as his thumb found her clit again and rubbed so perfectly. She caught his mouth again, her kiss artless – sloppy and frantic, her free right hand finding his hair and seizing a handful of it, whimpering as she suckled on the tip of his tongue. His fingers pumped in and out of her slick cunt, his thumb rubbing in circles and messy figure eights, and oh. Oh. OH.

"Nggh." She came on his fingers right then. It was almost a surprise; one second delicious fire was raging through her, tension building precariously, mind blank of everything except so good, and don't stop, and then he twisted just so and it all exploded. The kiss fell apart as Hermione made a wobbling sound into Malfoy's mouth and her heels dug into the bed, her fingers ripped at his hair, and her cunt pulsed around his fingers as a devouring pleasure rippled through her from the inside out. It had been less than two minutes. Hermione didn't think she'd ever come so fast in her life.

"Oh fuck," Malfoy said into her mouth, sheer surprise, and his movements stuttered before he regained his rhythm and kept working her through it, the last few seconds, easing her down from the climax as his movements slowed and gentled. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck now, her arm hooked around his neck, just panting, her skin putting off heat like a furnace.

Malfoy pulled back from her and Hermione let him go, her arm falling heavy to her chest, a sigh escaping her. She felt boneless now; limp and sated, and her still tender abdomen hurt from tensing so hard. She blinked her screwed shut eyes open as he slowly – so slowly – withdrew his fingers from inside her. He was looking down, his lips parted and his eyes rapt, colour on his cheeks, his breathing ragged. He was looking at her; more specifically at where the blanket was shoved down and her hospital gown yanked up, her legs lying fallen apart.

Hermione was too busy enjoying the awe on his face to even consider feeling self-conscious. There was a crinkle between his brows and he was biting his lower lip now, a look of intense concentration on his face. His fingers slipped out finally then and slid firmly up over her labia and clit, making her tense and squeak with over-sensitivity, clamping her legs shut on his fingers. There was a faint squelching sound and Hermione's cheeks flamed up as Malfoy made a little hnnh, arousal heavy in his eyes as he pulled his slippery fingers from between her thighs.

"Oh fuck." The words burst out of her in a squeaking, breathless rush as Malfoy very deliberately put his fingers in his mouth and sucked. His eyes flicked to Hermione's at her outburst, mercury bright, and his mouth curled into a smirk around his fingers. He pulled them out with a soft pop and Hermione's insides quivered.

Malfoy made a satisfied hum and then took a deep, steadying breath. "Oh fuck is right," he said as he seemed to mentally shake himself and refocus, suddenly tugging Hermione's hospital gown down and pulling the blankets up as he cast a wary eye at the door, which she now realised was a quarter open at least.

"Oh fuck," she said again, more than a little horrified as she hurried to redo the two buttons he'd undone. "Oh my God. Merlin's pants. I can't believe we just did that." She finished buttoning and looked up at Malfoy's face as he stood there still smoothing out the blanket pointlessly, her eyes wide, noting his very obvious erection as her gaze slid up. Oh. She could think of a few things she'd like to do with that as she remembered the feel of it in her, but – "Anyone could've seen us!"

"They didn't though," he said reassuringly, although there was a slight slur to his voice that made him sound as though he were drunk on her. On the taste of her. Something inside her exalted fiercely – not caring about who could've seen them, just filled with a wild, animal joy at Malfoy's reaction to her under his fingers, on his tongue. "And with the position of the bed to the door, and how I was standing – no one would've been able to see anything," he added, shooting her a wry smile as he adjusted himself unselfconsciously and then slumped into the chair. He splayed his left hand on her belly, the other one going back to her hair, peeling locks of it off her sweat-damp forehead.

"Salazar's sake, Granger. That was..." Malfoy ran out of words, just looking at her with dreamy, shining eyes, his tiredness pushed back by desire. He exuded a very male satisfaction at what he'd achieved. Hermione felt happiness bubble through her, champagne-fizzy and just as heady.

"Incredible?" she offered, grinning ear-to-ear; still exhausted and sore, but now so, so satisfied. Delirious with happiness. "Amazing? Extremely ill-advised? Risky?" A snickering laugh escaped her, and her shoulders shook with her laughter as he eyed her, bemused. "Okay. Maybe I understand the hospital rules, now. Because that was hanky-panky. Major hanky-panky."

Malfoy grinned, slow and wicked. "And the door wasn't even shut."

Breakfast arrived at 8am, and consisted of more potions, a bowl of bone broth, and a ramekin of yoghurt, along with more peppermint tea. None of that was appealing aside from the tea, and Hermione stared at it all unhappily. They brought Malfoy tea as well, but no food. Patients only, the orderly had said apologetically. He'd have to go down to the cafeteria and buy something if he wanted to eat. Malfoy had insisted he was fine; he'd eat later. Instead he sat stretched out in the chair beside Hermione, legs crossed at the ankles, relaxed as he sipped his tea and watched her eat, although his tiredness had visibly returned. He'd all but nagged her to eat once she'd downed her bitter potions, and now he frowned at her as she paused halfway through the bowl and sighed heavily, staring into the broth, which seemed endless.

"Ugh," she said eloquently.

"You need to build your strength up, Granger. Honestly, stop fussing. It's not even a lot." He eyed her with a disapproving amusement. "You're worse than Scorpius when he's ill."

He sounded so much like a weary father at that moment that Hermione had to hide a snicker. She loved the different sides of him. "It feels like a lot. I'd be happy to eat something, even something bland, but bone broth at 8am isn't exactly appealing."

"You need it for your digestive system. You know that. Bland and nutritious." Malfoy sighed and frowned unhappily, negotiating as if she really were a child. "Look, at least eat your yoghurt, Granger. Please?"

Hermione capitulated, nodding agreement, and Malfoy leaned forward and unnecessarily shuffled the bowls around on the over-bed table, shoving the yoghurt toward her encouragingly. Fussing over her. She took a spoonful, and then made a face and swallowed with difficulty. "Merlin. You wouldn't believe it," she said, grimacing. "It's unsweetened." Not a favourite of hers. At all. Why couldn't she just have a nice Greek yoghurt with honey? She sighed, thinking of bacon and eggs with toast, or muesli with berries and sweet yoghurt. "I hate hospital food."

"Eat it anyway," Malfoy said, unamused. "Or do I have to feed you like an infant, Granger?"

"The idea holds a certain decadent appeal," she said, eyeing him contemplatively. "Although I'd rather have you feeding me peeled grapes than unsweetened yoghurt."

He snorted. "I'll pencil that in for when you're well then, shall I? Although I'm not sure whether it'd be allowed, under your ridiculous rules." Malfoy's tone was dry but accepting, to Hermione's relief. She smiled as she spooned up more tart yoghurt, which tasted oddly of tannins and made her salivate.

"Mm, no, not the way I'm imagining it," she said, shooting him what she hoped was a flirtatious look. She had to admit that having some food in her stomach was making her feel brighter, even if it was awful food. Hermione licked a bit of yoghurt off her upper lip and was rewarded by a tic at Malfoy's jaw, his eyes heating slightly. The corner of his mouth hooked up in a brief flash of smile, before he furrowed his brow.

"Actually... How about I distract you with something I forgot to tell you, yesterday," he offered diffidently, mood shifting – relaxation melting away and replaced by a slight tension. Hermione's stomach tightened in reaction.

"Okay then," she said cautiously.

He set his tea cup aside and fidgeted with his cuffs, avoiding Hermione's eyes, taking a breath a day letting it out slowly before he spoke at last. "I sent Tori the divorce papers on Thursday morning."

"You what?" Hermione stared at him, uncomprehending, certain that she must've misheard him.

"I kept thinking you were dead," he said tightly. "And I knew that if you were dead, there was no point in divorcing Tori. So then I had it in my head that I had to send her the papers, because if I did that, then you had to be alive." He shot her a wry smile. "I know. It doesn't make much sense. I think I was deep in the grip of sleep deprivation by then."

"Wow. Yes, probably." Hermione reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing. "But... I'm alive, aren't I?"

He laughed, fingers curling over hers as she sucked yoghurt off the spoon, his eyes on her mouth. "You are, yes. So maybe it did work."

"Probably just coincidence though." She eyed him carefully. "Do you regret it?"

"No. No. Not even a bit. Although I'm not looking forward to the visit I'll get from Tori when she finally bothers to read my owl. She's been ignoring my mail regarding Scorpius lately, so I'm not sure she's even opening it." Malfoy sighed. "She's going to be fucking furious when she finally does. But I'm glad I did it. It needed to be done."

He leaned in then, kissing the corner of Hermione's mouth right where a smear of yoghurt had just ended up, swiping it away with his tongue. Her stomach flip-flopped deliciously, and Malfoy made a face and retrieved his tea, taking a sip. "You're right – that yoghurt isn't very nice."

Hermione grinned, feeling a little giddy as she looked into Malfoy's face. He looked like a haggard wreck, and also like the most beautiful man in the world, and she thought: I love him so much it hurts.