Some shocked reactions last time. But I don't think the awkwardness will just vanish. Plenty more to come.

…

Chapter Nine

…

It took Draco a whole twenty-four hours to slowly drive himself insane. He'd holed himself away inside his room for a solid day, only emerging to eat in the Great Hall at the very end of the meal once everyone else had finished before retreating hastily once more. With the vivid sensory memory of Hermione's mouth on his cock, he'd been in a near constant state of arousal the past day, whenever he wasn't cursing himself for being a total fool. He'd gone and screwed up his one and only friendship and he couldn't bear to see the look that he imagined would be on her face. The regret, the mortification… It was better if he just never faced her again, right? It was better if he never allowed her the chance to let him down gently, in the compassionate way he knew she would. To tell him that it had been a mistake and could he please not tell anyone about it, thank you very much.

No, he'd rather just rot away on his lonesome and keep the memory as something precious, not tainted by rejection or bitterness. And it was such a glorious memory. Every single bloody time he thought about it his eyes glazed over, recalling the exact look in her eyes as she'd hummed around his length, the feel of her silky curls wrapped around his hands. The way her tongue had traced teasingly around the tip…

Bloody hell not again.

His prick was clearly trying to win some award for the longest marathon in a single day. He'd skipped dinner that evening, settling for a cup of tea in his rooms to calm himself down as he listened to the raucous laughter of the other Eighth Years returning to their chambers a few minutes ago. He pictured Hermione smiling indulgently in the back of the group, a quiet presence on the fringes as she always was this year. She only ever really talked to him these days, the two of them sticking together out of necessity. Her because she'd grown so reserved and serious during the war, and him due to his imposed exile as a social pariah.

And now he was hiding from her.

Some brilliant friend you are, Draco, his conscience mocked him, taunting him with images of Hermione studying alone in the library, wondering where he was, checking her watch as the afternoon ticked by.

Oh god, she was probably feeling like a proper fool right about now. Offering to suck him off and then not seeing him the entire next day. He hoped she didn't think he was in any way disappointed or unhappy with what had happened…

Quite the opposite. I want it to happen again so bloody much I have to lock myself away just to stop myself doing something stupid.

But now he'd officially reached breaking point. One day he'd lasted. One day of pretending he still had some pride left and not falling to his knees and begging her for more.

He couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't keep pumping himself to memories of her mouth and not let his mind wander and start to think about what else he could do on his knees while he was begging for forgiveness. The itch that had settled beneath his skin was burning now and there was only one possible way of feeding it.

With a groan of submission, Draco jolted to his feet and tore from his room, thankful that the hallway was quiet now after the post-dinner rush. He strode down the corridor, his heart pounding, as he made his way towards Hermione's room.

Draco paused outside for a long moment, running his hand through his hair and looking himself over. He hadn't even thought to change clothes or check himself in the mirror. He hoped he didn't come across as desperate. Although that ship had probably sailed long ago. His hand trembling, he clenched his teeth and knocked on her door. A short pause followed that felt like forever before she opened it.

Fuck me, she's pretty, he thought with an internal sigh of want, his eyes flickering over her from top to bottom, taking in the messy bun piled on top of her head to her innocent cream sweater that hung off her petite frame. And she was wearing red socks with cats knitted onto them. Adorable.

"Draco," she breathed in surprise, her brown eyes widening as her fingers gripped onto the door a little more tightly, the only sign of her internal panic.

"Hermione," he murmured through a series of heavy breaths, making love to her name as he drank her in, "can I come in-?"

He'd barely finished the question when he saw her jump and her eyes darted back inside for a moment.

"Um…well…now's not a great time-"

He narrowed his eyes, pulse racing as the door widened a little further. Then the figure standing behind her stepped up until he was just over her shoulder. Harry bloody Potter was here. Tonight. In her room. He blinked and stared at the other wizard for a long, awkward moment. And green eyes stared right back at him, looking more than a little wary. A wave of jealousy threatened to undo him, but he managed to clamp down on it before it made him sick.

She told you he's like a brother, he reminded himself.

"Uhhh… Malfoy?" the other wizard noted in surprise, running a hand unconsciously through his messy brown hair.

"Potter," he sneered, his jaw clenching. He still experienced a small, angry twinge at the sight of the other wizard's stupid face, even now. It was hard to repress years of contempt and hostility.

"Harry just came to exchange Christmas presents in person," Hermione explained in a rush, her eyes darting nervously between them. The way she blurted out the words made him wonder if she was anxious about his reaction to her friend being here in her room late at night.

"Right, of course," he commented with a nod, suddenly feeling awkward standing there in the presence of two such close friends, one of whom would probably chuck a fit if he knew what had happened in this room only one night ago. "Well, I was just… I was…uh… coming to ask a question about that Arithmancy assignment," he stammered, trying to sound cool but probably failing.

"Oh, okay," Hermione murmured, but her brown eyes were fixed on him curiously, her gaze swimming with mixed emotions. He could detect some hurt there, no doubt because he'd just avoided her after she'd basically blown his mind, so to speak. But there was also confusion, hope, anticipation, compassion…

"Aren't you guys on holidays?" Potter asked, frowning and glancing between them.

"Yes, well it's… erm…for extra credit," Draco explained awkwardly.

"Hermione voluntarily doing bonus schoolwork, ey? Nice to know some things at Hogwarts never change," Potter joked, giving his curly haired friend's shoulder an affectionate little nudge. Hermione blushed and snorted, rolling her eyes.

"We can't all scrape by doing the bare minimum, Harry," she retorted, and he chuckled in agreement.

"I should go," Draco announced, clenching his hands into fists behind his back, "we can talk about the…um… Arithmancy…tomorrow, maybe?" he shot Hermione a desperate look, trying to communicate more than what was said. Her cheeks were still pink, and she nodded quickly.

"Of course."

"Oh, don't leave on my account," Potter interrupted, waving his hands between them, "McGonagall will have my head if I don't leave before 9pm." He glanced down at his watch and shuddered visibly, "And… bollocks. I'm already late."

Draco stood clumsily to one side as Potter rushed back inside to grab his coat. Then he tried to direct his gaze literally anywhere else while they said a fond farewell, hugging each other tightly. He swallowed and waited patiently as Potter stepped out from the doorway.

"Malfoy…um… take care. Don't let Hermione study too hard."

Draco blinked and looked at the other wizard cautiously. The lack of animosity from Potter surprised him. He seemed so… polite. Not wanting to look like a petty child, Draco decided to also take the high road and not antagonise him.

"You know it's a hopeless case," he drawled with a shrug and Potter chuckled, nodding to him.

"Merry Christmas," the bespectacled wizard called back over his shoulder at the two of them as he strode off down the corridor in the direction of McGonagall's office. Hermione yelled back to him with a warm smile on her lips, the two of them standing there stiffly until Potter had completely disappeared from view. They could barely look at each other. Then, with a slightly nervous shuffle of her feet, Hermione twisted her body to step back, leaving the doorway free in a silent offer for him to follow her inside. He did so slowly, his mouth dry with anxiety.

The desperation and the frantic need that had been eating at him earlier started to swell up inside him again despite feeling like Potter had just doused him with ice cold water. And when the door closed behind them with a snick he shuddered, turning to look at Hermione, his heart pounding. She looked at him warily, not bothering to press him about any Arithmancy question. They both knew that had been a flimsy pretence. Instead, she twisted her fingers together in front of her in agitation and backed up near the fireplace.

"You've been avoiding me," she accused in a soft voice, though it was relatively gentle and lacked any real bitterness.

"I know. I'm sorry," he told her, licking his lips, and taking a step towards her, even though they were still on opposite sides of the room.

"Do you regret it? What happened between us?" she asked, a slight twinge of nervousness in her tone, "was it… was it not what you wanted?"

Draco closed his eyes for a second, cursing himself for being such a coward and making her feel this way.

"God no. Hermione…" he opened his eyes and gave her such a look of fierce intensity that she blinked and drew in a quick breath, "it was… fuck, it was… I've never…" he couldn't quite find the right words for it. Draco drew in a deep, shuddering gasp of air and ploughed on despite his total verbal incompetence, "The whole day I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. About you. Not even for a second."

Hermione chewed her lip nervously, shifting from foot to foot.

"What does that mean? Is that good? Or bad? Have you been reliving it in a fond, wistful sort of way? Or more like an 'oh shit, that was a terrible mistake' kind of way?"

Draco snorted in amusement at her anxious little rant. God, she was adorable when she was flustered, her brow scrunched up and her cheeks flushed.

"In a 'I've never been so turned on for twenty-four hours straight reliving the whole thing in excruciating detail' kind of way," he admitted sheepishly, figuring he had nothing to lose. Hermione blushed and looked a bit sheepish at his admittance.

"Then why have you been avoiding me?" she asked in a soft voice. He let out a swift breath, pursing his lips.

"Because I'm kind of terrified."

Hermione frowned, shuffling closer, that crease on the bridge of her nose becoming more prominent.

"Of what?"

"That I'm going to totally bugger this up. I can't… I don't want to ruin…you know…"

He swept his hands out, not really sure how to explain his fear.

"What? Our friendship?"

"Any of it."

Hermione regarded him solemnly for a long moment before finally nodding in understanding.

"I understand. I… I've been feeling scared too. Your friendship is really important to me, Draco."

He looked at her carefully for a moment, noticing the way her deep brown eyes held something in them, some hint of trepidation.

"You're uh… you're the only friend I've got," he confessed in barely more than a whisper. Hermione cocked her head to the side, her gaze serious and kind.

"That letter you wrote…" she began in a quiet voice. Draco threw his head back, snorting out a dry chuckle towards the ceiling as his heart thudded. Now that the initial panic was over, he supposed he owed her a more logical explanation than whatever gibberish he'd stammered out the other night.

"I was… Merlin, I was an idiot. I wanted to write you a note for Christmas, but I was all tongue tied and my thoughts were muddled… so I just scribbled everything out and tossed it in the fireplace."

"And it had my name on it," she surmised, a slight smirk twitching at her lips.

"Exactly," he replied dryly, "when I realised what had happened, I swear I almost had a heart attack."

"I can imagine."

Draco scratched the back of his head self-consciously, shrugging his shoulders and grimacing with embarrassment.

"I meant it. Just so you know. I never intended for you to read it… obviously. But that didn't mean it wasn't true."

Hermione nodded cautiously. She licked her lips and kept twisting her fingers together.

"So… where do we go from here?" she asked quietly, her brown eyes flicking up to his occasionally before darting back down again.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, "I guess that's up to you."

Hermione frowned for a moment, her brow furrowing in confusion before she met his gaze head on.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm the complete idiot who accidentally sent a near pornographic note to his only friend. I don't really have a leg to stand on here."

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head.

"Maybe not."

"What do you want, Hermione?" he asked her, his face turning serious as he contemplated her, knowing that whatever she decided he would just have to live with. The ball was definitely in her court here. Draco waited, his mouth dry, as she considered the question with all the logical power her impressive mind possessed. He could practically see the gears turning in her head. And when she reached a decision, he felt his stomach drop unpleasantly. Her expression wasn't hopeful. It had turned wary, scared even. She finally let out a shaky breath and peered up at him, an apologetic grimace on her face.

"I don't want to lose what we have, Draco," she admitted in the barest of whispers.

"Right," he murmured, nodding his head as his stomach twisted itself into a knot of disappointment.

"What happened the other night… I don't… um…maybe we should just forget about it?"

Draco nodded numbly, but inwardly he felt his heart pounding in turmoil. What she was asking was impossible, of course, but she didn't need to know that. When he was silent for a long time, Hermione shifted forwards and continued sorrowfully,

"It's just… it's so complicated," she told him earnestly, tugging nervously on her hair, her brows furrowed.

"Because of what people will think?"

Her eyes darted up to him in horror then.

"No! God no, Draco! I couldn't give a toss what other people think or what they say. It's nobody's business but our own."

"What about your friends though? Potter…"

"Harry's not the same boy he was at school. The war changed him. He's not… he doesn't see the world in black and white anymore. Certainly not after Professor Snape and… well anyway, you might be surprised."

Draco nodded and stared at a spot on the floor for a moment.

"So… then it's just because we're… friends?"

Hermione pursed her lips and look anguished for a moment.

"I don't have any friends like you, Draco. Someone…who actually just coexists with me without even trying. Against all the odds and all my expectations, we turned out to be quite… um… similar, in a weird way. Don't get me wrong, I love my other friends… but there's always this sort of… combative undertone, as if we have to force our habits and attitudes to mesh together. Like they're my friends in spite of who I am, rather than because of it. Does that make sense?"

Draco frowned, swallowing against the dryness in his throat.

"It's very easy to be your friend, Hermione," he told her solemnly.

"I doubt anybody else would agree."

"Screw them, their loss," he told her with a shrug, wiping his damp palms self-consciously on his thighs. Hermione gave him a rather affectionate smile, her head tilting to one side to regard him.

"When we complete our NEWTs… I'd like for us to go on being friends," she confessed quietly, almost hopefully.

"I'd like that too," he agreed immediately, a pleased flutter erupting in his gut, which was soon at war with the other feelings of defeat.

"So… so… if we want to remain friends, we probably shouldn't mess it up or cross that line... right?" her tone was a bit insecure, and her voice went up at the end as if she wasn't sure herself. Draco shook his head and snorted softly.

"I think we already did, Granger."

Hermione buried her head in her hands, groaning quietly and hiding her blushing cheeks.

"Ergh. I've never done anything like that in my life. I can't even explain what came over me…" she admitted, her voice muffled and her tone embarrassed. She was still hiding her face, and Draco's mouth twisted into a smirk.

"It was a hell of a first try," he told her, a shiver tracing the length of his spine just from the sensory memory of it.

Hermione chuckled hoarsely and lifted her head. She looked at him anxiously for a moment, tapping her fingers against her cheek.

"Do you hate me? For wanting us to just stay friends now even though we both…er… kinda…liked it?"

Draco regarded her silently, tracing the restless expression on her face, the tension in her jawline, the frantic tapping of her fingers. He could see the unease shining through her gaze. It made him want to promise her anything, agree to any demands, as long as it put her fears to rest. The last thing she needed was him drooling after her, begging her for more, when she'd made up her mind.

He already didn't deserve what she'd given him. He could never ask for more.

"No, I don't hate you," he told her gently.

"And… and we're… still friends?"

"Of course."

Hermione nodded, although her expression remained somewhat troubled. She nodded, as if convincing herself that this was what she wanted, that this would resolve everything.

Draco swallowed, feeling a weight of sadness settle on him that he couldn't seem to brush away. He looked awkwardly around her room for a moment, scuffing his feet against the rug.

"I… er… I should go," he mumbled, running a hand self-consciously through his hair and taking a step backwards. He knew he needed some time to lick his wounds and let it all sink in. Hermione nodded and rose, watching him with trepidation.

"Oh…okay. Will I see you tomorrow? No more avoiding?"

Draco blinked and returned her gaze. He was certain she could see the heartache painted across his features, but he bravely put a smile on his face and tried to smother it.

"No more avoiding. I'll be down for breakfast at our usual time."

"Okay."

With one last nod, he sidled back towards the door, slipping into the hallway and closing it behind him, leaving her standing there in the middle of the room still looking agitated.

He briskly made his way back to his own room, half collapsing back against the door after he'd shut it. He thunked his head against the wood a few times and closed his eyes, letting out a stream of curse words under his breath.

"You complete idiot," he finished, pushing himself away and onto his bed where he lay motionless for a while, staring at the ceiling.

He should never have let that niggling feeling of hope grow inside him. He should never have allowed his feverish mind to imagine all the things he wanted most. These last two days, lazing about in a fog of desire, his treacherous brain hadn't even focused solely on the astonishing blow job or the fantasy of Hermione on her knees. He didn't even spend all his time picturing the myriad things he wanted to do with her, to her…

No, instead he kept dreaming about the other stuff too. Holding hands, going out for intimate dinners, comforting her when she got upset… and all that nonsense. He was a fool. A lovesick fool.

Even if Hermione wanted to be with him, it would only be physical. He was sure of it. She enjoyed it, but she just wanted to be friends. That meant she didn't have any… romantic feelings for him, right?

Why would she? After everything, their entire twisted history…

It was fine. Right? He shouldn't have allowed himself to yearn for anything more.

She wanted to keep on being friends and forget all about that time her lips had been wrapped around his dick at Christmas and he'd exploded in her mouth with a groan of ecstasy.

Draco rubbed his eyes aggressively, trying to rid himself of the image, but it was burned onto his mind permanently.

Forget about it? Nope. Not possible. No freaking way.

Sighing with regret and wishing his pulse would stop racing, he finally hauled himself off his bed. Maybe scrubbing himself raw in the shower would help purge him of these feelings.

Draco got ready for bed mechanically, showering and brushing his teeth with dull, practiced movements. He changed into his pyjamas and got under the covers. It wasn't all that late, but he felt drained somehow. And yet, long after he lay down, he continued to stare blankly at the ceiling for what felt like an hour or more, just listlessly recounting the conversation in his head.

It never ended differently, no matter how many times he replayed it. It just left him feeling morose and helpless. A sensation that had become as natural as breathing after the events of the war.

Tap tap tap…

…What the bloody hell?

Draco's pitiful musings were interrupted unexpectedly by a gentle, almost hesitant knock on the door. His heart clenched in surprise, and he glanced over at his bedside clock. It was almost midnight.

Frowning and wondering what on earth was happening, he scrambled out of bed and made his way to the door. Only one person had ever visited him in his room. But it was very late at night now. And surely, surely she'd already said everything she needed to say to him on that topic earlier.

He opened the door cautiously. Of course, it was Hermione. Who else would come to see him at midnight?

Draco's mouth immediately went dry, a scratching feeling taking hold in the back of his throat that almost choked him.

"Wha… Hermione?" he breathed in confusion, frowning and opening the door wider to look at her properly. Her bottomless brown eyes were wide, an almost frightened expression on her face. And she was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling quickly underneath the plaid material of her dressing gown.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in concern, his eyes flicking to the side down the length of the third-floor corridor. But of course, it was empty. Everyone else would surely be in bed or asleep by now.

Hermione seemed to be steeling herself for something, swallowing and clenching her jaw with determination. As he watched, her expression slowly turned from terrified to resolute.

"I changed my mind," she uttered, her tone breathless. Draco blinked and stared at her, taking in her flushed cheeks and earnest eyes.

"What?" he asked a bit dumbly, clutching onto the door frame with one white-knuckled hand and cocking his head to one side.

"I changed my mind," she repeated, more firmly this time, "about… about us."

Draco's thoughts were spinning, and his chest felt tight with a mix of anxiety and that damn flutter of hope. He tried desperately to figure out what was going on here.

Was she saying… was it really…

He shifted edgily in the doorway as his heart pounded. Of course, there was a very real possibility that she had changed her mind about them remaining friends at all. But he didn't think so. Her brown eyes were solemn but heartfelt. Shining with some promise he couldn't bring himself to name. Like a sort of longing that mirrored his own.

"Granger," he croaked at last, "you'd better make yourself really bloody clear here. Or I'm going to drag you into my room and not let you leave-"

Hermione nodded, blinking up at him, her lips falling open slightly at his words and her cheeks turning pink.

"I… I mean… You only live once, right? So yes. I want to… we should…do more. I want more."

Although she was stammering and her words were jumbled, her features were open and honest. And certain. His own thoughts seemed to be repeating one single, fixated thing on a loop –

She wants more. She wants more. She wants more.

Draco acted without thinking.

He reached down and grasped her wrist, tugging her into his room. Closing the door behind them with a snap, he stared down at her for a long moment, breathing heavily. They stood there for a long time, just drinking each other in. The dying embers of a fire crackled softly in the corner, but the sound was drowned out by their own panting breaths.

Draco wondered if he should kiss her.

He… he really wanted to kiss her. Merlin, her soft, pink lips looked inviting.

But he wasn't sure. She'd never said anything about that kind of intimacy. She just said she'd wanted more of the same. Well… that was okay with him too.

"Sit down on the bed," he instructed softly, gesturing behind her. The room was small, and it only took a couple of steps to gently guide her backwards until her knees were pressed against the mattress.

Hermione nodded, looking nervous, her hands twisting together. She perched on the edge of the bed, blinking up at him trustingly. But he still needed to know that this was really what she wanted.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked hoarsely, toying with the cord of her dressing gown, tracing the tartan pattern distractedly as he regarded her closely. Hermione's eyes flickered down to where he was gently tugging at the tie without actually opening it. She swallowed.

"Didn't you want to… you know… same as last time?" she asked, sounding a bit bemused as her fingers dug into the quilt beneath her.

"It's my turn," he informed her with a tremulous smile, his pulse racing. His thoughts were foggy as he contemplated the witch sitting so bashfully on the bed before him.

"Your turn?" she asked dazedly, and Draco decided to play her at her own game, making his intentions very clear. Just like last time when she'd shocked him with her actions, he dropped to his knees on the carpet next to the bed. Before she could say anything or do anything more than whimper with surprise, he got to work. With gentle hands he eased her knees apart, tugging more insistently on the cord of her dressing gown until it fell apart.

"Oh… Oh!" Hermione seemed to realise his intentions as he reached up to tug on the waistband of the navy sleep shorts that she was wearing. This close, he could trace the curved shape of her legs with a longing gaze. Hermione hummed nervously, her fingers curling tighter into the bedding, her body tense.

"Lie back," he told her as he began to drag the material down over her hips, catching her underwear along the way. Draco forced himself to avert his gaze until he'd completely stripped the garment from her body. When he looked back up, his eyes widened and he felt a visceral throb in his cock, which went from semi-erect to fully hard in a matter of milliseconds.

"Merlin-" he breathed, the air knocked out of his lungs from the sheer unexpected delight of having her spread open in front of him.

Sweet fucking Salazar…

"Damn, Granger," he mumbled. Then he was leaning forwards to stroke the silky skin of her thighs, leaving a trail of kisses as he neared his goal. Hermione let out a little mewl and flopped back onto the bed. Her hands were now clutching the quilt so fiercely she was at risk of ripping it.

Draco was mesmerised by the glistening pink folds before him. His mouth tingled with anticipation. He had basically no experience with this kind of intimacy. But he had some theoretical understanding. And anyway, his mind was too foggy to really worry about something as fickle as how the hell he was supposed to do this.

With a soft groan, Draco began by placing a few tender kisses over her flesh, revelling in the simple fact that she was already quite wet even before he touched her. He kept stroking her legs and thighs with his hands, encouraging her to open them further and drape her knees over his shoulders to give him better access.

Draco's eyes closed for a moment, absorbed in the decadent taste and feel of her. His kisses grew more confident as he explored her. Hermione's hips bucked suddenly when he used his tongue, and she stifled a sound that had him gripping her thighs a little tighter.

Okay… that got a reaction, he thought triumphantly, piecing together what she liked and how to continue. Experimentally, he pressed his tongue to her entrance and slowly pushed it inside her, massaging her walls and drinking in her essence. Just as he'd hoped, this made her squirm so much he had to hold her in place.

And the noises she was making…

Merlin, she's driving me crazy.

His own cotton pyjamas were straining and tented to their limit as he explored the witch beneath him. After a while, he noticed her hips twitching up and down restlessly. She had released the quilt, and her hands were now hovering in the air over his head, as if she wanted to fix her grip there but didn't dare.

Realizing what she wanted and drawing on all his (admittedly limited) rudimentary knowledge of female pleasure, Draco removed his tongue, easing upwards away from her entrance.

Hermione gasped throatily as his tongue lifted to circle her clit, tracing the edges hesitantly, wondering what would feel good. Her hips bucked and she groaned something incoherently that sounded a bit like 'please'.

Gotcha.

Draco teased her for just a little bit longer before finally building his confidence. He drew her clit into his mouth, sucking on it while still massaging it with his tongue. Almost immediately Hermione's back arched up off the bed. She released a kind of mewling sound that sent a shiver down his spine.

He kept going relentlessly now, determined to push her over the edge.

It didn't take long.

His own length was throbbing as he listened to the sounds she was making, felt the tensing of her thighs around his head, and tasted her sweet essence as she reached her peak. Hermione released a long, drawn-out groan that eventually transformed into a strained whimper as her muscles relaxed around his shoulders.

Holy shit, I actually did it. I made her cum.

Draco drew back slowly. His breathing was heavy, and he was trembling with repressed desires of his own. But tonight wasn't about him. This was more than enough. More than he deserved. His mind was still reeling from the fact that Hermione had actually sought him out, that she'd changed her mind and come back to him.

She came back to me. She's really here. This really happened.

He wanted to pinch himself but settled instead on running his hands soothingly over her thighs as he reached down to pull her underpants back on. He gently tugged them back into place, soothing down creases in the material to keep his hands busy.

Eventually Hermione managed to catch her breath and ease herself up onto her elbows. She peered down at him with a slightly embarrassed flush on her cheeks.

"Uh…well then," she stammered a bit awkwardly, "that was… different. I've never… even imagined something so…well, I didn't exactly know what to expect. Or how quickly I would…"

She gestured down at herself, pursing her lips and shrugging as if she wasn't sure how to finish that sentence.

"You lasted longer than I did," he reminded her with a somewhat rueful smile. Hermione chuckled, fiddling self-consciously with a stray curl. The air between them was filled with awkwardness.

"Do you…um… need me to-… her voice trailed off as she gestured to the slight hint of his erection just visible under his trousers.

"No," he blurted, shaking his head even though he really really wanted to throw caution to the wind and say hell yes! But would it be weird if she did it now as some kind of repayment? They'd already evened the score so to speak and now he was on uncertain footing, "Er…that is… no, you don't have to. I'll be fine."

Another awkward pause descended on the room, both of them unable to make eye-contact.

"Isn't this the part where Neville knocks on the door?" she joked, breaking the tension and making him snort with amusement.

"My second heart attack that evening."

"Hmmm. Maybe being interrupted was for the best, in the end. We might have got carried away otherwise."

Draco cocked one eyebrow questioningly.

"And that's a bad thing?" he clarified. Hermione nodded her head firmly, chewing on the inside of her cheek and avoiding his gaze.

"Um, yes. Mustn't get carried away," she murmured, as if speaking to herself rather than to him. As if this was a prompt, she then pushed herself up off the bed, making a big show of tidying herself up, smoothing down her pyjamas and re-tying her dressing gown more than once. She began to wrestle some hair back into her ponytail but gave up after a few seconds. Then she straightened her spine and let out a steadying breath as if collecting the tattered remains of her composure. With a prim nod of her head and a look of forced determination, she walked a couple of steps towards the door.

"Well… goodnight then, Draco," she said with a kind of prissy tone that reminded him of when she was younger, "I will see you at breakfast."

"Goodnight Granger," he replied in bemusement, wondering if this was all really just some kind of bizarre dream in the end.

She almost paused at the last step as if to speak more, but then nodded to herself again and left, closing the door behind her quietly.

Draco was numb for a moment before he fell back onto the bed with an enormous sigh. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, his pulse slowly starting to return to normal as he caught his breath. The bedspread was warm from where she'd been sprawled, and he could smell her shampoo on the fabric.

What the fuck am I supposed to do now? he winced, wondering how on earth he was supposed to be around her the next day. How was he supposed to act normal after this? He was going to drive himself crazy over-thinking everything.

I'm royally screwed, he sighed to himself.

Then with a slow, deliberate lick of his lips, he pushed the worry aside and smiled.

Worry later.

Savour now.

…

…

Some more lemony progress. Thanks for reading and reviewing. I appreciate it!