This is my dorm room
He couldn’t believe the audacity of her as she’d grabbed his arm and ran her fingers along where the mark should have been, feeling for any sign of its existence. He’d jerked away too slowly to forget the way her soft skin had felt caressing his own. He could still feel the burn of her touch lingering there.
So what if she was a prefect and completely on point about the vow he’d made and the master he now served. If she had any sense of self-preservation, she’d keep her distance. Instead, she seemed to be everywhere he went, the library, the seventh-floor corridor, even out by the lake when he needed to get out and breathe. Either she’d already be there, or appear shortly after him, eyes watching in silence.
He couldn’t take it anymore. Not after today when she’d cornered him in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and touched him. He needed real, guaranteed privacy, which meant spending the rest of his evening in his room.
Draco had just dropped his bag on the bed when he smelled it: cinnamon with a hint of citrus. He spun around to see nothing but the other empty beds, the door to the room still closed.
“I know you’re here, Granger.” His eyes continued to scan back and forth, looking for the ripple of a disillusionment spell. The bed behind him creaked, and he nearly fell down in his haste to turn back around.
“How could you tell?” There she sat, pretty as could be, on the edge of his bed with an amused smile playing along her lips.
Narrowing his eyes at her, he backed a few steps away. “Your shampoo? Or perfume.”
“Ah.”
“This is my dorm room. You shouldn’t be here.”
She ignored his sneer, choosing instead to look around at the furnishings. She acted as if she were his guest, sitting at complete ease without her wand in sight. He could hex her and she wouldn’t be able to do a thing. Wasn’t she supposed to be smart?"
“I like it. Green’s always been one of my favorite colors.”
He tried to not let the surprise at her words show on his face. “What are you doing here, Granger?”
“We didn’t finish our conversation earlier.” Now she was making herself comfortable, kicking off her shoes and tucking her legs up on the bed behind her, smoothing her skirt down in modesty. His bed was going to end up smelling like her.
“We did, actually. I had nothing more to say.”
“On that topic, sure.”
She had him on his back foot, off balance and uncertain where she meant to lead. “What more did you need to know?”
Raising her eyebrows, she pressed her palm flat on his sheets and patted them. They stared at each other in silence for an awkward amount of time before he gingerly sat on the opposite side, his wand still firmly clasped in a death grip. It might have looked silly to others, but he knew better than to underestimate her, wand or no wand.
Salazar. She smelled even better up close.
“Did you think about what I said to you in the library?”
Of course he’d thought about that moment. It had been her first direct confrontation of him this year, and not only had she dropped hints about his project from the Dark Lord, she’d dared to offer a truce with the briefest of kisses as her offering. He could still taste her on his lips. He’d been plagued with memories of Hermione since then, reliving them every time they bumped into one another.
“I haven’t had time.” He couldn’t look at her, choosing instead to study the weave of his duvet cover.
She hummed in consideration and let the silence hang long enough for him to squirm in discomfort. How long did she plan to stay here talking?
Another creak of the bed. She’d shifted closer to him.
This time, his eyes shot up to meet hers, shockingly close and wide open in anticipation. Flecks of gold shot through the warm brown, her lashes long and full. Funny how he’d never noticed that before.
“We have time right now.” Her voice low, she tilted her head and continued to hold his gaze.
“Respite.”
“Just so.” And then she surprised him again, hands darting out towards him and tugging hard.
Call it a result of little sleep, or his drop in Seeker reflexes now that he’d quit the team, but he tumbled gracelessly down into her, his head landing in her lap where she immediately settled her hands into his hair.
“What are you—”
“Hush.”
“But—”
“Shut up, Malfoy, and relax.” Her fingers carded through the strands of his hair, kneading the scalp in repeated circles.
He could feel himself relaxing almost immediately, his wand rolling out of his hand across the mattress unchecked and forgotten. Draco couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him in this way without expecting anything in return. He heard her murmur and felt his shoes vanish. Another soft word and he was cocooned in a soft blanket. He couldn’t stop his eyes from sliding shut as Granger’s hands melted away the stress and unease. Surely just a few more minutes of this wouldn’t hurt.
He’d slept for about an hour before Hermione stilled. She stared down at his face, finally loose in the peace only sleep could bring, a long platinum strand curling across his forehead. His lips were parted slightly. She could lean down and kiss them without him ever knowing.
Instead, she tucked back his left cuff and stared at the blank skin underneath. She could sense the glamour and knew how to dispel it.
That wasn’t why she was here, though, no matter how she’d questioned him earlier. He’d seemed so near the end of his rope, the bruises under his eyes almost permanent and his mouth in a permanent downward turn. She’d noticed the slight tremble in his arm and his struggles to stay upright during class.
Hermione slid out carefully from underneath him and unfurled the Invisibility Cloak from where she’d hidden it in her robes alongside her wand. An additional flick of her wrist sent the curtains of his four-poster sliding shut with a silencing charm for good measure.
“Sleep well, Draco.”