The astonishing thing, in the end, is how well he sleeps.
He’d expected to toss and turn all night, unaccustomed to the lingering presence of someone else in his bed, and extra-unaccustomed to it being her; but exhausted from their late night and time exploring each others’ bodies and fucking each other into oblivion, Draco’s out like a light. He sleeps through Hermione waking up and wriggling against him, and then— almost sleeps through her tiptoeing out of his room.
He notices the shift on the mattress, the weight going away, and he peels an eye open after she’s gone, squinting at the bedroom doorway. Waits, a little paranoid, for the click of the front door and the sound of her sneaking out after all.
It doesn’t come.
So, curious, Draco rolls out of bed a few minutes later. And true to form, he does stop first to scoop up all their discarded clothes from the floor, and half-fold them into quick little stacks on his dresser. He’s a little neurotic, this one. He tugs his black briefs back on, walks out into the apartment proper—
And is greeted by that lovely sight. Hermione Granger, naked, looking through his collection of books.
She’ll have found an eclectic mix, the texts loosely thematically grouped together in the stacks. Some Quidditch theory and a biography of Dangerous Dai Llewellyn; textbooks on potions and alchemy; a field guide to local herbs; a book on memory charms, standard issue for rookie Obliviators.
Draco crosses the creaking floor and joins her, dropping to his heels beside her; he leans over to kiss Hermione’s bare shoulder, which also gives him a good view of what she’s currently picked out from the tower. “Does it pass muster?” he asks, bemused.
no subject
He’d expected to toss and turn all night, unaccustomed to the lingering presence of someone else in his bed, and extra-unaccustomed to it being her; but exhausted from their late night and time exploring each others’ bodies and fucking each other into oblivion, Draco’s out like a light. He sleeps through Hermione waking up and wriggling against him, and then— almost sleeps through her tiptoeing out of his room.
He notices the shift on the mattress, the weight going away, and he peels an eye open after she’s gone, squinting at the bedroom doorway. Waits, a little paranoid, for the click of the front door and the sound of her sneaking out after all.
It doesn’t come.
So, curious, Draco rolls out of bed a few minutes later. And true to form, he does stop first to scoop up all their discarded clothes from the floor, and half-fold them into quick little stacks on his dresser. He’s a little neurotic, this one. He tugs his black briefs back on, walks out into the apartment proper—
And is greeted by that lovely sight. Hermione Granger, naked, looking through his collection of books.
She’ll have found an eclectic mix, the texts loosely thematically grouped together in the stacks. Some Quidditch theory and a biography of Dangerous Dai Llewellyn; textbooks on potions and alchemy; a field guide to local herbs; a book on memory charms, standard issue for rookie Obliviators.
Draco crosses the creaking floor and joins her, dropping to his heels beside her; he leans over to kiss Hermione’s bare shoulder, which also gives him a good view of what she’s currently picked out from the tower. “Does it pass muster?” he asks, bemused.