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The soft hum of magical energy reverberated through the laboratory as Hermione Granger, Head of the Department of Magical Innovation, stood over the bubbling cauldron in front of her. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she carefully added powdered moonstone to the concoction. The mixture shifted from a dull green to a shimmering silver, the kind of change that signaled they were on the right track. It was a delicate moment, one that required precision and absolute control.
Beside her, Draco Malfoy stood with his arms crossed, breathing down her neck. His sharp gaze following every movement Hermione made. His presence, though somewhat distant and reserved, was one she had become accustomed to over the past several months. As the Director of the Potion Innovators Team, Draco had played a critical role in developing the potion they were working on - Essentia Revelare. A potion designed to enhance one’s clarity of mind, a liquid meant to help wizards and witches see things from a new perspective, break mental blockages, and even unlock forgotten memories. It was a revolutionary project - one that could change the way the magical world approached both healing and magical research.
Though the potion had immense potential, it was also incredibly tricky to brew. The line between success and disaster was razor-thin, and both Hermione and Draco were acutely aware of how much was riding on it. This was the kind of breakthrough that would make history. The type of invention that would define careers. And yet, there they were, in the late hours of the evening, working together in a way neither had imagined when they first started their collaboration.
Their partnership was, by all accounts, civil. Professional. Distant, even. After the war, both had managed to carve out new identities for themselves within the Ministry of Magic. Hermione had climbed the ranks, steadily making her mark in the Department of Magical Innovation, while Draco, though his family’s reputation remained a shadow, had found a place for himself in the world of potion-making - a discipline that allowed him to remain somewhat removed from the politics of wizarding society.
Their working relationship had always been cordial. Hermione respected Draco’s expertise in potions, even if their past - one filled with animosity, bitterness, and rivalry - often colored her interactions with him. For his part, Draco had never been overtly unpleasant, but his aloofness and the weight of his family’s history made him difficult to fully trust, despite his undeniable skill.
It had been a quiet and professional collaboration up until now. But the more they worked on Essentia Revelare, the more their old rivalry began to resurface. Their conversations had become sharper, more pointed. Every suggestion from one was met with scrutiny from the other, and every mistake, no matter how small, felt like an offense.
This particular evening was no exception. The lab had long since emptied of other researchers, and the only sounds that filled the air were the crackling of fire and the soft popping of ingredients being added to bubbling cauldrons. Hermione’s wand flicked once more, adjusting the temperature of the flame. It had been a long day, and both her and Draco were beginning to feel the weight of their exhaustion.
Draco, standing a few paces behind Hermione, leaned in slightly, watching her carefully.
"You’re adding too much moonstone," he said, his voice cool but tinged with an edge of annoyance. "The potion’s already shifting too quickly. It won’t stabilize properly."
Hermione bristled, her shoulders tensing slightly. "I’m aware of that, Draco," she replied, not looking back at him. "But if we’re going to get the right consistency, this is what needs to be done."
Draco’s lip curled into a faint sneer. "Moonstone is a very delicate ingredient. You need to handle it with care."
Hermione’s temper flared. It wasn’t just the fact that Draco had disagreed with her - it was the way he’d said it. The implication that she didn’t know something so fundamental was enough to set her off.
She spun around to face him, her wand still alight, though she had to force herself to remain calm. "I’m not some novice, Malfoy. I know that." Her voice was sharp, and she couldn’t entirely suppress the bite in her tone.
"Then why aren‘t you handling the moonstone with care, but instead dumping it into the potion like salt into your pasta water?" Draco grumble.
Hermione felt her cheeks growing red and hot. "Maybe you should just make yourself useful and stop breathing down my neck."
Draco raised an eyebrow, his posture unyielding. "Making myself useful? I’m trying to do my bloody job here, in case you forgot I am the potion master of this department. If you for once would listen to me!" He took a step toward her, his voice lowering. "You always think you know best. Always have to be in control, don’t you? Everything has to go your way!"
Hermione’s heart raced. This wasn’t the first time their old tensions had flared. She fought to keep her breathing steady. "I’m trying to get this right. We’re on the brink of something incredible here, Draco, and we can’t afford to screw it up. Just let me handle it!"
Draco’s eyes narrowed. "That’s your problem, Granger. You can’t stand it when someone questions your methods. You always think your way is the only way."
"And what’s your solution, Malfoy?" Hermione snapped, her patience running thin.
"My solution would be, handle the bloody moonstone with more care, if you don’t want all of this to go to waste!" ,Draco had to give it his best to not yell straight to Hermiones face. She made him furious.
Her hands tightened into fists, but she clenched her jaw instead of saying anything further. The air between them crackled, charged with unspoken frustrations and past grievances. The argument was escalating quickly, and both of them knew it. But neither was willing to back down.
Draco turned away, pacing toward the far side of the room. "Fine. Do it your way," he muttered. "But don’t come crying to me when the whole thing blows up in your face."
"Maybe you should worry more about yourself, Malfoy," Hermione muttered under her breath, though she knew he heard it.
Draco paused, his back to her. "What was that?"
Hermione didn’t respond, busying herself with the next steps of the potion’s brewing process, though her heart was still racing from the intensity of their exchange. It wasn’t just about the potion anymore - it never really had been. Their rivalry had always simmered beneath the surface, even when they pretended to be colleagues, even when they pretended that the past was nothing more than an inconvenient memory.
She added the final ingredient - peacock feather serum - and watched as the potion began to glow softly, the silver turning to a deep violet.
"Well, it’s done," Hermione said quietly, her voice brittle.
Draco turned back to her, a deep scowl on his face. "Done? You think that’s it?"
Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. "It’s done for now, Draco. I need a break before I lose my temper completely."
Draco’s lips pressed together. "Fine," he said after a long pause. "But we’re not done. We still need to check the potion for stability tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," Hermione repeated, her voice stiff with exhaustion. "Let’s just clean up and go home for the night."
The silence between them lingered as they began to clear the cluttered workstations, the unspoken tension thick in the air. Both of them worked in relative silence, a few sharp glances exchanged as they tidied up the laboratory.
When everything was back to normal again, they packed their personal things and Hermione reached for the door to leave, only to find it stuck. She pulled harder, but it wouldn’t budge.
"What?" She tried again, but no matter how hard she yanked, the door refused to open.
Draco raised an eyebrow, his earlier annoyance replaced with a flicker of confusion as he grabbed onto the door handle and gave it a try himself. "Looks like we’re locked in."
Hermione shot him a glare. "This isn’t funny, Malfoy. I’m not in the mood for…"
"Try your wand," Draco suggested, cutting her off.
With a flick of her wrist, Hermione muttered an unlocking charm. The door rattled but didn’t open.
"Still locked," she muttered under her breath, frustration mounting.
Draco stepped closer, his usual distance between them now almost non-existent. "Perhaps the locking charm is on a timed lock," he said, his tone calm but with a hint of something that Hermione couldn’t place.
"That’s ridiculous," she snapped. "We’ve been here all evening. There’s no timed lock."
"Maybe someone else set it," Draco suggested, his voice no longer tinged with malice, but something more neutral.
Hermione glanced around, running a hand through her messy hair. It was well past midnight. She could feel her exhaustion weighing heavily on her, and the thought of spending the night trapped in this small, sterile room with Draco Malfoy wasn’t exactly her idea of fun.
Draco crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, watching her pace back and forth like a caged animal. "Face it, Granger. We’re stuck."
Hermione huffed in frustration, her fingers itching for something - anything - that could solve the problem. "This is absurd. There’s no reason we should be locked in. I checked the wards when we came in."
Draco gave her a smug look. "Maybe you didn’t check them properly. Even the great Hermione Granger can make mistakes, can’t she?"
Her eyes snapped to him, fiery with irritation. "Don’t you dare pin this on me, Malfoy. You’re the one who insisted on working late. Maybe you triggered some kind of security measure when you knocked over that bezoar earlier."
His eyes narrowed. "You’re blaming me now? Typical."
"Well, you were the one who threw off the potion’s timing earlier," Hermione shot back. "If anyone’s responsible for this disaster of a night, it’s you."
Draco stepped closer, his expression hardening. "It’s not enough that you boss everyone around all day. Now you’re playing the blame game too? Classic Know-It-All behavior."
Hermione froze. "Don’t."
"Why not? You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?" His lips curled into a familiar, irritating smirk. "I’m surprised you haven’t whipped out Hogwarts-era charts and diagrams to prove why I’m wrong."
"That’s rich, coming from someone who never learned to take responsibility for anything in his life," she fired back. "You were handed everything, Draco. Maybe you think you’re still entitled to everything working out without you putting in the effort."
"As if you know anything about what I got handed, Granger," Draco growled and clenched his hands to fists. "You think you’re the savior of every situation, don’t you?" His voice was lower now, more dangerous. "If something doesn’t go the way you want, it’s automatically someone else’s fault. Because never ever would little Miss Know-It-All with the godess complex make a mistake."
They were toe to toe now, so close Hermione could feel the heat radiating off him. Neither of them was backing down, their chests rising and falling with the weight of unresolved grievances and years of unspoken history.
Hermione’s breath came quick. "Maybe if you stopped being such an insufferable pain in my…"
"Maybe if you stopped acting like an uptight little…"
Neither of them could finish. The air between them was charged, pulsing with an intensity that had been building for weeks, months - years, even. And before either could say another word, the crackling tension between them finally snapped.
Draco moved first, or maybe it was Hermione. Neither of them would be able to say for sure. But one moment, they were glaring at each other, inches apart, and the next - Their lips crashed together, a sudden, fiery collision that neither of them had seen coming but neither could or even wanted to stop. It was rough and urgent, born of frustration and rivalry, but beneath it all was something far deeper. Something that had been simmering, unnoticed, for far too long.
Hermione gasped against his mouth, her fingers instinctively tangling in the front of Draco’s shirt. He responded immediately, one hand slipping to her waist, pulling her closer against his body. They kissed as though it was the only logical conclusion to their endless arguing. Their kiss was anything but gentle - it was all teeth and tongues and pent-up emotion, each of them pouring their frustration and fury into every movement.
Draco’s other hand slid up her back to the nape of her neck and nestling at the base of the messy curls. Hermione couldn‘t help the shiver that coursed through her at the unexpected tenderness of the gesture as he slowly pressed her against the door behind her with his body. For all the sharpness of their words, there was something undeniably soft about the way his hands moved now, anchoring her in place as though afraid she might disappear.
It should have felt strange. It should have felt wrong.
But it didn’t.
Hermione’s head was spinning, and her heart pounded so loudly she was certain Draco could hear it. She tilted her head, deepening the kiss, and felt the way his grip tightened, the way his breath hitched in response. She snaked her arms around his neck and held onto him tightly, as his tongue briefly touched hers.
This wasn’t just a kiss borne out of frustration. It was a culmination - a collision of everything that had been bubbling between them for months.
They broke apart for air, but Draco didn’t step away, still locking Hermione between his hot, broad body and the locked door. Hermione’s gaze locked with his, and for once, Draco didn’t look smug or superior. He looked dazed, enchanted even. Almost vulnerable.
Something blinked in Hermione’s eyes as she rose to her tiptoes and kissed Draco again. Draco as enchanted as he was, couldn‘t believe this happened to him twice. He loosened his grip around Hermione‘s waist and gently reached downwards to where her butt faded into her thigh and pulled her upwards. Hermione wrapped her legs around Draco and he placed his hand directly on Hermione‘s beautiful ass.
"Is that okay?" ,he mumbled inbetween kisses.
Hermione nodded eagerly and continued kissing him, as he slowly walked to the opposite corner of the room, where an old couch stood, not even used to spent lunch on. But it was enough - for now. Draco sat down, keeping Hermione on his lap, as he used his now free hands to roam over her body.
Hermione gasped at the feel of Draco’s hands sliding along her waist, his fingers firm but reverent, as if he were committing every curve to memory. Their kisses deepened, becoming slower, more deliberate. What had started out as fire and frustration was now something entirely different - softer, more exploratory. It was as though they were both testing the boundaries of what they had just stepped into, and neither seemed willing to pull away.
Draco’s lips moved down to the curve of her jaw, brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck, and Hermione felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold laboratory air. She gripped his shoulders tighter, fingers pressing into the firm muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. The lines between animosity and desire were thoroughly blurred now, leaving nothing but raw, undeniable connection in their wake.
Her breath hitched and a small moan escaped her lips when he found the pulse point at her throat, and Draco paused, glancing up at her. His silver-gray eyes were wide and dark with something Hermione had never seen before. "Hermione." His voice was low, hesitant, as if searching for permission, for some kind of reassurance that this was what they both wanted.
She cupped his face, her thumb brushing over his sharp cheekbone. "Don’t stop."
At those words, something in Draco seemed to snap. His lips found her neck again with renewed urgency, his hands traveling along her chest as he hastily started to unbutton her blouse. Hermione felt the heat pooling in her chest, spreading to every inch of her body. The weight of the day, the frustrations, the barriers between them - they all dissolved in the warmth of Draco’s touch.
Yet, even in the heat of the moment, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered of consequences. Of what this meant - what it would mean tomorrow when the potion was still waiting, and their old lives came crashing back in. But for now, Hermione silenced that voice. Just for tonight.
Because for the first time in a long time, neither of them was fighting. They weren’t rivals or colleagues or enemies. They were simply two people, tangled up in something neither could name but neither wanted to end.
Draco grazed the sensitive skin of her neck with his teeth and moved to her collarbone as he finally pushed her blouse off. She was wearing a beautiful lace bra underneath and Draco placed one of his big hands on each breast, gently massaging and pushing them, as he nipped and sucked on Hermione‘s shoulder.
Hermione’s head fell back slightly, eyes fluttering shut as Draco’s hands and lips explored with a mixture of confidence and tenderness that took her breath away. His touch was surprisingly gentle despite the fire that had sparked between them only moments earlier. She felt her pulse quicken, a flush spreading across her skin that had nothing to do with the cold laboratory air.
Draco’s fingers traced the lace edges of her bra, skimming along in a way that sent shivers through her body. He dove deeper with his head and planted soft kisses along her cleavage as his fingers began rubbing her nipples through the lace of her underwear until they stiffened.
"Hermione," he rasped again. His breath was ragged, and for a moment, his gaze locked with hers. Gone was the haughty, distant Draco she had worked with for months. In his eyes now was a vulnerability she hadn’t expected, as if he was asking her whether this was real.
Hermione stroke his hair tenderly out of his face. "This is real, Draco. Don’t second-guess it."
His lips twitched in the ghost of a smile - one of the rarest things she’d ever seen from him. He pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her as though determined to memorize every moment.
Draco laid back in the couch and pulled Hermione close to him. He tilted his head, his forehead resting against Hermione’s. He closed his eyes for a moment, as though grounding himself in the feel of her. His fingers skimmed up her spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
Hermione ran her fingers along the sharp line of his jaw, tracing a delicate scar that crossed just below his cheekbone - one she’d never noticed before.
Hermione leaned in again, their mouths meeting once more. This kiss was slower, filled with curiosity and exploration rather than urgency. Draco’s hands moved to her chest again, teasing her, while Hermione’s fingers slid into his hair, tugging slightly. He groaned into her mouth at the sensation, the sound sending another shiver through her.
Eventhough she could feast on the noise Draco had made with her hands in his hair, she decided to move her hands downwards and start unbuttoning his shirt. She wanted to feel his skin on her‘s. As the last button loosened she felt Draco unclasping her bra in the back. His smirk against her lips elicited a little chuckle from her as well.
Hermione pulled back slightly, just enough to slide his open shirt down his shoulders. Her hands traveled over his bare chest, tracing the firm lines of muscle and the small scars that marred his pale skin. In this moment Draco Malfoy was stripped of his arrogance and anger, he was something entirely different. Hermione‘s fingers splayed across his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.
Draco exhaled sharply at the touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before they opened again, locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. His hands skimmed her sides, drawing her in until he leaned forward, capturing her lips again.
Her bra slipped from her shoulders, forgotten on the floor, and she felt Draco’s hands slide over her bare skin, exploring with a reverence that made her ache. He kissed a slow trail from her jaw down to the curve of her collarbone, each brush of his lips sending sparks skittering along her nerves.
"Draco," she murmured, her fingers tangling in his hair again, the silky strands slipping through her fingers. There was no hesitation now, no second-guessing. Just the feel of his hands on her skin, his breath warm against her chest. Each touch ignited a fresh spark that radiated through her body. Hermione felt like her skin was burning under his hands and his lips, but it was the kind of heat she didn’t want to escape. She arched her back slightly, her body pressing closer against him as his hands explored the small of her back, tracing slow, reverent circles.
His touch was at once firm and tender, the hands of a man who had been through his own darkness but now held something fragile and precious. Hermione’s breath came in short gasps, her heart thundering in her chest. She moved on Draco‘s lap, because her nerves felt on fire and the energy had to go somewhere - until she felt his erection between her legs, rubbing up against her most sensitive place… but Draco didn‘t seem to mind.
Draco came back up, their lips meeting again in another searing kiss. Hermione’s fingers traced the defined lines of his torso, committing the feel of his skin to memory. There was something intoxicating about Draco Malfoy like this - unguarded, and entirely hers in that moment.
He leaned back against the couch, pulling Hermione down with him, her body draped across his lap. The hard lines of his body beneath the soft ones of hers - only added to the fire burning through her veins. She could feel every inch of him, and the realization sent her head spinning.
"You’re beautiful," he murmured against her skin, his voice hoarse. The words came unbidden, raw and unpolished.
Hermione stilled for a moment, surprise flickering in her eyes. It wasn’t a compliment she’d expected - not from Draco Malfoy, of all people. But there was no mockery in his tone, no smugness. Only honesty.
Her fingers stilled against his chest, and she looked at him with a softness that neither of them had ever shown the other before.
Draco’s hands slid down Hermione’s thighs, pulling her even closer, and she responded by tangling her fingers in his hair once again, holding him to her. He kissed her and pushed against her, igniting the fire that replaced the tenderness. As Draco pushed his tongue into Hermione‘s mouth and was welcomed by soft moans, the tension that had fueled their earlier arguments seemed to transform into something new. Draco’s kisses became fast, sloppier even, as if he wanted to take as much as he could get.
Draco wrapped his arm around Hermione‘s torso and shifted them. The small couch beneath them creaked as he pushed Hermione onto the couch with her back. Her legs straddling him as they deepened their embrace. She could feel the tension in his muscles beneath her fingers, the taut lines of his frame as he tried to hold himself back.
Hermione caressed every inch of Draco‘s skin she could reach. Their breaths mingled, but she could feel Draco‘s breath hitching as she began unbuckling his belt. She ghosted over the bulge underneath the zipper as if accidentally.
Draco pushed his pants down and slipped out of his shoes, but before Hermione could reach for his underwear, he pushed her skirt upwards with hasty hands. She wore nothing but her delicate knickers underneath and as Draco placed his hand between Hermione‘s legs, she moaned loudly. But Draco had to hold onto himself as well. Through the thin layer of fabric he felt how hot and wet Hermione was already.
"Fuck," he hissed and then immediately pushed her panties aside. His gaze was fixated on Hermione, as he started circling her clitoris, because he wanted to take in every little detail of her. Her brows furrowed and her mouth opened in a gasp as she shut her eyes closed.
Her legs started to shake as Draco continued rubbing her most sensitive spot. Hermione pressed herself against his hand, which led to Draco putting more pressure on her with his thumb, as he slipped his ring and middle finger inside of her.
Draco’s breath came in ragged bursts as he watched Hermione unravel beneath him. The way she arched against his touch, the soft whimpers spilling from her lips - it was enough to drive him mad. His fingers moved with purpose, slow and deliberate, pressing deeper, curling just enough to make her hips buck against him.
"Draco," she gasped, her hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging in just enough to make him groan. Her head fell back against the couch, exposing the delicate curve of her throat, her chest rising and falling in time with his movements.
He couldn’t stop himself. He leaned down, capturing her exposed neck in some more open mouth kissing, hearing every sound she made. The slick heat of her against his fingers, the way she clenched around him, sent a surge of raw need straight through him.
Hermione tugged at his hair, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes were dark, half-lidded with desire. "I need you," she murmured, her voice edged with urgency.
Draco swore under his breath. The way she said it, the way she looked at him like he was the only thing she wanted in this moment - it undid him completely.
His fingers left her only long enough for him to rid her of the last remaining layers between them. Hermione’s hands followed suit, pushing his underwear down, her touch hesitant for only a second before wrapping around him
Draco groaned, his forehead dropping to hers. "You’re going to kill me," he muttered, his voice rough with restraint.
Hermione’s lips curled into the faintest smirk. "Then stop holding back."
He didn’t need to be told twice.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he positioned himself, teasing her for only a moment by rubbing his tip over her clit - before finally sinking into her heat. They both gasped at the sensation, the world narrowing to nothing but the feeling of being completely lost in each other.
Draco stilled, his grip on her so tight, he was afraid it would leave behind marks, as he fought for control. "Hermione-"
"Move," she whispered, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
And so he did.
Their bodies moved together, as Draco built an intoxicating rhythm. Hermione pushed close to him, everytime he thrusted forwards and Draco knew he would come undone sooner than later. Hermione‘s delicate hands caressed his back and held onto him, as she gasped and moaned with every movement. Draco burried his face at her shoulder. Hermione could hear how Draco bit back his moans and she felt his ragged and hot breath against her skin. His grip was firm as he thrust into her, his movement deliberate, dragging out the pleasure until Hermione thought she might lose her mind. The pressure war building inside of her, tension coiling like a spring about to snap.
Her nails raked over his back, the sharp sting making him shudder as he groaned deeply and his breath hitched against her shoulder. Her could feel her tightening around him, her legs pulling him deeper, urging him.
His control was slipping - he could feel it in the way his muscles burned, in the way his movements grew rougher, more desperate.
"Draco," Hermione gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his head back so their eyes met.
His forehead pressed against hers, their breath mingled in the heated space between them. Every push and pull of their bodies sent another spark shooting through Hermione‘s veins, another wave of pleasure cresting higher. Hermione arched into him, her body chasing every sensation, every touch. She felt consumed by him, by the way he filled her so perfectly, by the way he whispered her name like it was something sacred.
And then her orgasm consumed her. Her body got flooded with hormones and she wasn‘t sure, if she could ever let Draco Malfoy go after this.
Her walls clenched around him as pleasure crashed over her in waves, hot and consuming. She cried out, her whole body tremblind as she clung to him, riding out the high that left her gasping. Draco groaned, his hands tightening on her hips, chasing the inevitable.
"I can‘t - Hermione, I-" he felt like he was choking on the air.
"I know," she breathed, and that was all it took.
The tension inside of him snapped as well. Pleasure washed him away. His rhythm faltering as he buried himself deep, a low guttural groan escaping him as he lost himself in her.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Their bodies remained tangled together, their ragged breaths, making their chests rise and fall quickly, was the only sound in the room.
Draco pressed a kiss to her temple, softer now, his fingers tracing lazy pattern along her upper arm. Hermione‘s breathing slowly steadied, but she didn‘t move away. She wasn‘t sure she could.
The silence between them wasn‘t empty. It was thick, charged, filled with something neither of them dared to name. Their bodies still slick with heat and sweat, but neither of them moved to pull away.
Draco exhaled slowly, his breath fanning across Hermione‘s temple as he let his forehead rest against hers. Hermione swallowed, feeling the rapid thrum of her heartbeat against his. Her body still tingled with the aftershocks of pleasure, but her mind was starting to catch up now, trying to piece together what had just happened - What it meant.
Draco shifted slightly and the movement sent a lingering shiver through her. His lips brushed over her cheekbone, feather-light, as if afraid of breaking whatever fragile moment they were trapped in.
She should move. She should say something. But she didn‘t want to. Instead, her fingers found their way into his hair again, twisting lazily through the strand at the nape of his neck.
Draco let out a breath - something between a sigh and a chuckle, though was no amusement in it, just a quiet sort of disbelief.
"You‘re still here," he murmured, almost to himself.
Hermione frowned slightly, pulling back just enough to look at him. His grey eyes were still dark, but there was something else now - something cautious, as if he would guard himself again soon.
"Of course I am," she whispered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Something flickered across his face. Something vulnerable. But then it was gone. Buried beneath the guard. Buried beneath the sharp edge of his usual arrogance. He smirked, but it didn‘t quite reach his eyes.
"Well," he murmured, fingers ghosting over her ribs, teasing in a way that made her shiver. "That was… unexpected."
Hermione chuckled and arched an eyebrow. "Was it?"
Draco let out a breath of laughter, dropping his head to rest against her shoulder for a moment. "Maybe not."
After that he sat up straight again, peeling his sweaty skin off of Hermione‘s and sitting next to her, gently stroking her shin and calf.
She hummed softly, missing his weight ontop of her already.
"I think. If this didn‘t happen, we would have literally punched eachother sooner than later," she laughed and sat up too. Against Draco‘s expectation she slowly sat down on his lap again. She threaded her fingers through his hair again, dragging her nails lightly over his scalp. His hands tightened on her waist in response, the reaction far too instinctive for her not to notice.
Neither of them spoke for a while. There was no rush to move, no urgency like before. Just slow, lazy touches.
"We should get some sleep," Hermione finally suggested, "Somebody‘s going to come early enough."
"You‘re right about that," Draco nodded.
"Finally, something we can agree on!" Hermione laughed.
Draco laughed softly aswell.
Hermione slowly stood and started to put on her clothing again.
"No need for whoever is going to find us in a few hours to find us naked," she said and looked at still naked, but deeply satisfied Draco.
"Would you maybe… grab breakfast with me? Once we‘re free. Before duty calls again?" Draco asked.
Hermione smiled slowly.
"I would love that."
Draco nodded - smiling aswell - before he put his clothes back on too.
They fell asleep on the couch, Draco‘s head rested on Hermione‘s lap and her fingers fondling his hair.