Breath Mints / Battle Scars

Chapter 26: XXVI

December 25th, 1998

It's half past one in the morning, and she finds herself making no attempt towards Gryffindor Tower as they sneak back into the castle.

And he makes no attempt to let go of her hand.

But he doesn't lead her towards the Dungeons, either - and she's admittedly a little disappointed. Has always been curious about the Slytherin common room.

"Nott will be there," he says when she mentions this, pulling her along after him through several dark corridors.

Excitement bubbles in her chest. Being Gryffindor's resident know-it-all - and therefore, by extension, its resident prude - she rarely gets to feel the exhilaration of sneaking around and doing what she shouldn't.

And this - tiptoeing hand in hand with Draco Malfoy through the castle in the middle of the night, desperately seeking out a place to be alone - is the epitome of that.

Her cheeks ache from smiling, her face flushed with thoughts of the dark possibilities she'd seen brewing in his eyes at dinner.

She is so tired of relying on self control.

Now, she only wants to rely on free fall.

Soon enough, Draco is dragging her up an all too familiar spiral staircase, both of them out of breath.

"You can't be serious," she gasps out, stifling a laugh as they come to a stop at the top before the door.

"Alohomora," he whispers, then yanks open the heavy latch and pulls her inside by the waist.

"The Divination Classroom?"

She spins in a slow circle, surveying the dark, deserted room as he turns to lock the door behind them.

"Needed somewhere with pillows," he answers, and with a flick of his wand, he lights every candle in the room, illuminating the floor pillows in question in front of the Divination tables.

She quirks a brow at him. "I'm not certain Trelawney goes home for the holidays. What if she's in the castle somewhere?"

Draco shucks his coat - stalks toward her. "Then she'll have seen this coming and made herself scarce."

Hermione laughs. "She was never fond of me."

"Making this absolutely fucking poetic." And he takes hold of her with a familiarity she didn't know they were allowed to have yet. Like he's been doing it for years. Like he knows exactly where to touch her and how much pressure to apply.

He kisses her once - a languid, melting kiss - before shoving her off her feet and onto the heap of floor cushions. Follows her down.

She laughs again, tossing away her bag as he crawls up over her. Pauses. Stares.

The candlelight flickers over him like little threshing waves of gold, and she sort of realizes that this was how she'd always pictured her first time. How she'd imagined it would feel. Probably not in the Divination Classroom, and never in her wildest dreams with Draco Malfoy, and for the second time, no less, but...the candles, the pillows, the look in his eyes...

It's the stuff of fantasies.

She wonders if she should be afraid of waking up.

He stays leaning over her for the longest time, just looking at her. Seeming to drink in the situation - possibly the absurdity of it. They hadn't had much time for thinking the first time around.

She reaches up and runs her fingers over the cold swell of his lips. Feels him press back against them in a kiss.

And then he's sitting back - tugging his sweater over his head, messing up his hair.