Chapter 11

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Hermione felt as if she'd just leapt off a cliff and landed in a pile of feathers. She would never get used to having sex with this boy. Just as she thought she had him figured out, he turned around and did something that blew her away. She would never have guessed that Draco had this kind of self-restraint in him, but what a ride... The way he had moaned her name when he came had made her breath catch and her heart start pounding all over again. Using each other's first names really was too intimate, but he seemed to like it so much. And, in a way, she secretly did too.

She watched him as he slowly opened his eyes to look at her. They were filled with wonder and a warmth that made her breath catch all over again. Then his eyes widened in shock and the proverbial spell was broken.

It would perhaps be an exaggeration to say that he jumped off her, but he moved very quickly, seemingly eager to put some distance between them. Hermione wasn't all that surprised, but it still stung a little. He was the one who had been... been doing whatever this was to her—not the other way around.

It was always him, who initiated new intimacies, yet he always acted as if it had been her, who had done something, something horrible. As if he didn't really want it. She pushed her hurt feelings down and openly rolled her eyes.

"What?" he asked, looking positively panicked.

"You're freaking out," she said in her best matter-of-fact voice. "Get over it. Not every time needs to be fast, hard, or perverted."

"Felt pretty perverted to me," he muttered, looking calmer, but still scowling and eyeing her warily.

What had she done to deserve this? He had wanted her to come here tonight, hadn't he?

Clenching her teeth hard as to not show him any weakness, she sat up and began rummaging around for her clothes. She found her knickers first. They were damp and slightly ripped. She sighed and put them on anyway.

"What are you doing?" Draco had sat up to give her a confused look. Right. Be an arse, and then be confused about it.

"I'm getting dressed," she calmly replied. "I don't want to stay in your line of fire, so I'm leaving." She clasped her bra.

He frowned a little, processing this. "I'm not doing anything!" he protested.

She shook her head. "No, but as soon as you recover from your surprise, you are going to figure that this was really all my fault and attack me for it. I'm leaving."

He started. "W-what did I say?" he asked, looking even more pale than usual.

Hermione was getting annoyed now. Good. Anger and annoyance was better than hurt. "What do you mean 'what did you say'? We had slow sex and now you're acting as if... as if I don't know any better!" She angrily reached out and grabbed her robes.

"No, wait!" His hand shot out to stop her before she could pull them on. "I promise I won't take it out on you. I don't want to sleep alone tonight. Stay."

She really didn't know what to think. He looked sincere. He looked as if he didn't want her to go. He looked lonely. He slowly pulled her robes from her grasp, tossed them aside, and patted the bed beside him.

Against her better judgment, she found herself laying back down. He laid down next to her, not touching her, and not extinguishing the light, but merely watching her. It was unnerving.

Suddenly, he spoke. "We're no good together out of bed, are we?"

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes at him again. "Well, duh!" That was saying the least. They were only ever getting along when they were fooling around or sleeping. She couldn't recall them ever having had just one nice conversation. They definitely weren't friends.

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