Remain Nameless

Chapter 17

Closing the door behind her in the bathroom, Hermione leaned against it and let out a sigh. That had been, frankly, mind-blowing sex.

Turning to her reflection in the mirror, she had to bite down on a giggle as she saw her appearance. There was no other way to describe her just then: Hermione looked thoroughly and utterly shagged. Her curls were simply everywhere, a rosy flush to her cheeks, her makeup mostly worn off, light red marks covering her neck and chest, and if she looked close enough, fingerprint impressions in the skin of her hips.

She used the bathroom and freshened up, finally extracting the rest of her hair from some of the pins that remained snarled in her curls. Wrangling her hair into an acceptable bun atop her head, Hermione smiled at her reflection. As of yet, no self-consciousness or regret had sunk in, no worry about repercussions from her actions with Malfoy. Her grin widened as she ran through the events of the evening in her mind. While Hermione had been hopeful that perhaps tonight they'd take a step past friendship, she hadn't dared hope that they'd go quite this far. But they had indeed. Hermione had just shagged Draco and it had been more fulfilling than she'd ever imagined, and she'd certainly done her fair share of imagining recently.

A giddy laugh almost passed her lips, but she managed to stifle it in time. Throwing on a clean cotton slip hanging on the back of the bathroom door, she wondered how Malfoy felt about everything. Would he still be in her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling and worrying over her reaction? Or perhaps fretting that he'd made a mistake, and that she regretted sleeping with him? Maybe he was getting dressed right now, preparing to make a polite excuse and leave? What if he'd already dressed and left? No, he wouldn't... unless he was afraid? Hermione had witnessed his flight or fight response on several occasions, and knew that if a situation became too emotional for him, he found the quickest exit.

Hermione slowly opened the door leading to the bedroom and was greeted with the sight of Draco sound asleep in her bed, covers tucked over his body as if he'd always slept there. Relief coursed through her and suppressing another laugh, she tiptoed over silently to scoot in beside him. He didn't stir, and Hermione took a moment to study his relaxed features as he slept. Draco's handsome, angular face appeared softer in slumber, his brow not furrowed, eyes not narrowed, no tightness around his mouth and jaw. His head of blond hair mesmerized her in the way it reflected the bright moonlight, and she resisted the urge to sweep some of the white locks from his forehead.

Instead of continuing gawking at him, she settled back into her pillows and was asleep within minutes. Any serious discussions about friendships, relationships, and the future of each, could wait until the morning.

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The bright morning sunlight streaming through her bedroom window forced Hermione's eyes slowly open. Thanks to a clever charm on all her windows, Hermione could keep the curtains open constantly, while no outsiders could see into her home. While not necessarily a morning person, she liked being awakened naturally by the sun on weekend mornings.

She languorously stretched her limbs out, delighting in that specific dull soreness between her legs that only came after sex. Merlin, it had been so long since she'd felt that delicious aching. Casting her glance sideways, Hermione observed the sleeping male form beside her. Draco had stayed the night.

His back was to her, and by the sound of his deep, even breathing she could tell he was still asleep. Last night in the dark, and based on their positions, Hermione hadn't gotten the chance to appreciate the lean muscles of Draco's back.

Well, she certainly was not going to waste this opportunity. The covers had slid to his lower back, giving her plenty of skin to view; impossibly pale porcelain in hue, but not in an unhealthy way. Last night, Draco's hair had taken on the color of the moon, but in the shining sun, it shone no less bright, a white-gold halo atop his head. Longing to stroke the bare skin of his back and once again feel the taut muscles there, Hermione shook her head. She had no idea exactly how he felt about her yet, and it would be unwise to presume he would welcome her touch.