"The harpy recalls the apology," was all Hermione would say. The memory was still a bit too fresh in her mind. She wasn't sure she was ready to deal with a sober, non-drugged, Draco Malfoy.
"I wouldn't have hurt her," he insisted, sounding very serious now.
Hermione tilted her head up to look at him, and he took this opportunity to brush his lips over the bridge of her nose. That simple contact made her head spin. He was going cross eyed looking at her freckles. It was much too dark to see what his chameleon-like eyes were up to, but she was willing to bet they were widely dilated.
"You were trying to hurt her. She' s not stupid," Hermione eventually managed to say.
She is mental though, because she's apparently referring to herself in the third person now
"Girl's too brainy for her own good. Think less. Sex more," Draco declared, in a sagely manner. "I ought to get that printed on a t-shirt."
"You do that." Hermione was prodding at his head with her fingers, to see how close he had come to getting his annoying brain, permanently damaged.
"That feels good." His fingers were stroking at the soft skin at her hip. She could imagine the dragon tattoo straining and stretching across her skin, eager to come into contact with his hand.
Odd how that sensation didn't feel strange any more. Just new.
"You' re wearing that shirt again," he noted, looking at her chest with a bleary expression. He looked like Harry on the mornings when he discovered he had lost his glasses. "The one with the wee frog. Kevin."
"Kermit," she corrected, smiling into his neck. She hadn' t even realised she was wearing the same t-shirt.
"So. Are you going to tell me what this rainbow connection thing is all about? Or is that top secret Muggle business that my poor, magical brain can't possible comprehend?" There was just enough annoyance in his voice to remind Hermione that underneath the balms, the sleeping draught, the hospital pajamas and the hand holding, lurked the same Draco.
She hesitated, sensing where the conversation was going. "Well, it's this song he sings."
"Splendid. Sing it for me."
"No, Malfoy. I'm not even supposed to be here, remember?"
He became quiet. Incredibly, Hermione suspected he might actually be upset.
Good lord.
She rolled her eyes and relented. Never let it be said that Hermione Grange was not a soft touch. "Will you go to sleep if I sing it for you?
His other hand came about to stroke her cheek clumsily, which, she supposed, was his way of saying, 'yes, thanks, that would be very nice.'
She wasn't going to chance looking at him now. There would be too much intensity and unguarded emotion on his face. She felt like a third party intruding on some private moment, yet again.
"Fine."
She sang the song, off-key, because she wasn't very good at it, and in a half-whisper. But he listened anyway and there were no more complaints.
Hermione thought he must have been nearly asleep by the time she got to the last verse, but he wasn' t. He slipped his hand under the hem of her t-shirt, placed his palm over the curve of her belly to lightly squeeze for a moment, slid it up her rib cage and then cupped her left breast.
He then pressed his nose against her cheek and inhaled deeply, his thumb absently rubbing over her nipple, under her shirt. The whole act was done completely naturally, as if he had done it to her a hundred times before. There was no calculation, just a simple need, appeased.
Her entire body turned to liquid. She was sure she had melted into a sensitized, relaxed puddle of flesh, right there on Malfoy's hospital bed.
Hermione faltered on the chorus. He was breathing evenly against her neck now. All signs pointed to a deep, healing sleep. She couldn't recall ever feeling more comfortable, or more safe, for that matter. And that was saying something.
Falling asleep with the person you cared about was fine, wherever the bloody hell you came from and whatever the hell else was going on in the world.
It was perfectly fine. It had to be.
She closed her eyes. Just for a minute, she told herself. Just until I'm sure he's asleep.
**
The sun wasn't quite up yet when Hermione opened her eyes. It took an enormous amount of effort to shake the sleep off. She was normally out of bed and dressed in ten minutes, but on this occasion,