seep into the rest of his body via his blood.
The feeling warmed him. He realised that he felt safe, which was ludicrous. He was not safe. He hadn't been safe from the moment he was born.
Morosely, Draco realised he could share the same, unwelcome claim with Potter.
He was now responsible not just for seeing to his own continuing survival, but also that of a girl. A frail Muggleborn girl. Brilliant, yes, but who didn't have the sense to stay out of harm's way, who wasn't any good at broomstick flying, who wasn't even tall enough to reach his shoulders.
She was special, that was true, but Hermione Granger had no power and influence that he could use to his own advantage. She could not protect him from the groping, opportunistic hands of the Ministry or the cold, calculating interest of Voldemort and his supporters. Hermione was even more of a target now. And it was his fault. The thought was like an icy wind blasting away the aforementioned, warmth. He was a self-serving creature by nature. Draco was not ashamed of this and would have been the first to admit it.
It was thus very hard to wrap his brain around the fact that there was now someone else that he would have to watch over. Someone else's interests other than his own.
One may have been a very lonely number, but at least it was an easy to put into equations.
Their interests were now one and the same. The silly girl had ensured that when she had told him she loved him.
He could walk away. That would have been the selfless, noble, wisest thing to do. For all parties concerned.
It was so very...Potter, wasn't it?
Bad luck for her then, that he was not such a person.
All that was left to do, then, was to make his environment as Granger-friendly as possible. That meant keeping the Ministry off his back and staying under Voldemort's radar. Perhaps if they tried enough, the world would leave them the hell alone, long enough for him to work out what was happening to him.
It was wishful thinking. He knew that. It was not going to be easy.
Tired, Draco closed his eyes, wishing he was as sound asleep as she appeared to be. "I banish you, depressing thoughts," he whispered.
She hoped she was happy. He was talking to himself now. Granger had officially made him crazy.
His voice stirred her. She wriggled beneath him and started doing soft, wet, sleepy things to his shoulder. She even managed to locate his ear. "Hermione," he said, his voice sounding weak and puny.
Other parts of him were not so weak and puny, however.
He flopped down beside her, without a lot of grace, but he made up for this with quite a lot of intent. With a bit of clever manoeuvring, he was where he needed to be, inside her. She wasn't breathing so deeply any more.
He knew her tattoo was flickering. Like fairy lights. It had started doing that a while ago and was steadily picking up in intensity, but he decided she'd be alarmed to hear about it. He remembered that she seemed to enjoy overreacting.
So whispered the kind of soft, reassuring words he thought she might have liked to hear, he told her to keep her eyes closed. All the better to look at her without being watched in return.
The one, grimy lantern in the room cast a sleepy golden glow that looked very enticing over her skin. It was sticky-hot, given that the only window could not be opened. A fine sheen of perspiration covered the both of them. It made her look dewy.
He pressed his lips against her shoulder and tasted some of the salt from her skin. The sheet was dragged downwards. Her breasts were addictive, he decided. He knew there was a good reason why he had harboured those lustful thoughts during breakfast.
Draco held on to them as he rocked against her.
This time, he did not disgrace himself.
**
Hermione raised her head and squinted around the room. It was dark. The lantern was out. Somewhere down the corridor, a woman was laughing. She wanted to get out of bed to find out what time it was, but Draco slung a leg over her and told her they needed to go back to sleep.
He sounded like he'd swallowed a cup of gravel.
His command was at odds with his behaviour, though. He was, at the moment, wholly occupied with fondling her bottom.
It was so hot in the room. He