the water, he had hooked his ankles around her calves to free up his hands. The hair on his legs tickled her. He brought her closer to him, close enough that his cock pressed up against her belly.
The feel of it made her head spin and warmth surge into the part of her stomach that had previously been home to a nest of butterflies.
The boy had no modesty whatsoever. He wasn't even blushing.
"You see, I have no secrets from you." He tucked a springy curl behind her ear and looked amused when the lock seemed to cling to his finger.
Her hair was traitorous. She'd chop the lot off over the summer. Just see if she didn't.
"The hell you don't," Hermione retorted, inexplicably annoyed that she didn't know all that much about him. "What did Dumbledore tell you in his office last Wednesday? And what's wrong with your shoulder that Madam Pomfrey can't fix it? And what does Snape have to do with your father's moods? What, are they old chums from Death Eater Summer Camp or something?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Or something. So many questions. Start rubbing and maybe I'll tell you."
Against every instinct, against her better judgement, she did as he requested. If only because she was curious, she told herself. She spread the balm more evenly between her fingers and started rubbing it into his skin. The scent brought to mind eucalyptus and several of the more familiar oils Snape made them use in different kinds of healing potions. She wasn't very gentle at first and he grunted at each deliberate dig of her fingers.
No denying there were horrid knots in his shoulder and she worked at them with a little too much energy. Hermione received some satisfaction in the thought he'd probably be in some discomfort for a few days at least.
He didn't complain or stop her, though. He just stared at her the whole time, with no expression. She could almost feel his gaze taking in her red cheeks, downcast eyes and her mouth. She suddenly felt the urge to pull her hair forward to shield her face from him.
"Granger, I swear I can feel the heat coming off your face. Haven't you looked after a sick sibling...or a pet?"
She kept her eyes on her task. "Crookshanks doesn't get sick. And I'm an only child. Don't you Death Eater types do your research?"
"I'm sure Death Eater types do their research, but as I'm not a Death Eater, I really wouldn't know," he answered tartly. He was probably sick of the association. And then he added, in a pondering tone this time, "I didn't realise you were an only child. You don't act it."
For some reason, he seemed quite taken with the shell of her ears and her earlobes. He wouldn't quit touching them. Her jaw line received equal attention. He ran a knuckle up and down, stopping at her lips.
"How do I act, then?" she inquired. She ran both thumbs over the darkest part of the bruise, where purple competed with blue, and pressed lightly.
He winced. "Motherish. You act like you've been looking out for helpless, dumber people and animals your whole life."
She snorted. "Ron and Harry would love to hear that."
"Harry has a martyr complex, is overly fatalistic, borderline depressive and defies authority simply because deep down he thinks he's truly better than the rest of us. Ron on the other hand, suffers from Hand Me Down Syndrome. He probably has a lot more talent in him than he's showing. He's so used to coming second best in everything that it's become comforting to him. Winning on his own merits terrifies him, which is why he manages to only perform above-average in most Quidditch matches. He adores Potter slightly more than he resents him, and he's in love with you but has long since resigned himself to not having you."
Draco caught a drop of water off the tip of her nose as he finished.
Hermione gaped at him. Every nasty, secretive, ugly thing she ever thought about the boys over the past seven years, had been reduced to a few clipped sentences by Draco.
"You're not the only one who watches and learns," he explained. He pulled her into his arms. It was a double barrage of emotional and physical revelations and she found herself momentarily stunned.
The spell doubled and re-doubled every tremor, every flicker of emotion within her. Hate and apprehension was magnified, so was her other more complex feelings for him. Her stomach was in