It was Thursday. Or perhaps Friday. Draco wasn't sure.
Time was slowly turning into an irrelevant and mumbled mess of forgotten hours and questionable days, and Granger's erratic patterns hardly helped. He had no idea where she slipped off to in the evenings, but he was willing to bet it was either the library or the Gryffindor common room. Where else would she go? Head Girl privileges aside, he doubted she would be foolish enough to traipse aimlessly around the grounds with no purpose or point.
Wherever she wandered, she would always return before three in the morning, and he had stopped trying to sleep through it. Her movements always stirred him, so he'd given up and simply started waiting until she got home to even attempt sleep.
He still found himself rousing for her showers though.
He had tried to resist this morning, knowing that his actions were completely insane and somewhat disturbing, but his headache had gotten worse and worse. The noises were like a drug, and a very effective one at that. Just a few of her wet sounds, and the aching in his temple would recede.
He'd yielded to the craving eventually, and that's where the morning found him now; slumped in the usual spot and sacrificing his dignity for his bathroom-moans fix. Merlin knew he'd tried, but he couldn't help it.
He was an addict, and he despised it.
He shot up to his feet as he heard the shower die, suddenly in the mood to scream at the Mudblood until she was either weeping or torturing him with her wand. Granger was the only thing in this prison that was temperamental; that could change and breathe and pulse. She'd continued to play civil with him for the last few days, and he missed the blood rushing to his head and fingertips. He ached for that fire that stirred his witty temper, yearned to see her flushed and contemplating a powerful comeback. He needed to know he could still do Salazar proud and make the Mud-bitch squirm.
He understood agitated Granger. She was normal. He was becoming far too accustomed to shower Granger and her morning songs.
He shrugged on a black jumper and slipped out of his room as quietly as he could, stopping by the bathroom door and watching the handle too intently. He could hear her bare feet padding around against the tile floor, and he tried to think of a topic for their argument.
Screw it, I'll wing it.
The brass doorknob rattled and he felt the excitement begin to tease his senses, adrenaline tickling his gut with the promise of a good fight. The door opened and he burst in before she could leave, purposefully trapping her. The shock was wild across her features as she stumbled away from him, sliding over the damp ceramics and losing her balance. It was instinctive to reach out and attempt to steady her. Just a reflex. Nothing more. But his own bearings were compromised, and in a heartbeat they were sprawled across the bathroom floor in a shallow puddle of water, skidding in opposite directions; him thwacking his head against the doorframe and her stopping just short of the bathtub.
"What are you doing, Malfoy?" Hermione panted, catching her startled breath. "You scared me to death-
"Bloody hell," he mumbled, sucking the air through his teeth as he touched the back of his head. "You clumsy bitch-
"You grabbed me!" she protested, ensuring she was appropriately covered by her fluffy robe. "What in Merlin's name-
"You woke me up!" he lied, flinching when he noticed some blood staining his fingertips. "Fucking hell, Granger. Jumpy much?"
"Well, I don't normally get attacked when I'm leaving the shower," she huffed angrily, trying to lean back on her heels unsuccessfully. "What is your problem?"
