Baton Rouge

- 16 -

Day 4 - Thursday

A sliver of sunlight filtered through the bedroom window curtains and tickled Hermione's outstretched legs. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, thoughts swirling in her head. Malfoy had left the apartment some time ago to drop by the Ministry. He hadn't wanted to leave right away since Hermione had been nauseous again this morning, but she had assured him that she would be fine. The truth was that she needed rest and (above all) time to realize what had happened yesterday.

She had slept with Draco Malfoy.

No, Draco Malfoy had fucked her - that sounded more like what they had done in the living room.

And Hermione had to admit, wether she liked it or not, that she hadn't found it repulsive or unpleasant. To her surprise, the exact opposite had been the case. After she had brought herself to just let it happen, she had actually enjoyed his touches and kisses. They'd climaxed together and Hermione hadn't faked her own. She closed her eyes and moaned softly at the thought of Malfoy's face, twisted in lust, as he had gasped and spilled into her. Damn, just the thought of it made her blood boil again.

Sighing, she pressed her legs together as everything inside her contracted. She thought about how it had felt to ruffle his blond hair and stroke his muscular back, and finally shook her head in disbelief. Malfoy was a Death Eater, an asshole, and her nemesis from childhood, but none of that had stopped her from holding out her body towards his dexterous fingers, panting.

And she had to be honest with herself: she would do it again if he asked her to - and without that damn spell. This fact sparked fear in her and her legs relaxed noticeably when the pleasant feeling suddenly waned.

When it had been over, neither of them had known what to say to each other. Hermione had slid down the wall and Malfoy had pulled and buttoned up his denims while he had appraised her with his icy gray eyes. She hadn't felt entirely uncomfortable, but at least slightly embarrassed, because there had never been any kind of intimacy between them before. It had felt like someone had pushed open a door between them that had previously been closed, and Hermione had been sure that Malfoy had felt the same at that moment.

Then she had been nauseous again and he had helped her into the bathroom, where she had managed to pull herself together until he had closed the door behind him. She had thrown up twice and mourned the pasta afterwards before dragging herself into the bedroom and laying down on the bed which she had hardly left since.

So here she was - struggling with the thoughts that were constantly circling in her head. She hadn't really slept all night.

At least, she wasn't the only one doing things that were out of character for her. After all, Malfoy had been the one who had initiated the sex. Hermione had noticed the greedy looks he'd been giving her, and she now wondered if it had been due to a long sexual abstinence or if he really had wanted to feel her in particular.

The latter unsettled her and made her think about everything even harder at the same time. Could it be true that Draco Malfoy cared about her? But that would be absurd and Hermione wouldn't even remotely know how to deal with such a thing. But what if he did? She felt her heart beat faster at the thought and her curiosity piqued.

"Damn, Malfoy. What's going on inside you?" she murmured under her breath and finally got up from the soft mattress to pace the room.

Basically, it was fine with Hermione if Malfoy saw nothing more in her than a whore and just wanted to have some fun. It wasn't exactly wishful thinking, but she could handle it. What would really pose a problem in her eyes would be genuine sympathy. After all, he had taken her out of the Baton Rouge, was going through her withdrawal with her, cooked for her — wasn't that evidence that pointed to this improbable case?