Baton Rouge

- 20 -

Day 6 - Saturday

Hermione had wrapped her arms around Malfoy's head. It seemed as if she had hugged him in her sleep. She blinked, puzzled that they were still lying next to each other in this intimate position even though it was already dawning.

"Wake up, Malfoy," she whispered quickly, uncomfortable at having caught herself holding him so close. Still, she watched him as he slowly woke up.

So much had happened in the last few days that Hermione had a hard time grasping the whole situation, but a few things were for sure: Draco Malfoy wasn't as bad as she had always thought. He had developed a twisted kind of protective instinct towards her and had also shown himself to be more vulnerable in the past few days than she had ever dared to dream. Quite apart from that, he was admittedly incredibly handsome and good in bed.

She sighed, tracing the contours of his pectoral muscles with her index finger. What was actually most important: she now was positive that he liked her a bit - for whatever reason.

Malfoy moaned and blinked as Hermione continued to fondle him. She smiled slightly and cocked her head. And when he looked at her so sleepily and eventually returned her smile, she knew instinctively that something had changed between them. She was dreading the approaching day when she would have to leave his apartment, and she wondered how Malfoy was doing with the fact and if similar thoughts were running through his mind.

But maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was still just a game for him. On the other hand, he no longer used the spell of the Baton Rouge. Wasn't that also a sign that there was more between them than this bloody contract? Apparently she had actually developed a touch of positive feelings for him now and she realized that she would be disappointed if it turned out that he felt nothing comparable. She made a face.

"Good morning," Malfoy murmured and Hermione slowly backed away from him. She eyed him cautiously.

"Do you have to work today?" she asked and Malfoy immediately shook his head.

"That's probably expected, but I'm afraid it won't happen," he growled, closing his eyes briefly.

Hermione took the moment to swing her legs out of the bed. The urge to bring a great distance between herself and the blond ex-Slytherin had become overwhelming.

"Granger?" Malfoy asked quietly, his slender fingers curling around her wrist.

Hermione turned her head and looked at him questioningly. She felt like crying again and had to pull herself together not to let show.

"Are you all right?" he asked and there was a pang in her chest.

Would he ask if he gave a fuck about her? Still, it was too risky to really say out loud what was on her mind. So she just nodded and wriggled her hand out of his grasp.

"I'm fine. And you? Everything all right with your arm?" she asked distractingly instead, finally getting up from the edge of the bed.

+.+.+

Since Malfoy had remained rather taciturn, Hermione had actually left the bedroom and, after a short detour to the bathroom, entered the kitchen. Her head was pounding and the restlessness continued. She could hardly concentrate on preparing breakfast. She kept seeing Malfoy's face in front of her. Malfoy, smiling, which was very rare. Malfoy, sleeping - those were the only moments when he seemed almost relaxed. Malfoy, giving her longing looks that admittedly touched her deeply.

She shivered. How could she not have noticed what was brewing inside her? Any other person would have realized soon enough that it was time to stop it, but Hermione had remained blind to it - and now it was already too late. Now she was attracted to a Death Eater and didn't even know if she could trust him. She felt oddly familiar with Malfoy, yet strange. Their shared past made the confusion complete.