Legilimens [Dramione]

Pleasure

He was finally understanding everything he had been missing this whole time.

 His father, Voldemort, the war, had not only taken away the last two years of his life and youth. 

The sick and foolish ideals they had instilled into his head made him spend years without realizing how Hermione Granger was, in fact, one of the most beautiful witches to have ever trod the soil of Britain. And despite the years he had spent despising and hating her for no real reason, now that he found himself in bed with her, fully naked, he vowed that he would never again spend a single second without truly appreciating her.

 How could the whole world not notice? How could that idiot of Ron Weasley have let her slip through his fingers? 

If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he would not make such a mistake.

As the first rays of dawn began to light up the room through the curtains, his mind, never more clear-headed than it had been that night, began to think about what his next step would be. Surely Hermione wouldn't want him to leave, right?

He turned his gaze towards her, observing the profile of her shoulders and her tousled hair. 

The rhythm of her breathing became faster and faster and she woke up. He waited with bated breath for her to turn towards him, hesitantly watching her brown eyes. 

When her lips curved into a smile, a sense of lightness and relief invaded his chest, making him feel dizzy.  

"Good morning," Hermione said, her lips spreading wide. 

He moved closer to her, brushing his lips over her bare shoulder, and started to deposit small kisses along the outline of her collarbone.

 "Good morning to you, Hermione."

"What are you doing today?" he asked hesitantly, watching her leave the bathroom with her wet hair falling down her shoulders. He bit his lip, holding the instinct to drag her back to bed.

 His abandoned instincts had awakened with an entirely new fury and urgency. Perhaps he was recovering from years of repressed hormonal storms all at once. 

Hermione squinted, and he thought of a not-too-shameless way to convince her to spend the rest of the day with him. 

"I was thinking about going back to the Ministry," she said, looking out the window and leaving it open for the owl that would be carrying the copy of the paper with her interview. "They have no real reason to prevent me from going there. They can only hinder my work in other ways."

 Her gaze became sad, and Draco felt the instinct to do something, anything, to make her smile again. 

He sprang to his feet. "Well, you might as well take the day off and come back tomorrow, right? That way you can give everyone time to read the article properly." 

Hermione walked to the small kitchen, handling some utensils whose function he could not understand. She bit the inside of her cheek, pondering his proposal. 

Come on, Hermione he thought. Let them marinate in shock a little

She turned to him, smiling, and a strange gray tool, in the shape of a small metal ball, slipped from her hands. He reached down to pick it up and hand it to her. 

"What are you trying to make?" he asked, pointing to the object in her hand. 

"A coffee," she replied, as if it was obvious. 

"Why don't we go out for breakfast? Or for lunch. Whatever you feel like doing on this last day of freedom before going back to work." 

She wrinkled her eyebrows with a thoughtful expression.