6:42 PM was Hermione’s favorite time of the day. It was at this exact moment every day when a light would turn on, illuminating the gorgeous flat across the street from her. Her building paled, in comparison, to the modern one adjacent, with its reflective panels between the windows, causing it to shimmer whenever light hit it and the fact that there was a chandelier in the lobby. Her favorite room was located on the tenth floor, directly across from hers.
It wasn’t the turning on of the lights that Hermione loved about 6:42 pm, nor was it the glimpse at the beautifully polished kitchen and living room. Not even the lush grey couch, which she just knew would feel like resting on clouds. No, this time of day was Hermione’s favorite because of the man who lived in said gorgeous flat. Hermione considered him godlike—someone sculpted from the finest features. He was tall. She knew he was from the way he sauntered through his front door, or barely needed to reach to grab something from a top cupboard.
At exactly 6:42 every day, he would arrive home from work and partake in a very meticulous, unwinding of his day. First, he’d empty his hands with whatever he was holding. Each day varied: sometimes a small pile of folders, sometimes a briefcase, and sometimes just his set of keys. Then, he’d empty his pockets revealing a black leather wallet and the newest, shiniest phone, placing them on the entryway table. Hermione loved to watch him empty his pockets. His elegant fingers reaching inside a black or navy or dark grey slack pocket and reappearing a moment later grasped around an object that she wished she could replace. He had lovely hands. Hands she’d be memorized by, watching them play the piano, turning a book page, holding a glass. Slender fingers which she had pictured one-too-many times in her fantasies.
Fingers which she pictured as a feather-light trail down her shoulder to her wrist, coasting its way to her hip bone and walking down her thigh and back up to the apex.
Yes, Hermione had pictured Draco Malfoy’s hands more times than she’d like to admit.
She had absolutely no clue who this attractive stranger across the street from her was, but she liked to refer to him as Starboy. There was something about the way his hair shimmered, the way he walked around his flat effortlessly, almost floating, something that captivated her like stargazing. And he was such a star to gaze.
At 6:43, Starboy would shrug his arms out of his suit jacket, tossing it haphazardly across the arm of the grey sofa. His graceful hands, reaching to the knot around his neck. While he loosened his tie, he would make his way over to one of the large windows and stare out of it. Then, Hermione’s favorite part, tauntingly slowly, he would begin undoing his cufflinks. Starting with his right cuff first, then the left. This minute detail led Hermione to assume he was left-handed. Not important, by any means, but Hermione did have a thing for left-handed men.
After his cufflinks were gone, and he’d gotten a good glance at the city view, he’d walk to a dresser of sorts, placing the cufflinks on top. Then, graciously, he would pour himself a glass of whiskey from the liquor cabinet nearby before sinking down into that lovely, luscious, grey couch.
See, Hermione knew it had to be lovely and luscious because she had seen Starboy fuck several women on said couch, and who would fuck someone into oblivion on an uncomfortable sofa? That’s right, Starboy fucked with the blinds wide open. And Hermione unabashedly watched.
Every. Single. Time.
Hermione wasn’t quite sure when it began, but it couldn’t have been more than a month or two ago. Every Tuesday and Friday, he would have someone over for dinner and drinks. Sometimes it was a lithe and willowy blonde. Other times, a curvy knockout with a dark bob. If Hermione had to guess, she would say they were close friends of his that he definitely benefited from in more ways than one.
When the blonde was over, dinner was sat through in its entirety. They’d even lounge on the couch for a while, chatting to each other before any sexual engagement commenced. Hermione felt like she’d enjoy meeting the blonde woman in person. There was something kind in her ballerina-like movements, the open expression on her face, and the way she always listened to Starboy attentively. She would nod her head and speak to him for hours sometimes.
The brunette’s appearances were much different from the blonde’s. Her evenings consisted less of dinner and more of drinks—then the fucking. Their encounters were much more adventurous, too. More positions and sometimes multiple rounds. Hermione rather liked the brunette. From her peeping, Hermione had deduced their friendship to be older, maybe? Definitely, more playful. Perhaps even a past relationship between the two. One which had amazing chemistry in the bedroom, but not one where their hearts lay.
It wasn’t that Hermione was a stalker, per se. She didn’t consider herself quite a peeping tom either, though she most definitely was. In her defense, she only ever happened upon her neighbor’s lavish encounters. It’s not entirely her fault that she can see straight into his living space. Definitely not her fault that he and his partners clearly enjoy the idea of people being able to see them. They would have to know that with the blinds open and lights blazing, practically anyone could see inside.
Hermione didn’t just sit in her chair with a glass of wine and stare directly at his window either. Sure, sometimes she was enjoying a nice glass of wine with a book in her chair by the window while he was pleasuring someone across the street with his mouth. Though other times, Hermione just glanced over amid mundane activities and her eyes would be met with a palette of skin sprawled against the grey couch. Or over a kitchen chair. That had happened once or twice.
She didn’t mean to intrude on their privacy; it was accidental voyeurism turned…curiosity.
And Hermione was very curious.
She enjoyed watching the way his tall and muscular form took control. How his arms would brace over the form beneath him with his back muscles bending to his will. Hermione desperately, yes, very desperately, wanted to be beneath him at least once in her life. To have his hand tightly bound around her wrists, pinning her to the surface under her.
~ ~ ~
Another week had passed, and Hermione was still captivated in watching her sensual male neighbor engage in intercourse. The brunette woman had been back a couple of times. Though one particular evening stood out to her most.
Starboy had navigated the two intertwined bodies up against the long windows, instead of the couch. This threw Hermione for a loop. Never before had the man across the street fucked someone up against his window.
It was a Thursday evening. Already out of character for him to have someone over. Though now, he wasn’t even on the couch but standing upright. Hermione was itching to watch. One lamp in her apartment was on, but she quickly dimmed it, hopefully enough that she wouldn’t be seen, and proceeded to stand in front of the window to watch the escapade playing out in front of her.
The curvy brunette’s backside was against the windowpane, shapely and mosaic. But Hermione didn’t pay further attention to the woman, her eyes focused on the brief glimpses of the blonde man. His hair, wild and sweaty, as he kissed the woman’s neck. His two large hands sprawled against the glass while his body was pressed against the woman.
What am I doing? For God’s sake, Hermione, this is terribly intrusive. You can’t just watch two people have sex, privately in their own home!
Despite her self-criticism, Hermione stood and continued to watch the interaction between the two in her dimmed light. It was like watching art. Really hot art. Hermione could feel pressure building between her thighs while she stared. One of his arms was now wrapped around the woman, and one hand in her hair as he absolutely devoured her neck.
Hermione felt her pulse rising. Both due to the fact that she was watching two beautiful people have aggressive sex against a window, and that she was watching aggressive sex against a window. It was dangerously wrong but felt deliciously right.
His pale hair mixed with the woman’s dark strands like watercolor on a canvas. The woman had her hands against the glass now, desperate to grasp onto anything as she was close to her climax.
Hermione reached for the window sill, needing to grasp something as well. She felt hot and could tell there was dampness between her legs now.
Then it happened.
Starboy looked up and out the window, continuing to press into the woman in front of him. His eyes were wide and searching.
Hermione wasn’t sure what he was looking at due to the distance between the buildings, but the longer she stared at him, the more she realized it felt like he was staring back at her. A piercing gaze.
Hermione was frozen to her spot by the window, a creeping feeling at the back of her neck. Can he see me? She panicked that perhaps the dimmed hall lamp wasn’t dimmed enough. Though, something held her in her spot by the window. She didn’t dare move. Just continued to stare.
Then he smirked, and she knew he knew.
The man across the street sped up his strokes as the woman reached her peak, though all he was focused on was the curly-haired brunette staring at him from her window.
Hermione stood, shamefully, as the woman crashed down from her high and the man reached his. Not once did he look away. His gaze pinned Hermione to her spot, and she watched as his face morphed with pleasure.
For a moment, the couple stopped with their bodies breathing heavily. As the woman began to push away from the window, Hermione snapped out of her trance, but not before one more glance at Starboy’s face.
She dared one more look, and he was still staring. Just as Hermione was about to turn away, he winked.
Mortified, Hermione ducked from view and leaned against the wall with her head tilted to the ceiling, mentally reprimanding herself for what she just did. She vowed with herself to cease all watching of the man across the street. Maybe she’d keep her curtains closed forever. Maybe she’d move.
Then another thought toyed at her head. He absolutely knew what he was doing by openly fucking against a window for anyone to see. He knew she was watching. He liked her watching.
After several minutes, Hermione finally left her spot on the wall and pulled her curtains shut, pushing all thoughts of her neighbor out of her mind. It was final. She would absolutely never think about Starboy again.
That lasted for three days.
~ ~ ~
It was Tuesday evening, and Hermione decided to go out for a drink to keep her from her peeping tom escapade. She was not going to be home to watch him come home from work. Nor would she watch him and whatever woman of the week go at each other across every surface in his apartment besides the bed.
Instead, she would enjoy a nice, long, glass of wine. Maybe two.
She had been sitting at the bar for a while and watching the other patrons. There was one couple at a more secluded table in the back corner. Hermione thought they were a cute pair. She had been paying attention to their mirrored mannerisms all evening, fascinated with how in tune they were with one another. She wanted that. At some point, their talking turned to kissing which turned to a wild make-out session.
Hermione started to turn her gaze away and focus back on the last of her wine in front of her when she was interrupted.
“Mm, so it’s not just me you like watching then?”
Hermione froze at the hot breath hovering against her ear and the deep voice that vibrated through. An immediate shiver ran up the length of her spine, fanning itself against her neck. He chuckled lightly under his breath, and Hermione almost melted on the spot.
“I’m terribly disappointed. I thought I was special.” The body stepped away from her enough that she could turn around on her seat. Standing there in front of her, a perfect smirk on his lips, was Starboy.
My god, he’s even prettier up close, Hermione thought.
His blonde hair was more of a bleached color, though Hermione knew by some miraculous chance, it had to naturally be that shade. After his hair, she noticed his eyes. She always assumed they were blue. Though now, here they were no more than two feet from her, and they were grey. Grey like his goddamn couch. Of course.
“Draco Malfoy. It’s my pleasure to meet you.” There was a baiting tone in his voice with a pause after ‘pleasure’ and before ‘you’.
Hermione wasn’t sure how to respond. Never, had she ever, expected to meet Starboy. Not once, had Hermione expected to run into him. Sure, she had dreamed she would. Maybe, one day, they would walk past each other on the street. But that was before he’d finally caught her watching him through the window. And acknowledged it.
“I must say, I expected you the sort to be bolder than this. You can spend months staring at me from your flat, but not introduce yourself? Seems all bark, no bite, to me.” He spoke up again with his smirk melding into a full-blown grin, revealing a row of perfect teeth. Great, another thing to add to the list.
His comment hit her, though. He said months. Somehow it made her less ashamed of spying on him since he clearly knew and continued to leave his blinds open. That fueled her with all the confidence she needed.
“Well, I expected you the sort to not make cheap innuendos but sadly, here we are. Hermione Granger.” She stuck a hand out for him to shake. She’s not sure what drove her to do that, perhaps the possibility of touching his skin.
He didn’t shake it. Keeping his hands firmly in his pant pockets, all Draco did was glance down at her hand and back up to her face.
“Cute.” The smirk was back in place in a provoking manner as the singular word flew from his mouth like an insult.
Hermione quickly dropped her hand back to her side, feeling embarrassment seep into her cheeks. Cute? More than embarrassment, Hermione felt outraged. It seemed Starboy, this Draco Malfoy, was incredibly rude. Polarly opposite of the charming personality she had given him in her head.
“Rude.” She countered and raised one brow at him. Maintaining what courage she had left, Hermione picked up her coat and stood up from her chair, preparing to leave the gorgeous and snarky man behind.
As soon as she gets home, she was going to search for a new apartment.
“Ah, she does bite. That’s what I thought.”
Yes, she was definitely going to move.
Taking a steadying breath, she turned back to face the man who was quickly falling from her graces.
“May I help you with something?” She bit out, almost grinding her teeth together, irritated beyond belief.
“Now, who’s the one making cheap innuendos?”
Did this man know a facial expression beyond smirking? It took everything in Hermione to not snap at him again. Her knuckles were probably turning white due to how hard she was clenching her fists.
“Granger, was it?” He spoke.
“Hermione-” she began before he cut her off.
“Yes. Granger. Like I said.” Draco flashed his teeth again briefly. “Listen, I don’t live too far from here—but of course—you already knew that.” He teased her again, this time with his eyebrows. “Perhaps, since you’re planning on leaving, we could split the cab fare?”
“Funny,” she deadpanned, “but no. I can call my own cab, thanks.”
“Granger, you wound me.” Draco brought a hand over his heart in an exaggerated manner. “Don’t you care about the environment? Two cars, when we’re going to the same place? Preposterous.”
“I wasn’t aware we would be going to the same place.” She quirked a questioning brow at him. Was he propositioning her?
Hermione’s anger was slowly dissipating, and she found herself rather excited. She had to admit their banter was quickly becoming somewhat of a turn-on. While Starboy may be a downright prick, she would never turn down the chance to fuck him on his couch.
“Well, you live across the street, so,” Draco prompted, serious as ever with all trace of a smirk wiped from his face.
Her heart, previously swelled, had sunk deep, along with her eyebrows, furrowing into the bridge of her nose. Hermione felt like a fool.
Perhaps it had been too long since a night out. Clearly, she was off her game and didn’t know flirting if it were to smack her in the face. Or, no. The opposite. It’d been too long off her game. Hermione thought everything was flirting.
She wasn’t aware she zoned out, but in the next moment, her hazy vision was un-blurred by Draco’s face close to hers. She felt her lips pull into a tight line. The peculiar grey eyes, which she was beginning to fall in love with, were searching her face with a light, appreciative gaze. The most humble gaze she had seen him wear all conversation.
“I was only joking, Granger.”
Bringing his right hand up near her face, Hermione noticed a ring on one of his fingers and silently pleaded with whatever cruel forces were making this man the death of her to stop giving him her favorite attributes. With the side of his fingers, his hand barely brushed across her cheek. The touch was burning but cool all at the same time. Hermione felt like a sunburn that had just been slathered in aloe. Just from a brush of his knuckle against her cheek. She took a steadying breath and sucked the corner of her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down on it.
“If you want,” he began, staring at her now bitten on lip, trailing his finger closer and closer towards her mouth before back away. “I’d very much like,” instead, his fingers swept down her neck, gently pushing her hair over her shoulder, “to be going to the same place.”
“I want-” Hermione’s voice was cut off with a tiny breath in response to Draco’s hand coasting down her bare arm, grasping at the hand she offered him earlier.
“What do you want?” He whispered and placed a kiss on the top of her hand, staring at her through his lashes.
If she thought his touch was searing, then his lips were absolute torture, scorching her skin. Ever so lightly, with lips still pressed to her skin, his tongue slipped between, taking a small swipe, tasting her. His tongue made a loop, circling the tiny patch of skin he decided to claim as his, on the back of her hand.
This man was practically showing off his oral skills in the middle of this bar, all while maintaining impeccable eye contact. It nearly pushed her over the precipice.
“I want you to fuck me on your couch. I want to be one of the women you fuck on your couch.” His mouth paused the sucking, and she felt his lips turn upward into a wicked grin against her.
“And, if I told you I didn’t want you to be one of the women I fuck on my couch?” He turned her hand over, revealing her wrist, and pressed a light kiss to her pulse point. Hermione felt like she was in a trance, letting him do whatever he wanted whilst she felt like jello. Draco pulled his face away from her hand and brought it back down to her side. “What if I want to fuck you in my bed?” His darkened eyes searching hers.
“I’d say, why not both?” Hermione smirked at him, with a look as seductive as he had been earlier.
His responding grin was almost predatory, and they were out of the bar and inside a cab quicker than Hermione could keep up with.
The ride home was torturous. Draco had sat as far away as possible from her in the back seat, practically glued to the car door. But, just because his hands were not on her did not mean his eyes weren’t. He stared at her the entire time, not once looking out the window.
Grey eyes solely on her. They roamed down her figure a few times and lingered in a couple of places. Her neck, exposed since she gathered her hair curls the best she could over one shoulder—it was hot in the car. Her breasts and the bit of cleavage her black dress revealed. Her hips and the slightly bunched fabric at the side. Her thighs and the vast expanse of skin peeking out from the hem. Though, they always returned to her face and her dark amber eyes.
His eye contact was intimidating, but so was Hermione’s. She was quite competitive, and this was a staring contest she definitely wanted to win.
When the cab pulled in front of his building, Draco finally touched Hermione. Only her hand, but it was enough. After quickly thanking and paying the driver, Draco helped her through the car door, tugging her hand along. He nodded to the doorman, and they walked through the lobby, still holding hands. Hermione was right: the lobby chandelier was very extravagant. Once inside the elevator, Hermione had hoped for a cliche shove-me-against-the-mirrored-wall-and-kiss-me session. Her hopes were failed.
So instead, she watched the floor numbers change devastatingly slowly. She brought the hand she was holding up and broke apart their intertwined fingers. She twisted the ring on his finger a few times and inspected it. A dark metal signet ring, with an ‘M’ crest on the top.
Hermione looked up at Draco and brought his hand up to her lips. Her mouth opened, teeth gently grazing the tip of his thumb, biting softly. His eyes narrowed at her. Then she wrapped her lips around him fully and sucked.
A nasally ‘ahem’ rang out in the elevator.
Dropping his hand and releasing his thumb with a pop, Hermione stepped back and turned to the now open elevator door to meet an elderly lady.
“Evening, Mrs. Norris,” Draco’s voice was sickly sweet as he ushered Hermione and himself out of the elevator and down the hall.
As soon as he had the door unlocked, Hermione was shoved against the back of the door as it slammed shut. Draco pressed forward with hunger, capturing her bottom lip between his and sinking his teeth in lightly. A hand on her waist gripped tightly as he melded his form into hers, pushing her harder against the door. Hermione pushed back eagerly into his kiss and his body.
His hands were wild, searching for any part of her. Tangled in her hair. Grabbing at her hips. He gripped one of her legs, and Hermione wrapped it around the side of his waist.
Hermione let her hands wander against him. Eager to explore him once and for all. One of his hands traveled under her dress and grabbed her bare thigh. Fingers pressing into the pillowy flesh. His other hand squeezed at her breast.
She’d imagined what it would be like if she ever got her hands on this man but, it was a million times greater to be experiencing it.
His lips strayed from her mouth and latched onto her neck, leaving a wet trail from her earlobe to her collarbone, and Hermione moaned.
Her fingers began to work against the knot at his neck, coaxing its undoing until it hung limp. She hastily made her way down his shirt, pushing the buttons through their proper holes, practically unwrapping him. The hand under her dress traced over her fabric on her hip as her hands traced over and around his now revealed chest and abs. He slipped a finger between the fabric and her skin, snapping it against her skin. His lips latched onto the tops of her breasts, sucking and nibbling. Hermione reached for his belt and began undoing the buckle.
Draco moved them from the door and further into his living room, nearing the couch. His shirt was shrugged off. The top of her dress was pooling around her waist now. He’d unzipped it at some point; she wasn't sure when. She pulled the rest of it down, stepping out of it, and stood in front of him in her minimal pieces of fabric and heels.
He muttered a fuck as he traced his eyes down her form before reaching for her lips again. His kisses trailed down her body, and he was slowly reaching his knees. His tongue, tracing the outline of her underwear against her stomach causing her to let out a whimper.
“I watched you, too.” He swiped his tongue once more and then kissed her inner thighs. His mouth was tantalizing.
“You did?” She twisted his hair in her fingers, holding on to him.
“Yep.” He placed an open-mouthed kiss on the front of her underwear, letting his hot breath linger for a moment. “You read.” One of his fingers slipped beneath the fabric and swiped at her center. “A lot.” Another swipe, with added pressure.
“Anyone could read. That’s not specific.” She breathed out. He pulled the fabric to the side, revealing her to him.
“You annotate your books.” He ran his tongue once through her folds, and she tightened the grip on his hair. “In your chair by the window.” Another sweep of his tongue. “With a yellow highlighter and your hair pulled up all messily.”
His tongue finally reached the concentration of nerves and flicked. Once, twice, before he placed his lips on her, and sucked as she released gasping breaths. His tongue continued its perusal of her. His stunt on her hand at the bar was nothing compared to now. Hermione was nearly ready to come undone.
Draco pulled his head back and stared up at her. She almost pleaded for him to continue but, then he brought his fingers back to her, instead. He tugged the fabric down her legs. He nearly groaned at how wet she was. Draco slid one finger inside of her, moving inside her slowly before pulling it out and adding another. This time, pumping them back and forth a few times before stopping all together.
He stood up and helped her step out of her underwear and heels before nudging her to sit back on the couch.
Oh. Hermione thought. Yes, this is a nice couch.
Draco didn’t follow suit, and hovered over the couch instead of sinking into it with her.
“I think it’s my turn to watch you. Don’t you?” Hermione could only nod her head in response. She was incredibly attracted to the idea of him watching her touch herself.
Her hands moved up to her bra, unhooking it and tossing it somewhere. One of her fingers traced her nipples, and they pebbled. She continued down, bringing her hand closer to where his lips had just explored.
Pulling her legs up, exposing herself to him, and feeling courageous, she asked, “What do you want me to do?”
Her fingers continued further and she reached her clit, circling it several times.
“I want you to fuck yourself on my couch while I watch.”
Hermione slipped a finger inside herself and started moving it in and out at a quick pace. His tongue had already made her soaked. His eyes focused on her hand movements. She added a second finger. Hermione leaned her head against the back of the lush, grey couch and let out breathy moans as she continued to fuck herself.
She was too distracted, that she didn’t notice when Draco had moved from standing in front of her to sitting next to her. His lips attached to her collarbone. Fiery hot. He kissed down to her nipples and swirled his tongue around one of them and then the other.
“Please,” she moaned out, desperately close to her finish, as she felt the anticipation building in her lower stomach.
“Please, what?” He mumbled as he continued the descent on her breasts.
“I want you. Please.” She was begging him now, begging for his fingers instead of hers.
His hand stopped hers, and then two of his long fingers sunk deep inside her. His pace sped up in his fingers but remained slow in the licks along her chest.
“Come for me, Hermione.” He whispered in her ear and curled his fingers inside her, hitting a new spot.
Her hands squeezed the edge of the couch as his name tumbled from her lips. The coil inside her unwinding at last. His fingers kept up the quick pace, guiding her through her orgasm until she was a mellowed and moaning mess beside him.
He removed his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking her release clean. When she looked over at him, his eyes were hungry and burning. She knew her face was flushed, and her curls were wild.
“You’re so beautiful.”
She leaned forward, kissing his lips with desire. Draco returned it just as feverish, angling her to lie down along the couch, pushing his body above her. Her hands reached down to the bulge at the front of his pants, cupping it, and he groaned into her mouth.
Hermione tugged on the zipper and snuck her hand past his waistband, gripping him fully and pumping a few times. Their lips, still passionately locked and their tongues exploring. Draco pushed his pants off completely, and Hermione pulled his underwear to follow, joining the rest of their clothes in the pile on the floor.
He slid between her folds, moving against her a few times. Hermione melted at the feel of him against her. All of him, naked and open to her. A sight she’d seen before but never up close. Never in a way meant just for her.
He finally sunk inside her with a moan from both of them.
“Fuck,” he moaned out, biting on the spot beneath her ear.
Hermione had always thought that sex with him would be like art. The way he moved his body, worked with his sexual partner. But now that she was experiencing sex with him, she realized she was wrong. Yes, they were like a work of art. Every languid kiss, and thrust, like that of a brushstroke. But, it was more than that. They were the mesmerizing stars in the sky. Bright and brilliant and burning. The grey couch as their backdrop and the two of them forming a stellar collision.
“Draco, more.” Her fingers tightened on the nape of his neck.
Hearts pounding, cheeks flushed, the two of them mirrored each other’s needs. Draco’s thrusts sped up, and she met him with equal yearning. He took one of her hands, pinning it beside her head, fingers interlocking. His breaths were short and damp along her neck, along her lips. Along any place his mouth wandered.
“Look at me.” His voice barely nudged her brain. “Look at me, Hermione.” The second time, her eyes opened, peering right into his.
Hermione could feel herself so close to the drop, again, and pleaded for him as her body tightened around him. As she cried out, she stared at him the whole time. Watching his face like she had the one time he caught her at the window, but this time he got to see hers. He followed after her, a few thrusts later, calling out her name and they consumed one another entirely.
As soon as they had caught their breaths. Hermione thought about the fact that she’d finally done it; she finally fucked Starboy on his grey couch. A small, secret part of her thought that perhaps there was someone else out there like her, with the aspiration to be one of the women he took on the couch. Someone who might have just watched her fantasy come true. And someone who would have to find a new aspiration, because Hermione wasn’t going to let Draco Malfoy fuck anyone but her on this couch again.
“I believe you said you wanted to fuck me in your bed, too.” Her voice came out more sultry than intended and they both laughed at it before migrating into the one place Hermione hadn’t been able to watch him before.
~ ~ ~
Both of their chests heaved with shallow breaths as they came down, blissfully, from another round that took place after a long conversation. He hovered over her body. Slowly, Draco lifted himself from her, rolling to lie next to her in the silky sheets. He brought his head close to hers, almost nuzzling her neck. His nose ran gentle stripes along the length of her neck, placing a gentle peck here and there.
“You have tattoos. I didn't imagine tattoos on you,” Hermione breathed out and was met by a puff of hair against her neck, and another peck.
“You didn’t imagine it?” He was teasing her, again, as he had periodically throughout the night. “The narcissus is for my mother. She passed away a few years ago.”
Hermione tightened her grip on his hand around her stomach in a form of sympathy before he continued speaking.
“The constellation points are Draco. A bit egotistical, I know.”
“It's not. I like it.” She reassured him.
“The constellation thing, it runs in the family. Almost everyone on my mother’s side is named after one—except for her. She wanted to continue the tradition.” He paused and a comfortable silence settled between them. “If it’s, in the stars,” he joked, “I’d like to name my own child after a constellation one day.”
Hermione’s heart twinged at the intimate conversation shift. I would gladly have that child for you, Starboy, she thought. As it passed briefly through her mind, she immediately cringed. You’ve slept with him once, Hermione. Tone it down a notch.
“Star boy?” His voice was amused in question.
Hermione’s eyes shot wide open and she managed to squeak out a “What?”
“You’re mumbling over there. Something about a star boy?”
“I’m warning you, if you didn’t think I was absolutely crazy before, you will now.” She took a deep breath before laying everything in the open. “I nicknamed you, Starboy, in my head because I thought you were sort of mesmerizing. Like a star.” Her eyes squeezed shut, and she truly wished she could disappear between the sheets as she pulled the top one up, covering her embarrassment.
Draco didn’t respond for a moment, leaving her mortifying admission out in the open. Then she heard him laugh lightly under his breath.
“Would it make you feel better if I said I called you star girl?” Hermione popped only her head from out of the covers and squinted one hesitant eye open at him.
“No.” His laugh was loud and carefree this time, wrapping around the room in waves.
Hermione already began pulling the silky sheet above her head, but Draco stopped her. Instead, he rolled on top of her and caged her face in with his arms. His face floated closely near hers, and a few pieces of his hair brushed against her forehead. She stared at him and realized he was truly mesmerizing. Those molten eyes of his were going to be her death.
“You’re cute.” As he said it, Hermione rolled her eyes at hearing the word again. “No, I’m serious. I called you cute. All the time. That was my nickname for you. Not as creative as yours, I’m afraid but,” he trailed off and continued to stare at her.
It was Hermione’s turn to laugh. “So, at the bar?”
“That was just me excited that I finally met you.”