Author's Note: I don't own Harry Potter, clearly, and I'm not trying to take credit for Draco or Hermione or the Heads common room. Enjoy, lovely readers.
"Hey Draco," Hermione said to the long, lean blonde in the armchair across from where she sat on the sofa. His legs were stretched out to the coffee table in front of him, his Arithmancy book open across his lap.
He didn't look up when his roommate called his name, and he obviously didn't sense that she was looking at him. "Hmm?" he replied.
Hermione was annoyed that he didn't look up at her, so she didn't give him the satisfaction of answering his inquiry. Instead, she took this time to look at him. His face was tilted down towards his book, so his eyes were hidden, his loose hair hanging down. She loved to run her fingers through that hair when he laid his head in her lap. She found that was always a guaranteed way to put him in a better mood.
His cheekbones were high and prominent, giving him a properly aristocratic face. Hermione knew he had some sort of secret to keep his skin so smooth, but he wouldn't admit or reveal said secret to her.
He was the most attractive thing Hermione had ever seen, inside and out. She knew everything about him; though that was another fact he wouldn't admit. In turn, he knew everything about her. He was the first person she would go to with a problem, and he was the best listener. He was always a shoulder to cry on or someone to go to for advice. What made it all so special for Hermione was that he was hers and hers alone. No one else knew how sensitive, caring, or sweet Draco Malfoy could be. Sometimes she found herself staring at him for minutes at a time, lost in the perfection of his face, of his smirk and his eyes. She loved the way he sighed every time he sat down to write a Potions essay, and she loved his secret obsession with waffles.
His quirkiness and insecurities were things he only shared with Hermione, and for that, she felt lucky. No one else knew the secret life of Draco Malfoy, not even his friends.
The wait had been too long for him. He glanced up, prompting her with another, "Hmm?"
Her nerve wasn't pulling through for her at this point, and she abandoned her plan. "It's nothing, never mind."
Not being one to push things, Draco went back to his text. Therefore, Hermione went back to looking at him.
His legs were amazing. They had a fine coat of blonde hair covering them, and he never showed them in public: it was always black slacks for him until bedtime. Then, he stripped down to his boxers. He had some eccentric boxers, something Hermione did not expect. The first time she saw them, when she ran into him unexpectedly in the middle of the night in their shared common room, she nearly laughed at the red boxer shorts printed with orange polka dots. She had come to love his strange undergarments and the legs inside of them when they rubbed against her own smooth ones.
Once the morning came, the boxers were covered up by the black slacks and a robe. Still, sometimes, when Hermione found Draco was getting on her nerves, she would tease him about them. That was the only part of their private lives she dragged out into the sunshine, and the only thing that caused him to blush. Her favorite part of the evening was when Draco prepared himself for bed, and off came the slacks once again.
Sometimes, they slept in the same bed, clothed of course. Hermione preferred to sleep in a pair of pajama pants and a camisole when the weather permitted. She snuggled up against him and his arms wound their way around her waist or her hips or across her stomach. When Draco was feeling rather awake his palm would slide under her top and up her stomach, causing her to giggle. She especially loved these nights because they would end up snuggled close in each other's arms, kissing necks and heads and whispering secrets.
She loved how protective he was of her. If any other guy so much as looked at her with a hint of lust in his eye, Draco's grip tightened around her and he sent a menacing glare at the offender.
Draco, noticing Hermione staring at him, lifted his head again to look at her. "What is it, Hermione?"
Hermione shook her head. "Nothing, baby. It's nothing. Go back to your homework." She looked away from him, finally, to the parchment scroll on her lap that she had been in the process of proofreading.
The first time he'd seen her shirtless, she had been terribly afraid. They had been in Draco's bedroom, snogging, when his hands, for the umpteenth time, found their way to the top button of her school blouse. Usually, Hermione pushed his hands away or pulled away from the kiss and shot him a dirty look. This time, however, she allowed him to undo one button, and then another, and then another, until he was able to slip the shirt from her shoulders. It fluttered to the floor and Hermione's immediate reaction was to cross her arms over her chest and stomach. Draco then backed up from her and lowered her arms slowly away from her body. She hadn't been able to meet his eyes, right then, as they roamed over her torso. It wasn't as if she was ashamed of her body, she was just worried he wouldn't like that her stomach wasn't flat and her bra wasn't sexy and her skin wasn't tan. He surprised her then, by pulling his own shirt up over his head and pressing his bare flesh against hers, sending shivers through her body. It was then that she felt something hard against her leg and blushed furiously.
She loved that he didn't care how thin she was or if her hair was frizzy. He became aroused at the tiniest things, which amused her to no end.
Who would have ever thought she would have felt this way about Draco Malfoy, hated Slytherin? He was the person she least expected to end up with, but here she was, sitting across from his deliciously perfect presence. This was the only time in the past six months that she hadn't been able to talk to him about something. Their last final exam was tomorrow, and then, the following day, they would be heading off their separate ways. Unless…unless Hermione worked up the nerve to share this with him. Even then, though, Draco could be taken away from her, or he could leave her.
Panic was setting in now. What if Draco didn't consider this relationship worthy of pursuing after graduation? What if he just assumed Hermione felt the same? Her face was getting hot, and tears were forming behind her eyes. She gulped. Draco looked up again.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. He removed himself from the armchair he was sitting in and made his way over to the sofa, but Hermione held her hands out to stop him.
"No, Draco, stay there," she urged, and gulped again. "I-I have something to tell you."
Even his smirk was endearing. He always smirked, she had learned, when he was feeling triumphant, and that was often. His self-esteem was rather high compared to most eighteen-year-old boys. Still, even Draco Malfoy had his weaknesses. And he was one of her weaknesses, as she was proving now. She had to get the words out of her mouth; otherwise she might lose him forever. She had to prove to him that her feelings for him were not going to wane, let alone pass, any time soon.
That overwhelming feeling was growing in her stomach, a huge bubble that was filling her and forcing its way up her throat, threatening to spill out of her mouth. She swallowed. She had to control those words carefully, though she was unsure how to express this to him. Everything was just so overwhelming. Instead of the ominous words coming out, her eyes welled up with tears. She wasn't entirely sure if they were happy tears, but she knew they weren't sad. They were tears of confusion and joy, she supposed.
One slipped down her cheek, and Draco made another move to rise from his chair to sit next to her. Her hands were held out again, convincing him to sit back down. "Look, Draco," she began, her voice shaky, more tears leaking out of her eyes of their own accord. She didn't care, however, and continued. It was pertinent she tell him this now. By his face, she could tell he was struggling not to comfort his crying girlfriend. Hermione took a deep breath. "I don't know how to tell you this, but I feel that I need to, even if you don't have anything to say to it." She paused at this point, trying to compose herself. This effort was in vain: her feelings were still scrambling around her body and tears were streaming steadily down her face. She looked Draco in the eye and continued. "These past few months have been the best of my life, Draco. You've come to mean so much to me. In fact…in fact, you mean everything to me. You are the most important thing in the world. I don't know what I would do without you."
He looked gob smacked, but a smile still spread across Hermione's face as she concluded what she had to say. "I've fallen in love with you, Draco." Then, she fell silent, the tears continuous, and a smile still shyly on her face as she looked at her boyfriend. He made a move to get up, and this time she let him. He came over to the sofa, sat down next to her, and looked her square in the eye. In romantic fashion, he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tears that stained her face, though more continued to fall. Instead of replying to her confession, he pulled his lips to hers for a long, slow, tender kiss.
When they pulled apart, Hermione was out of breath from the pure emotion Draco had just transferred to her through his mouth. "Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat.
Hermione giggled at this. She had obviously made him nervous; for that was the only time his voice betrayed him. "It's just so overwhelming, you know?" Her voice was low.
He nodded. "I know."
The smile on Hermione's face grew to an ear-splitting grin. "You do?"
He nodded again. "I'm envious that you can say it."
Hermione was aware that Draco, throughout his life, had been betrayed more than once by people who claimed to love him. Therefore, she knew he had problems with admitting his feelings, and she could accept this. It was just nice to know—no, it was fantastic to know that he felt the same way.
"It's all right Draco. That will just be something you can work on."
He was smiling now, too. He wrapped her in his arms and held her close, her head resting against his chest.
"So, you're not going to leave me?" she asked, cuddling close to him.
"Why would I do that, Hermione?"
"I mean…" she felt embarrassed now. "After graduation…I wasn't sure if you were going to leave me or not."
He squeezed her tightly. "Absolutely not, love. I'm here to stay."