tangle of mellow, cognac-colored curls, partially obscuring her face. The sheets were twisted around her legs, wrapped around a slender thigh. She slept like a wrestler in the throes of a championship dream. The rest of the blankets were pillowed under her cheek. Indeed, it looked like she had stolen most of the bedding, while Draco had commandeered the pillows.
Merlin's painted toenails. If word got out that he'd been dipping into the Muggle-born bane of Hogwarts, his housemates were likely to pelt him with rotten fruit upon his return to school. After all, they may have just attended their graduation ball, but there was technically a full two weeks left of school before the year officially ended.
Then again, perhaps bedding Granger wouldn't turn out to be such a bad thing, Draco pondered. He could dress it up as a final, do-or-die bid to take the insufferably know-it-all down a notch or two. To climb up to her on her great, white pedestal, and charm his way past the heavily guarded pearly gates.
But damn, if only he could remember how it had happened.
Somewhere in Britain, Draco was certain that a flock of pigs was currently in flight. It wasn't that Granger was a troll. She was passably attractive. Any Hogwarts male senior who wasn't partial to playing hide the broomstick with his fellow dorm mates had realized this after fourth year. It was just that besides Granger's dismal luck of being born a Mudblood, the girl was also possessed of the most annoying, most grating personality ever to befoul a person.
They attended a co-educational school, which of course meant that a wealth of dirty, teenaged daydreams tended to clog the air around the dorms, classrooms and hallways. Draco could not deny that there had been moments over the years when he had contemplated bending her over the edge of a cauldron during Potions and giving her a good, hard poke, in the hopes of loosening the infernal stick that was surely lodged deep up her arse.
But of course he had never really considered following through with any these musings. Apart from being a harpy, there was also the fact that Granger would have likely de-balled him if he even so much as rubbed against her in a crowded corridor. She was nice enough to look at, but she wasn't worth that.
And yet she had slept with him, all the same. And unless a particularly nasty bout of Imperius had been involved, it looked like she had dropped her tightly starched knickers quite willingly, too. A part of Draco was eager to Disapparate from the dismal hole in the wall they had managed to procure, and report his scandalous escapade to his classmates. Another part of him, however, was beginning to remember.
And with this hazy recollection came arousal. Buckets of it.
Draco was acutely aware that he was still intoxicated from their previous night's binge. He blamed the devil's brew then, as he placed his hand against her shoulder, wanting to remember more about the ways he had touched Granger's lightly freckled, golden skin. His palming of her shoulder was instantly met by her burrowing deeper against his side. She pressed her slightly open mouth against the skin on the curve of his shoulder and sighed in her sleep, sending Draco's already groggy brain into a tailspin. His erection twitched insistently against his abdomen, demanding to be seen to, as was often the case most mornings.
As carefully as possible, he pulled his hand back and obediently wrapped it around his aching penis. One practiced tug eased the tight sensation in his balls. Another tug intensified it again. The skin of his cock fairly burned. It was chafed, raw, and not a little bit tender. There was no mistaking the signals his body was giving him.
They had most definitely shagged, and shagged more than once, it would seem.
Granger made a sleepy, protesting sound at the loss of contact. With a great deal of muttering (trust the Mudblood to nag even in her sleep), she dragged her left leg over him, bringing the lower half of her body flush against his side.
A well-bred, well-regarded wizard might have chosen to be a gentleman at this point and shake the girl awake. But Draco was scum and he was well aware of the fact. With a mounting sense of anticipation, he slid down lower along the bed, careful to pull her leg up over his waist as he went. It wasn't an entirely natural position or particularly