Outcasts | 5 Slytherins 1 Hermione

VIII

Hermione woke to a soft, rhythmic sound that took her a moment to place – small, gentle snores. She blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the windows, turning her head to identify the source. There, inches from her, lay Draco, his features softened in sleep, chest rising and falling with each quiet snore. For a moment, Hermione just watched him, taking in the unexpected vulnerability of someone she'd known as anything but vulnerable. His usually sharp features seemed relaxed, almost innocent. She found herself smiling slightly, a warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with the blankets pooling around them.

She looked up at the canopy bed. Memories of the night before began surfacing causing her to clench her thighs.

It was official, Hermione thought, I'm a sex addict.

What was she thinking? Oh, Merlin, what would Harry and Ron say? Speaking of which, she's supposed to go to the Burrow today. She'd been avoiding them lately. She was just so preoccupied with all her thoughts surrounding them. Them being the 5 Slytherins she was with last night. She honestly hadn't even thought to reach out. That probably made her a terrible friend. Add it to the list of changes to the new Hermione.

Last night she was under the impression that they chose her because she was special. She was just high on the anticipation of what they were planning; she wasn't thinking straight. They chose her—of course, they did. She's not special. They are the pariahs of the wizarding world. The disappointments, pretty much orphans at this point. She thought they could have any witch they wanted, which may have been true at one point, but now? Well, they still have options. All except Riddle are purebloods, and that can find you a betrothed no matter what you've done.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought. Nothing is more sacred than blood purity.

She should hate the ground they walk on for what they've done. No matter what they've done, she should hate them for who they are, who their families are. The problem with that is—she doesn't. She couldn't hate them if she tried. Well, maybe Riddle, but even that is starting to fade.

She was drawn to every one of them, each for their own unique reasons, all of which ended up with her in similar places: couches, in alcoves, in classrooms. Oh, Merlin, she'd let them take her anywhere if she was being honest. She'd never slept so well in her life, which is why she was laying, naked except for her knickers, wide awake, staring at the canopy, next to Draco Fucking Malfoy.

She was staring at the canopy because if she looked at him again, she would stare, and if she stared, she would want to touch his face, then she would want to kiss his face, and it would escalate from there. So here she was, wide awake, staring at the canopy, squeezing her thighs together at the thought of Draco, and Theo, and Marcus, Blaise, Riddle. Gods, what had she become?

"Granger?" A raspy voice pulled her from her thoughts, causing her to jump. Arms wrapped around her, drawing her closer as he nuzzled his face into her neck. "What are you thinking about?"

She took a deep breath. "Would you believe me if I said you?"

He chuckled against her neck, making her shiver. "Good things, I hope."

She turned her body to face him, wrapping her thigh around his hip. She smirked at him, "Mostly" she joked.

He smiled against her, and he placed an open mouth kiss on her pulse point. "Mostly?" His hand slid down her side and stopped at her hip.

He continued kissing down her neck, causing her to close her eyes. "Mhm" was her only response, focused on his mouth tasting her skin.

"Do you know how long I've thought about this?" He said in between kisses. He continued kissing the line of her jaw, his hand sliding down the curve of her arse.