Chapter Text
Hermione Granger had never been one to indulge in what she would consider stereotypical self-care. Her adolescent and teen years had been a tad too busy to slot in a weekly pedicure, to be fair. Discovering she was a witch. Working her arse off to learn about the magical world. Being top of her class. Spending years helping defeat a powerful lunatic trying to commit muggle genocide. These activities don't leave a girl with a lot of free time.
During periods of calm in which Hermione could schedule in a bit of time for herself, it consisted almost entirely of reading and researching. Yes, she had thoroughly earned her swot status.
But now she had survived the war and returned to Hogwarts to finish her studies: she apparently needed to strive for more balance in her life. At least, according to her therapist.
After months of discussing the trauma of war and even issues from her mostly idyllic childhood in the muggle world, the well-meaning woman had suggested Hermione needed to add some things into her busy calendar that weren't homework. A new hobby. Trips to the spa. Long, tranquil baths.
Ah, baths.
Such an innocuous suggestion caused her chest to tighten with anxiety.
Initially, this particular suggestion from her mind healer seemed the easiest to insert into her life. It didn't involve any considerable preparation or even leaving the castle. She had access to the prefect's bathroom, after all. Even if she'd never taken advantage of the perk before -- it always felt rather pretentious to her. But it had the large tub needed for her first foray into self-care.
Yes, a bath. Child’s play for a young woman who'd survived being at the center of a major wizarding war not even a year ago.
And yet...
Hermione Granger was afraid of the bathtub.
Alright, it was not precisely the porcelain basin frightening her, or even the water. It was the thought of sinking, naked, into the water – wand just out of easy reach – while she let her guard down. It had been a very long time since she let her guard fully down. She knew this was a requirement for true relaxation, though. And the bath itself would be rather pointless without the relaxation aspect.
Yet here she stood, wrapped in a fluffy white towel, at the side of the swimming pool-sized prefect’s tub. Her wand clutched in her hand; she was completely still as she stared into the warm, clear water.
Hermione took a deep breath in and then forced it out. Her therapist's recommendation made a lot more sense to her now. She needed to work through her hypervigilance, clearly. But, how?
She continued to breathe deeply as she looked about the slightly steamy bathroom. She found nothing helpful, the only noteworthy thing in the room being the portrait of the beautiful mermaid watching her curiously.
She closed her eyes and tried to remember the words Clara used in their last session.
“You deserve to have pleasure and peace in your life, Hermione.”
“I know.” Hermione chewed her lower lip nervously.
“And yet you struggle to seek those things out, why?” The older witch asked kindly.
“I...I've been working toward one goal or another for so long. Even now, with studying for my NEWTs to complete my schooling. I struggle to see the value in these frivolous distractions you're suggesting.”
Clara appeared thoughtful for a moment before she replied.
“What if we begin using a framework, you're more comfortable with?” She asked slowly.
Hermione's brows rose. “Meaning?”
“What if you tried to think of taking time for yourself as homework? A therapeutic assignment, if you will?”
Hermione pondered the question for a moment. Clara waited patiently.
“...Can I bring a book?”
Hermione could still hear her counselor's soft chuckle as she acquiesced.
Glancing down at the large leather tome on the ledge beside her feet (complete with a water repellant charm, naturally,) Hermione brought herself back to the present.
Homework. This was homework. And Hermione Granger never failed an assignment.
Steeling herself, she tossed her towel to land haphazardly upon the wooden bench across the room. She remained deep in thought as she began walking down the slippery stairs of the tub into the water.
She was a little too deep in thought, actually. Otherwise, she most certainly would have noticed the sound of the heavy wooden door swinging open before she felt the gust of cool air hitting her skin and causing chills over her entire body. Her head jerked up in panic and she found sharp grey eyes roving her body greedily.
“Malfoy!” Hermione shrieked as she tried desperately to cover her bare flesh with nothing more than her hands and arms. It was a fruitless effort, especially since she'd filled out no small amount over the last year. Having access to full meals once more and moving into adulthood had fattened her curves to what Ginny assured Hermione were “luscious” proportions.
Judging by the look on his face, Draco Malfoy appeared to agree with a Weasley for the first time in his life. He paid no mind to Hermione yelling his name, his gaze still connected to her body as though with a sticking charm. His expression was utterly ravenous.
After calling his surname again to no avail, Hermione leaped the rest of the way into the tub, the water lapping at her collarbone. She decided to settle for wrapping her arms over her ample chest. The abrupt action finally shook Draco Malfoy from his trance.
Confused brown eyes met impassioned silver.
Why on this bloody Earth was Draco Malfoy staring at her as though he was attracted to her?
Months ago, when the students who wished to return for a makeup year arrived back at Hogwarts with the other students, Hermione didn't precisely know what to expect from the Malfoy heir. He'd surprised nearly everyone by not acting like an insufferably pompous prat most of the time. She was, perhaps, the least surprised of her peers, having received a letter of gratitude and apology from the blonde after testifying at his Wizangamot trial. The letter was far from warm and fuzzy, but it was thorough and rang quite genuine to her. She'd not written back, not feeling it was necessary. But the two did exchange a nod of acknowledgment at their first breakfast back at school.
They'd had no notable interaction since.
An apology and tolerable behavior hardly denoted a complete denouncement of pureblood supremacist values. Hermione could not imagine a world in which Draco “Pureblood Prince” Malfoy would ever lower himself to being attracted to a muggle born.
“What the hell, Malfoy?” Hermione asked indignantly. The wizard had been silent until now and it only unnerved her further. At least he was looking her in the eye now.
Malfoy licked his lips before answering casually, “Problem, Granger?”
Oh, for Merlin's sake! Hermione took back thinking he wasn't as pompous this year.
“Yes, actually. You don't apparently know how to knock.” She was clenching her teeth. Wasn't this supposed to be a relaxing evening? This is what she gets for even attempting to unwind. Clara would be hearing about this.
“You didn't mark the door.” Malfoy said simply.
Oh, how could she have been so stupid?
Having not yet used the prefect's private bathroom, Hermione managed to forget the instructions for use they'd been given at the beginning of term. When the bathroom was in use, the door was to be marked with a subtle sparkling charm to alert others not to override the lock with the password.
She was mentally kicking herself when she noticed Malfoy trying to ogle at her again through the water.
“Oh, bloody hell, you lecherous ferret. Would you please stop leering at me?!” Hermione half shrieked. Why was he even still here? He might not have known the room was occupied when he entered, but he obviously did now. Yet there he stood, in his quidditch kit, an overly luxurious looking black towel slung over his shoulder.
Of course, Hogwarts towels wouldn't be good enough for his highness. Hermione rolled her eyes internally, definitely not noticing how strong he looked in his quidditch clothes. No, she didn't notice that at all.
“Why?” Came his next obnoxiously calm retort.
“'Why'? Because I'm starkers and you need to leave, you dolt!” Hermione's eyes followed Malfoy's movements as he suddenly turned back toward the door and she tried to ignore the absurd jolt of disappointment she felt. Of course, she didn't want him to stay; she wasn't completely mad.
But then Malfoy opened the door just enough to tap it quietly with his wand, murmuring the sparkling charm to mark the bathroom in use. Next, the door was clicking closed and he was hanging his towel on an ornate hook on the wall, setting his wand on the table below.
Um...what?
“Malfoy, what do you think you're doing?” Hermione asked nervously, her arms still clamped around herself.
“Taking a bath.” He had the nerve to scoff, as though the answer were obvious. Then he started removing the leather pads from his arms and legs one at a time.
Hermione was completely dumbfounded. Did Malfoy expect her to relinquish the bathroom to him? She was here first! Of all the conceded... “Malfoy, you cannot possibly want me to leave in the middle of my bath simply because I forgot to charm the door?” She huffed.
She was, of course, not watching him strip off his socks and boots with any sort of interest. None whatsoever.
“Oh, I don't want you to leave, Granger.” Malfoy's voice was lower now. Hermione wasn't sure which caused a shiver to run down her spine; his voice or the fact he was now slowly undoing his dragon leather belt. She did not care to admit to either option.
“Wh...what?” Was the brunette’s eloquent reply.
“I. do not. Want you. To leave.” Draco repeated clearly.
Oh, Godric. He was removing his shirt now. Hermione's eyes flitted about his imposing figure, unsure what to focus on first. Fading, blurry dark mark. What must be sectumsempra scars. Slightly mussed platinum hair. Pale, soft looking skin. Subtle lines of muscle showing as he moved. A smattering of freckles here and there.
Well, fuck.
Hermione Granger was absolutely, positively, not getting turned on watching Draco Malfoy strip.
“Then why are you getting naked?” She squeaked. With effort, she moved her gaze to his face. She felt just as lecherous as she’d accused him of being before.
“Much like you, Granger, I don't prefer to bathe fully clothed.” He rolled his eyes, again acting as though she was preposterous for being put off by the situation.
“I think I may be having some type of hallucinogenic episode.” Hermione tangled her fingers in her curls in exasperation. What was happening?
Malfoy, having removed his trousers, began folding them neatly and placing them beside his wand. “Hallucinate about me often, Granger?” He smirked as he turned back in her direction.
“No!” Hermione half yelled. She was practically pulling out hair now. What. Was. Happening?
He briefly took advantage of the view of her uncovered breasts slightly below the surface of the bath water. Hermione didn't move to cover herself again for some reason.
“Let's see if we can change that.” Draco looked quite pleased with himself as he shed his pants and began walking toward the edge of the enormous tub.
He...he was naked! Completely naked. And stepping into the bath. Where she was also completely naked. She would not look down.
Do not look down. Do NOT look down, you overly randy twat. This is Draco Malfoy, you cannot be attracted to him, you idiot.
Her thoughts kept her eyes in more appropriate places until Malfoy was submerged past his hips.
The size of the tub meant the two were still standing more than five feet apart. They both stood completely still for a few moments, staring at each other; the only noise in the room the soft sounds of water lapping against tile.
“What are you playing at, Malfoy?” Hermione asked quietly.
“I'm not playing.”
Oh, bollocks. What was that supposed to mean? And why could she feel heat pooling below her navel?
Their eyes hadn't left one another's in a full minute at this point. Hermione could not bring herself to be the one to look away.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” She tried.
For the first time, the blonde wizard looked a bit unsure of himself. She watched his throat bob as he swallowed.
The longest minute of Hermione’s life then passed in tense silence before Malfoy chose to answer.
He still looked a little nervous, but the hunger was back in his eyes as well. Another lick of his lips.
“You.”