“You look the picture of Narcissus himself.”
Malfoy’s head was in Hermione’s lap, and her fingers were buried in his hair, caressing strands, brushing them off his forehead and lightly massaging his scalp. Like the moon that night in the hospital wing, it seemed like the sun was also enamoured with Malfoy, its kiss softening his edges and bathing him in a glow that could only be likened to a Greek sculpture come to life—the scars on his cheek and neck like pink veins running through alabaster.
“Narcissus?” Malfoy opened one eye, the other unable to withstand the sun’s rays streaming over Hermione’s shoulder and onto his face. “Am I also that vain?”
“Possibly. Don’t you agree?”
“With what?”
“That you’re like Narcissus.” Hermione trailed one finger down the faint scar bisecting his cheek.
“If it will make you happy, sure. Not many qualms about being called the fairest in all the land.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Of course you did.” Malfoy reached out and flicked some of the hair draped over her shoulder. “You compared me to Narcissus. Was he not renowned for his beauty?”
“Are you saying you are as beautiful as Narcissus?”
“Now you’re twisting things. You just told me to agree with your assessment.”
Hermione laughed. “I did, didn’t I.”
Malfoy tugged slightly on the curls he had wrapped around his fingers to bring her closer. Hermione leaned down and kissed him, tasting sugar and strawberries on his tongue when he teased her lips. They were still smiling when they broke apart, her hair a curtain of curls that fell around his face and tickled his chin.
Chapter 8 of The 6th Year Itch: read on ao3.
Art by Incendiosketch