Turned away from him, Hermione paused briefly before she began to gather her discarded clothes, glistening slightly in the golden light coming through Blaise's bedroom windows. Her hair was disheveled and she a light sheen of sweat coating her shoulders, her back, remnants of the rather vigorous activities they had just concluded. Blaise couldn't look away from her, never could, really, but particularly in the aftermath of being in bed with her, he just couldn't tear his gaze from her. Couldn't remember why he absolutely needed to.