Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all stuff does not belong to me. Please, knock the next door.

N/A: To my dear new friends of DHr world. And the old ones that inspired me to write. Thank you Naru for reading everything and you wonderful support! And thank you Vick for beta-reading so fast! You guys rock!

This is rated M for sexual references. Consider yourself warned.

Place of yours

By Yuuki Kiryu

(Music: Cada lugar teu – Mafalda Veiga)

"Hey Granger," he smirked and patted twice on the bed. She didn't even bother to glare furiously towards the blond man. He was helpless and... He sort of enjoyed it. Hermione made her way and sit on the place he indicated. His hands were quiet, but the grey eyes looked at her, devouring, tasting...

"Don't you ever learn? It's Weasley."

"My ass Weasle. You know I won't ever call you this fucking name. I rather take the old Mud..."

"Don't you dare, Malfoy", she pointed her wand against his temple. "I'm not on the mood today."

"Uh...", he didn't seem scared at all. Almost like he didn't care. But somehow, he did. "What did our great Weaselbee did to our clever Know-it-all? Tried to kiss you? Maybe you fucked, your face is unreadable. But it doesn't matter, does it? You always come back to the arms of...?"

"The Devil?", she tried and he just sighed. Hermione smirked on response. "Above all my issues with my husband, I'd appreciate you didn't insult him in every chance you get, because it bothers me."

"The hell I care," he answered hatefully and pushed her elbows until her back reached the blankets. "You know, Weasley, the fact you're married to him makes me hate you more than I hated you before. And hate you more and more each day because I know you fuck me up inside, but you always come back home to him. And I don't care if you assume things as you always do, I don't give a bloody damn." He leaned over her and his lips almost touched hers. "Just shut up, take what you want and forget the mess you did when you said 'yes'."

"I would never have married you, even if I had the chance, Malfoy", she said between kisses and clothes taken off. It was always like that. Insult, sex, insult more, say goodbye, send owls, and the next meeting would be all the same. "I don't hate you less than you feel towards me. Don't think that I do it because I love you. I don't even like you, I despise you."

"But your body doesn't", he smirked and sucked a sensitive spot on her neck and she repressed a moan. "And you feel dirty, confused, you loathe yourself much more because you can't control. Too bad the little Granger doesn't know how to suppress her desires…"

She kissed him. She didn't want to hear his acid words, because they hurt, and they were true. And she was afraid that all the things she said to him weren't true. She wasn't honest with her husband, but it was worth. He had cheated on her more than twice, with more than ten women. She just had chosen one man.

A man she hated enough to remember that what she did was terribly wrong. And he hated her much more, for all the reasons of the world. It was a punishment that both of them could appreciate. It was sex, after all. Everybody likes sex. She enjoyed her time, Malfoy did the same. Then, to feel less guilty she would make love to Ron, and say how much she loved him, and hear how much he loved her in return. And everything was okay for a while.

But it wasn't. She knew that, and even though the solution seemed too far to reach, Hermione busied herself with their children. They worth all the things they were through. Hugo and Rose were okay. Both of them at Hogwarts. She sent monthly owls. She tried to be a good mother and a good wife.

"You're an excellent lover, Granger", he murmured against her skin, afterwards.

She was a huge lover. Isn't life ironic? The shy, know-it-all, bookworm, Hermione Granger was a huge lover. Yeah, things could change, for sure. And Ron noticed how great she was. Especially after she started fucking buddies with Malfoy.

"Time to go, Malfoy. My dear husband arrives from Romania today."

"Send him my best wishes, his wife is delicious", he smirked and got up, without bothering that he was nude. She stared the scratches at his back, the Dark Mark on his forearm, his chest, his abdomen, his legs. He was so pale that she could mistake his skin with the sheets. His eyes were cold, unreadable, and his lips were always curved in a sly, ironic, malefic smirk. Unless they were crushed against her own.

"You know, that's why I hate you Malfoy; you can't keep your mouth shut. If we just fucked and let the words go, I wouldn't regret this so much."

"If you regret Granger, why do you keep on coming?" he sat in from of her and watched the delicate lines of her face, her eyes, her few freckles. "Don't delude yourself telling you are cheating on that idiot just for vengeance. This doesn't suit you."

"Why do you fuck me pretending you are with your dead wife?", she questioned quietly, not really wanting to know the answer, but already aware that it hurt him. It was fair, he hurt her in many ways she couldn't count. It was bloody fair to punch him once. Just one time to feel less pained.

"I don't know. She was very different from you" Draco stopped, like the thought made him die inside. "And I'm glad for that, because if she weren't, I wouldn't have married her", he added. "Besides, I don't need to rationalize every step I make. You should try to be free, and live for your own."

"Whoa… Am I mental or my dearest Malfoy is giving me advices?"

"Take just this one, because it will never happen again.", for the first time, inside that room, he smiled. Simple, small, almost insecure, but still a smile.

"Goodbye, Malfoy", she leaned over him, after put in her clothes, and planted a small kiss on his lips. As she always did.

"See you."

And she continued going. Weeks went on. The same room, the same excuses, the same fights, the same sex. They never made love, not because they didn't know how to, but there wasn't space for that between them. Ron acted more and more cold towards her. Maybe he already knew he wasn't the only one on her life. But he would never tell who the other was. Or not.

"Hermione, we need to talk", he was sitting on his favorite armchair and she was reading on the opposite couch, with her legs crossed. "Put this damn thing down and let's talk."

"What do you want, Ron? The dinner is on the table, the bed is made and the fireplace with wood. Don't piss me off."

"I know you are fucking that bastard!" he yelled and threw his brandy glass on the floor. She shrugged her shoulders. "You know exactly how to make anyone feel miserable!"

"Oh, right, you can blame me, fucking every woman that appear in front of you. Hell, you brought one to my house, made a scene in front of my children for Merlin's sake!", she got up and pointed a finger to him. "I never humiliated you so low; I wouldn't let them down like you did!"

"You are so frozen, so methodic and organized that you forget to live! Our life was always planned; you never let the things happen! Hell, your love is rationalized!"

"You already knew who I was before you made your choice, why did you wait for all those years to regret your decision?", she had already started to cry. She wasn't so guilty, he was wrong, he had hurt her before, and he made her unhappy, he was the one to blame… "I guess you don't even love me, you always screw everything up Ronald!"

"And if I say I don't? You cheated on me with Malfoy. Even I wouldn't be so low Hermione. I would never deceive you like that."

"But you could fuck Luna normally. And half of our friends right under my nose. And tell that you loved me while you made love.", she sobbed unhappily. "Harry was the one to tell me that I wasn't your priority anymore. How does it sound, Ronald? Am I so low? I just chose one man! You have forgotten your children and your wife many years before!"

"It's not like that! I bloody loved you, I never forget about the children, about you! About us!"

"Then why?", the tears continued to fall down, washing her face and the small hints of sanity. She wasn't normal anymore. It wasn't supposed to hurt so much. But the worst thing was the hate growing as the love decreased.

It was just a matter of words. If he said the right words, everything would be forgotten.

"You chose the worst man in the world. I guess he makes you more miserable than you are. You were never good enough. You tried to prove you were the best but you are simply the worst.", he said hatefully. She couldn't hold any longer. Wrong words, dear husband.

"You are worse than me, Ron", she answered in the same tone. "I loved the pure man I married to. I don't recognize the man in front of me, and I don't really want to. Too bad you are more pathetic than Malfoy." Her voice was cracked with tears, and sobs, but clearly ironic. He narrowed his eyes and the warm blue turned icy. "Oh yeah. Malfoy and I have a great time with sex. You noticed, right?"

"You…!"

Before he could lean on her elbow, to shake her furiously, her hand reached her wand and without a thought, those two words left her lips. The green light spanked his chest and the evil glare, thin line on his lips froze in his freckled face.

Her wand escaped through her fingers and slowly she fell on the floor, in front of the dead man. She touched him cautiously, almost afraid to break him more. He was warm under her palm.

"Oh my God," she mumbled and the tears fell on his blank face. She closed his blue eyes when she couldn't stare them anymore. It felt like she was going to be sick. "Oh Ron, what have I done?" she asked without knowing the answer.

For two and a half hours, she touched all over his body, feeling the warmness decrease naturally. It wasn't a fast stage, she knew. She had wanted to become a mediwitch. But gave up on it so she could have a house. Children. Husband. Lover.

She wrote three notes after the shock. One to Hogwarts. One to Harry Potter. "Ron is dead, I'm so sorry."

And the last one to Draco Malfoy. "I need you. Hold me. Now."

The owls were fast and two days after the death, after forsaking him seven feet under, after writing 'Beloved son, father, friend and husband' – how hypocrite – she entered the well known room. The same room she started and finished her life. He was sitting on the bed, as always, dressed in black, as always, looking through the glass of window, as always. It was raining outside. The rain was much more melancholic on the fifteenth floor.

Her robes were soaked and she left them behind, reaching the bed almost nude, not ashamed of her body anymore. There wasn't space for that too. She was so bloody tired of everything. It was almost like she didn't want to continue anymore. To see the sad faces of her children, the pity glances of Harry, full of understanding. He knew. He was a good friend, and he always knew what she was through.

Harry was an understanding person for nature. That was one of the reasons why she regretted marring Ron and not Harry. He would have married her if she asked. Not because they were madly in love with each other, or the little teasing with friends that they would end together someday. It was because they understood each other.

Draco, on the other hand, was a mysterious person. She couldn't read his thoughts most of the time, unless they were involved with her body, movements and orgasms. She knew he was constantly sad, except when he was with Scorpius. The little boy was his only strength and happiness. She knew damn well how it felt when the children weren't around to give hope and a reason to go on.

There she was, behind him, with her head rested against his shoulder. For the first time. It was a different day. He didn't greet her with venom. She felt his long fingers twirling into her curls and she sighed happily. She tried to pass an arm around his waist just to find his own hand up hers. Holding.

"Malfoy?", her voice was rough, low and unsure. The rain let her cold but his body was warm enough for her. Slowly, she kissed his shoulder, in a tender way. One, two, three kisses and then stopped, resting the cheek again.

"Hum?", he turned and held her. She rested on his lap and her face was on his shoulder again. Her wet hair was slowly drying, and he kept caressing the waves. Her back. The curve of her hip. "Spill it out."

"I'm going to be sick," she said minutes later. He carried her in silence inside the bathroom and waited until she emptied her stomach, washed her mouth and gained some strength. They walked quietly into the bedroom again and she laid on the bed. "You know…", she started and his eyes were on her, studying her face. "Thank you."

"Why?", he started taking off his clothes, just the boxers left. He was silent when he laid beside her, not really touching but near enough to talk. That was weird.

"I asked you to hold me on the letter. You did it. And I'm glad, because I don't feel like being in other arms right know", she closed her eyes and opened them again. "It's absurd how the things turned, isn't it? I… killed him. And just know I recognize what I have done, and I don't feel sorry", her tears were silent, but her voice wasn't affected at all. "I would have done it again. Am I a bad person for that, Draco?"

"No," he answered after some minutes. He turned to face her and somehow it felt like comfort. "You are a bad person when you do the things intentionally. You plan, you torture and you kill. Like Death Eaters. You are none." He studied her again and adjusted his head on the pillow. "You are a hurt woman. Your pride is destroyed. And maybe that was the only way to find the place of yours again."

"And were is it?"

"I don't know, Granger," he sighed. "You have to figure out by yourself. Maybe with your children, beside Potter and Weaselette."

"And your place?"

"Beside my son. And my wife", he smiled softly. She could feel her face wet. "Don't make it seem harder than it already is. You know I don't."

"I know, and that doesn't help me," she continued to cry, cry, cry. He wouldn't hold her again, but just standing there, beside her, was enough. Hard enough. "I loved Ron with all my heart. And I love you, and I know you don't love me."

"Exactly", he was a bit unsure, but hope wasn't necessary. Not on his house, where his wife had slept so many times…

"I can't see you anymore," she sat on the bed but didn't have any mention to go again. "It will be the last time today."

"If you say so..."

"May I ask you one last thing?", she leaned over him, and her face was an inch of him. He assented slowly and his grey eyes seemed to warm. I know you lied to me. "Make love to me? Just once?"

And he kissed her. He was incapable of deceive her. She was broken in so many ways; he had already broken her heart. He couldn't say he was indifferent, but he couldn't love her. Not on the way she needed to be loved.

He touched her. In so many ways, he touched her. Her body, her face, her lips, her eyes, her hair. And her fingers explored him as well. Their last time was their very first time. And the so well known and unknown bodies met each other, their minds blanked and the whole world was unimportant.

He tried to see the warm face of his wife. But only Hermione's expression of pleasure came to his eyes and he gasped as his own face reflected the same emotions. My, my, what have you done to me? He asked himself as her nails dragged on his back. "Hermione." he mumbled against her lips, teasing, trembling, feeling.

"I liked that." She smirked and kissed him.

The afterwards was the best and the worst at the same time. Hermione always busied herself with thoughts, and all of them guided her to the same place; she knew she would never be the same. She was held from behind, his arms under her breasts. Slowly, she got up, careful not to wake him up. After getting dressed, she found some paper to write on.

XxxxxxxX

Dear Draco,

I know you will think that people judged me wrong when they said I was the smartest witch of our school. You will say that I am the most stupid person in the world. But you know this seem pointless, because I'm tired. Of everything.

I know that you still blame Ron for the death of Aurore, and I would blame him too. He murdered her for mistake, the Ministry understood the situation, but I didn't. And maybe that's why I sort of wanted to get along with you. But we would never be friends, just lovers right?

And, being a sensible person, I know that somehow you developed feelings for me. Don't try to deny, I'm not stupid, I just say what passes through my mind easily. I don't delude myself, though, assuming you love me. I am very sure you don't.

Thank you very much for everything. For comforting me when I needed and being a friend, even if this word between us seems awkward. It wasn't easy to make this decision, but who said life was easy? We fought on a war, we had losses and victories. We grew up and now here we are, facing the future we constructed in the past and living the reality of each day.

I hope you find the place of yours.

That spot of the letter was tore. On the floor, the woman covered with blood with a small piece of paper. The same blood that wrote those words. Draco kneed beside her and for the second time on his life, one single tear crossed his face while he looked at a woman.

Because after you made love to me, I found the place of mine.

I love you.

Hermione.

E N D

My first try in English, thank you for reading.