Her hands were expressing the jitters constantly passing through her hair, guiding her bangs behind her ear for the third time in two minutes. The fingers thrummed out of rhythm like the anxiety itself prevented them of doing anything rational.
Merlin knows the last time that rationality had been part of her life.
The tik tok of the table clock indicated that there was still forty seven minutes left until her work day was over – not that she was counting the seconds -, daydreams moments alternating with concentration periods in which she actually dealt with part of the paperwork she had amassing on her desk. It was such a pity, indeed, that there was half a dozen process left to be done and her concentration was not showing any signs of coming back.
Going against her focused and rational nature, she decided to give herself a short break. She pushed her chair away from the desk and stood up, the steady and determined steps heading to the toilet she had in her office – which, honestly, she believed it was the biggest advantage of holding an important position at the Ministry -, the tek tek of her heels taking the place of the tik tok while she closed the heavy wooden door behind herself and took a deep breath, her back leaning against the wall and her eyes closed: silence. She took other three or four deep breaths, her mind trying to find once again a focus but in vain. She opened her eyes, walked to the sink and opened the tap, using the cold water to wash her face and letting herself to be distracted by the fact that being able to do this with no worries was definitely one of the bright sides of not wearing any makeup that day. A distracted smile appeared on the corner of her mouth and she was startled.
This was his kind of thing.
She closed the tap, the hairclip that laid close to the mirror immediately helping her to make a high bun with her while she raised her face and looked at herself. If anyone asked her to describe what she could see, Hermione had very little to say: the expressive brown eyes were the same boring color despite the fact that she had already gave up the dream of having an emerald or turquoise pair such as her best friends, her face was pleasant but lacked on anything to me remarkable – for good or bad. The brown curls that once were a true mess held some beauty now, it's true, but once again it was nothing remarkable. If on the Wizarding World she was known as the girl of the Golden Trio, in the Muggle World she would not have any attention for more than a couple of seconds.
Hermione could go on about her body – average, just like everything on her figure – or even her clothes – muggle and formal in opposition to the wizarding outfits that you could see around in the building in a way of reminding herself of her origins -, but this would not catch anyone's attention. Nothing about her would do so, she would affirm to anyone who asked her, but today those words would be a lie. Something showed off now that she was standing in frond of the mirror, the hair tied up and the focus on herself. Next to her jaw, on the left, it was possible to see a yellowish spot, harmonizing with a purple one on her right, the marks of a moment that could be described by several words, none of them being "average". If Hermione was standing naked, it would be possible to see the same marks in various shades going from yellowish to purple on her shoulders, chest and even nape, the scratches on her back and the pinkish shape of a hand on her right buttock.
If Hermione closed her eyes she could still relive every second of that night.
It has been thirty-four hours since the last time, not that she was keeping a track of it. It has been four weeks and two days since the first time everything happened. She would not know how everything started and, honestly, she didn't care, all she knew is a simple fact: that night somehow she found herself kissing one of her colleagues. 'Friend' was definitely a word too intense, it was true, but how do you call someone who is always among your friend's group and always seems to be around, even though is not there every second? Colleague seemed to be too superficial but unfortunately words were missing to describe what exactly they were.
She was there two months ago when he got to the Leaky Cauldron and declared to everyone that he had broken up with Astoria, leaving every single person astonished. It was a secret to no one that Draco Malfoy was in love with Greengrass and that it seemed to be the same the other way – even when the blonde moved to New York due to her work they kept talking to each other religiously everyday and organizing travels every three months or so in order to be together in the past two years -, so it was more than natural that no one could hide their surprise. Hermione and Ginny never had the chance to get to know Astoria, but they have listened to the stories of Draco and even Harry and Ron's reports when they met her, just after the three men decided to surpass their differences and accepted that they could be the closest as possible as friends once they were now working on the same department, which led the women to have some kind of affection with Astoria.
A little more than a month ago when Hermione went to Draco's house in order to provide help with a parchment filled with ancient runes was when he kissed her. It was the first time they kissed and the first time they got to know eachother intimately. It was the first time the hickeys appeared. It was the first time in a long time that she felt good. Weird, but good.
They didn't discuss about what that was and she, if she was being honest, would admit that it was because she feared losing whatever that was if they dedicated any time to that discussion. Ginny was the first one to know what happened – as soon as Hermione headed home in the following morning she called the red-hair through Floo because she could not come up with what exactly she would say. She had spent the night with no one other than Draco Malfoy and, yes, he was no longer the arrogant elitist spoiled boy they've met in school, but he was their colleague and had recently ended a relationship that seemed perfect. And he was amazing in every single aspect, Hermione saw herself admitting, her cheeks getting red while Ginny screamed of happiness. Harry learned about it right after that and Hermione was sure that Ron and Neville also knew despite the fact that she had never told them directly. The following time the group met – this time at Neville's -, Draco made sure to sit by Hermione, his left hand over her shoulder making it clear to everyone that something was going on, this movement encouraging her to let her hand rest on his tigh.
That night she left earlier. To his place.
The following week turned out to be chaotic and the only time she managed to hang out with her friends, Draco was not there. Well, he showed up, but the fact that he spent no more than an hour and left to meet Blaise and the other Slytherin boys does not count as if he actually went there, right? The fact that Hermione knew that he was still exchanging letters with Astoria was another complicated issue that she has chosen not to pay attention to: Hermione and Malfoy were not in any kind of relationship and she could not demand anything, it was the motto she repeated several times to herself over and over. She did not want to be jealous, but she could not avoid to be confused.
It was on the peak of her confusion that they have met once again. Their legs intertwined, their mouths bouncing, biting and groaning, taking every ounce of concentration out of anything but the moment, her back arching with her eyes shut and the marks on her neck that would only be visible in the morning when she left his arms after the sun rise and went into the bathroom. That night, laying on his chest, she noticed he also had a pair of small hickeys that she was not responsible of and her heart shrunk, she didn't know exactly why. She also did not want to ask about, the fear of breaking herself in a thousand pieces being stronger than the feeling on her heart. She thought about standing up and storm out of the door but as soon as this idea came he looked at her, smiled and pulled her closer to himself, a hand on her waist and the other caressing her hair – and that was the moment she knew that it didn't matter how much it hurt, he was with her that Friday night.
She was the one waking up Saturday morning with a kiss on the forehead and his large smile just like a six year-old on Christmas asking her about her plans to the day, to which she answered she had none. He stood up, the black boxer in contrast with his pale white skin, and came back a minute later with a huge Arithmancy book that they discussed for a couple of hours until he decided to leave the discussion aside and restarted the caresses and kisses. She was the one who, later, was really tired even though it was still afternoon and he managed to convince her to take a nap, positioning the pillows properly and putting the blanket over her while he went to do something work related. He was the one reacting with a smile to her lazy moanings of waking up and went to bed to see if she needed anything, showing her once again one of those great smiles that could shine an entire country.
On Sunday they danced on the kitchen tiles and watched a movie, spending most of the day in bed sharing stories and secrets. Draco told her about the time when, with Blaise, he ran around the gardens of the Manor and ended up breaking his wrist, about how embarrassed he was when he found out that Pansy was going to see him playing Quidditch because he did not want his crush seeing him failing, about how Narcissa made sure to tell his fantastic stories every night before bed, not caring about how old her boy was. He told her all about his travels, said some jokes that were everything but funny, sang his favorite songs. It was on that moment that Hermione confessed that normally she needed help in order to be able to sleep but next to him she had slept better than ever. He was the one who said that she should take deep breaths and stop putting the weight of the world over her shoulders, that she needed to stop doing everything at once and take some time for herself. It was on the comfort of his arms that she accepted that in a certain discussion he was right, not her.
She touched carefully the purple mark on her neck, the short duration pain she felt making her think about good moments making an appearance right away; she started thinking about the light slaps she gave him when he tried to prove her wrong just for fun, thinking of how he looked like when he confessed that he loved discussing with her and that deep down she was like a child that wanted to be right all the time. She seemed to be irritated but a few seconds later she burst out laughing, knowing that he was right. Draco hugged her and they were quiet for a short time before exchanging opinions about anything – and it did not matter if they were discussing something erudite or trivial, they both had very strong opinions, often opposite ones. The hours would pass by so quickly that left her thinking when it was the last time that talking with someone has been so interesting or how the conversation was just flowing perfectly. He would make fun of her manners and ideas but after all would make them both laugh and no fight, despite of how big it could seem, lasted longer than three minutes - it was just the period needed for her to be quiet and frowning and he would come giving one of those amazing hugs while kissing her that would soon make her forget about whatever had made her mad, even if it was just a little bit.
She was falling for him and quickly and despite how her rational side warned her that she should not be doing that, she kept doing. They had never talked about what they were and the hickeys on his skin that she was not responsible for were still there but she could not see new ones and somehow that observance made her happy. When they both were in bed she could not help but to smile out of nowhere, his hands immediately heading to the curly mess while he asked about what happened and she would just answer that it was nothing and kiss him on the cheek and for that moment, it was just enough. He made her feel wanted while admiring her intellect and she though she tried to remember the last time she has been so happy with someone, she could not. He was not intimidated by who she was or by how vocal she was about her opinions and deep down inside she loved that he was there to challenge her every moment.
He made her think once again about relationships, he made her regain faith on having two people being happy together. He did not make any promise but still being with him brought her joy and peace like nothing has brought her in a long time. On the night she started crying Merlin knows why while he took a shower, when he saw her reddish face he just hugged her and petted her hair, bringing her closer to himself without asking questions nor demanding answers, just showing the support that no one has ever shown. And that was how he grew on her.
But things were getting dangerous and she was sure that getting hurt was just a matter of time. He was still in touch with Astoria - and she kept repeating to herself that was none of her business because after all you don't end a long-lasting relationship where you liked the other person and just cut ties out of nowhere, just like her and Ron - and it would hurt her and she wouldn't know why, they still haven't had the conversation about what was going on with them and whatever they were and this was making her confused. She was Hermione Granger and not having control of whatever it could be crushed her: control was essential in her life and she had none when it comes to Draco Malfoy.
Two days ago she made up her mind and decided that this was the last night: she was not sure about how to balance all the good he was doing to her with the uncertainty of the situation, she was sure that this was not making her happy and she was just too scared to keep hurting herself if their rendezvous kept happening. She sealed their goodbye with a kiss that he did not know it was the last one and when she got home she had a breakdown, laying in bed under her comfort blanket and trying to cope with the unilateral break-up - but it is even a break-up when you did not have a relationship?
She washed her face once more, now having the fluffy red towel to dry her skin just before letting her hair down, concealing the physical marks he left on her - because the emotional ones she has been hiding for a long time. She breathed deeply once, then twice than for the third time before having on her face the professional look once again, opening the door and heading back to her desk with the tek tek of her heels, noticing that there was a little less than twenty minuties to finish her shift. Realizing that the damage has been done, she decided to call the day of a bit earlier and to work harder tomorrow: her mind as for today had reached its limit and being productive was not something that would happen, at least not right after it has been lost in thoughts completely.
Hermione casted a spell to organize her things, moving her chair closer to the desk just after standing up, heading to pick up her coat hanging on the wall, getting mentally ready to go out and deal with the cold windy weather of London when she heard someone knocking on her door three times. - Please, come in - she said while getting ready to explain why she would be leaving earlier today to whoever it would be: another advantage of wearing no make up? Your face always looks paler and it is easier to pretend to be unwell.
The door has been opened and the platinum blond hair in contrast with the black vests got into her room and Hermione found herself holding a gasp of surprise. - Hermione, is everything ok? - and he gave her one of those smiles that would melt her completely. - Are you leaving already? - she answered it with a yes sign with her head, words still lacking. How do you get over someone who always come back? That comes up when you made up your mind that you will get over him? The answer is simple: you don't. - I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me. There is a great new Asian restaurant in the West End.
And she could not say no. Despite every part of her existence knowing that she needed to have a serious conversation with him either for establish what they were or just what they could become eventually, she decided to ignore once again all her rational impulses and just answered that she would love to join him, while wearing her coat. She knew that in the moment his hand touched her waist and he whispered anything on her ear she would no longer be able to retreat: she knew she would end her night in between his sheets.
But may the doubts and yearnings be left to be dealt with tomorrow.
N/A: I personally enjoy to give a single word title to my fanfictions. The original could be translated as "Marks" but I felt like Purple suited better in English. The color purple is said to estimulate the spiritual side, allowing mind and body to be purified and freed from fears. It is the color associated with the nobles and power. It is the color of transformation but in excess can be related to melancholy and sadness. After that just sounded perfect to me that at least in this piece of fiction, a Dramione relationship could be described as purple.
This fiction was the result of a couple of hours in a boring and confusing Monday night plus some incentive of a friend, Céu, who challenged me to use my original idea and change the aimed end (because it was definitely not going to be not even a little happy).
Originally written in Portuguese so I apologize for any mistake or anything who got lost in translation because it's not my mother language and it has not been proof-read by anyone but me so I'm once again sorry for it!
Thank you for reading it and please leave a review and make my day!