Hermione sighed as she felt his arm reach across her stomach, pulling her
closer to his chest as the pair lay in her bed. Hot breath could be felt in
her ear and soft hair lay lightly against her cheek. These were the moments
she lived for. When they could be simply at peace, where she could feel
safe wrapped up in his arms and not have to worry about anything.
It never ceased to amaze her how his touch could be so gentle in such a sharp contrast from the jeering insults he threw at her during the day. But his daily actions were always forgotten during the night, when he would climb in her bed, and whisper her real name. Hermione. It always sounded softer from his lips than anyone else's. He made a point to never say it during the day, never use it in his insults in the halls. The sound was a privilege only to be spoken softly, and only at night.
It wasn't lust with them as would be expected. Nor would they ever admit that it was love. But all the same it was a strange necessity that brought him to her bed each night. They did not have a strong physical relationship either, a few kisses and comfort in each other's arms was all they needed, they hadn't progressed past that stage. They didn't need to.
The day was torment for both of them. It would have been fine if they could simply part their ways and enjoy the company of their friends, but glances from each other were too easy to see from across the Great Hall, in the hallways, or in class. But when they were near, sarcastic remarks and cruel names were thrown about, the only comfort they could find. Such actions pulled them apart, as they saw the ugly side of each other, allowing them temporarily to go about their own lives. But without success.
Each night they came together. She would massage his back, relieving his tension and he would hold her tightly. Hermione waited for his customary sweet kiss before once again wrapping her up in his arms and falling into peaceful sleep.
It never ceased to amaze her how his touch could be so gentle in such a sharp contrast from the jeering insults he threw at her during the day. But his daily actions were always forgotten during the night, when he would climb in her bed, and whisper her real name. Hermione. It always sounded softer from his lips than anyone else's. He made a point to never say it during the day, never use it in his insults in the halls. The sound was a privilege only to be spoken softly, and only at night.
It wasn't lust with them as would be expected. Nor would they ever admit that it was love. But all the same it was a strange necessity that brought him to her bed each night. They did not have a strong physical relationship either, a few kisses and comfort in each other's arms was all they needed, they hadn't progressed past that stage. They didn't need to.
The day was torment for both of them. It would have been fine if they could simply part their ways and enjoy the company of their friends, but glances from each other were too easy to see from across the Great Hall, in the hallways, or in class. But when they were near, sarcastic remarks and cruel names were thrown about, the only comfort they could find. Such actions pulled them apart, as they saw the ugly side of each other, allowing them temporarily to go about their own lives. But without success.
Each night they came together. She would massage his back, relieving his tension and he would hold her tightly. Hermione waited for his customary sweet kiss before once again wrapping her up in his arms and falling into peaceful sleep.