Title: Someone Else
Author: luckdragon
Rating: oh… PG, most likely
Summary: All Hermione wants to do is study. (A little fluff. A little snog. A little mystery.)
Disclaimer: I don't own them. If you do, it's not worth suing anyone over – trust me, the lawyer's fees will be far more than you'll get in return.
Author's Note: Hello! *waves* Sorry about the three updates last time around. I was having a little trouble getting the correct version uploaded. Anyway, yes, the fic does jump back and forth between "present" and flashbacks. Here's a hint for you (well, not so much a hint as blatantly pointing out how to tell the difference): watch the verb tenses. ;) Only two chapters left after this, and hopefully the next one will be up soon, since this one is a bit shorter. Enjoy, and if you feel like it, let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!
She is curious about how many beats per minute her heart is getting in – she knows it must be pumping furiously even though she is completely unaware of whether or not it's still functioning.
He has twisted them around slightly, and one of her hands is back on the desk – behind her, bracing, balancing as the onslaught continues. The other hand is exactly where she had the nerve to first touch him (second touch him, actually). It clutches the back of his neck, then slides up into his hair.
He is pulling at her, making her stand on tiptoe awkwardly as he shifts his weight. These motions seem to interrupt their body song, or at least throw a wrench into its rhythm. She furrows her brow; she does not understand until he pulls back just briefly to groan four words.
"Sit on the desk."
This interruption doesn't even leave her time to open her eyes, and she is relieved as his lips crush onto hers again, meeting much more participation now. He draws on her again, and she hops, and before she really knows what is happening, he positions his body between her knees. Everything inside of her is turning into syrup and flowing downwards – she has never been positioned so, or had another positioned so, and his voice, the gravel in it when he spoke – it is all happening so fast now, and her mind is such a blur.
But then something happens.
Without her realizing it, he has moved a hand from her back.
When it reaches its destination, somewhere specific between her shoulder and waistband, she leans forward a bit as her body burns – but then jolts and pushes him back. "No," she gasps weakly.
"No?"
Hermione huddled under her covers with a mirror, her small private tent illuminated by the tip of her wand. Her own reflection looked alien – cheeks still retaining some rosiness, lips still slightly puffy, hair still tousled, eyes still bright but confused. The room was nearly silent. Hermione thanked Merlin for this, because her current state of hypersensitivity would be overwhelmed by anything else.
She began this examination upon remembering that she's now learned what Someone Else's Just-Snogged Face looks like. He had never looked better, standing motionless beside the desk with his flushed features and swollen mouth. And she had made him look that way! Amazed, exhilarated, baffled, Hermione suddenly wondered whether she had looked just the same.
The evidence led her to believe that she had.
Well, she thought. I've had a snog. And she giggled, just a bit.
At lunch, conversation is awkward. Harry attempts to engage Ron and Hermione in talks about Quidditch and classes, respectively. Ron eats in silence save his grunted replies, and Hermione – starving and having decided that hiding solves nothing – isn't even bothered to raise her odd gaze from the tabletop. Finally, Harry sets his fork down roughly and explodes. "All right, you two," he exclaims, "will you just apologize for whatever it was and get back to something resembling peace?"
Neither Ron nor Hermione glance up from their plates, although she has the courtesy to look slightly startled.
A moment of silence.
"I don't know what you're talking about, mate," Ron finally grumbles. "All's well."
"About as well as a boxful of blast-ended skrewts," Harry sighs.
He does not get a chance to continue, as Lavender and Parvati suddenly plop down across from the trio. Their presence seems to steal both table space and the very atmosphere, as the girls focus instantly on Hermione. The latter's expression becomes quite wooden; however, even the arrivals do not make her lift her eyes.
"Hello, Hermione," Parvati says with a grin. "Harry. Ron."
"Hullo," Ron manages to mutter. Harry, irritated, only nods.
"Wow, bunches of fun at this end of the table," Lavender complains. "Would've thought you'd be a bit more cheerful, Hermione."
This does the trick. Hermione's head darts up, and she does not have time to wipe the scandalized look off her face before Harry turns a curious eye to her expression.
"What does she mean? What are you going on about, Lavender?"
"Er, I thought you'd have known," she replies uncomfortably.
"Known? Known what?"
"Obviously something that you have no right butting in about!" Hermione explodes, abandoning her lunch and storming from the Great Hall. She feels what seem to be myriad eyes on her back as she retreats. She wonders if she has ever felt so many emotions in day's time. All for a few bloody moments of fun.
"No," she repeats. "This… I…"
"Fine," he answers briskly, removing his hands, his arms, his mouth. As he steps away, the flowing feeling is replaced by one of dropping suddenly. She recognizes this vaguely as disappointment.
"All right then," she mutters, hopping awkwardly off the desk and straightening her clothing, her gaze glued firmly at her hands or the ground or anywhere that was not him.
"Bloody hell," he says with a grimace. He takes hold of her arms, freezing them in mid-sleeve-smooth. This makes her look up as she is caught unawares, and he bestows one more firm, passionate kiss upon her lips before releasing her entirely. "Off with you then," he finishes gruffly.
She cannot imagine what her face must look like. Her expression feels as though it is frozen somewhere between terror and rapture. His is unreadable, but maybe that's just because she's too close… she hasn't backed up a step, despite their current state of… not touching. He hasn't either, come to think of it.
And just like a scene out of some miserable Muggle movie, they grasp each other once again.