Life For Rent
Harry was morose. Voldemort was dead. Dumbledore was weak, but twinkling. And Snape and Hermione were making mad, passionate love.
Odd what happens in the Great Hall, isn't it?
The after-near-death feeling of needing closeness- of feeling close to people… well, it's universal, even across boundaries of snarkiness and bossiness. Something about carrying students to triage in the far corner of the Hall, nearest the braziers that the house elves had brought up- your magic exhausted and your body near comatose- the bond between Head Girl and Head of House, even when they were Heads of opposing houses- well. It's exactly as close as the hot pull of human to desperate human.
Gryffindor Tower was demolished…
Neither of them were sure how it happened- after the frenzied making of more Exsanguinous Potion, when they returned to clean up- well, she had no other place to shower. And he was too tired to resist holding her, inviting her to sleep here instead of somewhere uncertain up three flights of stairs when she came out, in a towel, still crying and needy.
Nothing happened that night. Magic, when used to the dregs, reduces the male body to incapability. In Hermione's case it was nearly the same. Two motionless sleepers, draped in towels in a dark stone room, roaring fires throwing strange lights as the night rebuilt them from exhaustion to joy…
Morning. Two bright streams of light from the slit-windows, raining down morning warmth on the sleepers- the fires faded to embers without magic to sustain them. Two slightly stiff, nude figures- a random assortment of white towels twisted between two bodies that, in the night, had become intertwined for nothing less innocent than comfort.
Guys... have this problem in the morning?
Mmph. Warm… Stretch. Bonk. Wha-? Oh. My. Mmm.
Growf. Wha-? Mm, warm. Mine. Delicious skin.
Am I really too embarrassed to go any farther? No. But I don't like hurt-comfort much, and I like trauma-ending-in-sex even less.
This is not the best example of my writing, I hope. But I wanted- somewhat desperately, as the saying goes- to return to my old haunts, seeing as my newer mind-consuming activities are going to be leaving in August. :) Irreplaceable, but I want to have something nondestructive to dive into when the joy-cry month comes.