for you i would ruin myself (a million little times)

It was over all too soon.

It seemed as if it had only been five minutes since he had walked inside her apartment, shrugged out of his coat, and captured her mouth with enough fervor to make her forget about the ring on his left hand.

She had ordered food; there were several cartons of takeout sitting on the table innocently, waiting to be opened and eaten, but as they stumbled up the stairs as a jumbled mess of limbs and half-opened clothes, Hermione couldn't find it on herself to care about the food going cold on her kitchen.

The bedroom door suffered damage as it was opened forcibly; it had been about three weeks since they had seen each other. The Auror Department had appropriated the time of her lover to such degree that he hadn't had the time to visit her, only to send his apologies and several love letters via a different owl each time.

He'd never use Hedwig to send anything to her unless it was a harmless message, and not covered in romantic promises and intimate thoughts.

Their journey to the bed was so long—on their heads anyway—that Hermione thought they would satisfy each other right there on the wooden floor of her bedroom, but the fight was won when they managed to climb up to the bed unharmed.

Hermione's head was spinning; the ravishing tongue of her lover stopped her from forming any coherent thought. Even the small voice at the back of her mind that kept whispering this is wrong, stop, you shouldn't be doing this with him, don't make it worse went quiet as his calloused hands racked over her sides and pulled her shirt up.

His lips left her mouth as the piece of fabric flew upwards, and Hermione took a deep breath as her treacherous thoughts came to the forefront of her mind. Her breath picked up and all too soon, after her shirt was thrown across the room and her torso was exposed, she put her hands on the naked chest of her lover to stop him.

"We can't keep doing this," She whispered. "We can't do this, Harry. Fuck."

The black haired man in front of her, glasses skewed and hair messier than ever, released a breath and nodded slowly but stayed where his was; kneeling between her legs. "Okay. Okay."

Hermione shook her head but didn't move. "We've already crossed this line so many times."

"I know," Harry whispered.

The woman look at her lover fully; his eyes somehow held sorrow and love at the same time, while regret was plastered all across his face in the way his lips pursed and his eyebrows dipped hard. His hands were clenching and unclenching, a clear sign of his nervousness as Hermione's eyes racked over his naked torso.

As her hands anchored themselves around his neck to bring him closer and drown on his lips once more, Hermione spared one second to think about the guilt she carried on her shoulders before shutting off her mind as Harry's fingers pulled on her sweat pants, all the while feeling the cold rim of his ring caressing her skin.

When it was over, they both spent half an hour cuddling in their afterglow. Hermione was counting the seconds until he would need to leave, taking a shower before putting on his clothes and leaving her for another full week until the next weekend. Her hands trailed over his chest, stopping at the several scars and caressing the unkept stubble that had made its way to his neck before shuffling forward and depositing a kiss on his jawline.

Harry stirred moments later, fully awake and already moving; he kissed Hermione deeply on the lips before walking over to the bathroom; the sound of water running only lasted for four minutes, and as the woman in the bed looked at the clock on her nightstand that read 12:17, Harry hurried from his shower to pick up his clothes and don them.

They never spoke on their time alone; it was a different bubble in which they lived in, contrary to the times they'd meet up at a pub to catch up or at work, where they'd cross paths or have questions about certain cases. In those situations, they were Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, best friends, two thirds of the Golden Trio, coworkers, and two people that preferred to pretend that they didn't know each other's body as intimately as they did. In here, on borrowed time, they were just two people caught up in the fever of a love affair.

The black haired man kissed her again and whispered a 'see you tomorrow' before leaving her bedroom, and eventually her apartment. The barely audible crack outside her home alerted her to the fact that he had completely left the premises.

Hermione didn't cry; she stopped crying after the fourth time he had left as quickly as he had come. There was no use in wasting tears when, as twisted as it sounded, he'd always come back each week. Few things could keep them away from each other.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

No matter how many times she thought that today would be the day where she'd break off things with Harry, it always ended up with her guilt multiplying and her knickers on the ground as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

She'd always hate herself a little bit more each time, because Harry had the ability to make her feel things so raw and visceral, his passion rolling off in waves as he serviced her body each and every time he visited it, and her heart stuttered in the worst way possible every time his eyes would find hers because she knew; as his hips faltered with his climax approaching, Hermione stared at him and she knew exactly why she had always given herself to him completely, in every way.

She was in love with him; she loved him like this, breath husky and faltering movements as he worked through his peak and prepared himself to pleasure her, but she also loved the way his eyes would lit up when talking about the latest Quidditch match and how passionate he was about the work he was doing, how he'd make her laugh with the silliest jokes but would provide a crying shoulder if needed.

She loved him, while simultaneously mourning the fact that she could only love him like this, because his other side was reserved for another.

When their time together was over and he slipped out of her door with a few kisses and a box of her favorite snacks and a bouquet of flowers as a gift, Hermione leaned against her apartment door and slid down until she was sitting on the floor. She hugged her knees and, though tears didn't appear on her eyes, her eyebrows dipped and she began to wonder if she'd ever have the courage to cut off things with the love of her life.

0o0o0o0o0o0o00o

It was two months after that when Hermione decided that yes, she did have to the courage to break things off with Harry for one thing and one thing only.

The test on her bathroom sink had two pink lines on it.

She decided to wait until that weekend to tell him in person; Hermione had rehearsed her speech over and over, not even giving time to process the overwhelming fear she felt each time she eyed the white stick on her hand. When the door to her apartment opened and her lover came in, shrugging off his coat and leaning forward for a kiss, Hermione stepped back and took a deep breath.

"Harry," She stated. "I'm pregnant."

There was no use in trying to be subtle about it; she knew that if she hesitated his lips would be too much of a temptation and they'd be on her bed before she could even show him the stick.

His movements froze and his face got stuck on a confused expression as he eyed the pregnancy test on her hand. His fingers moved and took the stick from her hand as he stared at it; there was a glint of excitement on his eyes, but it was overshadowed by the amount of regret and fear that shined on them.

"How?" He whispered to himself.

Hermione took a shaky breath. "I don't think I need to explain that to you."

Harry nodded and looked at her. "What're you going to do?"

"What are you going to do?" Hermione countered. "I'm not the one with a wife."

"She can't know about this," Harry muttered. "She'll—I can't tell her."

"Then it's decided," Hermione nodded, and silently cursed the tears that had formed on her eyes as she retrieved several papers from her work bag. She had it all worked out. "You can sign this, and we can forget about all of this."

Harry's eyes scanned over the one sheet of paper he had been given, and his expression turned from confused to angry. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Am I?" Hermione countered. "I'm looking out for my child."

"You're asking me to sign off my parental rights!" Harry exclaimed.

"I will not have my child unacknowledged, being hidden away by their father," Hermione hissed.

"I would never," Harry whispered, eyes pleading. "Please, don't ask me for this. You can't."

Hermione laughed humorlessly. "I think I most certainly can. You don't have to lie to me, Harry, I've known you far too long. You'd never risk losing the quiet, perfect family life you're building. Signing this…you owe me at least this kindness, so that I can live my quiet life. I can't keep doing this, Harry. I'm so, so tired."

Harry wanted to fight; he wanted to break the table and rant about how he'd do anything for her and their unborn child, how he'd protect them against anything and that they'd be a proper family. He wanted to tell her so many things. How much he loved her, how it shouldn't have come to this, how he wished he was braver to leave the wife he didn't love and dedicate himself to her in every way.

But he looked at Hermione's face; so stricken, painful, but so full of determination to protect herself and their child, and Harry's fight left him as he slumped on his chair, resigned to the fact that he'd do as she said, even if every fiber of his being was screaming at him. She was right.

His hand moved swiftly against the paper as his signature appeared on the document, and when he passed it across the table his eyes caught hers.

"Are you leaving?"

Hermione stiffened as she grabbed the paper and stuffed it on her work bag, inside a folder. "Yes."

"Will you come back?"

Hermione shrugged, taking another shaky breath. "I don't know."

Harry nodded, eyes bright as he stared at her. "Please do. I—I've already signed this, I know, but…I'd just really like to meet them."

"I don't think that's a good idea," She said, hesitant.

"Please," Harry whispered. "Please don't disappear on me, Hermione. I know I probably don't deserve it, but I want to watch over you both. I can't be the father that leaves his family alone."

Hermione, gazing at his heartbroken face, didn't have the heart to tell him that it didn't matter what he did, because he had already become that father the moment he decided that her pregnancy didn't change a thing between them; she'd still be the dirty little secret to him, and he'd still play the perfect and doting husband.

"Okay," Hermione relented. "Never contact me yourself, the letters will return unanswered. I'll send you pictures, tell you about their life. I'll tell them about you."

Harry nodded in acceptance. "It's probably more than I deserve. Thank you. I'll start an account at Gringotts, for you and the baby, with monthly deposits…"

Hermione saw the way his sentence faltered and stopped at the end, his eyes conflicted as he eyed the white stick that had been left on the table. "What's wrong?"

"The name," Harry whispered. "What about the name?"

The woman sighed heavily and looked him in the eye. "I think you know what's going to happen with the name."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah. Okay."

The conversation tapered off after that; both of them exhausted in mind and body as they got up from the table, heading towards the door to part ways. Harry walked slowly, eyes taking in everything on the apartment that had been a witness to their love for the past few months.

She looked at him closely, wanting to burn the image of him on her mind as best as she could; from his emerald eyes to his messy hair and his scars and his smile, she loved everything about the man standing before her, and that made everything so much worse.

"See you later, then?" Harry whispered, his smile not quite reaching his eyes as he caressed her cheek.

Hermione nodded, playing along. She leaned up to deposit a soft and desperate kiss on his lips before stepping back, eyes shining with unshed tears as she gazed at his retreating figure.

When the crack reached her ears, Hermione's breath hitched as the sobs she had been holding in escaped her throat. Her body slumped defeated until she was sitting on the floor, tears overflowing her eyes as she cursed everything and anything for the way she and Harry had ended up.