The clarity lasted two weeks. Two blasted weeks where she was aware and herself. Where she would turn her neck and wince in delicious pain. Where she would start to drift away and easily pull herself back by running her fingers over her wrist where he had held her down. Where she excelled at her courses and laughed with her friends. She had even actually remembered to owl George with a casual request for bruise paste which arrived the day after Malfoy cornered her. She laughed as she pulled out an industrial sized amount of it at breakfast with a simple note.
Having fun then? Good for you. -G.
Ron didn't get it but Ginny was more than happy to skiv some off after dates with Harry.
However as they passed into October her mind started to fuzz again. Just little things here and there at first, easily excusable as tiredness or overindulging in the weekend parties. She was happy to ignore it completely until she noticed everyone watching her walk in for breakfast in the morning with cautious eyes, waiting for her to speak. By the time the second Monday before Halloween rolled around she was back to being gone more often than not, her attention wilting like a flower in the face of fall.
"I say we all go to the Burrow. It's homey and mom's a great cook," Ron was saying when she snapped back to dinner.
"What? Isn't it a bit early to be thinking about winter hols?" Hermione questioned. She was deeply hoping she hadn't missed months streaming by.
"The week we get off for Harry's heroic murder of the Dark Lord… the first one." Dean supplied from her left.
He (and most of the table really) was watching the tennis match between siblings with great amusement. Harry for his part was blushing a deep red. No one had asked him if he wanted a holiday in his honor. Ginny responded while stabbing a sausage. The motion made most of the men in attendance wince.
"No way. I want to hold Harry's hand without mum breathing down my neck about a wedding and how alcohol will hurt the baby."
"You could stand to do that less mate," Ron muttered to Harry, who just smiled into his potatoes.
"Hey toejam brains. Eyes on me," Ginny growled, much to the amusement of eavesdroppers. "If you want to go home then go. We'll all-" She pointed her skewered sausage in a triangle of Harry, her and Hermione. "Stay at Grimmauld."
"I can't go alone! It'll be boring!" Ron whined.
The tone of it sent Hermione into a slight giggle. Suddenly sensing blood in the water Ron spun to Hermione and grabbed her hand pleadingly.
"'Mione! You've got to come to the Burrow with me. You know you're mum's favorite daughter!"
"Absolutely not." Hermione barked a laugh ignoring Ginny's indignant snort from across the table. She tried to pull her arm away only to have him dramatically fall to his knees. She cried his name in between laughs, trying to break up the dramatic play.
"Stop it you fool. If we are the only ones to show up she'll start bugging us about a wedding."
Ron blanched, something that may have offended her last year but not anymore. Suddenly his face broke out into a wide, suspicious smile. It triggered her mischief instinct, something that had become well developed after spending so much time with his brother.
"Well in that case." He cleared his throat just as Hermione heard a heavy Irish Brogue say 'oh no'.
"Hermione Jean Granger." Ron swept his hand around grandly bowing his head low. "Will you do me the honor-"
"Don't you dare!"
"Of becoming my bride?" He paused for the expected gasp from Harry and Ginny laughing wildly from the other side of the table.
"Ronald Weasley! You know I don't love you like that."
"Eh, Mum loves you enough for the both of us."
Their section of the Great Hall was silent except for the whispers passing to the other ends of the table. Hermione breathed in slowly, her anger trying to take the jovial mood from her. Instead she bent down to him at the waist speaking in a clear loud voice.
"I really think of us more as... fellow dark wizard killers."
The Gryffindor table burst into laughter along with a few awkward chuckles from the DA members scattered around the room. There was even a snicker or two from Slytherin before they were quickly hushed. Ron shot up gesturing in a wide circle.
"You all saw it! I tried. So when my mother murders me over this break for missing out on a girl like 'Mione. You can all say I tried!"
The hall broke into laughter, more than familiar and a bit afraid of the Weasley Matriarch. For as many cruel jokes and judgmental comments made throughout the years, after watching the woman carbonize Bellatrix no one wanted to cross her.
As the group settled down still arguing about where they were going to stay Hermione felt the odd nagging sensation at the back of her mind that told her she was being watched. She cast her eyes over to the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was looking murderously at her.
Against her better judgement she winked then held her hand out dramatically to Lavender to coo over her nonexistent ring. She openly laughed when Malfoy's fork bent. Zabini looked up, following the blonde's gaze to where it was trained on her. He whispered a comment and Malfoy responded with something that had the other boy flinching before he got up and strode out of the Great Hall.
Hermione sighed the fog drifting back around her brain now that he was gone and the spectacle was over. She turned to the still arguing sibling to make the final call.
"We will all stay at Grimmauld Place and we will join your mother at the Burrow for meals. After all we do have magic and none of us can cook." She paused for a moment as they turned their whole focus on her.
"Ron you will leave them alone on their dates and you two," She gestured to Harry and Ginny. "Will be keeping it child friendly around your brother, since that is what he is."
"Oi!" Ron barked in offense before laughing lightly. "Now there's the Hermione we know and love. Try to stick around yeah? I will need you when these two get handsy."
The table was so busy laughing that they missed her small voice, lost in the crowd.
"I don't know if I can."
000000000000000000
She was drifting through the hallway for head rounds that Wednesday before 'Harry Hols' as Ginny calls them— much to his annoyance. She had caught three couples on her first set of rounds but forgotten to write them up leading to two chocolate frogs and one Sizzlit Swirl as incidental bribes. Figuring she was complicit at this point she sucked on the sizzlit enjoying herself as the world flashed in different monochrome colors with every lick.
She was admiring a particularly calming shade of blue when the door to a broom closet burst open and she was summoned by her shirt. Her sizzlit fell with a crack breaking the charm as the door slammed behind her.
Without missing a beat she pressed against the body around her and pushed off her center of balance with a sharp shove making room for a fighting stance. It was only as the light glittered off of white hair that the rational part of her brain registered the situation.
"Pulling a war survivor into a dark and confined space. You are lucky you still have your bollocks Malfoy," she growled. Almost begrudgingly, she dimmed her light to less than blinding.
"You still need those," he answered off handedly.
Without any regard for the situation he leaned against the back wall, looking perfectly in place amongst the dust cloths and mops. He regarded her cooly, his eyes roving over her body as he examined her.
"You're alright then?"
"What?" she snapped.
Suddenly she remembered the names of one of the fourth year Hufflepuff couples. Bollocks. Too late now.
"You've been… dazed. Spacey lately. Like you were when school started." He paused, ending his examination of her. "So it's just an act then?"
"You're checking up on me?" she questioned incredulously.
"I would rather hate to be implicated in a mental breakdown."
"Oh yes. Because the lack of your cock would be enough to drive a girl to insanity. Get over yourself Malfoy."
"Merlin are you always this prickly?" he growled. "What happened to the sweet and innocent Golden Girl."
"She died violently in a war. Partially on your living room floor. Any other questions or should I look forward to you kidnapping me later this week? I think I have time on Friday just after Charms."
"It was a drawing room you peasant," he responded, throwing his arms into the air. "Fuck me for noticing. Not that anyone else did."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
She angled her wand back towards him. If she hexed him now they probably wouldn't find him until after the break. Maybe he would have starved to death by then. That would be nice.
"It means your friends are either fucking clueless or don't give a damn. Especially your 'fiancé'." He smirked openly, an act that set her blood boiling. "Does he know I'm fucking you?"
"Okay so first off you aren't. Secondly-" She cut off the sentence as her brain caught up to his words. "Fiancé?"
He scowled briefly before contorting his face back into a cool mask of nonchalance.
"You cannot be serious. Good Godric. It was a joke. Are you deaf or just stupid?"
"The point still stands. Your friends suck. You're a fucking wreck Granger. And they haven't even noticed. As a matter of fact the only time you seem remotely on your game is around me. Why is that?"
He pushed off of the wall, an unfamiliar look flitting across his face before disappearing. She rolled her eyes, as he postured.
"They have noticed and it bugs the shite out of me when they fuss. So unlike your average psychopath that goes pulling people into broom closets in the middle of the night, they just leave me alone about it."
"You didn't answer my question."
He smirked looming above her, eyes sparking darkly. She cursed herself as she realized that she had (in a roundabout way) implied that there was something wrong with her. To Malfoy of all people.
"It doesn't deserve a response."
"You know Granger," he purred in that low voice that shook her down to her toes.
"You can call it whatever you want. Stress relief, punishment, even love for all the fucks I give. But you can't deny it." She shivered as his hand ghosted down her neck tracing bruises long since faded. Bruises she secretly wished would be replaced. "You need me."
She rejected the warmth in between her legs and that oh-so-painful need for friction and just a lance of pain. Instead she stepped back to the door, wrapping her hand around it and firmly telling herself she wasn't running away.
"Get Fucked Malfoy." As she left, she thanked whatever gods could hear her that she would be going back to London in the next few days.
0000000000000000
For all the parties that fell on the week of Lord Voldemort's first defeat, they were just having the usual get-together at the Burrow. That Saturday Harry would attend the Ministry gala but other than that, Harry Hols were to be spent relaxing in his mind.
Which Hermione could almost agree with. However, the first three days were spent wandering around Grimmauld Place, trying to remember which rooms were cursed and which rooms just had bad things in them, and slowly driving her housemates crazy. By the time Halloween rolled around on Thursday the three of them were dying to drop her somewhere where she wouldn't accidentally blow up the whole house if they weren't watching.
They arrived at the Burrow to the standard Weasley clan plus Andromeda and Teddy. Harry gathered his god child in his arms with the practiced grace of an eighteen-year-old only child. Which was to say barely at all and refusing to stand. There was food and ice cream at some point and funny jokes that she always laughed too late on.
There were also pitying looks sent her way in spades along with careful tailored questions. By the time George closed up shop and joined the fray everyone was multiple drinks in and was more than ready for a quick laugh. Particularly with Ginny being so far gone that her mother was shooting her disapproving looks every time she spoke.
"That is it." Molly announced after Ginny fell over the couch dragging a giggling Harry with her and peppering kisses on his face hours later.
"You are all staying here." She glared pointedly at her daughter. "In separate rooms!"
Hermione was curled up on the rocking chair watching the party break apart as people floo'd or apparated home. Bill and his daughter— Hope? No, Triumph. Jesus, she knew this— stepped into the floo and were gone before she could stumble over her mistake. Slowly the living room emptied out until Ginny and Harry stumbled upstairs to a room she would not be staying in, leaving her, Ron, and George by the fire. Glancing around and realizing his mistake Ron quickly excused himself practically running up the stairs as George laughed.
"How are you, George?" she questioned. There was something distinct about the sounds of the Burrow bedding down for the night. Something comforting.
"Same as always," he replied. He cracked his neck as he stood. "I'm more worried about you."
"Me? Why?"
"Must be pretty bad then?"
He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels awkwardly. George may have turned into quite the rogue in the past half a year but he was still very awkward with her. She set down her cup before responding.
"What do you-"
"Ron owled me."
"Did he?" She raised an eyebrow feeling the familiar spark of anger stretch her mind.
"Oh, don't be like that," George chided.
"What did he say?"
"And I quote 'I don't know what you do and I don't want to know what you do but she needs whatever it is.' I'm touched, truly." George smiled as she flushed, clenching her hands and cursing Ron's mother beneath her breath. "Careful, that's my mother too… And practically yours as a matter of fact."
"He had no right."
"No he didn't but…" He guided her chin up to his face, something she used to love but now just felt too gentle. "Was he right?"
She breathed for a moment, feeling not only like a head case but a burden as he watched her. Her tongue wet her lips and his eyes tracked the movement. She promised herself she would stop but the need was as apparent on his face as her own.
"Yeah. He was," she responded.
George nodded. He glanced over his shoulder once to check that they were alone before tangling his hand into her hair and guiding her toward the floo roughly. He called out the name of his flat and sent her stumbling as he threw her onto the floor with a crash. Her fingers twisted into the familiar braided rug in front of his floo as he stalked to the bedroom.
"Wait here. You are not to move from that exact spot."
He was gone in a rustle of clothing leaving her to wait for him to get ready.
She remembered the first time she came to him, stumbling up the stairs, too drunk to apparate from the Leaky and shamefully needy as she slammed on his door until he opened it with a blanket half pulled around his waist and nothing else.
"Hermione?" He had questioned, flicking the slightly damp hair from his forehead with a shake of his neck. She thought he had just showered. "Who died?"
When she broke down crying he shushed her pulling her into the living room and planting her on the rug to wait for him when she refused to sit. She would have missed the blonde woman leaving if it weren't for her speaking.
"Who's that?"
"Family emergency Doll," George responded, sending her on her way with a distinct smack that cleared Hermione's mind instantly. "I'll owl you later."
When he came back to her he was dressed in tie string pants holding a bottle of sober up. She took quick pulls on the bottle, cursing Ginny for her bad example and terrible suggestions. She feverishly brushed away all his attempts to stop her from flooing. It was only when she had fallen onto the floor with him pinning her wrist down to keep her from apparating that she realized what was happening... To his credit, he didn't judge while he helped her figure herself out, even when she had pushed too far.
She lost her virginity on this rug, not in any romantic sense of the word, but hard and fast, leaving her muscles sore and mind clear for days afterward. She visited all summer, once a week just to keep the edge off but still enough time to let the bruises fade. He always looked so sad when he saw them. After that last time, she hadn't come back at all.
When he returned to his living room Hermione had shifted to her knees, eyes cast down.
"Why are you here?" he questioned.
It felt like he was playing a part. And she supposed he was. She was just a hair too familiar for him. In the early days when she considered dating him, he let her down softly. He couldn't bear to hurt her when he would inevitably tire of her. He must have known, they were just a shade off from what each other needed, even then.
"I need you," she responded softly.
It was almost a whisper as she folded her hands in her lap. He growled, his bare feet appearing on the carpet in front of her. The deep plum dress pants from earlier catching on a draft. Her stomach glowed bubblegum pink as he cast the contraceptive charm. He crouched down, his hand guiding her eyes to meet his.
"What do you need?" he questioned again, softly. Like a lover's caress.
It was gentle enough to set her eyes watering. He was pushing for something; she didn't know why. But it wasn't as if she had any other options. Her brain conjured up a wooden desk and a classroom before she could stop it.
Any acceptable options, that was. He waited patiently, unwilling to move until he got his answer.
"Please," She muttered, hating how his eyes softened. "I need to feel something."
She gasped as he pulled her to the couch by the arm. Insistently, but not hard enough to bruise. She wanted him to bruise, she wanted new marks to drown out the memory of old ones that had burned themselves into her flesh.
He pulled her to his lips, expertly molding himself around her with a grace born from variation and practice. He bit at her lower lip, enticing a low moan at the back of her throat. He pulled her hair back in a shakingly familiar manner that set her body alight at once. George nipped and sucked at the flesh of her throat, leaving careful trails of kisses along her collarbone and shoulders.
"More," she moaned, twisting her hand into his hair. He hesitated before biting more deeply, pulling up just enough skin to mark it. It would have to do.
When he pulled down the shoulder of her blouse she saw bursting buttons, clattering against the stone floor in the moonlight. Instead he expertly unbuttoned her blouse with a spell. Removing his own shirt, he draped his striped tie around her neck.
George pushed her onto the ground in front of him, pulling himself to a sitting position. Grabbing at his tie he pulled her to her knees in front of him, the clicking of his belt sending shivers down her spine. He released himself in front of her, pulling her closer until her hand encircled the thick shaft, ripping a groan from him. He glanced down at her watching in every move. He tugged once on the tie, pulling her mouth to the tip of his cock.
"Suck."
Heat pooled between her legs, begging for attention as she opened her mouth to swirl around the head. Her tongue flicked across the tip, back and forth as he sighed deeply. She teased him a few minutes until an answering growl drew her attention.
She had only a moment before his hand cupped her neck and pushed her down, taking much of the considerable length of him down her throat. He shook, restraining the urge to thrust against her as he pulled her out slowly before forcing her back down. Her throat stretched around him, adjusting to the girth as she manually controlled her breathing, letting him set the pace as she swallowed him. The dampness in her knickers grew, slickening against the fabric until it seeped down her thighs. When she started shifting in place George pulled her off and stood, dragging her by the tie to the bedroom. He slammed open the door and shoved her onto her stomach on the bed, pulling down her shorts and underwear in one smooth motion.
"There there," he chuckled, running his finger up her slit and setting her squirming for contact as he dusted kisses along her back.
"You are so needy... just begging to be fucked." He circled her clit expertly, in just the right way to send pulses up her spine. "Walking around so perfectly smart and beautiful in those sinful little skirts."
He smacked her ass suddenly, setting her skin burning and her fingers grasping for purchase. She cried out, trying to ingrain the sting into her memory.
"Oh yes. You're begging for it." He sunk two fingers into her then stopped, refusing to move as Hermione writhed around him. "Well go on then," he crooned, watching over her shoulder, "beg for it."
"Please. Please, George."
"Please what Hermione?" he questioned as he pumped slowly.
She moaned and clenched around him. Drawing an unexpected 'shite' from him. He had no way of knowing of course. That she was not above begging, not to those exact words.
"Please fuck me." She asked nicely, keening when his fingers pulled away. She felt him lined up against her, pulling her hips up to meet his as she stumbled onto her hands and knees.
"And why should I fuck this tight little pussy?"
He prodded against her teasing her entrance with short shallow thrust. She answered as she always did but this time with a deeper lust as sinfully forbidden mercury eyes flashed in her memory.
"Because I deserve it."
And then he was sinking into her carefully, giving her body time to adjust even when she begged for more. It was something he never budged on and she learned not to push. After a painfully long moment he pulled back thrusting in tentatively, groaning her name as he sunk into her. He pushed her back down, knocking her chest flat into the bed with her arse in the air. Hermione whined softly as he gathered her wrist behind her back.
"Trust me."
Hermione wasn't going to argue but when he thrust back in slowly she felt him rub against something inside of her that sent chills down her back and tore moans from her throat.
"You like that don't you? Falling into my bed and moaning like a whore while you beg for me." She cried as he did it again drawing out the pleasure as he taunted her, his grip tightening. "Maybe you are one. What do you think, Hermione? Are you a whore?"
She screamed as he snapped his hips back slamming into that spot repeatedly until she was desperately clawing at his hands. He released her with a swear and grabbed onto her hips, finally hard enough to bruise.
"Yes. Yes I am," she moaned to the room, fisting her hand in the sheets as a familiar coil wound tightly in her, her walls fluttering with each pull.
"Fuck I'm going to come," he growled.
In one swift move he pulled her up by the tie until her body was flush against his. He grasped at her clit, grinding his thumb into her flesh as he sent her flying over the edge. She screamed, the image of a blond head of hair and a victorious smirk filling her head as her body sung. She didn't even notice when George had finished, or when he gently lowered her down to the bed, rubbing slow circles on her stomach as he wrapped himself around her. When she had finally stopped shaking he kissed her on the head.
"Hermione," he started, cautiously. "I'm concerned."
She flinched, she hated those words vicerserally.
"You said I didn't need to be ashamed."
"You don't, love." He kissed her neck softly, frowning at the bruises. "You don't. I am just worried that you are getting worse instead of better."
There was silence while he waited. He had always been the more patient twin, balancing out Fred's wildness. The loss of his other half sent him careening to a life of causal sex with faceless women. She was the only exception, one he made even though it hurt him. Destroying their friendship until it was somewhere between family and lover, never able to take the step towards either. She was good at hurting people apparently...
"He cursed me," she murmured to the ceiling.
She waited for the indignation or offense. But it never came. It never would with George. He seemed to all but lack the ability to judge.
"What happened?" His lips tickled at her hair as he brushed away her tears. Pointless considering more just fell. She didn't notice that she had started to cry.
"I am losing more of myself," she admitted, though she hated to. But when counting her good days against bad the number tallied up miserably. "And then he comes along and everything is clear for weeks at a time. It's like I had spent my whole life without glasses and then could suddenly see."
"Why is that a problem?" He pulled her close to his chest, a picture of understanding.
"We can't-... I can't-"
"Does he want to?"
"Well… yes. I am pretty sure."
"Then why not?" The circles on her stomach were growing slower, lazier as he began to slip into sleep.
"It's Malfoy."
He tensed and so did she, horrified that she let it slip. She counted the seconds waiting for his reaction.
"Senior or Junior?"
In a viscerally primal reaction she sent a swift slap to his chest that made them both laugh. His circles continued as he thought.
"So we have established that it could be worse."
"You aren't mad?" She lifted her head to watch his face. He had been staring at the ceiling but turned his attention on her.
"No. Confused in what you see in such a git but not mad." His eyes flashed for a brief moment in the brotherly affection that just felt weird while lying like this. "Should I be?"
"No," she laughed, resting her cheek on his bare chest. She fingered the tie around her neck, an old school one with bright gold and red stripes. The image of blood seeping into silver colored her thoughts. "If anything, I am responsible for this mess."
"Bastard deserves it." George murmured, earning another smack. "Well he does. Little git is shitty his whole life and manages to come out of it getting to listen to all those sweet little noises you make. Some blokes get all the luck."
"Oh stop it." She sat up and stretched her shoulders out. They protested the rough treatment but only slightly. It was not nearly enough.
"Really Hermione," George said with an alarming amount of seriousness. "You are an absolute treasure and anyone would be lucky to have you."
"George. That's sweet. But we both know that isn't true." Her eyes met him sadly, the conversation spoken a hundred times.
"If you ever deign to lower yourself to a rakish heathen like me, I will marry you Hermione. In a Merlin bedamned minute. You can have the family, and love and life you deserve the second you are ready for it." She flinched, but he kept going. "I know I am not what you need or want but I would try. Because you are kind and loving and wonderful and that is what you fucking deserve. And if you are wasted on that tasteless git because he is too blind to see it I will personally find a way to ensure that his entire haunted manor is buried under a swamp. You know I can do it."
"George…"
Her heart melted for the redhead sitting in bed, sheets pooled around his waist with a half smile of tranquility plastered on his face. Maybe in another life, where they hadn't lost so much.
"You know I don't share."
"And what a right shame that is," he responded, falling back onto the bed dramatically as she laughed.
"A right shame indeed."
