Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Setting: out of bounds
Word Count: 987 words
"You don't… you are not normally…"
"What?" He asked, with a low smile and his lips ghosted over her temple, his nose brushed her hair.
She exhaled, affected. "You are normally not this affectionate."
He took his hand from the small of her back and draped his arm over her shoulders. "Since when do you prefer us to be normal?" He wasn't being his patronizing self, that side of him against suggestive headlines or skeptical stares. It was an enquiry, a curious observation.
"I would never call this normal." She admitted, weaving her fingers with his.
He wounded his arm tighter so that she needed to put her arm around his waist, "You normally don't like me when I do this," and her lips met his grin.
"On the contrary," she said, slipping her hand into his jeans pocket, "I only like you when you do that."
He pulled at a lock of her hair by her chin, "Did you just admit you keep me around for sex?"
She boldly stopped them walking and tugged him into her by his arse. "Pride wounded?"
His thumb brushed aside her lip gloss from her mouth so he could taste her, "Challenge accepted."
It was their own secret, their own bubble away from ridicule, away from their armor and swords against the world that never seemed to allow boundaries or respect to persist in their lives. He would always remember how the morning sun illustrated every arch, writhe and breath of her body, just as she won't forget the abandon of affection he could bestow upon her during walks along the beach. So many words were exchanged between, commitment dancing around promises and fear chased into a cardboard box of souvenirs they had collected throughout the trip.
He cupped his hands at the base of her skull, "Are you ready to go home?"
"My home is where you are." She could say it as a fact now, without having to practice in the mirror to make her eyes look more convincing; she shackled his wrists with her hands with earnest.
"I know…" he replied quietly, "What about England?"
Go back to where they couldn't touch under the limelight, back to where they had to attend functions separately, where sneaking to his house felt like a hideous crime?
"As my wife." He added even more quietly, but she saw that coming.
Her answer was already sealed in an envelope at the back of her head, but she had a different direction to brave against: "Would we last?"
He was prepared to tell her they could wait, or worse, not to worry about rejecting him because: "Why would you ask that?"
"You are asking me to marry you… what if you stop?"
They didn't say that word that often: it was their thing- you ate the last egg? was I missed you before breakfast; have you finished that page? was I adore you; you'll get sun-burned was I care about you; don't you dare cut your hair was I need you as you are, and would we last was I don't think I can stop loving you that much.
"Granger, I should be asking you that question." What makes you think I'm capable of falling out of love with you?
"Well, it's me. I ask these questions for a living."
Often he wanted to hug her into him, so when her heart thunders in her chest, she would also hear how his own roars and flounces.
"If you are asking whether those- " he didn't want his frustration ruining the mood, so he channeled his jolt of emotion into placing his hands on her bare back, hoping he could be seared into her so she would know he could never leave. "-people could write up nonsense that would make me regret this, you are terribly mistaken." Since the moment you chose me as well, I haven't cared one bit.
"I do like to be wrong sometimes." She replied; she wasn't just talking about what lies waiting outside their bubble- those she could care less: she had lived most of her life sharing the beam of the magnifying glass that her skin had grown thick. But she wanted, needed even, to spend the rest of her life with him, and he was the one who holds the key to that particular future.
She knew just how many things he regretted, and she didn't know what she could do if she was to become one of them, a potential hazard that threatens to explode, another scar that refuses to heal.
She bit down on her lip, and he pulled it free gently. "Well, we both know you always have to have your way." You are sewed into my seams in a way that terrifies me.
She scoffed, "You always have to win and whine if you don't have the last word." If you leave, you will rip me apart.
"You like arguing with me," That's how sure I am, "You called it intellectual debate, I remember."
"Our arguments are usually about law books and potion ingredients, so it's justified." That's how in love with you I am.
"I like us this way, and so do you." That's how I know what an honor it is to be in love with you, Hermione Jean Granger.
Why do I deserve you, Draco Lucius Malfoy? She traced his lower lip in return, "So we remain one?" I bury your ghosts; you bury my demons.
"So we become one. We walk this road together." And I will love you in all the ways I can, and I will try harder to find more.
"So we go back and face the music." And we can be strong for the both of us.
I can't live without you. "What music? It's just white noise to me."
You will never have to from this moment on. "… by the way, I do."
A/N: this one is really close to my heart, i guess