June
Hermione:
When Hermione opened her eyes she noticed a feeling before sight. Her arms rose in slight gooseflesh and wisps of curls blew from her face. She sat up and stretched her arms above her head. A sleeve of blue slipped down her arm and she frowned at it, curious. Where did this come from? And then her mouth opened in a silent Ohh.
The previous night came back at her in rushes of flesh and sensation. The sweatshirt must have been Malfoy's and as she pulled on clothes in a rush she must have pulled his on by mistake. She tried to remember what she was wearing-what she had thrown on the floor in haste, but could not remember.
That was the whole purpose of Malfoy and her. They came together to forget. That was their simple purpose. As she looked down at the light blue covering her to her knees she wondered how she could have mistaken this to be hers, even in the rush of leaving. It swamped her. The breeze from the window slid in again and wrapped around her. A smell lifted to her nose and for a moment she was without thought. The smell was both one thing and many things at once. Cinnamon, soap…oil…
In the same way that she mindlessly bit her nails and tore off cuticles, Hermione wiggled out of her jeans and slipped off her bra. She was surrounded by the smell of him and her fingers curled under the too long sleeves. She pulled the bottom of the shirt over her knees and smiled.
-X-
Sometimes she forgot about it, but it rarely lasted for longer than a minute. It would overcome her and she would shiver as though her very bones were carved from ice. She lay burrowed under her blankets and thought about seeing Malfoy but knew that as simple as they tried to make sex, it wasn't as simple as arguing and smoking had been. She wasn't sure they could go back to just the first and so she got out of bed and dressed. Her hair was stubborn but she managed to yank it back in a braid.
Then the room was void and Hermione Granger had apparated to The Burrow.
-X-
No one was home. There had been a time, while they were all still in school, when there had always been someone and the only time anyone had let themselves sit still was for sleep.
Not ready to leave, she stepped up the stairs and ran her hands on the walls. Moving pictures waved and welcomed her back. She moved with the steps of someone who knew the very air around her. Hand on the doorknob, arm pushing inwards, she walked in.
She could hardly breathe she was so sad. She remembered that first week after they broke up when she thought the decision was the easiest she had ever made; she saw now that she was wrong. She missed him: his bed, his hair and his hands. She missed the way her head could rest on his shoulder when she faced him, her cheek fitting in the little space between his face and his neck.
"Hermione?"
She fell on the floor, spinning too quickly. Above her a hand reached down and she took it.
"Ron."
His hair was dripping wet as though he had just come in from the rain. When she listened hard enough, past both of their heavy breathing, she could in fact hear the patters of angry welts. He had his Quidditch uniform on except for his shoes.
"You came back to me."
A clump of hair was molded to his face, dark from rain. She stepped forward and pushed it out of the way. As her hand moved back to her hip he grabbed it and held on. His hand cupped hers and with the other he gently opened her tightly clenched digits to expose her palm. He kissed it, right in the middle. Her eyes closed and she tried to wake herself up but this wasn't a flashback.
"Where have you been? It's been months…"
"I can't te-"
He kissed her, catching her bottom lip in his top one. He pulled away, gently holding on with his teeth before letting go and brushing his thumb over the tip of her nose.
"Ok."
She swallowed and her throat hurt.
"Take off your clothes." She is surprised at her voice and how angry it sounds.
His hands, those big warm hands, yank at his sticky wet shirt and pull it off. Her lips press against his chest and her tongue licks up, tasting the familiar flesh. She rips at his chest leaving little scratches and bites as she moves around. He groans and it's the best sound that she's ever heard.
She breaks the button of his pants and hears it skitter around somewhere on the other side of the room.
"Help me." Her voice is scratchy but she can hear the desperation clearly. There is no time to be disgusted however when he pulls the pants off so violently that they rip down the side in ragged tears.
He's already so hard and she takes him in her mouth quickly. Her tongue wraps around him and she sucks soft as she reaches the top and then harder as she goes down. His hips move back and forth with her mouth, in out in out.
She releases him and he's shaking with need. Her shirt comes off and then her pants are on the ground. He fumbles and tears at the band of her underwear carelessly. They are naked in front of each other and his skin is so deliciously warm. She misses that warmth.
"Hermione…" he traces her cheek bones with his fingertips. She shakes her head. Stays silent.
He pulls her and they fall on his bed. She moves down and onto him easily. They both gasp out together. She's slow at first, unsure and expecting him to throw her off in anger. But he looks up at her and smacks his lips, taking her in and looking at her like she'll disappear any second. And she will, she knows she will. So she moves faster, sliding up and down until they are both close.
He grips her hips tightly, his eyes wide and slightly glazed. She stops and looks down at him. He's alert now and confused.
"Fuck me, Ron." She demands and he flips her over without thinking and pounds into her.
It's so angry, she can feel it.
"Why did you leave me?" He moves faster and she's close to climaxing. Her mind is numb but she can feel his sweat hit her cheeks. She opens her eyes and sees that it is tears, not sweat. He's crying but he's doing what she asks of him, moving faster and harder. "Why Hermione? Why?" And then she's exploding in too many directions and she thinks she's going to blackout but the weight of Ron falls onto her side. He pulls her into him, and she forgets that it's possible for people to want her to stay when sex is over.
She lets her eyes close, and it isn't Ron's face she sees but her parents. The way they looked at each other over the salads. She opens her eyes and Ron is looking at her, mouthing silently, why? Why? Why? He sees her and accepts her, but it isn't right and she knows it immediately.
She stays the night anyway.
Draco:
He hasn't seen her for a week, though he supposes it's not entirely his concern where she is or how she's doing. But the walls are quiet without her annoying bleating.
He teaches himself how to cook Pasta Marinara; from a recipe written on a card he found lying on the kitchen table the day after they last had sex. It's delicious but he eats it by himself. He made one serving size too much.
He thinks maybe he'll go the market again, like he used to, but Alfred is on vacation with his family in Wales.
His feet are cold so he makes a fire and looks out at the beautiful ocean. He desires her company, loathe as he is to admit it.
He needs new socks. These ones have holes in the toe.
-X-
He walks to the inn. Knocks on the door. That old witch Madge lets him in and he goes to her room. The room is so clean, too clean to have been lived in for the week. Something blue catches his eye and he picks it up. It's his sweater, folded tenderly near her pillow.
He puts it back and leaves.
Hermione:
He is sleeping when she gets up to leave, but she thinks that later this will be how she wants to remember him anyway. Her skin is rough from nights of rubbing against him and she hasn't showered in days. She has rebraided her hair many times but pieces hang lankly in her face.
She hesitates before leaving, knowing that this will be the last chance she gets from him. Then she blinks and remembers last night, when she couldn't sleep. It was then, when she started to get too warm from lying next to Ron, that she knew she hadn't been facing her problems by coming back, but running from them where she was dealing with them in Ireland.
She had nothing to pack up, except her dignity, and so she left, knowing that the crack would wake him. She hoped he wasn't too sad.
-X-
Malfoy looks shocked to see her there, as if he counted on her never coming back. She sits down next to him and plays with her hands.
"Not smoking t-?"
"Where were you?"
She draws in a breath. She knows she has to lie, and guilt comes over her in a wave. She knows she has no obligations towards him but lying feels awful all the same.
"I went back to my place."
His lips pulled back in a sneer. He saw right through her.
"You just…went back to your flat. For no reason."
"I had to pay rent." It was already paid until August.
"You couldn't owl it over?"
"I don't like handling money indirectly."
"Stop-"
'Hey Malfoy, what's it to you?"
Silence. Cold silence. But it's decent outside and she wants to enjoy the weather.
"I don't."
"Then just...fuck. Just shut up."
He leans over and breathes in her ear. It's loud and intrusive, creeping into her head and making her feel crowded.
"Don't you talk to me like that." He bites her ear, a little aggressively and then moves down and kisses her clavicle softly. She shivers. "And by the way, you look like shit."
She looks over at him slowly and tries her best to keep her face straight.
"You look wonderful as well, you fucking prat."
"All I'm saying is who stays at their flat for a week and doesn't take a shower?"
"I did take a shower, actually. But my hygiene is none of your concern."
"I won't fuck you when you look like that."
She shakes her head and rubs her temples. She shouldn't have expected it to be any other way. This is who they are with each other. Angry, hostile, uncaring. But she finds that her heart is too full of hate already to let anymore in and she can't be around him tonight. She can't be around him at all.