The funeral was...
The funeral was... enervating.
Hermione stood by the graveside in respectable black and puppeted herself through the service. Her parents had chosen something simple, almost tidy. They had loved, lived well and wanted to reassure their mourners in a last act of consolation.
Quite a few people had sent flowers but only she, Marcus, the pastor and the funeral director were there. Hermione had expected that. Her parents were... had been sociable but private and had only been in Australia for two years.
When she asked for some time alone, the three men fell back to the hearse, to stand quietly uncomfortable as strangers often did at funerals. She turned her back to them. This was something entirely between herself and her parents.
Hermione pulled out two silvery globes from her handbag, cradling them to her. Faint whispers came from them but the distant voices were familiar and comforting. She kissed the pensieves then dropped them into the graves. They shattered in a prismatic rush of colours while she felt more than saw her parents' memories dissipate.
Breakfasts together, school runs, holidays, quarrels, careful explanations about magic, shared achievements and love. The deep, unconditional love of a parent for a child. Gone now into the ether.
She rejoined the trio with nod, consciously keeping herself upright. Marcus held her hand as they walked back to the gates of the cemetery. Hermione did the expected, said the appropriate words to end the one of the few rites Muggles still performed. It was a relief she did not have to speak to anyone else.
The witch and the wizard took the train from Karrakatta station into town, giving themselves a plausible exit. That they travelled only to the next stop before Disapparating from a discreet vantage, no one noticed.
Hermione slammed the front door and dropped her handbag. She took her dress off in the hallway and threw it away from her. She kicked off her shoes and threw them too. One hit the end of the sofa in the living room, the other skittered into the kitchen. That annoyed her. She wanted to throw them further, to send them far away so she would never have to see them again. So she had no fetters to make her remember.
Marcus shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it around her shoulders as she stood trembling in her underwear. Hermione jerked at the touch of the fabric before sending the coat flying down the hall. She spun around and grabbed his tie, pulling it off before tossing it aside too.
"You're wearing too many clothes." Hermione informed him, stretching up on tip-toes to unbutton his shirt. The wizard let her strip him down to his briefs as he waited for her to come to her senses. But whatever was possessing her did not burn out before she grabbed his shoulders to pull him down into a starving kiss.
"Granger." Marcus lifted her up so they should look eye to eye because he would be damned before he knelt before her. "Stop it."
"No." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again, burning and hungry and desperate.
"Granger, if you don't stop, I won't." He knew it was a bastard sort of thing to do but if she insisted, he would happily provide. He was no white knight. There were all sorts of excuses he could use to square this with his conscience. Which was in the vault, right next to his charm. But she had to say yes first. That was a rule.
"I want you to take me to bed, Marcus." Hermione said firmly nose to nose with him. "You, me, now. Yes?" She let go of him and he let her drop to the floor. Grabbing her handbag, she pulled out her wand then tapped herself on the abdomen. "Contraceptio."
Marcus Flint said nothing. He removed his shoes, picked up the witch and carried her to the spare room. Underwear came off but he did not immediately jump on her. Yes, she was willing but she was also tense and strung out. He started with her hands, kissing her palms before working up her arms, kissing, kneading, touching.
Hermione put her hands on his cock to hurry him up, stroking but he would not be rushed. Marcus gripped her shoulders, pushing her back onto the bed before moving his attention to her breasts. His tongue traced around her nipples, licking until the little nubs hardened and she swore at him.
"You need this first." He kissed his way down her chest, down her stomach, down to her crux. He kissed her there too, using his tongue to open her. "Take my word for it."
Her response was a look. Not angry, not demanding, not begging. Something passed between them. Some unspoken connection. Marcus relented. If she regretted this later then so fucking be it. He penetrated her slowly, gritting his teeth at her tightness.
Hermione lifted her hips to help him, shoving a pillow under her to get a better angle. Everything that she should be thinking right now she resolutely did not think. Right now all that was important was feeling alive again.
Marcus started slow until she adjusted to him, doing nothing too adventurous. This was not some athletic rut behind the bleachers. He pushed himself up so he could admire her as she rocked against him. Her eyes were closed but her mouth curved into a smile.
Not a bad wake as wakes went. He dug his knees into the bed and she responded by hooking her legs over his, moving with him. Marcus picked up his pace. Hermione dug her fingers into his shoulders. He did not mind.
They worked together to bring each other to climax. It was not mad passion but it gave them both something they needed. Marcus held Hermione as she convulsed and cried out. Hermione held Marcus as he buried himself deep inside her and groaned. It was enough.
Lying together afterwards, she was so glad to have his arms around her that she could not find words to thank him. Instead she pulled the sheet over them both and hoped he understood the gesture.