You never see things from my point of view! You aren't the only one who lost someone, Hermione!

Grief is still grief, whether you lose someone physically or not, Ronald!

I can't keep doing this

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said half the things I said. Come here, look, let's just go to bed and make love and everything will feel better in the morning.

Ron! You've got to see this!

It's beautiful here.

How does Grand Hyatt Berlin sound? It says here it's a 5-star hotel with a large rooftop spa and pool and spectacular views of Berlin

Let's see? suites feature the latest B&O TVs and hot drinks facilities. The marble bathrooms include flat-screen TVs, and free WiFi, yea that suits me!

You're being ridiculous!

Fuck sake Hermione, you know what? You're fucking hard work. I never had half this shit with Lavender!

Hermione, talk to me. Seriously, it's been a week now.

You're beautiful and I really don't deserve you.

Hermione woke with a start, drenched in sweat and tangled in sheets that were so tight around her slight frame they practically cut off her circulation.

She hadn't dreamt about him in a while, but when she did the dreams were always a vivid mosaic of memories. It always made her feel slightly nauseated when she awoke.

She glanced at the clock. 03:24. Marvellous, she thought, glaring at the clock as she rose from the bed. She padded over to her ensuite bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked tired. Not just from a lack of sleep but from life in general.

Her fingers touched the lines that had appeared by her eyes and the corners of her mouth, poking her face as she scruitinised her reflection in the mirror.

She had expected the war to have an effect on her. It had made them all grow up far too quickly. She hadn't banked on the after having such a profound impact on her.

Throwing caution to the wind after the dust of the final battle had settled had been an oxymoron of sorts for Hermione Granger. But that's exactly what it felt like she was doing when she and Ron found themselves at London, Gatwick with nothing but their passports and a muggle credit card on the 1st of September that year. Originally she had planned to take up McGongal's invitation to return to complete her studies. However at the last minute, Ron had convinced her instead of going to King's Cross to board the train, to head to Gatwick and board a plane. Any plane. It didn't matter where. It had all been rather surreal and the next thing she knew she was handing over her credit card in the lobby of Grand Hôtel du Palais Royal, Paris. They had stayed in Paris for six weeks, staying in 3 different hotels. Ron had a knack for getting them kicked out of hotels it seemed. In the beginning it had been because the guests in neighbouring rooms didn't appreciate the raucous sound of their lovemaking when he forgot to cast a silencio. Towards the end of their travels it was because the guests in the neighbouring rooms didn't appreciate the raucous sound of their arguing.

Hermione turned on the shower and held her hand under it to gauge the temperature. She hated sleeping when she was drenched in the cold sweat that accompanied her dreams. Leaving her gown pooled on the floor where it landed, she stepped under the warm water and allowed it to beat on the back of her shoulders, soothing her tired muscles. As she relaxed, she allowed her mind to drift aimlessly. She thought of Paris and how much she had loved their hotel room and realised she was a little disappointed that here in Berlin they had adjoining rooms rather than an actual shared suite. Although he did spend most of his time in her room and the rooms were next to each other so that was practically the same thing right? She thought of how much they had fought in the beginning, and while they still fought, they seemed to get on better between the arguments than in the beginning. It was odd, she marvelled, how it was almost the opposite to her experience of visiting European cities with Ron. She thought about the argument the night he had sliced his hand open. She still didn't know why she had given into that kiss. It wasn't that he was a bad kisser. He wasn't. His kisses ignited a fire deep in her and caused her to feel her sex dampen her knickers, making her feel brazen. It wasn't about his past. Not anymore. And it wasn't just that she didn't want to be another notch on the infamous bedpost of what the other girls in her Gryffindor dormitory had referred to as the 'Sexy Silver Trio' that consisted of the hottest of the Slytherin bad boys: Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott. It wasn't just because she didn't want to jeopardise the case for the sake of a quick fuck-however satisfying that might turn out to be. If she really drilled down to the crux of the matter and allowed herself to identify the emotion she was feeling, it was about fear. Fear of throwing caution to the wind. She had done that before and look what happened.

But then she thought of the hurt she had seen in his eyes, albeit briefly, and she wondered if it would be just a quick fuck and whether he was likely to hurt her like Ron had.

Thinking about his eyes prompted thoughts of the other looks she had caught him giving her and the way her sex ached a little with unbridled arousal and felt the same desire build in her now.

She reached a hand down and teasingly ran her finger along her damp slit, moaning slightly as she flicked over her clit. She gently rolled it around under the pad of her finger, moaning a little more as the tingling increased. Feeling a little more daring, she added a little more pressure as she started to move in little circles, her left hand coming up to roll her nipple between her thumb and two fingers. She moaned, her speed increasing with her desire.

Draco rolled over and glanced at the clock on the bedside table, unaware of what had actually woken him from his dreamless sleep. 03:36. He listened for a moment, knowing his wand was next to the clock should he need it, trying to ascertain what had woken him. Hearing nothing, he closed his eyes.

In the next room, the shower went on and he felt the gentle rumble through the head of the bed as the water heated up. He tried to picture the layout of the hotel rooms in his mind and established that it was Granger who had decided, for whatever reason, to have a shower at this ungodly hour.

The sound of running water in the room next door was enough to stop him from going back to sleep. Eyes shut, his cock twitched as he thought of her naked in the shower. He tried to ignore his growing desire. For a moment, he wondered if his mind was taunting him. Then he heard it again, a little louder. His eyes opened and he listened. There was no mistaking it that time. He groaned and put the pillow over his head but it was futile. His cock throbbed at the sound. He removed the pillow from his head and clutched it to his chest, indecisively. Next door, in the shower, Hermione moaned again.

He threw the pillow across the room.

Then he thought wryly

If you can't beat them, join them.