Bustling about the room, emptying the dressers and pacing in and out of the two rooms of the suite, Hermione set about packing in preparation for their trip to Rotterdam. Having overslept due to the migraine that had knocked her near-unconscious last night, they were now running late.
"You should have woken me!" she cried exasperated, as she took items out of the last draw in her bedroom and brought them to the suitcase she had in the middle of the floor in the area that had been their workroom for the last month.
"You looked like fucking shit last night, Granger" he muttered, reading that day's edition of Spiegel he had procured from the lobby while she slept. "You clearly needed the extra 'beauty sleep'. He drawled sarcastically.
Actually, he was concerned she was making herself sick over the case. He was frustrated yes, but she was overworking herself into a state of sever enervation.
"Charming!" she hissed, aiming a balled up pair of socks at his head.
The socks hit their target and she smirked as he glared at her over the top of the newspaper.
"Seaker skills not on par today then?" she grinned, no malice in her eyes.
At least this didn't appear to be the start of another row, he thought, his expression turning to one of amusement.
The bill for this hotel would be considerably less, he thought as he made a mental note of the damaged items:
One mirror
Two glass tumblers
Four throw cushions
One vase (not Ming)
He had almost had a coronary on the spot when they checked out of the hotel in Paris and the clerk had handed him the bill. He could afford it, no question, he just hadn't realised how costly it was to have Granger as a travel companion. Thank Merlin and all the stars above for the Malfoy-Black vaults the sum of which rendered his Ministry pay cheque mere pocket change.
"We still have to book a hotel and its almost 9am!" she huffed, grabbing the laptop.
"You know you could do something useful!" she cried, dropping it unceremoniously in his lap, the newspaper crumpling underneath it.
He glared at her back as she stormed off to the bathroom to gather her things.
"Seriously," he thought, opening the laptop up. "How long can it take one girl to pack?!"
A few taps and clicks later and he was staring at the google list, bracing himself for the reaction he had now come to expect.
"The Manhattan Hotel Rotterdam?" he called, his fingers poised over the button.
He heard her drop several items on the bathroom floor.
"No" she called out.
He scrolled down without question. She wouldn't tell him anyway he thought.
"Hilton Rotterdam?" he tried, waiting for her reply.
Silence.
"Hermione?..." he called, looking towards the bathroom. From his vantage point, he could see through the open door of her room and into the bathroom, where she stood with her hands gripped on the edge of the porcelain sink.
"Somewhere else" he just about heard her reply.
"Restaurant Hotel & Spa Savarin?" he called, watching to see her reaction. He saw her seem to relax, turning on the tap and splashing the icy water on her face. He waited while she patted her face dry with the little hand towel before coming into the room.
"Yea, that one is ok" she sighed, coming to sit next to him on the couch.
"Hermione…" he whispered, as she took the laptop to have a look at the little pictures that google offered. "Are you…" he began.
"I'm fine" she replied, cutting him off, eyes fixed on the screen.
"No" he pressed "you're not, but that wasn't what I was going to ask" he placed a hand on her forearm gently.
"What?" she asked, ignoring his hand, eyes still focused on the screen.
"Are you going to tell me…" he began, gently rubbing her arm.
"No" she whispered, still focused on the screen.
He half expected her to thrust the laptop back at him and resume her frenzied packing or bolt away at his touch and hide from him like she did the night of their second kiss. He stared at the hand she had healed. Silently she clicked and scrolled before pulling up the booking page. For a moment she hesitated, her fingers hovering above the keys. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as she considered her next sentence.
"I want to" she whispered "If only because I realise on a conscious, rational, logical, not screaming-constant-rowing, level, that it isn't fair to not but…"
"Only tell me what you are comfortable telling me" he whispered "I am here for you if you need someone, but only tell me what you are comfortable with" his grey eyes clouding over with concern as she met his gaze with her chocolate brown orbs. Covering his hand with her own, she gave him a small grateful smile
"Thanks" she whispered.