Note: With all the issues that ffnet has been having lately, I recommend readers check out my fics on AO3. You can find them under "MissiAmphetamine (Kaleidoscope)". I'll continue updating here for now, but going forward with new fics and completing other old fics, I may not post them here until they're finished. I hope to see you on AO3!
44.
They lay side by side again, both panting and sweaty again, Hermione's bandaged, healing knee sore, and her insides feeling somehow pleasantly pummelled. She didn't think she'd ever been so satisfied in her life.
"That was not how I imagined it when I was eighteen," Malfoy said breathlessly, and Hermione could see from his profile that he was grinning at the ceiling, fine lines crinkling at the corner of his one visible eye.
"Well, to be fair, Harry and Ron weren't here to complete the fantasy for you," Hermione said pertly, giddy, her inevitable niggling guilt not having set in yet. Malfoy huffed a laugh, his shoulders shaking and his hand coming up to cover his eyes as he laughed nearly silently.
"Salazar's sake. Sometimes you surprise me, Granger."
"Good." She smiled to herself. Blissfully happy, she could just lie there all afternoon and into the evening. But time was wearing on, as the changing sunlight streaming in the window showed, and her dad was expecting her before dinner – and after what had happened, if she wasn't on time, he'd worry. And besides that, she needed to pee. And shower. She rolled over to face Malfoy, propping herself up on one elbow and kissing his cheek. "Nice to know I'm not entirely predictable."
"Only when it comes to your work ethic," he said, tucking a fall of hair behind her ear and kissing her slow and sweet, sending shivers of pleasure tumbling through her. His lips were plush and soft, hand cradling her cheek. "I love you," he said gravely when they drew apart, and his eyes were soft and serious. Vulnerable. As though he was baring his throat to her blade, and tension hung in the air. Hermione swallowed hard, voice feeling oddly tight as she responded.
"I love you, Draco."
He smiled, contentment evident in every line of him as he watched her stand, naked and trying to be unselfconscious as she searched out clean clothes from her dresser. His voice was a drawl, nearly sleepy and thick with satiation. "You called me that before. While my dick was buried in your pretty, wet pussy."
Hermione blushed hot as his words penetrated. "I did." She shot him a glance as she fished a pale peach bra out of her drawer. "And I – I can call you Draco all the time, if you like. I don't really have a preference, I just like how you call me Granger, and –"
"I don't care what you call me," he said dismissively as he got off the bed with an easy grace, stretching. "Malfoy is fine if you like it, Granger." His lips quirked in an endearing smile as he said her name, and his musculature did lovely things as he stretched. Flat stomach caving, muscles in his shoulders and arms shifting mesmerisingly, his thighs tensing as he sat on the edge of the bed and bent forward to collect his discarded clothes from their pile on the ground. He shot her a glance as she stood there clutching her clothes to her chest. "Merlin, you're beautiful."
"Flatterer," she accused as Malfoy crossed the room to her, his clothes left abandoned on the bed. "Do you want to jump in the shower with me? I'm not going to my father's stinking of sex and sweat." She grinned up at him, still giddy. Still so ridiculously happy.
"You are beautiful. It's not flattery. And you smell amazing," he said, sliding his arms around her and nuzzling her throat, and his skin was warm and smooth except at his jaw, which was faintly scratchy. "Positively debauched."
"Mm, well, I don't want my dad smelling debauchery on me," she said dryly as he released her. "So I'm showering. If you want to join me –" and then she narrowed her eyes on him as he smirked wickedly, tongue curling behind his teeth "– but no sex. Or we'll never leave the house. And we have responsibilities. Places to be. And rules, and –" she began, but she was breathless as she thought about sex with Malfoy in the shower, and her words stuttered into nothing. Malfoy's smirk lingered.
"I won't start anything," he said slyly, "but I'm not so sure you can resist. You keep breaking your own rules."
"They're on hiatus!" she protested, holding in a smile as she made for the door still clutching her clothes. "Wait here – I have to pee first and the toilet's in the bathroom. I don't need an audience."
"Mmph. Granger. You know, I might have a fantasy about that," he said wickedly, and Hermione froze and shot him a shocked look over her shoulder, only to see him wheezing with silent laughter. "I'm kidding. I'm kidding. Merlin, your face." She eyed him suspiciously; his lips twitching as he tried to straighten his expression out, one elbow leaning on the tall dresser, little bubbles of laughter escaping him.
"Sure," she said, drawing the word out. "I've got my eye on you. Weirdo," she added and Malfoy snickered. He looked happy and carefree in the fading afternoon sun, crinkles at the corners of his eyes as he leaned on the dresser, beautiful and lean, the Dark Mark a faded shadow on his forearm, nearly invisible in the light. She poked out her tongue on impulse, and then scurried through to the bathroom, her happiness a tangible thing, bursting like a nova in her chest.
She couldn't resist.
Once they apparated to her father's, they would have to go back to their usual routine. Comporting themselves faultlessly. Assuaging the guilt that Hermione felt as a mother and still married woman, who had failed at marriage and – together with Ron, because it was just as much his fault – split her childrens' family unit up. Who had slept with a married man while she was married. Who had been pasted in the press, humiliatingly, as the rumoured muggleborn mistress to an ex-Death Eater. And who, without the rules, would probably never be able to drag herself out of bed with him, or would end up getting caught in a terribly compromising position.
No. Until she and Malfoy were both properly free, the rules were a necessary evil, Hermione thought distractedly, as a moan wobbled out of her throat. But she couldn't resist.
Hermione's back was pressed to the tiled shower wall, her thighs over Malfoy's shoulders as he knelt there on the tiles. His hands were under her arse, holding her up securely as he ate her out as if she were cake and it was his birthday, the water beating down on both of them, her hands twisting in his wet hair. She came on his open mouth, twitching and wailing, her thighs trembling and her whole body wracked with tension. Then he let her down into his lap, his arms shaking from the effort of holding her up, and she tasted herself on his tongue as she kissed him, sloppy and eager, her heart thundering.
Then Hermione was on her knees, Malfoy's cock thick in her mouth, her lips stretched wide to encompass it all, sucking enthusiastically, little sparks of aftershocks still going off between her legs. His hand was in her drenched, bedraggled hair now, his eyes gleaming darkly as he watched her take his cock in. Despite himself, his hips thrust out now and then, making her gag and him apologise in a strangled voice. Hints of precum were bitter on her tongue as she sucked and swirled, right hand playing with his balls, and occasionally sliding up to work the shaft too – there was just barely too much of him to take him all in her mouth no matter how hard she tried. And she tried, despite his weak protests that she really didn't have to – choking herself on his cock and loving the stifled whimpers and groans she dragged out of him as he slumped back against the wall, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.
Malfoy's cock thrummed and pulsed in her hand and her mouth as she swallowed around it, throat convulsively clenching down. Hermione could feel the blood rushing through it, always a bizarre, heady feeling. He was so hard it was like iron, almost as if he was wearing a cock ring – something Ron had experimented with in recent years, to Hermione's general enjoyment – and knowing just how ridiculously hard she was making him made her even wetter. Her cunt was clenching occasionally as though it was desperate for his cock, and she could feel her own juices trickling down the inside of her thighs before the water washed it away.
He watched her intently as he slumped back against the tiles, eyes narrowed, looking both wrecked and dangerous. She could feel the twitch and jump of his cock as his pelvic muscles spasmed involuntarily when she did something he particularly liked, and she grinned around it, and sucked harder. "Hhngh, Salazar's sake, Granger," he gasped as she swallowed around him again. "It's not – not that it doesn't feel amazing, but – but be careful of your throat. You're r-recovering. Fuck."
"Ngh, 'm f'ne," Hermione insisted, and determinedly kept going. Although she did ease back a little, after a while longer. Her throat was a little sore. Not that she'd admit it, when Malfoy was clearly loving this so much.
But he wouldn't let Hermione make him come that way – no, Malfoy pulled her to her feet and kissed her again, as greedy and graceless as if he were drunk on her. He turned her so that they both got the water spray, raining over one side each, her other side cold. She knew he must be able to taste the traces of his precum but he just cupped her face in his hands, fingers sliding around to the nape of her neck, tongue slipping between her lips, before he suckled gently on her tongue, making tingles cascade through her.
"I very badly want to fuck you again," he murmured against her mouth then, and her cunt twitched involuntarily with arousal and want, muscles contracting. "But we don't have the Muggle contraceptives. Should – should I go get them?" He sounded like he was finding it very hard to think. She could sympathise.
"It's fine, it'll be fine," Hermione said breathlessly, clinging to him, "just as long as you pull out in time."
"Fuck. Okay," he muttered with a grim kind of focus. "I can do that," he got out, as if he wasn't entirely sure he could, but Hermione figured they could deal with that afterwards if need be. Buy a contraceptive potion from Place Cachée, maybe, where they'd be less likely to be recognised. But she didn't really care, at that point. If Malfoy pumped her full of his cum and then told her there was no way to mitigate the risk of pregnancy, Hermione was far gone enough that she'd probably thank him, spread her legs, and beg for more. Her head was spinning, and she was drunk on him, euphoric, craving, mindless.
He spun her around, pushing her face first up against the wall, the tiles chill on her breasts, fingers slipping between her labia and parting the slick folds, before – oh – his cock pushed into her in one swift motion. "Oh God," she moaned on a squeak, feeling like she was being impaled as he adjusted her and then thrust up again. "Ngggh, oh, careful," she gasped as it felt like tenderness was radiating deep through her belly, like the sun. "G-gentle."
"Gentle," Malfoy acknowledged, and moved slower and shallower, and oh , it felt so infuriatingly teasing. It only took a few moments before Hermione just wanted it hard and deep again, even with the pain. She whined needily, like a dog, her cheek mushed against the tiled wall. "Better?" he asked, his mouth to her ear and a smug kind of amusement in his voice, as if he knew.
"N-no," Hermione gasped, giving in immediately. "No, not better. Fuck. I want it – want it like before. Please, Malfoy," she babbled, and he obliged with a low chuckle that made her hairs stand on end and her skin prickle all over. He fucked her hard and steady, and she could feel him so deep, so thick, and she pushed back against him, her screams shredding broken and rattling from her throat, any words she managed to form entirely garbled and incoherent. He pulled out – she protested frantically – and then spun her around, hefting her up in his arms.
"If you drop me I'll kill you," she gasped, clinging to him for dear life, wet arms around his neck and thighs gripping his waist, and he laughed.
"I won't drop you, Granger."
"But the floor is wet, it's slipper– ohhh..." His cock slid into her so easily, and her protests died in her throat, stuttering out into a series of moans. She clung to him hard as he fucked into her, Hermione's back pinned to the wall, her breasts crushed between them, his fingers digging deep into the flesh of her arse. He kissed her temple, and her cheek, ear, mouth – buried his face against her neck and nipped at her skin, whispering filthy, sweet nothings to her in a ragged voice. How he loved her, how sexy she was, how he wanted to make her feel so, so good.
Malfoy held Hermione up with a steadiness that made her feel safe, and she forgot her precarious position in his arms as pleasure slammed through her; an avalanche, a tsunami, a force of nature. Slumping in his arms, malleable and moaning, her head tipped back against the wall, sprays of water splattering into her open mouth, eyes slitted against the droplets, but she could see him. Pupils blotting out the grey of his irises, water dripping off his nose, his mouth twisted with effort and enjoyment, an oddly focused expression on his face. His sweet nothings devolved into panting, and throaty little grunts that made her tingle to her fingertips, her cunt hurting deliciously, her world reduced to him.
She was a whimpering wreck by the time Malfoy finally made a soft, frantic sound, and lifted her off his cock. He nearly dropped her as he let her down too fast and clumsy, and her legs wobbled under her like a newborn colt's as she fell back against the wall, slick skin squeaking on the tiles. His hand was on his cock now, jerking it, and he ducked his head down to hers, Hermione's fingers burying in his hair as she lifted her face to him, kissing him hard and needy as he came all over her stomach.
Running late, but I'm on my way now. See you soon. Love you!
"There. Now he knows I'm fine." Hermione smiled at Malfoy as she put her phone on the dresser, drying her hair with a wordless charm and groaning as it fluffed out, like a puffskein's fur. She was dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt on under her cream jersey with the blue and orange fairisle, and she smelt faintly of floral perfume. She looked normal – put together again. She felt shaky. Wrecked. Deliciously sated. Malfoy smiled faintly, amusement in the look as he buttoned down his waistcoat. "What?"
"Your hair," he said, fondness in the tone. "It's like you have a wild creature on your head." He paused, as if waiting for the indignant reaction he received – a glare and a harsh, derisive sound in the back of her throat – before he went on. "I love it."
"Hm, well, I don't," she said as she disappeared back into the bathroom, slathering it with Sleekeazy's and then quickly dragging it into a side plait as she wandered back through to the bedroom, casting a sharp eye around.
Hermione had packed her purse with the Undetectable Extension charm on it – mostly with casual clothes, as she wasn't supposed to be working this week, but she'd thrown in a few work things too, and clothes Malfoy could take her out to lunch in, as well as toiletries and other essentials. She'd changed the bedsheets with a spell, she'd disposed of the condoms by shoving them down the very bottom of the kitchen rubbish bin wrapped in some paper towel, and she'd scourgified the bathroom.
All traces of Malfoy's presence and what they'd done had been erased from the house. It made Hermione a little sad. The pleasant tenderness in her lower abdomen was a lovely reminder though. He was shrugging on his frock-coat, looking elegant and composed – entirely unruffled, as if he hadn't just screwed her until they were both spent and wobbly. He smiled at her, eyes warm, and she remembered one last thing. The necklace. Hermione laid it out on the top of the dresser and flourished her wand, muttering a charm under her breath. There. It was mended and clean – but empty. She found the tanzanite pendant in its jewellery box and swapped the two out, nestling the empty vial in the velvet lined box and tucking it in her purse. "Could you?" She slid it around her neck, turning her back to Malfoy.
His hands brushed warm against her skin, careful as he hooked the clasp. "I'll brew you more felix felicis, when I get the opportunity, Granger."
"No rush," she said and turned to face him, planting a soft kiss on his jaw, her arms sliding up around his neck. "It's already served its purpose. Saving my life."
"Just barely," he said grimly, one hand cradling her jaw as the other found her waist, as if he needed to reassure himself that she was really safe in his arms. "I'm glad Potter gave you that ring." Hermione had complained half-heartedly that it was overkill at the time, when Harry had presented it to her, but inwardly, she was rather glad too. It was security. A safety net. Although not exactly ideal.
"I feel a little exposed now," she said with a sigh. "Now the Auror office can track my every move, if they want."
"Mm. We'd better be on our best behaviour then." He tucked a loose curl back behind her ear. "No more secret assignations at my house." He gave her a wry smile, and Hermione's stomach flipped, her body insisting she wanted more , even though she was sore and worn out. After today she wished they'd been having secret assignations all this time. It would have been nearly worth being found out, and plastered all over the papers. Nearly. "I doubt they'll be tracking your every move anyway, Granger."
"You don't know Harry. He'll have some young intern glued to the map, keeping tabs on me constantly for the next month, I'm sure."
"I'll have to thank him, if that's the case," Malfoy said unhelpfully, kissing her forehead. "Personally I still want to get a phone and a Muggle tracker to plant on you, so I can keep an eye on you constantly myself."
"God, Malfoy." She huffed a laugh, thwapping his arm and drawing away from him, scooping up her purse, hands on her hips as she surveyed the bedroom one last time. "That makes you sound like such a stalker. Or a controlling boyfriend." She said it with a smile to take the sting out of her words. He didn't smile; expression sobering as he stood with his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels slightly, entirely focused on her.
"I worry," he said softly, his eyes catching the late afternoon light and flaring icy pale, his hair shining almost white. "You're so exposed. Everyone knows who you are, and where you live. Where your father is, your children. Although I suppose at Hogwarts they're a safe as they can be. But – any criminal with a bent for vengeance could do this again." There was strain running beneath Malfoy's words, but resignation as well; Hermione could see he already knew she wasn't going to do anything drastic like quit her job, or hide away. He sighed, running a hand through hs air, shoulders slumping. "Sorry. I'm being pushy, I know. I just want to know you're safe."
"Well, I have the ring now. And when we buy you a phone, I'll add you to my family location sharing plan," Hermione said over her shoulder, compromising easily as she drew the bedroom blinds so the sun didn't fade the wallpaper and bedding while she was gone. She couldn't blame Malfoy for wanting to know he had a way to find her if need be; she knew she'd feel the same way if their situation was reversed. To be honest she'd probably happily wear some kind of tracking jewellery if it reassured Malfoy. The Auror office was already tracking her after all, and doubling up on magical and Muggle methods wasn't a bad idea – except she didn't think it was needed, and anything tasteful and discreet would likely be ridiculously priced.
"Besides, everyone involved in – in what happened is either dead or awaiting trial," she added, making her voice firm when it wanted to waver. Hermione refused to be cowed by what had happened to her. She'd survived, and Usbourne was dead. She'd won, and he'd lost. There was no reason to be frightened. "And in seven years, I've never once had this happen before – or anything even close to it. And I doubt it's likely to happen again."
Malfoy made a non-committal sound, obviously unconvinced. "The phone location sounds good," he agreed though, making his own compromise. "As long as I can work out how to use the bloody thing."
"You'll be fine. If Ron can figure it out, I'm fairly certain you can, Malfoy," she said, knowing that would goad him to master the use of Muggle technology like nothing else. She double-checked Ron's bedside drawer had been set back to rights. She could only imagine the mortification and trouble it would cause if Ron knew she'd used his condoms for Malfoy. Irritatingly, Malfoy had been right; she already felt bad about it. There was something altogether uncomfortable about the fact that she'd had sex with another man in her and Ron's bedroom, even if they were separated. Hermione didn't regret it – God, she couldn't regret that – but she did feel guilty over it. "It only took Ron a week to figure out his phone when he first got one. Of course, I suppose they were much more basic back then."
"I know what you're doing, Granger," Malfoy said, amused, as he trailed out of the bedroom after her, taking her purse from her in a gentlemanly fashion.
"Is it working?"
He laughed. "Yes, annoyingly."
"Excellent," she said as she flicked off the bathroom exhaust vent. "Maybe we can go phone shopping on Tuesday after you've taken me to lunch.
"Are you sure you'll be feeling well enough to go out?" he asked solicitously as he looked down at her, hand light at the small of her back.
Hermione shot him a smirk. "If I can manage what we just did, Malfoy, I'm sure I can manage a sedate lunch and a little light shopping." He looked suddenly very pleased and smug, radiating the unmistakeable air of a man who knew he'd just satisfied a woman very thoroughly. It was sweet. And then the stairs loomed up in front of her, and Hermione's feet froze right at the head of them as she stared at the wall beyond. Smooth and utterly unmarked, but despite its blankness it was still what she'd slammed into, thrown by Ciaran's depulso. Her breath caught.
"Merlin's pants," she muttered angrily, annoyed with herself as she found it impossible to tear her eyes away, her pulse racing and spots dancing in her vision. She clutched at Malfoy blindly, suddenly afraid she was going to fall, but he was already slipping an arm around her, steadying her and holding her close. An anchor.
"I love how you swear like a child, Granger," Malfoy said inanely, tone light. "Come on. Eyes on the stairs or I'll have to carry you, and that sounds like a recipe for disaster."
"You – you could levitate me," Hermione said automatically, eyes still fixed on that blank, off-white wall. She remembered painting it when they first moved in – the Muggle way, save a bit of cheating. Farrow & Ball Off-White No. 3; a classic, and an improvement over the faded pink and green striped wallpaper that had been there before.
"I'm not levitating you when we both have working legs, Granger," he said dryly, with forced lightness, squeezing her around her shoulders and then waving her purse in front of her face, making her blink and refocus. She looked up at him, her eyes finding his; silvery grey irises ringed with charcoal. So pretty. "There we go," he said with a faint, worried smile. "Now, am I going to have to put blinders on you like a nervy thestral to get you down these stairs, or are you going to pull yourself together?" He was somehow gentle and goading at once.
Hermione huffed in indignation – which was probably his plan in hindsight – and took the first step to spite him, her hand clutching the bannister. And once she'd done that, the fear and fixation was suddenly gone; vanquished, for now at least. A nervy thestral? Blinders? She scowled to herself as she reached the turn in the stairs, Malfoy right behind her, and then a ridiculous thought occurred to her and she huffed a laugh. "I hope putting blinders on me and turning me into a pony isn't one of your fantasies, Malfoy," she said slyly, glancing back at him as she took the next step, and was pleased when she surprised an undignified snort of laughter out of him.
"Well, it wasn't," he said, amused, from directly behind her. "But now you mention it, the idea isn't entirely unappealing." She reached the bottom of the stairs and began to collect up her things from the end table – handbag, phone, keys – as Malfoy made a contemplative sound. "Where and how exactly, would one attach the tail, in that scenario?" he mused aloud, and Hermione's cheeks flamed up as she shot him a look, slinging her handbag over her shoulder.
"Oh for – I know that you know, Malfoy," she said tartly as he smirked at her boyishly, hands shoved back in his pockets and eyes bright and sharp. "Don't play coy."
"And how exactly do you know?" He raised a dark blond eyebrow. "Don't tell me you and Weasley –" and then he stopped himself and looked slightly sick. "Actually, never mind. Don't tell me."
"Jesus, Malfoy." She shot him an aghast stare, suddenly wondering what he must think of her. " No! No I've never...I'm really very vanilla, to be honest." She bit her lip. "I hope that's not an issue."
He eyed her. "I don't know, Granger. I'd have to know what 'vanilla' means first."
She laughed nervously as she checked the front door was locked, and turned the kitchen appliances off at the wall. "Right. Sometimes I forget which slang belongs where. Um." She paused by the breakfast bar. "Sexually unadventurous, I suppose?"
"You seemed plenty adventurous to me today, Granger." His smile could've melted her bones – as it was, she felt a sudden slickness between her legs as she crossed the room to him. It was a brief flash of a grin; wicked with a hint of teeth, his tongue curled behind them somehow tantalisingly, his eyes dark and intent. "So no, I don't think that you being vanilla will be a problem." He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck, looking almost rueful as she led the way to the garage. "For all my rich inner life, I don't think I'm particularly gagging for anything unusual."
"Oh?" she asked distractedly as she turned to face him, standing pressed up against the car.
"No." He stood very close to her, his mouth to her ear, and a delicious tension rippled down her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as she stared at his chest, his hand gliding light over her waist. His lips fastened over her earlobe, and then his tongue swiped up the shell of her ear and she squeaked and wriggled, only for his hand to clamp down around her waist, holding her still. A bolt of arousal shot straight through her at that; the strength in his hand, and the low almost-growl he made in her ear. She shivered noticeably and he chuckled. "Your pretty cunt is all I could ever want, Granger," he murmured and then caught her mouth.
She moaned into the kiss, a shameless, wobbling sound as his tongue slid between her parted lips and over the edges of her top teeth, making a delicious, twisting desire squirm through her belly. Oh God. He'd done it again; at this rate they were never going to make it to her father's flat. Hermione grabbed him with both hands – one fisting in his hair and the other grabbing his shoulder – and lifted her leg up, hooking it mindlessly around the back of his legs as she slicked her tongue against his with a breathless enthusiasm. They both overbalanced slightly, and she fell back against the car with him pressing onto her –
And the car alarm went off, and Hermione nearly had a heart attack.
To his credit, after an initial shocked look as he pulled free of her and made a grab for his wand, Malfoy realised it was just the car. He sagged back against the wall, hand pressed to his chest and erection still gamely pushing out against his trousers, laughing weakly as Hermione scrabbled through her handbag for the key fob, swearing under her breath the whole time. The sound was horribly loud in the tiny space, and when Hermione finally dug out the fob and clicked it, the silence was deafening. Malfoy broke it. "Merlin's sake, what was that?"
"The alarm," she said, giggling a little. "Muggle Caterwaul Charm. Shit. I think I nearly died of fright."
"Mm. That'll get the heart pumping," he said, still snickering himself, both of them probably a little giddy from the shock of the alarm.
"Not that you needed it." She looked pointedly at his crotch. "Your heart seems to be pumping blood just fine." He shamelessly readjusted himself while she shamelessly watched, and wished she was the one handling it. Christ. Hermione needed to have a word with herself sharpish; she should have been at her father's ages ago, and instead she was busy snogging in the garage. Pathetic. And it had to stop at some point; it wasn't Christmas yet, and she still didn't plan on abandoning her rules. Besides, twice weekly lunches and occasional meetings in her office weren't so bad. She groaned; what was she thinking? They were terrible. Nowhere near enough. But on the other hand, it forced them to take it slow. To get to know each other. To talk things out. So maybe it wasn't so bad.
If not for the rules, Hermione thinks she might just fall headlong into fucking him, and never come up for air. And while that was tempting – so tempting – it wasn't exactly the basis for a healthy long-term relationship. Ugh. What unpleasantly pragmatic thoughts.
She sighed and he examined her face, and his laughter smoothed out as if he'd read her thoughts printed on her forehead. He sighed too, and nodded, expression gentle.
"Well then. Come on, Granger," he said, pushing off the wall and smoothing his clothes, adjusting his grip on her beaded purse. "We'd better disapparate to your father's."