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Through The Mist
The steam seemed to cloud his vision and ensnare his senses, for surely she had never looked this lovely? Or perhaps it was hugging her and creating that effect of timeless beauty that always prevailed. Her bushy, brown hair blew violently in the wind, as did the red skirt around her tanned legs. He watched her lower her arm slowly as she finished waving to the train which had just disappeared behind a bend, and it seemed an eternity before she turned around, searched the platform and finally met his intense stare.
She smiled again. 'Me too.' She pressed her lips against his, then, when the kiss was over, walked over to the kitchen to make them an omelette. Draco sighed and sat down on the sofa, wondering how the simple sight of Hermione Granger Weasley could be enough to provoke so much doubt.
Present Wives And Future Ones
’Revealing a stunning emerald and diamond ring, Miss Asteria Greengrass proceeded to announce her engagement and upcoming wedding to Mr Draco Malfoy. The happy and rumoured event will take place in December after two years of what Miss Greengrass describes as “bliss”. It is her first marriage and Mr Malfoy’s second after an unsuccesful first attempt which nevertheless bore Mr Malfoy’s first and only child, Scorpius.’
Absent And Future Husbands
Hermione heard the front door close and she leaned her head towards the cool surface of the table. She did not have the strength to cry; she had cried so many times already, it simply seemed a waste. He had not asked her what she wanted, but then her answer would have been unacceptable, for it was now quite clear to her what it was: she wanted Draco.
If he lifted it just a bit higher, just a bit higher, he would be taken to her. There was a possibility of seeing her now, there, of just crossing mere centimetres of thin air and pushing a damn button. It was so easy.
Rose opened her mouth, then closed it, apparently not knowing what to say. She turned around and started walking out into the rain. The instant she left the forest, her clothes were soaked. She seemed to remember something and turned back to face him. Her eyes were flashing and her red hair stuck to her face in the rain. Every curve of her body was visible as the wet clothes clung to her skin.
The Platform Again
He walked up to her as close as possible without being seen, taking a moment to fully look at her. Her hair was a lanky mess and her body was shaking in the cold. She had not moved her arms, still wrapped firmly around herself. He took a deep breath and a step forward. His hand moved forwards and touched her right shoulder. She turned slowly, putting a smile on her face, which froze the moment she faced him.
Hermione's head darted up, and for a split second he thought he managed to see a ghost of a smile on her face. He stood there, out of breath and panting, his eyes alight as he devoured the sight of her. She laid the glass down on the nearest table, stood up and returned his gaze with the same intensity. Words were not needed. They had never been needed.
He was resolute, determined; he did not care what anyone thought anymore, he and Hermione belonged together. They needed each other more than they had needed anyone else, and that was all that mattered. But he did worry about hurting Asteria - she had done nothing to deserve it. His heart heavy in his chest, he rang the doorbell.
For Your Troubles
The fact that she was the one saying these words convinced him of their truth, and his heart warmed considerably against his chest as he let himself be reassured that he was not, perhaps, to be blamed after all. Gratitude swelled up inside him as he eyed her beautiful face, the comforting curves of her cheeks and the depth of her eyes. How could he tell her how much this meant to him?
She did not answer. Her head fell back as she kissed him lightly on the lips; he hoped it would lead to other, more intense, distracting kisses, but was disappointed; she picked up her shoes and walked out of the bedroom. A few moments later, he could hear the door close and knew that she was gone.
Let Me Make Your Tears My Souvenirs
As if she felt someone watching, Rose turned her head a fraction and her eyes locked with his persistent gaze. She lowered her fingers from her lips and her expression turned from sombre to surprised to something else. Of course, he could be wrong, but Scorpius instinctively felt that she was telling him something. She was telling him, without words, 'Yes. I was thinking about you.' He was so certain of it.
Something Not Quite There
I miss you. I want to see you.
A Losing Battle
But Hermione was speechless as well. Infuriated, Rose leapt at the desk and dove for the letter, that one fragment of evidentiary shape that proved, in writing, what Scorpius and Hermione had tried to hide. His dizzying panic was replaced by dull disbelief. It was not acceptance, but it was not far from it; it was insight, truth, reality.
Hermione started as she heard the door swing open. The couch she was sitting on did not face the entrance, but she did not budge, knowing whom it was. She was indulging in memories, painful though it was, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. The hand clenched as its body bent over and a pair of lips brushed over Hermione’s ear.
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