Second Chances

Hermione sat with her legs crossed in her leather recliner. She hadn’t bothered to turn any lights on, she didn’t want to have to see what she knew was there. The fire glowed gently away, it needed more fuel but she couldn’t muster the energy to do it. She stared into the room, seeing nothing. She knew she’d turned the CD player on but she couldn’t hear it. All that lasted in her mind was the image of Harry as he pulled away from her. The feeling of fear that he wouldn’t have been able to stop, control himself before Molly returned.

How had this happened to her? She was once such prude, the first to admit so. How had Harry found a way behind that façade? Turned her into nothing more than his whore? That’s how she felt, like he used her for sex. She knew from speaking with Ginny he was getting it with her. She’d originally wanted to wait for the wedding night but apparently Harry could be very persuasive. Hermione knew first hand that that was true. She shivered as she realised how easily they had both betrayed those around them. Was that who they had become? Was that what the war had done to them?

“Hermione?” She jumped from her chair and down the side, out of sight before she realised whose voice that had been. She looked over the arm and saw Barty stood in the doorway. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing, Barty,” She said, her voice not even convincing her. “I was lost in thought.”

“I knocked a few times but there was no reply, I was a little worried.” He moved towards her offering a hand. She cautiously held out her hand to him and he gently pulled her to her feet. “What’s this?”

Hermione followed his gaze to her wrist and saw what she had known was there, she’d hoped he wouldn’t see in the light. “It’s nothing.”

“Everything seems to be nothing at the moment,” He said, taking her other hand in his and finding a matching bruise pattern on that one too. “How did this happen?”

“Just play fighting that went a little far, Barty, it’s fine,” She tugged on her wrists and he released her though she could feel his eyes watching her as she moved into the kitchen. She had a pile of books on the side that they had yet to read but in truth she didn’t have the energy to do it. She felt drained.

As though he sensed this Barty placed his hand on the books as she went to pick them up, “Do you want to put this off until another night?”

She heard herself sigh, “Yeah, I’m sorry, I know we were making progress and we had some really good theories going but I can’t manage it tonight.” She felt a sting behind her eyes and turned away from him, leaning into the counter.

He heard her intake of breath and stepped towards her, “Hermione?” He asked, reaching out a hand and touching her shoulder. She hissed, flinching from his hand and he knew then that this defiantly was not play fighting.

Hermione felt his hand on her shirt and knew she should stop him seeing what was there but somewhere inside she wanted him to know. She wanted someone to talk to about it, someone who wouldn’t judge her harshly. His fist clenched when he saw the obvious print of someone’s teeth.

“Hermione please, talk to me. Who did this?” His tone made her turn quickly to see the expression of well-covered anger. To anyone else he would appear to be expressionless but she could see the hardness in his eyes. That powerful realisation made her throw herself into his arms, he would shield her, she knew he would.

For most of her life Hermione prided herself in being her own woman, never letting anyone help her out or protect her but she realised now that’s what she needed. She needed someone who would protect her, would even kill for her. Not that she’d ever ask him to.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He whispered, his arms going around her and his hand stroking through her hair. “Talk to me, what can I do?”

“Just what your doing now,” she replied, her voice muffled in his jacket.

“Come on,” He said quietly, leading her back through to the living room and pausing before moving to her rug and sitting down, pulling her gently into his lap. She folded into him, loving the protection his arms offered her. After they had sat that way for a few moments he spoke, “Is what I’ve seen all he did?”

The question had an obvious point and Hermione forced the lump in her throat back down, “Yes, but he didn’t mean to do what he did.”

“Who was it Hermione?” When she didn’t reply he raised her chin to look at him, “You can tell me, I promise I won’t do anything you don’t ask me to.”

“I…” Hermione looked up at him, “It’s not that simple, me and him… we were… I can’t.” She buried her head into his shoulder.

“Hey, you know you can tell me anything.” He said, stroking her hair and rocking a little. Hermione pulled herself back looking up at him, he held her gaze steadily, the honesty showing in his eyes. She couldn’t remember the moment in the last two weeks when she had realised she was in love with him. It had been a shocking and slow realisation and she’d ignored it at first. Tried to pretend that it wasn’t possible, that it was wrong to feel that way but there was something about him.

The way he could make her laugh without seeming to try. The way he would start to squint when he’d been reading for too long or the way his freckles looked when he laughed. How he knew enough to hold his own with her if they disagreed about something academic.

She wondered if he would allow himself to do anything about it. Slowly she raised her hand to the side of his face, the mirror of the gesture she’d made that second night though this time she was caressing not observing. She traced along his bottom lip with her thumb and watched as his gaze faltered for a second. His eyes trying to close though he was obviously fighting it.

She could feel her heart beating painfully against her chest as she slowly leant towards him, pressing her lips to his. The first kiss was soft, almost chaste. As though they were in their own world without the rules of physics they slowly leant back wards until Hermione was laid on top of him, her legs draped on either side of his. Their lips moved slowly over each other, tasting faces, necks, everywhere they could. His hands bunched in her hair, holding her to him as he deepened the kiss.

He broke the kiss leaning his forehead against hers and taking a deep breath, “Hermione we have to stop this.”

“Why?” She asked, just as breathless as he was.

“Because if we don’t stop now I won’t be able to stop at all.” He said, “I know something has happened to you and I don’t want to add to the problem.”

“You wouldn’t,” She said, pulling back and propping herself up on her hands, “I trust you, you wouldn’t take something I didn’t want to give or… hurt me.” Slowly she lowered herself down and kissed his lips, “I want to give to you, Barty,” Her lips remained brushing against his, “Only to you.”